#tss fic

[aherosoup]

A Tale of Two (Hand-me-down) Cars

Ch 1 | Chapter 2 - a strange exhilaration, in such total detestation Summary: Roman has a very bad first day, and Virgil has a very good walk home.

[ironwoman359]

Our Own Villain Ch. 9

Prologue, Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.3, Ch.4, Ch.5, Ch.6, Ch.7, Ch.8, Ch.9, Ch.10

Word Count: 5,570

Chapter Summary: Everything Roman has worked for threatens to crumble around him as Logan puts his plan to save his friends into motion.

Pairings: Logicality, could be read as romantic or platonic, platonic Moxiety

Chapter Warnings: Anxiety, guilt, isolation and anger, overworking, fantasy violence, just generally unhealthy thought patterns going on for Roman.

Check the reblogs for a link to read on AO3!

AN: IT'S HERE! As always, I cannot post this story without acknowledging the incredible @theinvisiblespoon, who helped me edit this and resulted in over 400 extra words of flavor for this chapter. They're the absolute best! Also, shout out to @teacupfulofstarshine for helping me get over some writers block with a few of these passages, she's an absolute darling <3

— — —

“I’m sorry, Your Highness.”

The captain of the guard bowed low before Roman, a faint tremor in his posture betraying his nerves.

“I’ve had my men up all night, searching the city from top to bottom,” the captain continued, “but there’s been no sign of the fugitive.” 

The man kept his head low, glancing tentatively up at Roman who paced back and forth across the floor of the throne room, arms crossed across his chest. He barely noticed the captain’s discomfort, lost entirely in thought. 

Where could Logan be? There was no way he could have left the Imagination, so how had the guards not found him yet? Roman supposed he could have snuck out of the city somehow, but there was nothing for him out there but wilderness, and it was cruel, even for Logan, to run away without even trying to rescue Patton and Virgil. No, he had to be hidden somewhere, somewhere that he thought was clever enough to escape Roman’s notice. 

“Keep searching, Captain,” he ordered. “He must be somewhere in the city. Perhaps he has enlisted the help of one of the townspeople and is being kept out of sight. Issue a decree that anyone found to be harboring criminals will face charges of treason. I want every-”

“Your Highness!” a new guard burst into the room, and Roman spun around with a glare. 

“What is it now? Are you men so utterly incompetent that you’re incapable of following the most simple of commands? I said that I was not to be disturbed!”

“It’s just, your highness,” the guard stammered, cowering in the face of Roman’s rage. “There’s an attack at the gates–” 

“What on earth makes you think I care about the gates right now?” Roman exclaimed. “There is a traitor loose in the city, corrupting the people and conspiring against me. Nothing at the gates could possibly be more important than finding–”

A roar pierced the air, and Roman went rigid, his hand automatically gripping the hilt of his sword. 

“Dragon Witch,” he hissed, and the guard nodded frantically. 

“She was spotted flying down from the mountains, your highness. The gate guard sent me to warn of her attack.” 

Roman slammed his fist down on the table. 

“Of course she would strike now, when we are distracted and unprepared. Captain, send criers through the streets to order your men to mobilize at the main gate. And bring me my armor! We must not let her take the city!” 

The soldiers scrambled from the room, and for a moment, Roman stood alone. After everything he’d done, everything he’d worked for, he now was faced with this. His oldest and strongest enemy, coming to challenge him when he was at his weakest. Did she think he would simply cave before her might? He was Roman, Prince of the Imagination, Thomas’s Hero, the last bastion of goodness left for the entire mindscape. He wouldn’t be overthrown by a mere construct. He laughed to himself. No one was around to hear it.

The next several minutes were a flurry of activity, and soon Roman was on his horse, his silver breastplate glinting in the first red rays of sunrise poking over the horizon as he cantered through the city streets.  

The thought of Logan somehow escaping the city during the battle briefly crossed his mind, but he pushed the idea away. They would find the logical side eventually; after all, there was nowhere for him to run. 

Outside the city wall, the Dragon Witch let out another roar, and Roman urged his horse forward, drawing his sword. 

Right now, Logan didn’t matter. 

What did matter was making sure that his realm did not fall. He was Roman, Creativity, creator of this realm and Prince of the mindscape. He was a hero, the only hero Thomas had left after all the others had fallen prey to the wicked machinations of those accursed Dark Sides. 

And nothing, not the others, not the Dragon Witch, nothing, was going to stand in his way.

— — — 

Screams rang out through the streets as another of the Dragon Witch’s roars shook the city. Seth pressed himself up against the wall of the alleyway, peering out from behind a corner. The palace drawbridge lowered and Prince Roman and his guards in full armor appeared. The thunder of the horse’s hooves on the cobblestone and with the blare of the soldiers’ warhorns echoed all around Seth, and he ducked out of the way as the battalion rode past his hiding spot. 

The market was quickly emptying as merchants and shoppers fled the streets, and he intended to take full advantage of the chaos. Now that he had secured a place by the square, he hoped to pilfer enough foodstuffs from the merchants to be set for at least a week. Seth waited until the last terrified shopkeeper had disappeared from sight, then he crept out from the alleyway into the square. 

Suddenly, a hand grabbed his shoulder and roughly pulled him back into the shadows. He spun with a cry, his fists up in an instant ready to strike, but he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw who had attacked him. 

“Maddie?”

“We had a deal, Seth,” the girl said, glaring at him. 

“But I saw you…the Arachnids…”

“Show me the servant’s entrance, please,” Maddie interrupted, folding her arms. 

“What, now? We’re in the middle of a siege! Come on, let’s comb through the market and see if we can get any–” 

“Seth, if you don’t show me that servant’s entrance right now, I will ensure that you spend every waking moment for the rest of your life fighting tooth and nail for that market spot. I said it was yours once you showed me the entrance, and unless you take me right this second–” 

“Okay, okay!” Seth said, raising his hands in surrender. “Sheesh, Maddie, what’s gotten into you?” 

“It is vitally important that I gain access to the palace. The reason why doesn’t concern you,” Maddie said as Seth led her up the street towards the palace walls. 

Luckily, the entire city guard had ridden out to the gates with the Prince to fight the Dragon Witch, and the barred gate where Seth met his contact on the palace staff stood unprotected. 

“There’s a door on the other side of the garden that the servants use,” he said, pointing through the courtyard. “Though I don’t know why that would matter to you, it’s not like you could get in. There are easier places to steal food from, especially since the city is under attack right now?” 

Maddie didn’t bother answering, she just pushed past him and pulled experimentally on the gate. It was locked and didn’t budge, but she didn’t seem put off by that fact. 

“Thank you, Seth. Our deal is complete. The spot by the market is yours. Now, I suggest you take cover; as you so aptly pointed out, the city is under attack.” 

“What about you?” Seth asked.

“I have something I need to do,” Maddie answered, pulling a small glass vial from her dress pocket. She uncorked the bottle and poured a few drops of its contents on the gate’s lock, and Seth stared in awe as the metal melted away like ice on a summer’s day. 

“Now go,” Maddie ordered. “I’ll explain later…if we ever manage to resolve this whole ordeal.” 

Part of Seth wanted to stay and see what on earth the girl was up to, but just then the very sky seemed to explode, bright purple lightning and blue streaks of light flashing all around as the ground shook. Seth became overwhelmed with nausea, and he fell to his knees, retching. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Maddie still standing, seemingly unaffected by whatever strange spell had caused the world to fall apart around them. He tried to call out to her, but she slipped through the gate and disappeared into the palace grounds before he could force his mouth to form words.

As soon as it began, the lightning stopped, and after a moment of gasping, Seth regained his bearings. He looked at the open palace gate, but then another roar rang out, and he turned and ran back through the city towards his new market spot. Maybe after he scavenged what food he could, he’d risk the gangs and take cover in the sewers until this was all over. Whatever had Maddie acting all weird, he didn’t want to know about it. He’d have a hard enough time surviving the Red Sun as it was. 

The Dragon Witch’s roar echoed through the streets and Seth stumbled as he skidded around a corner. 

When would this madness end?

— — — 

“Prince Roman!” the Dragon Witch called out, her voice reverberating through the city. “Show yourself and face me!” 

She hurled a spell at the city walls, and they buckled and folded beneath the weight of her magic. She stretched out her wings and roared, the very sound of her fury sending a squad of guards who were approaching to draw back in fear. A few of the gate guards tried to stand their ground, but she batted them away easily with a swing of her tail. 

Slowly, she stalked into the city, giving the peasants in the streets plenty of time to run screaming from her mighty presence. The slower and more dramatic she was in her approach, the more time it would give Prince Roman to muster his entire guard and ride out to face her. 

After a few minutes of her lazy destruction, the sound of battle horns rang out in the distance, and the Dragon Witch smiled. Looking up, she caught sight of Prince Roman’s black and red banner fluttering in the breeze, signaling that her quarry was coming within her grasp.

“Ready, little hero?” she asked quietly. She felt the grip of the human sitting on her back tighten. 

“As I’ll ever be,” came the answer, and the Dragon Witch chuckled. 

“Don’t worry,” she reassured. “Just stick to the script we practiced and you’ll be fine.” 

Prince Roman came into view then, and she had to give him credit where it was due. Even in this mindset, when the very fabric of her reality was changed because of his pain and anger and frustration, he was personally leading the charge against her. How many tyrant kings would send their armies out to die in a battle that they wouldn’t dare to risk themselves?

He wants so badly to be good, she thought as the prince stared up at her, his face twisted in a look of disgust. Not just good. Perfect. If only he could see the truth. 

“So it comes down to this!” Roman called up in a loud, clear voice. “I have to admit, I didn’t think you capable of this level of betrayal, Logan.”

He spat the name out like it was poison, and the Dragon Witch felt her passenger tense. 

You can do this, little hero, she thought. Save us all. 

“Prince Roman!” Logan’s voice was firm and unwavering, and the Dragon Witch couldn’t help the small swell of pride she felt at the sound. 

“Release your prisoners and surrender, or see your realm destroyed!” 

— — — 

Roman stared up in disbelief as the Dragon Witch sneered down at him. Of all the possible outcomes, of all the ways that he’d expected a confrontation with the last remaining free Light Side to go, he’d never expected this. 

Logan sat on the Dragon Witch’s back, staring down at Roman with a determined expression on his face. He looked almost comical, in his simple polo shirt, tie, and glasses while riding atop such a majestic and mighty beast, but Roman wasn’t in the mood to find humor in the situation. 

“Release my prisoners?” Roman repeated. “And why, exactly, would I do that?”

“Because if you don’t, we will destroy the realm,” Logan repeated simply. 

“If you think that I and my forces won’t be able to defeat the Dragon Witch before she destroys the city, let alone the realm, then you’re sorely mistaken.” 

Logan frowned, tilting his head. 

“You would risk your entire world’s existence, rather than accept defeat?”

“I’ve not been defeated yet!” Roman shot back. “Besides, I made this world. If it is destroyed, then I will simply make it again. Your threat is meaningless!”

“And the lives of the people living in it?” Logan demanded. “Are they meaningless too?”

Roman opened his mouth to reply, but before he could speak, the world split apart. Purple lightning filled the sky, and he let out a cry of anguish as a wave of emotion slammed into the walls he’d placed up between his realm and Thomas. 

There was the same fear and anxiety from Virgil as there had been before, but there was also sadness, doubt, and guilt, manifesting in bright blue flashes throughout the storm. The guilt was somehow even more debilitating than the fear, and as he fought to keep the emotions from reaching Thomas, he could feel his grip on the realm itself slipping. 

No… he thought, desperately trying to hold on to his composure. No, no, no… 

— — — 

It has to be perfect. If it’s not perfect, then I’m just a fraud, I’ve basically been lying to my fans this entire time, and I can’t let that be true, I won’t let them down like that, it has to be perfect.

Thomas let out a gasp as his creative flow slammed to a halt, replaced by an overwhelming sense of dread. 

“It will be good enough,” he said aloud to his empty room, but the swirling thoughts of dread and despair only grew stronger. 

But what if it isn’t? What if you’ll never make anything worth watching again and all the sacrifices you’ve made, all the friendships you’ve harmed along the way, all of that will have been for nothing? Your dreams will never come true and your friends will all abandon you. You’ve never really been that good a person anyway, why on earth would they stay? You’ll end up all alone for the rest of your life, and it will be your fault.

“What is going on?” 

Thomas started to reach out for his sides, but he wasn’t sure who exactly to summon. Who could be responsible for this type of thinking? He’d never felt like this before, as though his thoughts were being forcibly pulled out of his control, except…

Except for that time when Virgil had ducked out. He hadn’t been as aware of it, but his thoughts had felt just like this: foreign and strange and fully divorced from what he was directly experiencing.

Thomas frowned, and decided that the best thing to do would be to summon all the sides together. He started to reach out with his mind, but before he could contact anyone specific, somebody appeared in the corner of his vision. 

Unfortunately, it was the last side he wanted to see. 

“Janus?” he asked. “What are you doing? What’s going on?”

“I think you should take a break, Thomas,” Janus said quietly. “Put the laptop away and try to get some rest.”

“What? No,” Thomas said, shaking his head. “I need to keep working on this, it’s my best idea ever. It could completely change the course of my creative career, I just have to get these feelings under control and then I’ll–” 

“Thomas,” Janus interrupted sharply. “You’ve been working for fifteen hours straight.” 

Thomas glanced at the time on his laptop and was startled to see that Janus was right; it was nearly three in the morning, and he couldn’t recall the last time he’d stopped to take a break. 

“You need to stop,” Janus said, his voice firm. “Your magnum opus can wait until tomorrow.” 

“I guess…” Thomas said slowly. “But what’s going on with the others? I felt…strange, just now.” 

“Get some sleep,” Janus said. “If everything goes right, you’ll feel better in the morning.” 

Thomas frowned, giving Janus a skeptical look. 

“Is that my Deceitful side lying to me, or is it the truth?”

“At the end of the day, does that really matter?” Janus asked with a tight smile. “Either way, you need the rest.” 

“I suppose,” Thomas said, stifling a yawn even as he spoke. 

Janus watched as he closed his laptop and got up, a strange expression on his face. Thomas tried not to pay him much attention, quickly swapping his jeans out for some pajama pants before falling into bed. 

“Summon the others tomorrow,” Janus said as Thomas closed his eyes. “By then, they should have things straightened out.”

Thomas was already drifting off, and he felt more than heard Janus’s final words. 

“I hope.”

— — — 

Roman was losing his control. He looked up, and he could see the imagination around him beginning to crumble away. He noticed bits and pieces from his room, the bright white of his bedspread, the shine of the lights around his mirror, the blood red of his sash where he’d thrown it on the floor. The fantasy around him– his soldiers, his city, the Dragon Witch, even Logan himself– it was all flickering in and out of existence as the mental barrage continued. 

“NO!” 

Roman stopped trying to channel the emotions away and instead closed his eyes and pushed, forcing his mental walls back up, stronger and better than before. 

“You won’t take this from me!”  

He opened his eyes, only to see that the outburst of energy had reverted the Dragon Witch into her human form. She stood before him, leaning heavily against her magic staff, Logan now on his hands and knees at her side. Roman drew his sword, pointing it at the pair with a shaking hand. 

“You. Can’t. Take this from me!” 

Logan’s entire body was trembling, but he looked up and met Roman’s gaze, glaring at him even as a tear rolled down his cheek.

“You’re insane,” he whispered. 

Roman let out a bitter, hollow laugh.

“If you just now figured that out, then you’re…” he trailed off, looking down at the shaking side. 

He had begun to fade away as Roman’s control over the imagination loosened, but he was fully solid again now. His breath was ragged and his skin was pale, as though he’d just attempted to run a marathon while running a fever.  

“You’re…not part of this realm,” Roman said slowly. “You’re part of Thomas. You shouldn’t have disappeared.” 

Logan still looked ill, but at Roman’s words he pushed himself to his feet. 

“What was that word he used?” Logan asked, looking over at the Dragon Witch, and a small, triumphant smile spread across his face as he looked back to Roman. “Checkmate.”

Roman’s eyes widened, then the Dragon Witch lashed out suddenly, her staff glowing as she swung it towards him in a wide arc. Roman threw his sword up and blocked her strike, and her spell went ricocheting off through the city.

For a moment, all his attention was on the fight, on blocking and parrying and counter attacking, but he’d sparred with the Dragon Witch dozens of times, in both of her forms. By the third strike from the witch, he’d settled into a familiar rhythm, and turned his attention back to Logan…or what he’d thought was Logan.

“Who are you?” he shrieked. “You can’t be him! He shouldn’t have disappeared! So you must be–” 

“Meaningless?” asked a voice he’d never heard before.

Roman pushed the Dragon Witch away and took a step back, staring in disbelief as Logan’s form began to flicker, just like the rest of the imagination had, just like all the other characters Roman had designed to fill his vast fantasy world had done when he was losing his control over the scene. But he was back in control now; this shifting had another cause. He’d barely had enough time to form the thought before the image of Logan was gone. 

In his place stood a barefoot girl in a tattered dress, her hair a wild mass of curls and her fists clenched at her sides. She looked somehow…familiar, and Roman tilted his head. 

“Do I know you?” 

The girl didn’t answer, but she didn’t need to. He remembered now, for the longer he looked at her the more he recognized where she’d come from. When he’d first created the town surrounding the castle, he’d decided it needed citizens to make it feel more lived in. He’d made soldiers, peasants, shopkeepers, tradesmen and artisans, and then, to make the place more realistic, he’d made a handful of street urchins. 

He’d scarcely given the creations any thought after forming them and setting them loose in the city, and why would he? They weren’t meant to be important; the girl had no family, no backstory, no real role to play in his realm. So how on earth had she ended up here, fighting alongside the Dragon Witch and impersonating one of Thomas’s sides?

She looked up at him and he could see fear in her eyes, but there was a quiet strength too. The girl folded her arms and took a step towards him, and the Dragon Witch held out an arm, as if to shield her.

“Careful, little hero,”she murmured, and Roman looked back and forth between the two in disbelief. The girl ignored the witch and took another step, looking up at Roman with a determined expression.

“Like I said,” she repeated. “Checkmate.”

Roman turned and ran, knowing even as he did so that he’d never make it back to the palace in time. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid, he should have known something was wrong! Why else would the Dragon Witch attack now when she’d never attacked during the Red Sun before? Why else, except to draw him and all his guards away from the palace, leaving the castle vulnerable to an unseen enemy, a more crafty enemy… 

A shadow fell over him, and he glanced up as he ran to see the witch in her dragon form flying along above him, the little girl on her back once more. She quickly overtook him, and landed in the market square, spreading her wings out and blocking his path to the castle. 

“You’re too late, Prince Roman,” the Dragon Witch declared.

“I’ve defeated you before,” Roman cried, shifting into a fighting stance. “I can defeat you again!”

“You can defeat me all you like,” the Dragon Witch replied, her mocking voice echoing his own inner thoughts. “But you’ll never be able to outsmart him.” 

— — — 

Logan had no idea what was causing Roman’s realm to fall apart, but he was exceptionally grateful for it. 

The few remaining guards inside the castle were too overwhelmed by the effects of their very fabric of reality unraveling around them to notice a small girl running through the corridors searching for the dungeons. 

He found the correct door after only a few minutes of searching; Roman’s penchant for the dramatic meant the one door that very obviously looked as though it led to a dungeon did in fact lead to a dungeon, and he pulled the vial of acid the Dragon Witch had given him out of his pocket. Technically, the Dragon Witch had described the liquid inside as a magical potion that would dissolve any substance besides its own container, but the ‘potion’ was functionally identical to a freakishly effective vial of hydrochloric acid. 

Tomato, Solanum lycopersicum, Logan thought as he poured a few drops onto the door handle of the dungeon. After a moment of sizzling, the lock dissolved away and he pushed the door open. 

The room was dark, faint torchlight flickering ominously off the stone walls. Six cells lined the room, and the two at the end of the row were occupied. 

“Patton?” he called. “Virgil?” 

The prisoners looked up, and relief flooded through him when he saw their faces. 

“Maddie?” Patton cried, jumping to his feet. “What are you doing here?”

“Who is that?” Virgil whispered to Patton, but Logan ignored the question. 

“Not Maddie,” he said breathlessly. “It’s me.” 

He reached into his pocket and pulled out another vial, downing its contents in a single gulp. A strange tingling sensation enveloped his body, and he had to admit that in this case, he didn’t have a scientific explanation for the shapeshifting potion that the Dragon Witch had given him.

“Logan?” Virgil asked in disbelief. 

“Watch your hands,” Logan said, stepping forward to pour the remainder of the acid on the locks on their cell doors. 

“I knew you’d figure something out,” Patton said, his eyes shining with pride. “I just knew it.” 

In a moment, both cells were open, and Patton rushed out, pulling Logan and Virgil both into a bone crushing hug. For once, Logan didn’t think, didn’t analyze or worry, he just wrapped his arms around his friends and let himself slump into them. 

They were all safe, and they were all together. For one, shining moment, that was all that mattered.

“Are the two of you alright?” he asked when he eventually pulled back. “You’re not injured, are you?”

Patton shook his head. 

“We’re fine, Logan,” he said, and Virgil nodded in agreement. 

“My head will be a bit sore for a few days, but I’ll live. What about you? We heard the Dragon Witch attacking…” 

“I’m fine,” Logan reassured him. “In fact, the Dragon Witch attack is my own doing.”

“What?” Virgil exclaimed. 

“The potion…” Patton said, his eyes widening. “That’s where you got that potion that made you look like Maddie, isn’t it?” 

“Technically, the potion made me look like myself, as it was an antidote to the spell that she cast to make me look like Maddie–” 

“Hang on, where is Maddie?” Patton interrupted. 

“She’s with the Dragon Witch…pretending to be me.” Patton’s jaw dropped open, and Logan grimaced. “I know! I tried to tell her that it would be safer if she stayed behind in the cave, but she insisted. She said that the distraction would hold Roman’s attention for longer if I appeared to be aiding the Dragon Witch directly in her assault.”

“Back up,” Virgil said, holding up his hands. “You let the Dragon Witch cast a spell on you?” 

“She is Roman’s biggest villain,” Logan said simply. “Asking her to help us defeat him was the only logical choice left.”

“To be fair,” Patton admitted, “It’s not that much crazier than what we tried to do.” 

Logan frowned. 

“What you tried to do?” 

“We’ll tell you on the way out,” Virgil said. “Right now, we should move, before the guards come back.” 

Logan nodded, and the three turned and began making their way out of the dungeon. 

“Remember what happened on the bridge?” Patton asked as they climbed the stairs, and Logan nodded. “Well, I had a feeling that it wasn’t Roman who caused it…I thought it might have been Virgil. And it turns out I was right!” 

“You caused the Imagination to fall apart?” Logan asked, looking back at Virgil. “How?”

Virgil shrugged.

“I’m not exactly sure. I had an overload of anxiety, but something was blocking me from channeling it away the way I normally do.” 

“Roman’s cutting off our access to Thomas,” Patton added. “I think that’s also why we can’t sink out. Reach out for him now; you can’t feel him, can you?” 

They’d reached the top of the stairs, and Logan paused. Normally, he was at least subconsciously aware of whatever external stimuli Thomas was experiencing, so that he could filter through the information and assist with decision making. He’d been so distracted by the quest to save Virgil and Patton that he hadn’t even noticed the lack of that awareness.

“I can’t,” he said aloud, and Patton nodded. 

“I can’t either. Whatever Roman’s done, it’s making him our only access point to Thomas. So we’ve been waiting for the right time to try overloading that access point.” 

“When we heard the Dragon Witch attacking, we thought it would be our best shot,” Virgil said. “And for a minute there I thought we would actually do it, but just before we could break through, the wall went back up again. Somehow, Roman was still stronger than the two of us put together.”

“Perhaps…” Logan mused. “But nonetheless, the two of you did have a strong effect on the Imagination. I wonder…would it be successful if all three of us tried to breach that barrier?” 

As they spoke, Logan led them outside and through the palace gardens to the servants’ gate in the side of the wall. The three stepped out onto the street, and Virgil looked around hesitantly. 

“So…now what?” he asked. 

Logan opened his mouth to answer, but was cut off by a familiar roar sounding from the market square. He grimaced, and looked back at his companions.

“Our original plan was to try and sneak out of the city. But simply escaping from Roman isn’t actually going to solve this problem.” 

Patton glanced at Virgil, and at a small tilt of the anxious side’s head, he locked eyes with Logan and nodded. 

“You’re right,” he said firmly. “This whole thing happened because we’ve been ignoring this problem. The only way we’re going to bring an end to this is if we confront it head on.”

“Guess we’ll get a chance to test out your hypothesis, Logan,” Virgil added as they hurried towards the square.  

“If it comes to that,” Logan agreed. “I do still hope that we’ll be able to use reason with Roman, though after all we’ve done to reach this point, I don’t know if that will be effective.” 

“Probably not,” Patton said quietly, and Logan glanced at him. 

Patton met his eyes for a moment, and Logan was surprised at the amount of melancholy he saw there. All through their ordeal, Patton had maintained a level of optimism that bordered on recklessness. As much as Logan had found that to be unrealistic, he also had relied on it for strength more than he’d realized. That Roman had somehow managed to dampen that was almost more offensive than the fact that he’d locked Patton and Virgil up.

Before Logan could think of an appropriate response, the trio rounded the corner into the square, then immediately skidded to a halt. Patton let out a gasp and Virgil swore under his breath; all Logan could do was stand there blankly and take in the scene.

Guards in full regalia lined the square, blocking off every possible avenue of escape. The Dragon Witch lay sprawled out on the ground, a deep wound in her side causing her breath to come in quick, pained gasps. 

Roman stood over her fallen body, and the red sunlight shining down on his silver breastplate made it look as if he was bathed in blood. His face was twisted in a terrible mix of fury and triumph, and he brandished his sword at his defeated foe, as though daring her to stand and challenge him again. 

She was in her dragon form, but as her wound spilled blood down onto the cobblestones, that body fizzled away, revealing the humanoid woman Logan had first met outside her lair. Her robes were torn and bloody and her face was deathly pale, but her eyes still blazed with a defiant fire as she stared up at her opponent.

“Any final words, Witch?” Roman asked in a steely voice.  

The Dragon Witch opened her mouth, but before she could speak, a high pitched cry rang out through the square.

“Stay back!” 

Maddie darted forward, putting herself between Roman and the witch’s body, gripping Dragon Witch’s staff tightly in both hands. The thing was nearly twice her height and she brandished it clumsily, but Roman still paused in his advance. 

“Out of my way, girl,” he said, but Maddie shook her head.

“I said back!” she insisted, shaking the staff towards him. 

“Run along now, little hero,” the Dragon Witch coughed, reaching weakly towards the girl as if to pull her back. “Your part is done.” 

Maddie shook her head again, and Roman frowned. 

“I won’t tell you again. Stand. Down,” he said coldly. 

Maddie shifted her feet and gripped the staff more tightly, but she did not move, and Roman sighed, raising his sword. 

“Enough!” Logan shouted before he could bring the blade down.

Roman looked up, his eyes flashing with hatred as they landed on his three fellow sides. Logan’s confidence faltered as the full force of that glare landed on him and he swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. 

What if it doesn’t work? What if it’s not enough? I have no more tricks up my sleeve…if this plan fails, then what are we going to do?

Logan’s racing thoughts were pulled to a stop with a sudden, simple touch. He looked down and saw that Patton had stepped forward and intertwined their fingers. The moral side glanced up at him and nodded, a slight waver in his smile the only sign betraying his own nerves. Virgil stepped up beside them, locking eyes with Logan as he wordlessly took Patton’s other hand. An understanding passed between them, and Logan smiled, giving Patton’s hand an encouraging squeeze. He looked back to the square, and took a deep breath.“Enough, Roman!” he repeated, his voice steady and strong. “This ends now!” 

— — —

AN: So I know that LAST time I updated I said I wanted to update the fic more and then almost 5 years passed, but I can say with confidence that THIS YEAR chapter 10 at least will be released, if not the entire end of the fic (I won't actually know whether the conclusion takes one or two chapters to write until I, you know, write it, but it's outlined, I promise). I've been trying to finish this story for so long, and I know it looks like nothing happened between these updates, but rest assured, I thought about this story and how much I wanted to finish it often during these past few years. Thank you so much for being patient with me, and thank you to anyone who still has stuck around to read this, even after all this time. I love each and every one of y'all <3

(If you were on the Our Own Villain taglist, I will be tagging you in a reblog, tagging has changed so much in four years that my taglist copy-paste doesn't even work anymore)

[delimeful]

nothing in this world (i wouldn't do) (6)

warnings: captivity, restraints, panic attacks, unethical science, experimentation, wounds, injury and blood mention, character being kind of an ass, fear, bird ex machina, lmk if i missed any  

-

Virgil woke up to find he was surrounded by darkness and completely unable to move.

Seeing as the last thing he remembered was being poisoned into unconsciousness by a demon slayer with mad scientist leanings, this was about as far from reassuring as an awakening could be.

For a disoriented moment, he tried to check for the baby crow, which mostly just involved him listening closely for any loud, raspy-voiced swearing. Naturally, there wasn’t any, because he’d blacked out and the slayer very clearly hadn’t wanted Roman’s bird anywhere near him.

Bizarrely enough, he felt a little morose at the baby crow’s absence. Maybe because she was the only creature who had figured out that despite being a monster, he wasn’t actually a threat to humanity.

Or maybe it was just because being immobilized in a dark, silent place was totally freaking him out, and he would have taken any company so long as it meant he hadn’t been locked away forever or buried alive.

(Could he still die from a lack of oxygen? Would he be stuck underground, conscious and alone, for the rest of time? He couldn’t even call out for help.)

His body was unresponsive, and nothing his brain was coming up with was remotely helpful, so Virgil focused on his breathing, trying to keep his count steady as he inhaled and exhaled air that could be rapidly running out—

By the time the slayer entered the room, Virgil had already hyperventilated himself into unconsciousness a few times, each time utterly convinced he was dying.

The man didn’t bother saying anything to him or even sparing him anything more than a glance, simply walking around the space and lighting several lamps at a brisk pace, but Virgil felt a vast, sweeping sense of relief fall over him regardless.

He wasn’t buried. He hadn’t been left alone to rot away in the dark.

He was… extensively strapped down to a waist-high table in the center of the room?

A significant amount of his relief started to fade. Right. He’d been caught by a slayer who wanted him dead or worse, and was now entirely at his mercy— assuming he even had any for demons.

There was another person in the room, too, and they scurried about so quickly that it took Virgil a few moments to identify them as the wary stranger who had sent him to go find their brother. They were wearing the same uniform as the slayer, now, which answered basically all of Virgil’s potential questions about the situation.

“Subject ABN-V3, Log 1,” the slayer started, and Virgil’s eyes flicked over to him curiously. “The subject regained consciousness approximately half an hour after halting the regular wisteria toxin doses, indicating remarkable poison resilience, comparable to a Lower Rank.”

There was the distinct scratch of hurried writing, but the slayer’s hands were unoccupied as he circled Virgil’s prone form. The younger slayer must have been an assistant.

There was a muted pressure on his hand, which refused to even twitch, even as the pressure grew heavier. The slayer hummed, pulling away. “In contrast, regeneration ability appears relatively slow. Internal organ function has resumed, but exterior nerves and muscles remain paralyzed.”

His organs had been paralyzed?! Virgil’s breathing stuttered, and he wrestled with the instinctual panic for a moment. His lungs were clearly working now, so he should just keep breathing and not pass out again.

When he looked back over, it was to the sight of the slayer staring directly at his face with a detached sort of curiosity. That composed mask of his may have dropped for a few moments in the clearing, but it was fully repaired and glued in place now.

“Do you have anything to say?” he asked, which was a little startling.

Virgil blinked at him for a moment, and then very quickly recalled that blinking was about all he could do. His hands weren’t cooperating with him, and even his head felt too heavy to shake or nod at the moment.

An irritated rumble started up in his chest for a moment before dying out, and he heaved a low sigh, already exhausted. He’d burnt through all his default terror while panicking in the dark, and now there was barely anything left to scrape up for his impending dehumanizing death.

The slayer only watched him impassively for another long, silent stretch of seconds before turning his attention away.

“Subject’s nonverbal behavior remains consistent with previous encounter,” he narrated, which succinctly explained why he’d bothered to verbally prod Virgil in the first place. “No secondary manifestations present in the room. We’ll proceed with direct regeneration testing while the paralytic is still in effect.”

There was a metallic clink, and Virgil’s gaze flicked over to a tray covered with tools he could only guess at the purpose of. Most of them were sharp-edged.

At least he wouldn’t be able to feel them. Yet.

The slayer picked up a thin blade, and Virgil squeezed his eyes shut, in an attempt to not have to see whatever was being done to him.

The narration of that calm, clinical voice couldn’t be as easily blocked out, so he found out regardless.

—

His healing factor had improved a lot since being turned into a monster, but it wasn’t anywhere close to the level he’d seen from some of the other demons he’d fought, so he wasn’t surprised to find that the first thing he felt when the paralysis began to wear fully off was pain.

The wounds weren’t serious, at least. He hoped that didn’t mean they were saving more lethal ones for when he could actually feel them, but he wasn’t optimistic about his odds.

(Unsurprisingly, it seemed like most demon slayers really hated demons.)

The slayer seemed strangely perturbed by the way the methodical injuries he’d inflicted hadn’t healed yet. Apparently, vastly accelerated healing was the norm for most demons, so this was just another way in which Virgil was a freaky outlier. Virgil could have told the slayer as much himself if he’d been able to sign.

Not to say that he’d regained all his vocabulary. With his limbs strapped firmly down, his post-poison communication was limited to signs that he could form with just his hands, and no accompanying movements. Fingerspelling was tedious, but at least it was possible.

“S-L-E-E-P,” he’d signed when the slayer had been theorizing on his apparently deeply unusual slow healing. “L-O-N-G.”

It took a few repetitions for his captor to pay it any mind, but once he did, his expression immediately creased with doubt. Virgil let himself look irritated about the reaction, because really, what was the point in pretending? He was screwed either way.

“If hibernation periods could heal demons, there would be longer stretches of inactivity between attacks,” the slayer said, frowning down at him. “It would make my job much easier if that were the case, but it isn’t.”

Since when was Virgil the representative for all of demonkind? He’d barely even spoken to other demons, since generally their interactions tended to start and end with them trying to kill each other. This was his supernatural sleeping schedule, not theirs.

Generally, he only slept like that when he was injured. If he wasn’t hurt in a fight, he didn’t get tired. He signed as much to the slayer, and earned a disbelieving scoff for his efforts.

Virgil had only been dozing lightly so far, seeing as he was currently trapped and about as far from safety as he could possibly get, but the disbelief rankled, and he huffed before pointedly closing his eyes as though to prove it.

He thought maybe the slayer wouldn’t allow it— there probably wasn’t much to scientifically observe when your subject is sleeping— but to his surprise, the man only noted down the behavior and then left.

It took a good part of the first day to force himself down into genuine sleep, but being left alone in a quiet space was close enough to his usual cave naps that he eventually managed to sink into the heavy unconsciousness of one of his impromptu hibernation sessions.

A full week later, he snorted into wakefulness to see the slayer had unstrapped one arm and was inspecting the smooth skin where the incisions had been previously.

This must not have been the first time he’d removed a restraint to see if Virgil was faking his beauty rest, because his head shot up with keen alarm the moment Virgil’s eyes fluttered open.

He released Virgil’s hand and drew a thin, needle-like dagger from his side in the same moment, presumably a breath away from poisoning him back into temporary organ failure.

Virgil barely even registered the movement, his eyes still crusted over with sleep. Half-awake and triumphant, he blearily inspected his completely-healed arm and then promptly signed, “I told you so.”

“Return your arm to the restraint,” the slayer instructed, his voice brooking no argument and his gaze assessing.

Virgil made a sour face, rubbing at his eyes. “Don’t you have cuffs?” he asked, turning slightly so he could tap his free wrist to his strapped down one for the last sign. “I could at least sign in those.”

“The restraint. Immediately,” the slayer replied, firm as stone.

A low grumbling growl of complaint started up in Virgil’s chest, but there was no way he could get free of the other restraints quickly enough to try and escape, and he really wasn’t looking to get his organs shut down again for no reason.

Besides, the assistant kid was still there in the corner, watching him with wide eyes, and he didn’t like the idea of scaring them.

Fine. He’d go back to his stupid nap then.

With a petulant scowl, he closed his eyes and stuck his arm back out and allowed the slayer to pin it back into place and tighten the straps over it. He flipped him off afterwards, though, just to make things clear.

It was quiet for long enough that he pried his eyes back open suspiciously. Both of the slayers were staring at him like he’d just started abruptly juggling fish or something, and he raised his eyebrows in a display of irritated bewilderment.

For once, the slayer didn’t have some snappy annotation to spout, only glaring down at Virgil with his jaw working like he was gritting his teeth.

Was he really that pissed off that Virgil had been telling the truth about his healing? Why?

“Professor Logan—,” the baby slayer whispered, faltering when Virgil’s gaze flicked their way.

“That’s enough for today,” ‘Logan’ answered, stepping away from the table. “We’ll speak elsewhere.”

Virgil only barely managed to stifle an incredulous noise as the two of them left, putting the lights out as they went. They’d never bothered to take their rude and often horrifying conversations about him elsewhere before. Maybe he should try being right about things more often.

—

“Bastard!”

Virgil’s eyes flew open at the muffled call, his head feeling much clearer after sleeping off the last of the poison’s symptoms.

It was quiet and dark all around him, as always, and for a moment, he nearly convinced himself that he’d imagined the noise entirely.

Then, from outside the door, there was a raspy squawk and an audible ruffling of feathers. “Fiend! Fiend?”

… Just how determined to swear at him was this bird?!

He couldn’t exactly respond, and he wasn’t sure why he would want to. Logan had reacted extremely negatively to the bird existing in the same space as him last time, and he wouldn’t wager that the slayer’s attitude had changed in the past however many days.

Still, the crow was clearly looking for someone, possibly even him. He could hear the distinctive pitter-patter of little taloned feet scurrying back and forth on the floor, with the occasional inquisitive swear thrown in.

After a few long minutes of this, Virgil gave up on trying to go back to sleep, unable to tune the little creature out. He may as well try to answer in the limited way he could.

It took entirely too long, but he managed to purse his lips and whistle a long, low note.

The clicking of steps stopped dead, and then grew abruptly louder, the bird’s faux-speech taking on an excited tone.

The baby crow audibly scrabbled at the doorway for a few seconds, before evidently managing to worm her way under the door gap. From there, she made short work of the flight up to the table, where she immediately perched directly on Virgil’s forehead and peered upside down at him.

“Scourge!” she announced gleefully.

Someone certainly hadn’t learned her lesson about fraternizing with big scary demons. He whistled an amused note at her, fingers twitching in an impulse to reach up and ruffle her feathers before he remembered his situation.

Right. No bird-petting for monsters, he guessed.

The crow— wasn’t her name Fluffbutt or something?— seemed to notice the movement, though, and she traversed down Virgil’s arm in little hops. He still couldn’t really reach her scruff of downy baby feathers from this angle, but he gave it his best attempt.

Fluffbutt pecked him harshly, which, rude, and then she turned around and started picking at the straps holding his forearm down.

… No fucking way.

Virgil craned his neck to look over at the bird, his disbelief slowly melting away as he saw that yes, the crow really was tugging and prying at the corded knot holding the restraints in place like her life depended on it.

It was slow going, but as she steadily worked at it, Virgil could tell that progress was being made. He wiggled his arm testingly every so often, usually getting bit for his efforts, and after what felt like hours of agonizing waiting, he finally managed to pull through the last threads of the restraints.

He only had one arm free, but that and some time was all he really needed. Fluffbutt reclaimed her spot on his forehead, watching as he quickly tore at the restraints on his other limbs.

As it turned out, quickly sitting up for the first time in days was a bad idea. Virgil rode out the surge of dizziness and pushed to his feet, pacing back and forth in the small room until he was confident that his legs had remembered how to function well enough to get him out of there.

A simple test of the handle revealed the room had been locked, and Virgil wasted a few minutes poking through the unsettling number of medical tools in the room before realizing there was no way they’d left the key in here with him.

He could probably kick the door down if given a few tries, but the more noise he made, the more likely it was that Logan would find him mid-escape and put him right back in those restraints. Virgil had no illusions on how a second match between him and the uncannily quick slayer would turn out, which meant that stealth was currently his best friend.

He turned his gaze to the wall, wondering if they were flimsy enough that it would be better to try and punch a hole through one of those, but before he could decide further, he heard the sound of approaching footsteps.

Shit. Plastering himself against the wall, he waited tensely for them to pass by— only for them to pause right outside the doorway. There was the distinct click of a key being inserted into a lock. Double shit.

The door swung open, and the assistant slayer had just enough time to look up and see the empty specimen table before Virgil leapt at them.

Don’t freak out, he would have said if his hands weren’t currently occupied with covering the slayer’s mouth and dragging them bodily into the room. Instead, he made a series of low chuffing sounds from deep in his chest, which helped absolutely nothing about the current situation.

“Scourge!” Fluffbutt crowed, her contribution equally as unhelpful.

Hurriedly booting the door shut with his foot, Virgil only had a moment before the baby slayer gave up on trying to pry his hand away and instead went for the sword sheathed at their side.

Since letting them do that was basically a one-way street to getting decapitated, he risked releasing them for long enough to tear his claws through their belt and yank the sword free, sheathe and all, before tossing it into a corner with a muted thud.

“PRO—,” they started, and Virgil slapped his hand back over their mouth, hissing lowly in the closest approximation to a shush that he could manage. They responded by glaring and biting him, which he really should have expected after living with teenagers for a few months.

It only took a glance around the room to find a suitable cloth from the cache of cleaning supplies, and Virgil wrangled the baby slayer into a headlock for the handful of seconds it took him to assemble a makeshift gag and shove it in their mouth.

With the slayer now unable to raise the alarm, Virgil paused for a moment to think, his whole body jittering with sudden adrenaline. The easiest solution would obviously be to strap the slayer into the convenient demon-proof restraints readily available on the specimen table, but he really didn’t want to do that. The kid was already panicking hard enough, the last thing he wanted was to make them think he was going to experiment on them or something.

Instead, he tore a larger piece of linen into strips and wound them around the slayer’s wrists a few times before knotting the end of the faux-ropes intensively around one of the table legs.

The slayer started yanking against the makeshift restraints the moment Virgil stepped away, their cries muffled but still audible enough that he should really be escaping sooner rather than later.

Luckily, his cloak had been dumped on a nearby shelf with the rest of the meager belongings he carried with him, mostly ignored after Logan had finished snooping through it for bones or something. Virgil ignored Fluffbutt swooping noisily around his head as he slung the comforting weight back around his shoulders and pulled the hood up, and then stepped back around the table towards the door.

The baby slayer seemed to think he was headed for them instead, their gaze very obviously wide with terror as they scrambled ineffectively to get away from him. He stopped short, guilt swamping him.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he signed, backing up a few paces to try and give them some space. “I just want to get out of here, okay?”

The kid stared at him, chest rising and falling as rapidly as a sparrow’s. He sort of wished he had heard their name at some point, but it probably wouldn’t have made a difference. As it was, he didn’t even know if they knew sign, let alone how to calm them down.

He sighed, lifting his hands up to his shoulders in a gesture of nonaggression, and edged around them to finally get to the door. Fluffbutt settled on his shoulder, apparently content to be identified as a little feathered demon-associating traitor. 

The hall was blessedly empty when he stuck his head out to check, and so he waved a small farewell to the kid— almost certain that they would wriggle out of those haphazard bonds within the hour— and closed the door after himself.

The key was still sitting there in the lock, so he twisted it to relock the room, and after a moment of thought, dropped the key and kicked it under the door so that the kid wouldn’t be stuck if nobody else came by in the next few hours.

He’d done it. He was out— mostly, anyhow.

Now, all he had to do was stay out.

[kinglooy]

KingLooy's Library: Sub Tags

(like my masterpost this is also basically just for me)

TSS fic: Sanders Sides, comfort fics abound

DC fic: Detective Comics Comics (like seriously DC comics, like what if "ATM machine" was the actual name of the company that made ATMs, like come on)

DC x DP fic: I have watched/read almost 0 relevant source material for DC or Danny Phantom, but what are you gonna do about it

DP fic: I haven't even seen a commercial for the show, but I read a fic once because it was right there and now I seek out fandom (phandom?) stuff on purpose

Marvel fic: look I mostly just go here for the big fandom privilege

Murderbot: The Murderbot Diaries are great books and you should read them (there are also audio books if those are more your style)

Urban Fantasy: one of the things I most want to write is an anthology of ordinary life in an urban fantasy world just to play with the worldbuilding

Time Loop: I like to think that I'd be a good love interest in a time loop story. I'm not in the time loop with the protag, I'm just willing to believe them and follow instructions and they fall in love with me about it

[lifewithoutrainydays]

intrumas cannibalism for all you disgusting freaks out there (but mostly for min) (and me)

[nullominous-q]

Die For Me - Ch 5: Such a (violent) child

My friend, are you still a friend?

"Remus!” The boy flinched when a pebble hit him in the shoulder and he turned to glare at who had thrown it. He rolled his eyes when he saw a head of red hair and brown eyes peering through an open window. Remus turned back to try and get the sole of the shoe he was working on aligned so he could secure it with minimal adjustments necessary, “Go away Nina.” He’d tried to sound intimidating but that was awfully difficult for a ten year old to achieve and Nina clearly wasn’t deterred as she knocked lightly on the back door to the cobbler’s workshop. “C’mon lemme in, Re-bee!” Remus dropped his tools, he hated that nickname. He fully turned to look Nina in the eyes, “Go away, Neatie Nina.” Although he couldn’t see the bottom half of her face, he knew she was scowling at him from the street. “What’s stuck up your butt today?” “Poop, duh,” Remus answered as he stuck out his tongue at her.

[tssidesfics]

Mirror, Mirror, Scatter Me (Janus' Requiem)

This idea has been percolating for a while. I watch compilations of Sanders' Sides cosplays and I saw a really awesome video by @salem_orchid on Tiktok. I do not watch Tiktok on that accursed app. You could never pay me enough to go on that cursed app. So have the link directly to the video in the compilation I found it in. https://youtu.be/zfcY0lYix7I?t=42 (Sound from "Echo" English Cover by Jubphonic)

This is set in what is effectively an AU of the A Story of a Soul in All Its Stripes series, where the events of Morality Is Grey happened and basically nothing else because I wrote a hundred thousand words on the gradual degradation of Virgil's relationship with Janus and I cannot not be loyal to that interpretation. What am I gonna do? Write another slow-burn platonic dissolution of affection and trust? I'm busy. It is very angsty.

*

Janus is not woeful. Despite the void in his chest beside a porcupine heart of mirror shards, he does not grieve. He is a mastermind. He is whole despite the parts of him Virgil fled with without remorse. He is defiant and strong and he does not grieve. Grief is weak. He does not grieve.

Never mind how he clutches a hoodie that is not his to his chest and weeps.

Infiltration was slow, calculated, and scorched with wrong turns. Relying on Virgil to leave the door open for them had gone to shit, something Janus should have predicted--a coward cannot be trusted to remain loyal--and it had taken weeks before Janus found a new pathway, stumbled upon by accident. Behind a mask, Janus found himself in the glaring light of knownness, and from that place weaved a new plan: strategic, gradual capitalization, exploitation, and manipulation paving the road, a cobblestone at a time, for the others to claim their place among the bastards that had thrust them into twilight so long ago.

For so long, that had been his one goal. His only objective. Convince Thomas that he could not divide himself by arbitrary lines of right and wrong, reprogram the years of Catholic brainwashing, and build thrones for the others where traitors dwelt.

And in the end, he had succeeded. Now came the aftermath. It should have brought peace, relief.

But there is still a void beside a porcupine heart, mirror shards endlessly reflecting the faces of those around him. Janus' soul is a fun-house of mirrors without the fun, each Side distorting through them, just a piece at a time, copying over and shifting, reflecting over on itself ad infinitum. It had been an advantage for a long time.

Now it was a haunting.

"When are you going to drop the mysterious act?" Roman asked during breakfast one day, lacking tact but not friendliness. A loathsome sentiment to regard Janus with. "You won. We're all fine with you now. Let people actually get to know you."

Janus arched an eyebrow. "And what, pray tell, elicited this?"

Roman shrugged. "Nobody knows you. I mean, obviously Patton, Logan and I aren't running around hiding anything about ourselves. Virgil stopped being brooding and mysterious ages ago and now he's just brooding."

"I am not a YA love interest. All I am is tired of your bullshit."

"Nah, Logan claims that one."

"I am willing to share with Virgil. You are all exhausting."

"Shut up, Pocket Protector."

"It pleases me to notice that while you seem endlessly capable of creating new nicknames for Virgil, I remain so impossible for you to intelligently insult that you reuse the same tired nicknames every conversation we share."

Roman glared at him. "I will misspell every word in your filing system."

"Attempt it and you will cease to be an annoyance entirely."

"Kids..." Patton chided. "Play nice."

Roman and Logan both emphatically rolled their eyes, returning to their breakfasts--Roman, a heaping pile of pancakes marinating in butter and syrup; Logan, eggs and ham.

Janus allowed the conversation to derail without interjection from him, knowing such a thing would only redirect attention back to the original recipient. What Roman asked was simple enough. Janus had no more need to hide. Their place at Thomas' side was assured now.

But to be honest about himself with others required that he know something to be honest with.

Janus is not a stupid Side. He is among the best educated of them, bested only by Logan who he believes has never spent a single moment entertaining self-care or downtime, rather intent on burying himself seventeen feet deep in work. He understands philosophy well. He can argue it for hours and he will win most arguments he initiates on the subject, including with Logan (though Logan maintains an imbecilic distaste for the whole concept). He concocted multiple plans that inevitably paved the way for a more complete Thomas. He was not an idiot.

But that said nothing about his sense of his self, his identity.

He can name things affiliated with him. Deception, self-care, selfishness. A shapeshifter, duplicitous. Untrustworthy, manipulative. He maintains pride for those things (although as time reaches ever-forward certain traits among that list tint a darker and darker grey, some days appearing almost black). But associations, correlations are not definitions.

A lack of definition was easily used to one's advantage. When you lacked a cohesive sense of yourself, it was easy to slip into whatever skin best suited your objective. While not all faces were made equal and not all souls were easily emulated, nonetheless such adaptability, when it had brought them so much, Janus refused to slander.

For years Janus had gone without any name, dubbed only by a color that now drenches him in acid every time someone dares spite him with it. Something Virgil does frequently, having not yet forgiven Janus for the slights he'd imagined committed against him in their time as allies. Janus tires of it and such instances always escalate into impassioned, vitriolic arguments where no weakness is left unexploited. Every foul piece of laundry hung out to poison the air, every bystander horrified to shock.

"You've never been anything but whatever you needed to be to get what you wanted, Janus," Virgil spits. "You can't trust something that can't even decide what the hell it is long enough to give you an honest fucking answer."

Janus stares at him. The shards buried all around his heart reflect Virgil's hateful glare and plunge deeper. Without a word, Janus sinks out.

Within minutes there's a knock at his door. Janus stands in his bathroom, staring into the mirror, straight into it, which he never does. Even glimpsing it sends shards barreling toward him, but now he's standing at its mercy. There's no room left for the shards. Some are falling out to make room, others are making themselves at home past the external wall, deep into the inner valves. His heart tries to pump around them but fails. Janus' eyes burn, unblinking while dams hold back moisture.

"Janus?" Patton calls inside. "I'm...sorry about Virgil." He sounds like he usually does after such arguments: like he feels drawn to take a side but can't decide whose. "What he said was really mean. You said some mean things too, but obviously what he said really hurt you, so...do you want to talk about it?"

Janus opens his mouth to call back to him and his throat snaps closed. No sound escapes. He strains to push out air and fails, gripping his throat.

After a moment of struggling to no avail, Patton takes his silence as an answer. "Okay," he says. "We're here if you need anything. Virgil went back to his room, so the commons are open."

Janus hangs his head and his hands fall limp to grip the sink. He notices then that his hands not only lack their gloves but are decidedly paler than his natural, if faint, tan. Moreover, they are both human, no scales to be seen blemishing either. He frowns and lifts his eyes to the mirror, jolting.

Virgil's purple and brown eyes stare back at him.

Alarmed, Janus gropes his face. When did he shift? Why? It wasn't intentional. It was usually intentional, except for--times when he was emotionally compromised.

Shit. He willed himself back to his typical visage. It had no effect. He tried again. Still no effect. Worse yet, instead he shifted to look like Roman instead. Another attempt brought force Remus' visage, then Logan's and Patton's and back to Virgil and Rage's and endlessly he cycled through until it was happening at dizzying speeds.

Janus couldn't breathe. He had no control. It hurt, shifting so many times, over and over again, body warping, shifting, hunching, lengthening, shortening. He couldn't scream. He wouldn't call for help regardless. He wouldn't debase himself like that. Despite his pain and fear, he would never stoop so low.

Janus sinks to the floor, gripping his hair as it endlessly shifts in length and color. Finally his eyes moisten, weeping never mind the face he wears. He's exhausted, but while he continues to shift he can't sleep. He prays for mercy, knowing it won't come. He doesn't know how he'll help Thomas like this.

He doesn't suppose it matters. Thomas has united the discordant parts of himself. Janus' purpose has been fulfilled. There is no further need for a monster.

Hands grip his wrists. Janus lashes out but is easily restrained, gaze settling on Virgil. Janus stares.

Virgil's face is moist and streaky. He doesn't look hateful for once. He looks...regretful.

"Focus on your name," he tells him. "Just your name. Why you picked it. Focus on that."

Janus doesn't understand, but out of ideas, he obeys. He remembers searching for one, the never-ending frustration until he stumbled across the name for the two-faced god of choices. He is an existentialist, so it was fitting, especially his visage being what it was. As he always guarded the doorway to the forsaken, it couldn't fit much better.

The horrifying switching ends. Janus stares at his gloves, finally back on his hands.

Virgil smiles slightly and releases his wrists, resting back on the tile floor rather than crouching there. He crouches most places so he could certainly afford the strain, but Janus suspects it's his way of relaxing. Of acknowledging trust.

Janus stares.

Virgil stares back.

Janus shakes his head, searching for words. He finds none, not that he imagines they would have come if he had.

Virgil's face tangles in on itself and he averts his gaze. "I'm--" He strains for a moment. "I'm sorry. It--fuck."

Janus continues to stare.

"I know I fucked it up when I left," Virgil admits, forcing himself to look back at Janus although it seems like the eye contact hurts him. "It was a huge disgusting mess and we all said a lot of shitty things, but I'd been scared out of my mind for years. I was having constant panic attacks and it was affecting Thomas. I blamed it on all of you, but I never said shit. I didn't know how. I found out way too late after being here for long enough after a lecture from Logan that it's shitty and abusive to expect people to guess your boundaries when you won't fucking tell them what they are, but--fuck, I was hurt, and I don't deal with that well. It was a lot easier to hate you and use everything I'd ever loved about you against you and the others, especially you because you were the one who trained me to lie and I fucking hated doing that. I fucked it up. I fucked it up really badly and I should have just fucking owned up to it but I am very, very good at digging a deeper and deeper hole for myself. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you like that, it was shitty. I'm sorry."

Without words, Janus can't answer.

Virgil takes that as his answer and sinks out.

*

The next day, Virgil finds a piece of paper on his desk in his room.

Mirror, mirror, scatter me. Take my shards and bury me. I'm the apparition of nightmares realized, the incarnation of your shame. I haunt myself with all my failures. All I know is my own name.

Shards of you are buried deep, a jagged shield that shreds my soul. All I've left are memories and shames of what I can't control.

I spurned you and turned my gaze when you would die for mercy shown. I chased you off with defiant pride and in that pride I lie alone.

The fault lies not with you, dear Brutus, but with the man power claimed all. I plead with you, forgive me, brother, as I am left alone to fall.

Virgil comes to sit with him in silence, and eventually, Janus reenters the world. He still does not quite know himself, but we are reflections of each other; only in being known can we define our souls.

Forgiveness is a fountain. Have your drink.

[endy-the-anxious]

Jesus, you look shitty

Summary: Virgil goes to visit Remus again after years of not seeing him. Things.. don't really go well.

Word count: 2293

Characters: Remus, Virgil, Patton, Janus (mentioned)

Notes: This is inspired by the episode 'The Telescope' from Bojack Horseman.

Tagging: @lost-in-thought-20 @chituri

----------

Virgil sighed as he stood in front of the door that led to the dark side of the mind scape. He hadn’t been back here in so long. Ever since he left the dark sides, and Janus had followed him soon after, they’d both worked to keep the parts separate. It needed to be like that, for Thomas’ sake. Janus had told him that he’d tried to convince Remus to be less disturbing so he could join the light sides too, and that Remus had asked him to stay instead, but because they couldn’t reach an agreement, Janus left too.

Since then, Remus hadn’t shown himself, and while part of Virgil was glad that Thomas was now safe from his intrusive thoughts, another part of him was plagued with guilt for having abandoned his childhood friend. That guilt kept building up over time, and now, years later, he figured it was time to apologize for everything that had happened between them. If he could just make amends, maybe things would get better, and he wouldn’t have to deal with guilt all the time.

He didn’t want to go alone, though. He hadn’t seen Remus in so long. It would at least be extremely awkward, and he’d rather not be alone in a room with him. So, he’d brought Patton, who silently stood beside him, also looking rather nervous.

Virgil looked at him, and made eye contact for a moment, “..this is good, right? That we’re going to apologize?” he asked.

His friend nodded, “I mean, I think so, yeah. I learned that apologizing always makes things better,” he said, smiling a bit.

“..Right. Okay,” Virgil said as he gathered up some courage. He then raised his hand, and knocked on the door, and the pair waited for a response.

A few minutes later, the door opened, and there was Remus. Virgil remembered him always looking messy, but dear god, it had gotten so much worse. His hair was long and greasy.. When was the last time he’d washed it? His clothes were in a bad state too, all wrinkly and full of stains.

“..hey, Remus..” Virgil said, trying to keep his tone a bit nonchalant to mask his nervousness.

Surprisingly enough, a grin spread across Remus’ face, “Virgil! Jesus, you look shitty! Has life with the light sides not been as good as you’d hoped?” he joked.

From the corner of his eyes, the anxious side noticed Patton purse his lips together after hearing the comment, and he chuckled a little, unfortunately already feeling awkward, “Heh.. no, it’s been nice. You don’t look so good either, Rem,” he said, attempting to joke back.

And within a second after saying that, Remus’ smile disappeared, and his unblinking eyes met Virgil’s with a look so cold that he almost shivered.

“I’m dying.”

Virgil’s breath got stuck in his throat for a moment. Out of all the words Remus could’ve said, that was the last thing he expected.

“..oh,” he managed to bring out.

Remus stared at him a bit longer, before putting on a wide smile again, “Well, anyways. How nice of you two to visit after all these years! Come in! I’ll make you both something nice,” he said as he clapped his hands together. He gestured at Virgil and Patton to follow him, and then turned around and walked into his living space.

Virgil took a few seconds to calm down from his shock of seeing Remus act so strange. Stranger than usual, that is. He glanced at Patton, “..please don’t leave me alone with him,” he said quietly, and felt a little bit reassured when his friend nodded. They walked in together.

The inside of the place was even worse. It reeked with the smell of something dead. Maybe it was the plants in the room that looked like they hadn’t been watered in years, or maybe Remus actually had some dead animals hidden around here. Virgil repressed the urge to cover his mouth and nose with the sleeve of his hoodie.

“I was just about to make myself some food, so you can join if you want!” Remus’ voice echoed from the kitchen, “Just sit down at the table and I'll be there in a sec!”

The two light sides exchanged silent glances, and despite the fact that they both wanted to leave, they knew they couldn’t do that yet. Virgil had come here to apologize, and Patton had come with him for extra support. They couldn’t just leave without doing that. Especially not since Remus seemed quite happy to see them here. So, they sat down at the table.

A few minutes later, Remus came back with some bread and meat on plates, which he put down in front of them, “Bone apple teeth!” he said with a grin.

Patton looked at the food. It.. didn’t look appetizing at all, and.. was that mold? He felt like throwing up, and quickly decided to think of something else to forget about it. “..what a coincidence. We ate something like this yesterday-..” he said with a small smile.

“Well duh,” Remus chuckled, “I get all the scraps of food you throw away! Don’t worry. You’ll get used to the mold after a while.” he said as he sat down at the table too, opposite to the light sides.

Virgil stared at the food Remus had served him, and just like Patton, he was appalled by even the idea of eating it. He looked up and saw the intrusive side had already started eating, using his hands to shove the food in his mouth as if he hadn’t eaten for days. It actually made him feel nauseous, and he quickly covered his mouth with his hand, to hopefully keep himself from throwing up.

Noticing the movement, Remus looked up, and made eye contact with Virgil, “..what’s wrong, Virge?” he asked with his mouth full, “Do you need better cutlery?”

Confused by the question, the anxious side glanced at Patton for a second, “...uhh.. what..?” he asked.

“Because if you do-..” Remus continued, “I can always give you the knife you left in my back years ago!” he added, before laughing.

Virgil, not sure what else to do, awkwardly laughed along, “Heh.. r- right… walked right into that one. Who asks about cutlery..?” he mumbled.

It was silent for a moment, with the only sound being Remus’ eating. The tension was horrible, and neither light side knew what to do in this situation. They could’ve handled an angry Remus, perhaps. But this was very different from what they expected, and the last thing they wanted to do was make things worse.

Luckily, dinner was over rather quickly, and Remus stood up to collect the plates and bring them back to the kitchen, where he left them in the sink before joining the other sides again, who hadn’t moved from their seats at the table.

Breaking the tense silence, Remus clapped his hands, “Well! It was certainly nice to have you two over, but I'm sure you’d like to go back to your own place now. I won’t keep you here any longer.” he said, before turning around and walking to the door again, gesturing at Virgil and Patton to follow him.

Remus brought the light sides to the door and grinned as he opened it for them, “Again, nice seeing ya! I need to get some rest. Close the door behind you!” he said, before simply walking off and letting his visitors stand by the door, perplexed.

Virgil and Patton exchanged concerned looks, before the former spoke up, “..I don’t feel good just leaving him here..” he admitted.

The moral side nodded and agreed, “Me neither.. I had no idea it was this bad for him. The awful food, and.. he’s dying too..? I didn’t know we sides could even die-” he admitted.

Fidgeting with the zipper on the sleeve of his hoodie, Virgil thought about what to do, “..maybe I should go back in, alone.” he said. When Patton grabbed his hand and asked if he was sure, he nodded, “..I mean, I was the first one to leave him.. and I never came back or apologized. I need to do that. If he dies before I get the chance to-..” he cut himself off and looked down, “..I could never forgive myself..”

Patton squeezed his hand, “I understand.. but be safe, okay?” he said softly, though Virgil’s nod and reply didn’t exactly reassure him.

Putting on a brave face and walking back in alone was harder for Virgil than he thought it would be. But, he told himself, he was doing this for Remus. Inside, he made his way to Remus’ room, and knocked on the door before walking in, where he saw him sitting on his bed, leaning against the headrest with his eyes closed.

He seemed to not notice Virgil at first, which concerned him. You’d think one would hear the sound of someone entering their room, but apparently that wasn’t the case with Remus now.

Virgil stayed silent for a moment, looking at Remus. He coughed a little every once in a while, and.. some black smoke-like substance seemed to ooze right out of his skin with every cough, as if life was being sucked right out of him, slowly, and painfully.

The sight made Virgil’s blood run cold, as he realized that when Remus told him he was dying, he wasn’t exaggerating. He cleared his throat to get the other’s attention, and before he could even say anything, Remus’ eyes shot open, and he stared at Virgil with that same cold look he’d had before.

“Come to ruin my life some more, asshole?” he asked, any trace of niceness in his voice gone.

“I-.. no-” Virgil said, stumbling a little because he was once again caught off guard by Remus’ sudden change in demeanor. He fumbled with his hoodie strings for a second, trying to calm his nerves down before talking again. “Listen, I-... about what happened after I left-.. after Janus left-..” he started, “We.. we never meant for things to turn out this way..”

“So.. you’re apologizing?”

The anxious side nodded quickly, “Yes. I’m sorry, Remus..” he said, before smiling a little bit, Maybe, just maybe, they could be friends again, for a little while. Maybe.. he could save his old friend from death. But, Remus’ next words pulled him right out of his thoughts.

“Fuck off.”

Baffled, Virgil looked at him and stepped closer to try and reason with him, “Remus-.. I-.. I don’t think you understand me right now. I’m sorry.. you said you were dying and.. I can see it, and I’m so sorry. If you die, and I can’t at least make things better between us-.. I-”

Remus leaned forward a little and coughed again, “I said, Fuck. Off.” he repeated, keeping his voice low and threatening. “I’m not gonna forgive you just so you can feel better about your shitty self.” He reached out and grabbed Virgil by his collar, pulling him down to his eye level, “I want you to live. I want you to live knowing that there’s nothing you can do to make this better. I want you to live, knowing that you killed me.”

Virgil tried to pull away instinctively, but Remus was surprisingly strong for a dying person. “I-.. I-..” he said, terrified of what Remus might do to him now that they were alone. Was he going to take him down with him? After a few seconds, he registered what Remus had actually said, and he frowned, “M- me..? I- I’m not killing you!” he tried to defend himself “I- I just want to help!”

“Bullshit!” Remus shouted, which immediately resulted in him having a big of a coughing fit, causing him to let Virgil go. The intrusive side wheezed and gasped for air as his body secreted more black smoke. When he’d calmed down a bit, he looked up at Virgil and glared daggers at him. “I-.. I know it’s you. I can feel it. I helped you control your abilities, your room. Maybe you don’t realize it, but it’s you.” he said.

Having stepped back after Remus let him go, Virgil looked at Remus, “..so-.. if it’s me.. can’t I stop whatever i’m doing? Can’t I save you?” he asked quietly.

Remus leaned back and crossed his arms, “I don’t want to be saved. I don’t need you, or anyone else anymore, and I haven’t needed you for a long time.” he said coldly.

“You could’ve joined us, you know..?” Virgil said quietly, “When I left. When Janus left. He told me he offered you to join the light sides too, but you refused. Why?” he asked.

“..I never needed to be a light side. I was fine just being me,” Remus answered, looking away for a moment, “What I needed, was my friends. But you left me so you could become a light side. You both dropped me and forgot about me. Did you ever even consider you could’ve been a light side and my friend?” he asked before making eye contact again, “You care more about being a light side, than you ever cared about me, and I learned that a long time ago.”

Virgil let his arms drop to his sides as he listened to Remus, and while he didn’t want to admit it, he knew he was right. If he’d cared more, he would’ve visited sooner. Or.. he shouldn’t have left in the first place. It had been a mistake coming here, hadn’t it?

“I’m sorry..” he mumbled, turning around and hearing Remus reply to him one last time.

“No. You’re not. And now get out.”

..And Virgil did.

[creative-lampd-liberties]

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Light angst and hurt/comfort. Gratuitous Holiday fluff. Mentions of ducking out. Hugging. Mild gore and language typical of Remus. Brotherly Dukexiety and Creativitwins and Platonic Prinxiety.

Summary: A little clearing the air on what it means to be a brother, by circumstance or by choice.

For my giftee @anxiouslyfred I really hope you enjoy it 💜

@sanderssidesgiftxchange

[hootnhoney]

AND ITS DONE

hell yes.

[romansleftshoulderpad]

Welcome to the Life of Electra Heart

Track Five: Starring Role

Ship: Creativisleep

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

If you like my writing, please consider leaving a comment! And maybe, buy me a Ko-Fi?

First Chapter / Last Chapter / Next Chapter

Tag List: @poettheythem @iclaimedtobethebetterbard @justablah56 If you’d like to be added to the tag list, please send an ask!

Small content warning that this fic does feature more sexual content than previous chapters, but nothing is ever mentioned graphically. If you’d like to skip this scene, stop reading after “Distraction,” he said and continue reading after the --- 

----

You’re hard to hug

Roman was at least used to his classes. From 10 a.m to 6 p.m he was a perfectly functional student. With his skills in acting, he might have even tricked his friends into believing he was well adjusted. He found relief in even the more challenging classes. Math had objective answers. English allowed him to analyze someone else’s problems. He thought that maybe if he studied enough Greek tragedies, he’d be too worn out to analyze himself. But if that were possible, he hadn’t read enough plays. And in the depths of cruel night, he thought of King Oedipus. A man could spend his life trying to do all the right things, only to realize life was never in his control. Or worse, the “right choices” dragging down not only himself but his beloved city. 

Roman turned over in bed. His knees were pulled up to his stomach and the light of his phone was drying out his eyes. But at least it wasn’t racking his brain. 

At 10 a.m, he resumed his charade of functionality. It didn’t even matter that sleep deprivation made every step heavy. And when he got home, he finally got a break from the heavy cloud of loathing that suffocated his lungs. He fell asleep as soon as he closed his eyes. And after a whole day of torture, it seemed sleep deprivation could be a friend after all. 

It seemed Roman had yet to learn his lesson. 

Tough to talk to.

And I never fall asleep

Remy’s touch was soft. His fingers ghosted over Roman’s skin and he never left marks. Sometimes when they were kissing, Roman would cry. Every time, Remy would stop and ask him, “What’s wrong?”

And Roman would always smile and say, “Absolutely nothing,” and kiss him again gently. 

He never told Remy why he cried. 

He wasn’t sure he understood why himself. 

When you’re in my bed, all you give me is a heartbeat

That first, terrible morning was not the only time Roman saw Janus. Though it might have been the only time Janus saw him. No matter how many times Roman told himself he was better not knowing, he couldn’t help but scan every room he entered. He felt fear when other students entered the coffee shop or the library. 

Patton had waved to him once, a kind smile on his face. His eyes were devoid of bad intentions. Roman didn’t think Patton was even capable of bad intentions.

Roman broke down crying once he got to his car.

I’ve turned into a statue and it makes me feel depressed,

‘Cause the only time you open up is when we get undressed.

Roman hadn’t had sex since they’d run into Janus in the coffee shop. Though, he hadn’t enjoyed sex since that night at Lilly’s house anyway. That one night was full of planning and calculations, where sex had gotten to be the reward for his own cunning. But other times… sex was not an end goal or a reward. Other times, there were too many memories pierced into his skin, too much guilt surrounding his every movement. The body he saw in the mirror didn’t even belong to him. 

No one with autonomy would have felt sick at the thought of even masturbating— let alone being touched by someone else.

Snake venom ran through his veins, with no sign of fading away.

You don’t love me, big fuckin’ deal

There was something inherently wrong with everyone. Not just him, but with all his friends. Five broken people held together by washi tape and glitter glue. But no one dared speak of the tension looming overhead. If you did, it might swallow you whole. 

I’ll never tell you how I feel

Roman was standing in the doorway, staring at the dumpster fire before him. No, a dumpster fire would have been far more organized than Remus’s room. There were clothes and old sketchbooks all over the floor. And what looked like thumb tacks sticking out from the carpet. Remus was barefoot as he paced around. 

“If you’re not going to compliment my latest art piece, then you should get out,” he said, gesturing to... something sitting on his desk.

“Is that... A penis?”

“Five penises,” he said. “Made of paper mache.”

“All connected at the balls.”

Remus smiled proudly. 

“I hate sharing DNA with you,” Roman said. 

“Then why are you here?” 

Roman furrowed his brow. “Has... Emile talked to you? Like... about liking someone? “Emile likes a lot of people. He has bad intuition and shit.”

“No, like...” Roman frowned. “Like-like.”

Remus groaned. “God, how old are you? No, he hasn’t gossiped to me about his little crush.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?” Remus raised an eyebrow.

“Well, it’s just... He seems to be upset with me lately-”

“You got drunk and told him to go fuck himself.”

“Before that,” Roman said, though he couldn’t help but cringe. He still hadn’t apologized-- he’d hoped Emile would just silently forgive him and they could all move on. “Lilly told me he had feelings for someone and I’ve noticed he hasn’t talked to me as much since Remy and I-”

Remus tilted his head to the side, a furrow in his brow that Roman knew all too well-- and knew it wasn’t anything good. 

“...Started hanging out more,” he added clumsily. “And I thought, you know, maybe he was upset because-”

Remus laughed-- a loud bark of mockery. “You think Emile has a crush on you?!”

“Hey! It’s not that wild of a concept!”

Remus was laughing too hard to form a proper rebuttal. 

Roman huffed and went back to his room. It’s not that much of a stretch!

You don’t love me, not a big deal

I’ll never tell you how I feel

Roman was almost late for class. It seemed the universe was determined to screw him over even when he wasn’t being self-destructive. (Which then made it even harder to stop being self-destructive.)

He had agreed to meet everyone in the library after class. (And he was almost late to that too after getting lost.) He found a table that everyone’s bags had been piled onto and threw his things into the mess, taking a moment to catch his breath. He began aimlessly walking around the library. 

The dusty air and seemingly endless shelves were relaxing. Despite feeling far older and more foreign than any library he’d visited as a kid, he couldn’t help but believe that the walls could keep his secrets. And though he often felt lost in the grand scheme of time and feared that his infinitesimal life would be deemed one of even more infinitesimal importance, this old library whispered a promise to hold the lives of anyone who entered its walls. 

He heard whispering in one of the aisles-- and like a high schooler with insect radiation in his veins, he knew something was wrong. He ducked into the aisle on the other side of the whispering and found a small slit between the shelves where he could see blue hair and a shorter blond. Roman stayed there, his breath as still as the dust on yellowed pages.

“--I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be dumping all this on you. I- I just-”

“Shh. Listen, I’m here for you.”

“Sometimes I worry you’re the only one.”

“Well, I mean-” A forced laugh. “Don’t. Don’t tell me it’s true.”

“Have you told anyone other than me?”

“...it’s not that easy.”

“It would be easier if you did.”

Roman’s chest was hurting from holding his breath, but he was still terrified to make himself known. Which is ridiculous, he told himself, there’s nothing illegal about browsing a library shelf. Of course, he knew that would only be true had he been only browsing. He slowly let out his breath, watching the dust fly up from the shelves as he did. 

“Remy, I- There’s something I really should tell you.” 

Roman’s nose twitched. Please, God, no- “Achoo!” He froze still, and looking through the crack he could see that Emile had as well. 

Remy furrowed his brow. “Tell me what, Em?”

Emile’s head turned and for a moment it seemed that he and Roman might have made eye contact, but he showed no sign of recognition. His posture stiffened. “…nothing. Nothing that matters anyway.”

“Em, everything you say matters.”

Emile sighed. “Not if it doesn’t change anything.”

“Em-“

“I should go find Remus. He needed my help with an essay.”

Bullshit, Roman thought. Remus never needs help. 

“Emile, wait,” Remy pleaded. 

“I’m tired of waiting, Remy. I need to go.”

Emile left, as did any sense of hope lingering on Remy’s lips. And Roman was alone, feeling like a spy, feeling like a traitor. 

Sometimes I ignore you

Remy and Virgil had come over to study. There was no sign of Emile and only a ghost in the space that once might have been reserved for Patton. The clock on the wall kept ticking, a drummer standing by the sidelines as soldiers marched into battle. The drummer would not face the immediate consequences of the battle he pulsed, but like every good heart, he was doomed nonetheless. 

A phone rang. The first shot. Virgil frowned as he picked it up off the table, but he hit “decline” and lost all sense of good posture, melting into some uncanny beast whose face shone silver in the screen’s light. He groaned, like a child unable to communicate that they’re in pain. 

“Do you need a ride home?” Remus asked.

“Not home,” Virgil mumbled.

“I’ll grab my keys.”

The defending army begins to fall. The drummer keeps drumming. Roman debates throwing a brick at that old clock. 

Roman closed his textbook and headed up the stairs, going for his room before Remus and Virgil even had a chance to leave. A war deserter, maybe, but better than a dead man any day. He threw his door behind him, waiting to hear the click of it shutting in place. Waiting. Waiting for just a second too long. He groaned and turned around to properly shut the door when he noticed exactly why it hadn’t shut. 

Remy, with his hands balled in his jean pockets, and his foot between the door and frame. 

Air caught itself in Roman’s throat- making it impossible to speak as his heartbeat drummed on, and on, and on, trying to march away from the battle. 

Remy’s shoulders sagged and he pulled his foot back in, no longer an intimidating blockade, but now just a boy trying to be something akin to a man. He whispered softly, “Roman, are you okay?”

Roman sighed, though his lungs were tight and his heart wished to escape its cage, he found it much easier to walk over to Remy and fall, his forehead pressed against Remy’s neck and his senses overwhelmed by soft skin and peppermint scent. “I don’t want to think anymore.”

“Your coursework is that rough, huh?”

Roman whined, “Nooo.”

Remy wrapped his arms around Roman, one hand carding through his hair as he did everything he could to make the rest of the world go away. “I’m tired of thinking too.”

Roman lifted his head, his cheek pressed up against Remy’s. “Maybe we could... stop thinking for a bit. You know... distract each other.”

Remy leaned in, laying his lips softly against Roman’s and the two quickly found their gentle rhythm. Roman tugged at Remy’s bottom lip, but as Remy pulled away he whined. 

The subtle quirk of an eyebrow and the gentle wrinkle of a smirk-- that was all it took for Roman to be undone. Remy’s voice was soft and low, and he asked, “How long have you been waiting to ask that?”

“Too long,” Roman said as easily and as quickly as breathing. 

“Then let’s just stop thinking,” Remy said. He let go of Roman just long enough to close the door, and then his hands were cradled against the side of Roman’s face and everything was back to sweet, rhythmic bliss. They moved like the hands of a clock. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. 

It was a dance, really, as Remy kissed him breathless and they took turns taking steps in time. Back. Back. Back. And back, until Roman’s legs hit the edge of the bed and Remy’s hands moved to his hips and he was breathless as skin moved over skin and fingers ghosted over Roman’s hips and under his shirt and he was breathless- breathless- breathless as Remy pressed his fingers into his sides and hooked one leg over Roman’s and he was breathless because it was bliss. And the memories of Janus pushing and pressing and pinning him down were like cuts over his skin, stinging in the open air and threatening to bleed his sanity all over the carpet and Roman was breathless and his heart was racing-- because that’s what happens when people have sex and it’s healthy and normal-- and tears pricked at his eyes and before he knew it he was shoving Janus- Janus- Janus-- Remy off of him. He heard something fall on the ground but didn’t register what it was. Probably a weighted blanket. Probably something he could deal with later. Probably nothing, that’s all any of this was. Probably nothing haunting him in the middle of the night and probably nothing going on with Emile and probably nothing happening with Patton and Janus and probably nothing that’s all his relationship with Janus was. Probably nothing was all he was to Janus. Probably nothing was probably everything he’d probably ever be. 

His fingernails were digging into the skin of his knees and the blood bubbling at his skin was the only thing that made him realize he was curled into a ball with tears already drying on his cheeks. His hands and face were tingling from a lack of oxygen and he fought himself for air. 

Someone was saying his name.

“No, no, no,” he kept saying, “No,” and shaking his heart. It had to be a hallucination. Just another phantom that kept him awake in the night. Another “Pathetic” branding into his skin and just another love bite that didn’t exist but felt so real when his hoodies ghosted over his skin. “No,” he said to the phantoms, but they kept calling out his name, “no, no, no, no, no, no.” His grip tightened. His skin burned. His lungs felt sore— from choking or screaming? Even as his gasps lightened into a pattern of deep breaths, he could still hear and feel and almost even see Janus. He could even see himself. Like some sort of out-of-body experience. He could see how childish he seemed. He lifted his head from where it had been buried in his arms. 

And Remy was sitting on his floor. Blue hair messy. Tears softly falling from his eyes. 

“Remy,” Roman softly choked. “I- I didn’t know you were- I thought. Well, that maybe I-“ His cheeks were warm as new tears fell over dried paths. “I thought I was-”

Remy pursed his lips and wiped the tears off his cheeks. He didn’t say anything. Maybe that was for the better. Maybe that was worse. 

“I’m sorry,” Roman said. Maybe to Remy. Maybe to himself. Maybe to Janus. “I’m sorry,” echoed through his mind. Maybe to no one at all.

So I feel in control

Where did the time go? Trading days for good grades and losing yourself in a dying highlighter, whose ink has spilled across hundreds of pages for hundreds of hours. Roman gave a strong exhale and threw his backpack over his shoulder. The weight of textbooks pulling down on his shoulder seemed like a problem for future Roman-- he just didn’t know if that future was in five years or five days. 

A hand ruffled his hair and planted a kiss on his forehead. “Are you ready, hun?”

He let out a long exhale, deflating into his chair as he did so. 

His mom laughed. “You’re a smart cookie, Roman. You’ll do fine.”

“It doesn’t feel like it.”

“Well too bad!” Remus yelled, running into the kitchen.

Their mother sighed.

“Get your ass in gear, dumbass!”

Roman gave his mother a look, with a raised eyebrow and that ever-present question, “Why didn’t you put him up for adoption and let me be an only child?”

And she let her head fall with her fingers pinching the bridge of her nose, giving that sigh that answered, “Sometimes, I really don’t know.”

Roman took the last swig of his coffee like a shot and followed Remus out to the car. “Just two more midterms,” he said. 

“Just two more professors to bribe,” Remus joked. 

Roman pulled out his phone and opened up Quizlet. He tested himself every single minute of the drive to campus. He recited equations and vocab terms to himself as Remus parked the car and in every single step towards the campus coffee shop. Unsurprisingly, Virgil was there before them with a pile of pens and notebooks scattered across the table. Roman threw his bag down on the seat and sat next to Virgil, scanning over the notes whilst pulling out his own materials. 

“Wow,” Remus said, “you two are a couple of fucking nerds. If you shacked up, you would literally-”

“Okay, Remus,” Virgil hissed. 

Roman nudged Virgil’s arm, “It’s fine, we’ll just shame him when we’re both very successful graduates and he’s still trying to bribe his way through his sixth year of a two-year degree.”

Remus rolled his eyes. “I’m getting a drink. Try not to have Virgil inside you when I get back.”

Virgil slumped over and rested his arms on the table with his chin sitting on top of his hand. “I’m going to kill him one of these days.”

“I’ll help you hide the body,” Roman offered. 

Virgil laughed and rested into a smile that Roman hadn’t seen from any of his friends in a terribly long time. Not since he and Janus- He was just happy to see Virgil happy, which made it all the more bitter when Virgil’s smile faded away. 

“Roman!” Remy said with a smile and his arms open wide. 

Roman stood quickly at the mention of his name. 

Remy pulled back. 

Roman stepped forward. 

An entire conversation sat in their half a second glance, but only a word was nestled into their hug. Roman hugged tightly, like he never wanted to let go. 

Emile and Virgil shared a glance across the table.

Remus came back from the counter and groaned. “Ew, more gay people.”

“Are you homophobic now?” Emile asked. 

“Only for you four,” Remus said. 

“Just for us, huh? Kinky,” Remy said. 

Roman rolled his eyes and let go of their hug. He settled back into his spot next to Virgil, letting their knees brush and their arms overlapped. 

Remus raised an eyebrow.

Virgil moved away.

And Roman silently prayed that one day he’d finally be able to read minds the way all his friends seemed to. He silently prayed they’d never be able to read his. “Hey, Remy, I think I owe you a coffee.”

Remy furrowed his brow. “Do you? I won’t say no either way but- Oh. Yeah, you definitely owe me one.”

Roman let out a deep breath. Under the table, he latched his foot against Remy’s ankle. Remy’s hand rested on his knee. He glanced at the time on Virgil’s laptop. Only one more hour to go.

‘Cause really, I adore you, and I can’t leave you alone

Roman was checking his hair in the bathroom. It had only been a week since midterms officially ended. But he couldn’t stop worrying about them. Sure, the world hadn’t ended during any of those tests, and he felt confident enough walking out. But, nothing was set in stone yet. Yet. Yet. Roman hated waiting on ‘yet’. His dye job was fading, leaving his hair looking far more natural and his brown roots were starting to show. He pushed his hair back and took a deep breath, exhaling as he walked out into the real world of the busy coffee shop. 

The line moved quickly enough, but a decent-sized crowd was forming around the pick-up counter. Despite this, there seemed to be no rush or impending doom amongst the baristas. Roman tapped his fingers against the flat side seam of his jeans. He knew he had hours to spare, but anything over a minute felt like a race against the clock. 

When he finally got to the counter, he recited his order like a machine. Only halfway through being halfway through the year. He was too tired to be a person, so he let himself just be another cog. He waited for his coffee. Just another body in the crowd. 

Until someone said his name.

And his fists tightened at his side. He wished he could have just stayed another body. 

“Roman,” he called again. “Hey. It’s, uh, been a while.”

Roman turned slowly, trying to force his breathing to be slow and deep as his heart raced. “Has Janus dumped you into the trash yet?”

Patton was small, though he was the same size as always, the distance made him seem so small. He had enough baby fat on his round cheeks to pass for a twelve-year-old more than an adult of 18. He had so much hope in his eyes. “No,” he said.

“Then it will be a while longer.”

“Roman, just because-” 

“Do not,” Roman seethed, keeping his voice down and his fists tight. He couldn’t cause a scene. He wouldn’t grant Janus that satisfaction. “Do not assume that I will bend myself to the sob story of anyone else. I would sooner break you in two than let you splinter me.”

A barista called out, “Hot chocolate with almond milk!”

When Roman allowed himself to meet Patton’s baby eyes, tears were welling over the edges. Patton took a shaky breath and said, “I hope you can see clearly one day.” He grabbed his drink and began to walk away, though so slowly it seemed more like a threat than a real exit. 

I hope you do too, Roman wanted to say. I hope Janus is better to you. I hope you leave him before you realize what he can do. “I don’t need your pity,” Roman said. He watched Patton walk away, with a part of Roman’s heart following behind. I miss having your rose-tinted vision. 

Fed up with the fantasies 

The car ignition started. The seatbelts clicked and the car tested its own ability to beep and blink along to the dashboard to prove it was still alive. (Sometimes Roman thought the old car was more alive than he was.) “So, uh... did you see him?”

“See who?” Roman asked as he scrolled through his Tumblr dash. 

“...you know,” Remus said. 

Roman put his phone screen down on his lap. “Oh,” he said. “Him, no. But I, uh, talked to Patton.”

Remus twisted in his seat, turning off the ignition and propping his knee onto the cup holders. “You spoke to Patton?!” 

“Well, I mean, more like Patton spoke to me. I wanted no part in it.”

Remus’ brow furrowed. “What did you talk about? Is he, like, a total prick now? Did he beg for forgiveness?” He took a deep breath and his voice rattled along the walls, “Did he shove Janus’s dick inside his own rectum where it belongs?!”

Roman winced. “Volume, Remus, please.”

Remus’s head pulled into his shoulders, making him look like a turtle. He muttered an apology.

“And, well, no. To all of it? He and Janus are still... a thing. I think Janus sent him specifically to torture me.”

Remus frowned. “Patton wouldn’t do that.”

“Then he’s just torturing me of his own volition.”

“Patton... Patton would do that.”

Roman asked quietly, “How well did you know Patton?”

“Not well enough.”

That cover what is wrong

Sweater weather. Roman’s favorite time of year. Well, as close as he could get to sweater weather anyway. If he sweat his ass off for the fit, at least he could be hot. In more ways than one. He laced up his red Converse and checked himself in the mirror. Red sweater with the white collar of his button-down poking over the top, blue skinny jeans, and his hair as rusty as ever. He took a deep breath and grabbed a tube of lipstick off the dresser. He’d never experimented with makeup before, and the concept still scared him. 

But he’d been too scared lately. Scared of the little things. Scared of things that weren’t even real.

He uncapped the tube and carefully traced the red over his lips. Might as well conquer the little fears. He rubbed his lips together the way he always saw Lilly do, he didn’t know why she did it, but it seemed wrong not to. He held his head high, straightened his back, and stepped out of his room and into a new day. 

—

Emile was quiet during the whole car ride and his hands were constantly fidgeting in his lap. As street signs blurred behind them, Roman found it harder and harder to focus on anything other than his eerily silent passenger. The car turned into the parking lot and Roman decided it was officially his mission to make Emile spill one way or the other. He parked and as he turned off the ignition to his car, he turned on the ignition to his scheme. His keychains jingled as he shoved his key into his pocket. 

“Emile,” he said, causing his passenger to jump in surprise. “Are you ready to kick ass?”

“You are... more like Remus than you think.”

“Fuck you. Let’s roll.”

The giant banner over the temporary store was no more than a modern-day equivalent of a fairy ring in an old forest. “Spirit Halloween,” Roman read with a smile, “a Halloween-filled party dimension.”

Emile frowned. “It’s just a costume store, Roman.”

“How are you friends with Virgil, Em?”

“Roman,” he said stiffly, “you don’t get to call me that.”

“Oh.” Roman paused suddenly. They had only just gotten inside, but he still couldn’t believe how far in he’d gone without saying it. “Emile, I- uh- I’m really sorry about the whole... party incident. I don’t really... remember... what I said. But I know it wasn’t good.”

Emile gave a small nod.

“And I’m not just sorry I said it, I... I’m mostly sorry it took me this long. I really should have-”

An animatronic werewolf began to howl, and as Roman screamed he realized his foot had been on the trigger.

Emile doubled over laughing. When he came up for air, his face was red and tears streaked over his cheeks. 

Roman wanted to roll his eyes, but Emile’s smile seemed to make it all better. 

Emile wiped at his face and took a few deep breaths, slowly returning to his normal complexion. His wide grin took Roman back in time, back to the carnival on the night they first met. The memory had become painful over time, but it brought him Emile-- amongst others-- and maybe that was its silver lining. 

“Forget the apology, I think that was all I needed,” he said with a teasing wink. “But, uh, I forgive you. Just... try to take care of yourself, okay? If not for you, if not for me, then do it for Remy, please.”

Roman furrowed his brow. “How did you--?”

“I, uh, don’t know what’s going on between you two. I don’t like to speculate where I’m not asked.” He took a deep breath. “But you two... seem good for each other, I guess. I guess he needed you.”

Roman should have been elated, but he couldn’t push past the guilt settling in his chest. “That means a lot, Emile. Thank you.”

Emile smiled and asked, “Can we go look at the Monster High stuff now? I’ve been waiting for months to see it.”

“Of course,” he said, finding Emile’s joy to be contagious. 

—

Once Roman’s car was loaded with bags of decorations, he found himself very grateful that Remus offered to pay for everything. Or, more accurately, that they had previously staked this on a game of Mario Kart and that Remus was very, very bad at Mario Kart. 

“Hey, Roman, you’re a fan of Taylor Swift,” Emile said, pulling Roman out of his Mario-Kart-ass-kicking memory.

“How’d you know?” Roman asked.

Emile only raised an eyebrow.

“...okay, fine, yeah. Why’d you ask?”

“Wanted to request it for the drive home,” he said. “Also, you’re totally giving Style right now and I needed to know if that was on purpose.”

Roman laughed. “It isn’t, but I’ll take it as a compliment.” He plugged his phone into the aux cord and handed it over to Emile. “You Belong With Me” began to play over the car speakers. “Taylor’s Version?” Roman asked.

“Is that even a question?” Emile teased. 

He pulled the shift in reverse. “Tell everyone we’re on our way back.”

“On it.”

“Have you ever thought just maybe? You belong with me? You belong with me...”

 —

“Bitch, I will throw this pumpkin spice latte all over your whitest shirt.”

Roman sighed. Virgil screamed. Remus and Lilly were probably fighting to the death. And they all did it whilst completely sober. “Can we all try not to kill each other? Please? Can an effort be made?” Roman begged.

“No promises,” Lilly and Remus said in unison. 

“Should we hide the carving knives?” Remy asked. 

“Already did,” Emile said.

Roman sighed. “Emile gets the ‘Most Prepared for Remus’ award.”

“He’s already been holding that title for the past three years,” Virgil said.

Roman furrowed his brow. “That was a joke, that’s an actual thing?”

“Yep,” Virgil, Emile, and Remy answered. 

“Though, I think he also deserves the ‘Most Prepared for Lilly’ award,” Virgil said. He turned to Emile and added, “I’ll, uh, have to make a new one. I kind of... set the old one on fire.”

“Why did you have the award?” Roman asked. “I’m her best friend! I should have it!”

Virgil shrugged. “I was more prepared.”

“How?!”

A crash sounded in the kitchen, followed by Lilly’s voice screaming a creative string of swear words.

Virgil sighed and muttered, “Through a lot of bad choices.”

Roman decided not to question him any further. 

“I still can’t believe your parents actually agreed to this,” Emile said to Remy. 

“Why wouldn’t they agree to a quiet and wholesome Halloween get-together?” Remy winked.

Emile rolled his eyes.

Roman just prayed that Remus wouldn’t get murdered by Lilly. Or murder Lilly. Really, he didn’t want any murder to occur at all. But that seemed highly unlikely. 

“Virgil, can you take care of Lilly?” Remy asked.

Virgil froze. “I? Why me?”

Remy raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you say you have the-”

“I’ll do it,” Emile stepped in. “Virgil can get the music set up.”

Virgil mouthed, “Thank you.”

But Remy only shrugged. “As long as someone gets those two feral cats separated. Roman, I need you to help me move some stuff upstairs.”

Virgil started, “I thought upstairs was off limits for the-” He quieted at what Roman could only assume was a killer glare from Remy. 

Without another word, Remy started up the stairs, and like his obedient puppy, Roman followed. They went into Remy’s bedroom and the door slammed shut as soon as they were inside. Remy grabbed Roman’s cheeks and pulled him in, kissing him roughly. Roman melted under his touch, his hands settling against Remy’s waist. He took a breath as they broke apart. “Not that I don’t love the surprise, but what was that for?” “Distraction,” he said. 

“Well, the part doesn’t start for a while,” he said. “We could, you know, take some time. Moving things.”

“What are you saying?”

“Just fuck me already,” Roman pleaded. He took off his sweater and tossed it on the floor.

Remy laughed and wasted no time returning his lips to Roman’s mouth. His hands explored Roman’s chest and his fingers made quick work to undo the buttons of his shirt. He kissed along Roman’s jaw and moved down to his neck.

Roman whined. “No- ah- no hickies. Please.”

“Duly noted,” Remy murmured, his voice reverberating over Roman’s skin and his lips so soft but so torturous. 

Roman worked to undo whatever buttons and zippers or whatevers that were between him and Remy. He wasn’t thinking straight-- he was never thinking straight at moments like these-- he wasn’t even thinking at all. He was just being an animal, doing only what pleased him the fastest. 

“Do you- ah- wanna move things- hmm- to the bed?” Remy asked between moans.

“I’d love to.”

They broke apart and giggled breathlessly, the rush of adrenaline from secret keeping and from knowing what came next was enough to leave them intoxicated. (Roman preferred that- the kind of intoxication that didn’t leave you with a headache in the morning.) They both stripped to their boxers and climbed onto the bed. The mattress sank under their weight as they sat on top. Too far apart to initially do anything; right where Roman felt safe. 

He watched as Remy settled against the pillows and he crawled closer. He lightly kissed Remy’s lips, trying to comfortably settle into the gaps between Remy’s limbs. His arms shook against his weight and the uneven mattress.

Remy broke the kiss with a laugh. “Roman, you don’t have to keep hovering. You’re not going to crush me.”

“I- Are you sure?”

Remy gently placed his hands on Roman’s sides, gripping just hard enough to hold his weight.

Roman took a breath and lowered his weight with Remy’s guidance. Their chests were pressed right against each other and their faces were tragically close. Roman kissed him again, moving so slowly and so gently. Gone was the world beyond the locked bedroom door. Gone were the stress and memories and singeing at his skin that usually came with sex or the expectation of it. (He would have supposed that was the saddest part if he’d been thinking at all. But the ability to stop thinking and just feel needed by someone, that’s why he stayed.)

Intoxication came in waves. He moved past Remy’s lips, kissing him everywhere his own skin had once been marked, but moving like a phantom without a trace. 

Roman paused between kisses, resting his chin on Remy’s hip bone and flashing a devilish grin. “Where do you keep your-“

Remy held up a bottle of lube and a box of condoms. “Already ahead of you,” he said. 

Roman pulled himself up just enough to kiss Remy’s lips, throwing caution to the wind and not wasting time finding a rhythm. He stopped thinking. His fingers traced the waistline of Remy’s boxers. He deepened the kiss and let his hands move with a mind of their own. He was a conductor, orchestrating that beautiful music that came from Remy’s moans. He was a million different metaphorical things creating art, or music, or whatever else one might call it. 

He was a twenty-year-old having sex. Plain and simple. Just doing whatever it took to cope. He pulled on a condom. Apparently “whatever” was named Remy Cho, and if Roman’s mind wasn’t busy melting into mush and television static, then that simplification would have horrified him. (But simplification was all he had wanted for months. He didn’t have the patience to be horrified.)

Remy’s back was pressed up against his chest, and Roman was pressing kisses all along his neck as they fucked. Remy had asked for a distraction. Roman had given him a hell of a lot more than that. 

—

“Do you think they’re looking for us?” Roman asked. He and Remy were laying face to face in the bed. Roman could hardly keep his eyes open. 

“Fuck ‘em.”

Roman smiled and said, “A little too worn out for that.”

Remy stifled a laugh. “I hate you so much.”

“Hmm. Do you do that with everyone you hate?” he teased.

“Only a select few.” 

Roman rolled his eyes. “You’re lucky you’re hot.”

Remy reached out and gently traced over Roman’s jaw.

“If you want a round two, you’re out of luck.” “Just wanted to say thank you.” 

Roman pressed his forehead against Remy’s, not bothering to open his eyes. He was so tired. He didn’t want to think about the party that was supposed to start downstairs. He just wanted to sleep. “You don’t need to thank me. Our transactions are mutually beneficial.”

“Transactions.” He laughed softly. “Are we just some cheap whores?”

“I think I am,” he admitted. He was too tired to joke. He was too, too tired to lie. 

Remy laced their fingers together and pressed a kiss to Roman’s knuckles. “You should take a shower before heading down. I, uh, have a costume for you. I’ll leave it in the bathroom for you.”

Roman hummed. “I really am your cheap whore, huh?”

Remy sighed. And for a moment, they just laid there. The silence taking over the air. 

Roman shivered as the sweat on his skin began to cool and the fact that he was laying naked in someone else’s sweaty bed was starting to sink in.

“They’ll be wondering what’s taking so long,” Remy said quietly, but to the point. “You should shower. While there’s still time.”

Another deep breath. One foot after the other. Roman pulled himself out of bed and pulled on just enough clothes to make himself legally decent. Remy led him to the bathroom, which must have been the most minimalist part of the entire house. He pulled back the grey shower curtain and turned on the water. 

“I’ll bring you a towel,” Remy said. He stepped out and kept a hand on the doorknob, “I’ll- uh- give you some privacy.”

The door closed behind him.

Privacy, Roman thought to himself, bold words from someone who had my dick in his ass. But at the same time, he was almost grateful. Roman took off his clothes and let them stay wherever they landed. He stepped into the shower and his muscles relaxed instantaneously. He decided he was grateful for a moment alone. Had Remy stuck around, cleaned him off, or even allowed them both to stay in their own little bubble of reality, then Roman would have been stuck. Their relationship was like super glue, if you weren’t careful it could trap you together. It was good they were apart. 

Then it wouldn’t hurt when it all went down in flames. 

Super glue is flammable, after all. And Roman didn’t need anything else coming between his heart and the walls he’d built to protect it. He massaged shampoo into his hair and gave it time to sit, pumping Remy’s body wash into his hands and rubbing it over his skin. (Sure, having sex in someone’s bed is one thing, but using their loofah? Far too intimate.) Suds and water ran down his skin, sending the sweat and feelings down the drain. There was a soft click and squeak as the door opened and then closed. Most likely Remy leaving a towel behind. 

Roman washed his face. And he rubbed down his body once again for good measure.

But it wasn’t of any real use. Whatever he was hiding from, he’d still be smelling Remy’s body wash on him all night. There was no running away from this. 

He turned off the water and dried himself off as best he could, not thinking about how the towel was warm and soft and how the only logical reason for that was that it had just come out of the drier. He didn’t think about how Remy was caring about him, from a distance, in his own little way. Refused to think about it, even. It was easier to pretend he’d been abandoned. It was easier to have his walls chipped rather than broken. 

His dirty clothes were gone and a bag hung on the door knob. He picked it up and inside saw a note that said, “I promise the boxers are clean. Never worn, keep them if you want.” He pulled out the clothes, all folded neatly and all with the same clean smell of Remy’s detergent. The costume was brand new. Remy must have washed it straight out of the bag. 

“Mooom,” Roman screamed. “I’m dying!”

His mom walked into the bathroom, with Remus practically attached to her hip. “Roman, you’re not dying,” she sighed.

“Eww, you’re turning into an ugly monster!” Remus yelled, pointing at Roman’s back. 

Roman was spinning in circles, trying to see his bare back in the mirror. His skin was red and covered in bumps. He began to cry. “I don’t wanna be a monster! I don’t wanna!”

“Monster brother!” Remus chanted. “Monster brother! Monster brother!”

Roman cried harder.

“Enough, Remus,” their mother scolded. She gently placed a hand on Roman’s shoulder but he screamed and started scratching where her hand had been. “Roman,” she said gently, “can you take a deep breath for mommy?”

Roman sucked in as much air as his little lungs could hold and nodded. 

“Does it itch?”

He let out all the air in one big exhale. “Yes! Like a million bajillion fire ants!”

“He’s cursed!” Remus yelled. He tugged on their mother’s shirt and begged, “Save me, Dragon Witch! Kill the cursed monster!”

She sighed. “Remus, I am not going to kill your brother. Why don’t you go find your father, okay? Can you do that, my little knight?”

Remus saluted. “Yes, ma’am!”

She ruffled his hair. “Good boy.” 

He ran out of the bathroom, and his voice echoed through the walls as he yelled, “Dad! Dad! Roman got cursed!” 

“What’s wrong with me?” Roman pleaded. 

“You’re just having an allergic reaction,” his mom explained calmly. “Yesterday, you wore that new shirt grandma bought you, right?”

“Mhm-hmm.”

“And you wore it before I had a chance to wash it.”

“It wasn’t dirty,” Roman protested.

She laughed. “No, it wasn’t dirty, but you do have very sensitive skin, Roman.”

“Sensitive?” he asked. 

“Remember when you and Remus got into a fight over the last cookie?”

He nodded stiffly, “You told us sharing is caring.”

She smiled, “Very good. But, before you shared the cookie, you felt very upset. And it made you cry. Well, this is like that. Your skin isn’t happy with the detergent the store used before grandma bought you that shirt. So now it’s acting out.”

Roman wiped the tears off of his cheeks. “Does my skin need to go into time out?”

“No, sweetie,” she said, “but we will have to put some anti-itch cream on it so you don’t scratch and make it worse.”

“But I don’t like that stuff. It’s cold.”

“I know, Roman, but let me make you a deal.”

He perked up. He always got good things when he made a deal with his mom.

“You can pick out your very bestest favoritest movie, and we can watch it while I help your skin calm down from its little temper tantrum. How does that sound?”

Roman pretended to consider. “I think... those terms are agreeable.”

She laughed. “Go get the DVD player set up, my little prince.”

He smiled. Another successful deal. 

There was a whole week after that incident where people could finally tell the twins apart- Remus was the one who wasn’t covered in calamine lotion every single day. Roman couldn’t even remember how many years ago that was. He couldn’t remember a time when his only problem was who got the last cookie. 

But Remy remembered. 

And after Roman finished putting the costume on, he was wiping the tears from his eyes. He stepped out of the bathroom and made his way down the stairs. Going from one floor to the next felt like hopping dimensions, from the dark quiet upstairs to the loud and bright party. But maybe the sensory overload was what he needed-- a distraction from his distraction. 

“There he is,” Remy announced, as Roman made his way into the kitchen. Remy was decked out in an astronaut suit, save for the helmet. And glittery stars were pinned into his midnight blue hair. 

Roman walked towards him, not sure what to say to a complete stranger, a childhood friend, and a one-night stand rolled into one. 

But Remy did the talking. “I, uh, have some things for you.”

And that was enough. 

Remy handed him a glass bottle with an iced coffee inside, one of those Starbucks “frappes” they sell at grocery stores that never have the consistency of frappucinos. Lilly would hate it. But Roman cracked the lid and took a sip gratefully. “And, uh, one more thing.” He pulled a paper bag from behind his back and took out a plastic golden crown. “What’s a prince without his crown, am I right?”

Roman smiled as Remy crowned him. “I can’t believe you remembered.”

“How could I forget, Princey?”

Roman opened his mouth to speak, though even he was unaware of what he might say. 

There was a knock at the doorway. “There you two are!”

Roman closed his lips and swallowed his words. Whatever he wanted to say, it wasn’t worth listening to anyway. 

Lilly leaned against the counter. Her flapper dress cast little rainbows onto the floor. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you. It took you a really long time to-” She raised an eyebrow and lifted her hands to do air quotes. “-move some stuff upstairs.” She gave a hard, fake cough. 

Emile awkwardly shuffled behind her. “Uh, Rem, some people are smoking in the backyard. Should we--?”

Remy sighed. “Send Remus after ‘em. He’s been looking for a good excuse to yell at someone for weeks now.”

“Please do. He thinks we can’t hear him rage screaming in the showers,” Roman said. 

“On it,” Emile said. He was gone as quickly as he appeared. 

Lilly glanced over her shoulder at him, then turned her attention back to the two before her. “Virgil and I were going to put on a movie, if you two can go without giving each other hand jobs that long.”

Roman was certain his face was on fire. 

But despite Remy also blushing, his voice held no sign of embarrassment when he said, “I’m glad the two of you are finally getting along.”

Lilly pursed her lips. “We’re not,” she said and solemnly added on, “we’re both just really good liars.”

“I wouldn’t mind a movie,” Roman said softly, reaching out for Lilly’s hand. 

She looped her thumb over his. It was a start. It was enough. 

“I’ll tell everyone else the party is over,” Remy said.

“What? Why?”

His mouth gave the tiniest bit of a quirk. “I think I just need some time with my real friends.”

Roman smiled at him and tried to communicate with their eyes the way everyone else seemed to. It didn’t really work. But by the time the house was quiet with only the five of them and a couple of blankets (after Lilly insisted that Remy and Roman be apart), all that mattered was in that room. 

Roman sat on a single chair, Remy and Emile shared the love seat, and despite the extra cushion between Remus and Virgil, Lilly was lounging on a bean bag chair she’d found elsewhere in the house. Popcorn had been launched at more than one jump scare. And most of them were asleep before their movie marathon had ended. 

But Roman was content to watch the credits. Roman was content to have a moment alone. 

Come on, baby, let’s just get drunk

Forget we don’t get on

Roman saw more of Emile in the days after that party. That was on purpose, though they still hadn’t gotten to where Roman wanted to be. (Roman had suspected that his ‘end goal’ didn’t even really exist and that he was doomed to constantly feel dissatisfied with some feeble attempt at spying.) 

“I’m so tired of gen eds,” Roman groaned. They were studying in the back of the library, a semi-abandoned section that seemed to exist only to their little group. The lights were always a little dimmer and there was always a bit more dust in the air, but it quickly became home. “I just want to get my AA and do something... better. You know?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Emile said. “I have all these plans, you know? Major in psychology. Get my Ph.D. That kind of stuff.”

“I’m sensing there’s a ‘but’ in there,” Roman said. He capped his highlighter and pushed his work to the side.

“I’m afraid to leave all this behind, I guess. My friends, my hometown. There just isn’t any way I can actually get what I want without leaving.” He looked up, meeting Roman’s eyes, and looked away just as quickly, with something sheepish in more than just his gaze. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be venting to you.”

“While I appreciate the self-awareness,” he said, “I don’t mind. I know what it’s like to bottle things up.”

“Are you sure?”

Roman leaned back against the plastic seat and motioned for Emile to relax as well. “Go for it.”

Emile crossed one leg over the other, resting his ankle over his knee. He pulled a pillow from the back of the chair next to him and held it in his lap, his fingers fiddling with the old fringes on the edge of the fabric. “It’s been weird living on my own. My sister helped me get the place and I’m so grateful she did but... I’ve never been alone before. I’ve always liked the quiet, but I’m not a fan of silence.”

Roman nodded along. He’d always dreamt of freedom, but it had never occurred to him what it would be like to be completely separated from his parents and Remus.

“And things keep changing,” he said with a frown. “I can’t always explain it but... Patton is gone now. And for the first time, I’m realizing that things aren’t concrete. The person I’ve spent years with and- and maybe I-”

Roman frowned. “You what?”

Emile said, “It doesn’t matter. At this point, I think I’d just do anything to make sure he doesn’t leave. And I... I’m worried I’ll be too obvious. Too anxious about losing him. And that’s going to be the reason he leaves. Because the rat got too clingy.”

“And who is this friend?” Roman asked.

Emile brought the pillow up to his chest, hiding part of his face behind it.

“You don’t have to tell me, Emile. But is it at least someone we both know? One of our friends?”

Emile nodded. The motion was so small, Roman didn’t even know if he’d meant to do it or if it was entirely reflexive. But the only answer he’d needed was that nod. 

“Then, I can tell you that won’t happen.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I’m not a mind reader,” he said, “but I know our friends. Remus, Virgil, Remy? They’re good guys. Loyal, to a fault even, but loyal nonetheless. You’re going to have all of us, man, whether you want us or not.”

“But what about Patton? I- I’m sorry. You probably don’t want to hear about him.”

“Patton is your-” Roman took a breath. “Patton was our friend. I’m not going to fault you for missing him. Or even still being friends with him.”

“I’m not,” Emile confessed. “He told me that he and Janus were a package deal.”

Roman furrowed his brow and the room must have been depleted of oxygen, but Emile was breathing with no problem. “He... said that?”

“I don’t like to gossip, but-” Emile leaned in forward. They were the only ones to be seen, but he whispered all the same. “Between you and me, I think Janus asked him to choose between him and me. Or us. I haven’t heard a word from Patton since.”

“I’m going to kill him.”

Emile frowned. “I mean, Patton still-”

“Not Patton.”

“Oh.” 

Roman’s heart was pounding against his chest, his blood boiling in his head while his chest froze over. He felt dizzy and his mind was a blur. His thoughts had never had such clarity. 

“I’ll help you hide the body,” Emile whispered. 

Roman let a single laugh escape him. “You spend too much time with Remus.”

“You would know, huh?”

Roman took a long, drawn-out breath. “Tell me about it.” He tried to let the anger out with each exhale. He knew that would never really work, but pretending the scars weren’t there felt like his only option at times. “Speaking of, uh, gossip. Anyone, you have a crush on?”

Emile furrowed his brow. “What are you doing, Roman?”

“Trying to avoid my homework,” he confessed. Trying not to think about Janus. 

“Okay, then you first,” Emile said. “I want something out of this. Who do you have a crush on?” Despite the question, though, Emile looked bored. Like he already knew the answer. 

“I... I don’t think I have a crush on anyone,” Roman said. I don’t think I’m capable of loving. 

Emile’s brow furrowed. “Really?”

Roman shrugged. “It’s not like you choose when to have crushes.” I think Janus broke me. I don’t think I even know what love is. “Now you spill.”

Emile frowned, his gaze falling to the floor. “I’m afraid saying it will make it true,” he said. 

You and me both. 

You’re like my dad

You get on well

“One more month, then one more semester,” Roman repeated to himself over and over like a mantra. “One more month, then one more semester,” he said when he woke up. “One more month, then one more semester,” he told himself on the way to school, on the walk to class, and at every study break, he got. One more month felt like a year. One more semester felt like a lifetime. 

He was spending less time with Remy. He didn’t know if that made things better or worse. He just knew what needed to be done.

...but maybe he’d push that off until after he passed his classes. No use wrecking what little social life he had left until finals were over. 

Every time he waved to Virgil between classes or saw Emile’s latest over-analysis of some cartoon on Tumblr, his heart felt heavier. When he bumped into Remy on his way out of his last class of the day, he was elated. He was going to be sick.

The cycle was dizzying. Roman wanted out. 

But how do you escape a self-fulfilling prophecy? How do you escape yourself?

I send my best regards from hell 

If Roman didn’t die from stress, he’d consider it divine intervention. “Finals and then one more semester,” he told himself. But screw one more semester, finals were hell enough. 

“Coffee?” the waitress asked with a full pot in hand. 

“I think my heart will explode with any more coffee,” Roman said. 

“I think we’ll all take refills,” Remus said. “I’ll tip extra if he explodes.”

Emile patted Roman’s hand in some attempt at a comforting gesture. And it might have worked, if Roman wasn’t immediately focused on how ice cold his fingers were. 

The waitress poured their mugs, leaving only enough room for cream and not a drop more. Emile removed his hand from Roman’s and gripped his ceramic mug. 

“Can you even feel with those?” Roman asked. 

Emile rolled his eyes. 

“I’m serious, dude. There’s like… no blood in there.”

Emile started, “My mom always says-“

“The colder the hands, the warmer the heart?” Remy supplied. “It’s true, you know.”

Emile’s face grew pink with a blush. “No, actually, she told me to do more cardio. Something about cold hands means I don’t get enough blood flow.”

“If we cut open your hand, I think we’d find penguins. And the penguins would be trying to warm themselves,” Roman said. “I’m buying you gloves for Christmas.”

“So has every relative for like eight years straight.”

Roman nodded, pretending to agree. “But consider this. I’m buying you new gloves.”

“Interesting,” Virgil mumbled. He uncapped a pen with his mouth and scribbled something in the margins of his notebook. 

“What is?” Roman asked, furrowing his brow. 

Remus interjected, “Probably the fact that all these study sessions are your idea and you never study shit.”

Roman stuck his tongue out at him.

Remus replied with a single finger.

“Anyway,” Roman said with a large eye roll, “what’s interesting, Virgil?”

“Oh, um.” Virgil’s cheeks grew pink. “That your love language is gift giving. I’m, uh, doing a spreadsheet. For statistics.”

“Strange thing to study,” Remy said monotonously. 

Virgil shot him a glare. “We could choose our topic. I chose love languages.”

“Well, I think it’s a wonderful topic,” Roman said.

Emile nudged Virgil’s arm. “I think that’s a point for ‘words of affirmation’.”

“I think that’s a point for ‘I’m going to shove my foot up your ass’,” Virgil retorted. But he scribbled something on his paper nevertheless and Emile gave a loud snort. 

Roman couldn’t help the smile that tugged upwards at his lips or the simultaneous guilt that tugged downwards at his heart. He loved his friends. He was so certain he was going to lose them. 

Sooner or later.

It always happened.

I never sang for love, I never had a heart to mend.

Roman was sitting in the library. Roman was always sitting in the library. 

But he wasn’t home. He wasn’t sitting with old pillows in that place only they knew. He was sitting by the printing station, so close to the exit but so awkward to leave. 

And maybe that’s why it happened. Maybe it was his fault. Maybe he trapped himself and he was jumping through hoops trying to make someone else the villain. But he was sitting at the library. 

“Hello, darling.” 

And so was Janus. 

“What are you doing here?” Roman asked with all the strength he could muster. It was nearly a whisper. He wasn’t even sure he’d made a sound at all.

“I’m a student here,” Janus said very matter-of-factly. “I’m studying.”

“What are you doing here?” Roman repeated. 

Janus crossed one leg over the other. Despite most students wandering around in pajamas or whatever they could find to avoid doing laundry, Janus was still dressed like every class was a fashion show. His black skinny jeans and half-buttoned yellow shirt were the most formal thing for miles. But the gold buckle on his black loafers made him look like a Founding Father. Roman chose to focus on that. It was easier to look at Janus’s flaws than anything else. 

“I simply wanted to catch up,” Janus said. “It’s been so long. How are your classes going? What are your plans for the break?”

Roman could feel his fingernails digging into his skin. His knuckles were turning white. He’d be lucky if his palms didn’t bleed. 

Janus leaned forward, meeting Roman’s gaze no matter how hard he tried to fight it. “I meant it, you know, when I said we would still be friends.”

“And I meant everything I didn’t say after that,” he retorted. “After we broke up, I told you I needed space.”

“And I provided it.”

“Not enough.” Roman’s voice cracked and he hated himself for even the tiniest show of vulnerability. Janus didn’t deserve his weakness. Not anymore. Not ever again. “You- You kept calling me. You sent Patton after me. You didn’t listen! You never listened.”

“Ugh, here we go again with the dramatics.”

“Seriously?” Roman scoffed. “You’re not even listening now and you expect, what, a high five of recognition? You seriously expect to be my friend?”

“It always has to be about you, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” Roman bit. “Because this is about me. This is about me not wanting to talk to you after we broke up and it’s about me not wanting to talk to you now.”

Janus opened his mouth to speak.

“Ah, I don’t think so. You are going to listen to me when I say this: Go to hell, Janus. And stay the fuck away from me.” He stood up from his chair and swung his bag over his shoulder.

“No wonder no one ever sticks around,” Janus said. “You’re going to die alone, Roman. Do you realize that? You make it so hard for anyone to love you.”  

Roman dodged the printers, making his way out of the library. He held his breath. He wouldn’t let Janus see him cry, nor allow him to hear a single shaking breath. Roman held his composure all the way off campus, finally letting the pieces he’d held tightly fall apart on a street corner downtown. His heart was racing and despite knowing damn well what a panic attack was, he couldn’t calm himself down. He just needed to let it out. 

He didn’t let Janus see him be weak. And he never would ever again. 

Because before the start began, I always saw the end

Yeah, I wait for you to open up, to give yourself to me

They were at that park again. The same storm threatening the skies. The same childhood memories, now with the ghost of that kiss. Roman wiped his eyes. He wanted to relive that kiss. He wanted to do it all over again. 

But, for once in his life, he had to do something on his own terms. Even if that something was breaking his own heart. 

The metal squeaked as they moved back, and forth, and back, and forth, never still but never quite leaving the ground. “Remy, I don’t think I can do this anymore,” he said, ripping off the metaphorical bandage. 

The metal squeaked roughly as Remy dragged his shoes through the dirt, forcing himself to stop. “Are you okay?”

No. “Y-yeah, I’m fine.” He took a deep breath. “I guess, you were right. Is all. I know we were never actually dating, but... It was still, I guess, more than I knew how to navigate. And I know there’s someone out there who can be the partner you deserve. Not just the fuck buddy you feel bad for.”

“Roman,” he said, “don’t belittle yourself for me. You were never pity sex.”

“But I was never more than that,” he said, more to convince himself than to remind Remy. “And you’ve always been such a supportive friend, Rem. I think that’s what I need right now.”

Remy stepped off the swings and stood in front of Roman, with his arms open wide. 

Roman jumped off the flimsy metal and wrapped his arms around Remy before he could second guess himself. He rested his chin on his shoulder, staring at the old, plastic playhouse. If he squinted, he could almost see the ghosts. “I saw Janus earlier. We talked.”

“Oh, Roman,” Remy sighed. He hugged him tighter. 

“I hated every second of it.” 

Roman was tired of fighting. He let the tears flow freely. Remy held him steady as the hyperventilation shook him. 

“I’m here for you,” Remy said. He kept repeating it.

Roman almost believed him. 

“I’m here for you.”

But nothing’s ever gonna give, I’ll never set you free

No, I’ll never set you free

Remus was quiet when Roman got home. 

He hadn’t said a word. And Remy promised secrecy. Their affair wasn’t his to tell. 

But everything, the whole week, must have been written on his face. 

Roman hadn’t said a word to his brother, but he stepped into Remus’s arms anyway. 

It almost feels like a joke to play out a part

When you are not the starrin’ role in someone else’s heart

The Barnes Family Christmas Party was a yearly tradition. Roman was convinced Christmas simply couldn’t go on without it. Unfortunately, Roman also had a tradition of negotiating with Lilly on how well she could behave. This year’s deal? She would refrain from killing Virgil if Roman let her orchestrate party games. They eventually settled on one game, set long before any of their parents’ guests would arrive. 

Roman settled on it. It was the first year all of Remus’s friends could actually make it-- and it was the first year that they were Roman’s friends as well. And Roman was determined not to disappoint any of his friends. 

They were all set up in a circle (though Remus and Lilly did some negotiating of their own) with an empty plastic soda bottle in the middle. 

“Can I spin first?” Remus asked with a twisted grin.

“Are you just that eager to use your exception?” Lilly asked, the exception being that rather than kissing whomever the bottle chose, Remus would instead get to slap them with no repercussions. 

“Yes!”

“Then, no,” Lilly said. “Virgil goes first, then we move clockwise.”

Remus groaned. 

The game started. And for the first few rounds, the bottle never landed on Roman. He considered that a miracle. The bottle landed on Remus in one turn, and Virgil’s cheek still had a red handprint on it a few rounds later. 

Roman elected to skip his spin. Lilly looked pissed off. Remy looked understanding. 

The game continued. 

A few more spins and it was Remy’s turn. He spun the bottle and it turned and turned and slowed and slowed and stopped just in front of Roman. 

Roman faked a cough, nudging the plastic with the toe of his shoe, not enough for anyone to notice it had moved, but enough to definitively point one person over. All eyes were on Emile. If he was trying to hide his blush, he was doing a horrible job. 

“You don’t have to,” Remy softly reassured. 

Lilly groaned. “You guys all suck at this game.”

Emile leaned forward, pressing his hand onto the floor next to the bottle and holding himself up as he and Remy kissed in the middle. 

Lilly’s eyes were on Roman, her brow furrowed and a question about to form on her lips. 

Roman looked down at his watch, his timer still had five minutes left. “Oh, shit, I gotta go run to the kitchen. Cookies are done.”

Remus raised an eyebrow. He glanced at Emile and Remy, then at Roman. He softly nodded. 

“Whatever, this was getting boring anyway,” Lilly said. 

“Remus, you got-” Roman started to ask.

“Go prevent that house fire,” Remus said. “Be good for Santa and all that.”

Roman rolled his eyes, but it was only for show. Sometimes, only sometimes, Remus could be good to have around. 

You know I’d rather walk alone

Lilly had left before the party had really started. She hadn’t said why-- at least not to Roman or Remus-- just left a couple of presents and a card sitting under the tree and went home for the rest of the night. 

The rest of the group settled into watching Christmas movies and playing board games they only half paid attention to and never seemed to finish. 

“Hey, Roman, where are your blankets?” Remy asked. “It’s kinda cold-”

“Ugh, fine,” Remus loudly groaned. “Pull my leg off, why don’t you? If you really insist, Remy, I guess I have no choice-”

“What is he doing?” Virgil sighed.

“Just go with it,” Roman told him.

“No choice,” Remus repeated, glaring at his interrupters, “but to give you and only you your present early.”

Remy smiled. “Fine, you caught me. I’m so pushy and all that jazz.”

“You really are,” Remus said. He was a shit actor, but a decent enough comedian. He grabbed a wide, flat box wrapped in black paper with glittery green ribbon from under the Christmas tree and handed it to Remy. 

Remy tore the paper carefully, trying only to open the taped sides. It was obnoxious, Roman reminded himself, so as not to risk finding it adorable. Remy smiled wide as he opened the box. He pulled the fabric out quickly and pulled it over his head in what seemed like an instant. It was a black hoodie with bleached tie dye spirals and a skeletal version of the Starbucks logo over the chest. It was so perfectly the two of them on one item, Roman was almost jealous that Remus had such a knack for gifts.

“I owe you a coffee,” Remy said. 

“Oh, please,” Remus replied, “I’ll just take payment in the form of you telling everyone how great I am.”

“Deal,” he said. 

“You know, Remus,” Virgil butted in, “I wouldn’t mind a present.” He batted his eyelashes cartoonishly. 

Remus threw a blanket that landed on Virgil’s head and covered his face. “Know your place, peasant,” he said. 

Roman pulled down the blanket and Virgil’s hair frizzed in a messy pile. Roman laughed, which became harder to hold as Virgil blushed in embarrassment and tried to look angry. “I’ve got you covered, Hot Topic.”

Virgil forced out a laugh and asked, “You think I’m hot?”

Roman momentarily froze. 

“He thinks you’re emo, dipshit,” Remus said. 

“Oh, yeah, right,” Virgil said at a million words a minute. “Obviously.”

Roman handed him a white box, unwrapped, but it did have a red gift bow and a little paper tag hanging off the side. “It’s, uh, not perfect. I also have a gift card inside in case you don’t like it and-”

“Roman.” Virgil took the box. “Shut up.” 

“Right,” he said abruptly. 

Virgil smiled at him and opened the box, pulling out a purple velvet choker with a spider charm in the middle. Plastic jewel-shaped beads hung off the edges. 

“I made it myself,” Roman said. “I, uh, actually made everyone’s gifts.”

“Show off,” Remus muttered. 

“Don’t listen to him,” Emile said. “I think that’s sweet, Roman.”

I think I’d rather you all tell me to die, he thought. He tried not to fidget as he waited, but the silence as Virgil looked over the gift seemed like enough to kill him. 

“It’s beautiful,” Virgil said, his voice weak. He gently touched Roman’s hand and said, “Thank you.”

“There is also a gift card,” Roman blurted. “For, uh, Hot Topic.”

Remus barked with laughter so hard that Roman swore they’d all go deaf then and there. But somehow, their hearing remained. Which was the real curse, because it meant he’d still have to hear Remus. 

“And, um, Emile.” He grabbed a bag stuffed with tissue paper and passed it across the room. “I found out gloves aren’t super easy to sew.”

Emile pulled out a mitten, the outside made with a fabric covered in cartoon characters. He gasped. “Encanto. Mittens.” 

“I, uh, know you like cartoons,” Roman said. “And buff women.”

“It’s true! I do like those things!” he announced as he pulled the mittens over his hands. 

“Now you’re like Amity,” Virgil said. 

“And, seriously, fix your blood or whatever,” Roman said. “They’re ridiculously cold.”

Emile flapped his mitten-clad hands. “Not anymore,” he sang. 

And Roman was able to breathe. For the rest of the night, he could finally breathe. 

(Rather walk alone)

New year’s eve. The last line of the last page. Roman was ready for a new chapter to begin. 

Florida wasn’t known for cold winters, but there was still a chill in the breeze as it ruffled Roman’s hair. He kept his hands shoved in the pocket of his jacket. A preemptive firework went off somewhere in the distance. 

“So… anyone have any resolutions?” Roman asked. 

“What are you, my grandmother?” Lilly asked. 

“Since when are you so cynical?” Virgil asked. 

“Since you,” she mumbled. 

“I have a resolution,” Emile piped up. “I’m going to try for a four-point-oh on my last semester.”

“That’s a good one,” Roman said. “You should, uh, let me know if you ever want to study together.”

Emile smiled at him. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“I want to fix my sleep schedule,” Remy confessed. “I’m tired of being so… tired.”

Remus quietly said, “I’m going to try going to therapy. Stop letting my intrusive thoughts keep me up at night.” A few of them clapped. Remus rolled his eyes and said, “Drop the bullshit,” but Roman could see it in his eyes that he appreciated the support. 

“I want to be braver,” Virgil said. “Say and do things I wouldn’t have before.”

“And you actually believe you will?” Lilly bit. “Resolutions are complete bullshit. You might as well just accept that it’s a fantasy, Virgil.”

Virgil began to speak. 

“Lilly,” Roman asked, “what’s your fucking problem?”

“All this self-aggrandizing jerk off of a pity party,” she said. “You know just as well as I do they’ll all be crying themselves to sleep over their failures by February.”

Virgil mumbled, “Like you’re so perfect?”

“I am, actually,” she said. “Because I don’t need to pretend some stupid, arbitrary time change is going to have any real impact on-”

“Get out.” 

Lilly turned on her heel. “Excuse me?”

“Get out,” Remus reiterated. “Leave. Begone. Go away.”

Lilly opened her mouth to speak, glancing over to Roman for assistance. 

Roman’s gaze fell to the ground. But Lilly’s look of betrayal would forever be burned into his memory. Lilly stormed off without another word. 

Remus stayed silent, but turned and went inside the house. The door slammed loudly.

No one said a word. For a moment, they were frozen in time. No one spoke. No one dared move a muscle. 

A preemptive firework cracked in the distance, casting red light over them. The only indication that time had continued at all. 

Then play a supportin’ role

If I can’t get the starrin’ role

It was 11:40 pm. Everyone was inside, eagerly watching the tv. Everyone, except for Remus, who was no doubt brooding somewhere by himself. Roman swirled the glass of wine in his hand, watching the sugar rise and settle over and over. The holidays were the one time everyone’s parents let them drink without a care, but this wasn’t a privilege Roman felt he’d really earned. He just felt guilty about all the times he got drunk without their permission. ...and the things he’d said that he could never take back. 

But he took a sip. The wine was sweet and nowhere near as strong as the things he’d downed to try and escape himself. Roman crossed the room and took a seat next to Virgil, whose face was lit white by some screen he was clutching in his hands. Roman looked over Virgil’s shoulder. Some cartoon boy with purple hair was running around with a net in his hand, chasing a butterfly. 

“You’re such a dork,” Roman told him. 

Virgil frowned. “I’ve dealt with enough judgments tonight, thank you.”

Roman rested his chin on Virgil’s shoulder. The cartoon boy had yet to catch the butterfly. “I meant it as a compliment. Most people on New Year’s are slamming shots or making lovey eyes at whoever they’re going to kiss at midnight.”

He pressed a button. The cartoon boy slammed down his net. Just a few pixels off. The butterfly disappeared, uncaught. Virgil sighed, “Yeah, yeah, and I’m playing Animal Crossing. Don’t have anyone to kiss. Not interested in a hangover tomorrow.” Virgil stuck out his tongue and pressed buttons to move through a menu of objects. The cartoon boy pulled a watering can out of thin air and began watering a group of red and purple flowers. “So I just want to make my island pretty. Before we get to the virtual fireworks.”

“You should send me screenshots sometime,” Roman said. “They’d make some nice painting practice.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he mumbled. 

“For what it’s worth, Virgil. I think you’re very brave.”

“You’re just saying that out of guilt,” he said. “I know how guys like you work.”

“I’m saying that because it’s true.”

Virgil glanced over at Roman from the corners of his eyes. 

Roman stood up straight. He raised his glass to take a sip of wine, but instead took a steadying breath and put the glass down on the table. 

Virgil furrowed his brow and put his Switch next to Roman’s wine. 

“You told me things that I didn’t want to hear and you probably knew I wasn’t going to listen,” he said. “That’s brave, Virgil. Saying things even when they won’t always work for you.”

“I’m not brave, I just-” Virgil’s fingers fiddled with the strings of his hoodie. “I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

“And I wish I were braver,” Roman said. “So you wouldn’t have gotten hurt. And I wish I’d listened to you all those months ago.”

Someone yelled, “It’s almost time!” 

Virgil’s cheeks were pink. “You never said what your resolution is.”

Roman opened his mouth, about to speak but not before his mom hurried over to them. “Roman, honey, come help me get the champagne ready.”

“I- uh-”

“Now, Roman,” she said. 

Roman stood up and sighed. “We’ll talk later,” he promised Virgil, and he quickly followed his mother to the kitchen. 

“I’ll pour, you start handing out glasses,” she said. 

“Because you don’t trust me not to spill?”

“Exactly,” she said with a smile. “Now go be a good host.”

Roman grabbed two glasses and began handing them out to anyone who came near the kitchen. But he kept thinking about Virgil, sitting alone playing Animal Crossing. I don’t want to be a good host. I want to be a good friend. By the time all the glasses had been passed around, it was 11:58 pm. Virgil was still sitting on the couch, but there was too much of a crowd to make his way over to him. 11:59 pm. The counting had begun. 

Roman pulled out his phone. He typed frantically. He typed out every word that came to his mind: of admiration, of jealousy, and-- yes-- even of guilt. He typed it all out and hit ‘send.’

“Ten!” everyone shouted. 

9...

8...

7...

6... 

Roman’s wine was abandoned, lost in the crowd. He took an early sip of champagne. He squeezed his eyes tightly. He’d forgotten how much he hated champagne. 

3... 2... 1

Everyone cheered. Husbands leaned to kiss their wives. Virgil was certainly watching the virtual fireworks. And Remy was caught up in a kiss with Emile. 

Roman’s stomach twisted in knots. He was happy for them. That was the sour taste of happiness rising in his throat. 

The cheering subsided and Roman grabbed another champagne glass off the counter. He climbed the stairs, moving slowly to maintain balance. His mother was right not to trust him to pour. In the darkened hallway, Remus’s door was easy to find with the faint green of glowing stars stuck to the wood. Roman held both glasses in one hand and slowly opened the door. 

Remus was sitting by the window, watching the fireworks through the mess of trees in their backyard. It wasn’t a good view, but it was quiet. Roman couldn’t fault him for hiding. 

Remus was quiet, only giving Roman a sparring glance before continuing to watch the window. “Close the door behind you,” he said quietly.

Roman pushed the door closed with his foot and kicked off his shoes, letting his feet sink into the carpet. He handed Remus the untouched champagne and sat next to him on the floor. Remus took a sip and closed his eyes, letting his head fall back against the wall. Fireworks went off in the distance, but Roman could still see the colors through the shadows in the room. Red. And blue. And red. And blue. 

The starring role

[aherosoup]

A Tale of Two (Hand-me-down) Cars

Chapter 1 - if the sun shone on us, it's a plus Summary: Virgil manages to survive the drive to their first day of Junior year...barely.

hey! I'm writing a SaSi high school AU and wanted to give it some promo here, so go check it out over on AO3!

[timelesslords]

thinking about tss connabeth <3

They’re so good!!!!! and I may or may not be writing a Connor-heavy sequel/spin-off 🫶

[kittytheroseofkirea]

I have half heartedly considered rewriting one of my original works into a fanfiction. Bc it's incredibly disjointed (on purpose) but each "scene" is only ever a couple hundred words long. But without a ton more work, it could never be a real thing

But as a danfiction, the disjointedness could work in the stories favor, and would accomplish the point of it

Plus it might be fun to whump on Roman

[lifewithoutrainydays]

three thomas/sides christmas fics about nothing in particular

i'm dreaming of a white christmas - thomas/logan

it's alright; i love you - thomas/patton

and nothing could go wrong (unless that's what you'd like) - thomas/remus

[sleepless-stories]

This has been stuck in my drafts but Logan Roman eldritch horror thing. Basically Logan is very badly hurt (you choose which type) and stumbles into Roman's realm. Roman is going to toy with him, see how long it would take for Logan to break but then sees Logan and what hes like then decides nope you're under my care now who hurt you etc. Have fun with thisw

Honestly maybe this has been cursed because this sat in my ask box since February 7th, but It is finally done!

_

Summary: Logan is running away and escaping from someone, injured and in pain. Roman senses someone in his territory and goes over, but when he sees the human so hurt he decides to claim the human as his for his protection

Warnings: Injuries, blood, suggested abuse

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Logan ran, running as fast as he could. But it wasn’t fast enough. It could never be fast enough. His legs were burning, his ankle sending sharp shooting pains through him. He could barely see the path ahead, everything was blurry as he just ran. Only staying conscious from all the adrenaline going through him.

Logan knew the woods were dangerous, what was rumored to lurk in them. But Logan would rather face the danger of the woods than be with… him.

Loan tripped falling down to the ground, he burst out crying as he tried pulling himself forward, he had to keep moving. He couldn’t stop, he couldn't let himself be caught. Logan tried pushing himself to stand, to keep running, but his legs gave out. The adrenaline wearing off as he laid there on the ground sobbing trying to pull himself forward still.

Roman could sense it, someone had trespassed. Someone was in his territory. Usually he was lenient, he knew the humans were stupid, even stupid enough to trespass into a beast’s territory. But this human had been in his territory too long.

Roman walked out the entrance of his cave growling as he stretched out his two sets of draconic wings. He jumped off the ledge freefalling, feeling the wind and air pass him before he pushed against it with his wings taking flight. He knew where the person was, he could sense them near. He was going to have fun toying with and breaking this idiotic human, as he has done with the others. He closed his wings when he was close and fell to the ground gracefully. He glared down at the human with burning rage in his eyes, “Why are you-” Roman cut himself off realizing what he was staring at.

The human was laying on the ground practically unconscious, their face resting in the dirt, blood stained the back of their shirt and their ankle clearly swollen. This human hadn’t wandered into his territory… they had ran for their life.

Roman carefully picked up the fragile human and flew back to his home.

Roman landed at the entrance walking into the cave then up a set of stairs carved out of the walls. He went into a room placing the human on a bed of leaves and moss. He left to get medical supplies, he felt bad for this human, and deep down felt the need to care for it.

Logan woke up and gasped looking around, “hello?!” He called out in fear. He sat up wincing at the pain before standing up. He could feel that there were bandages around his back and around his ankle. He…. couldn't have done this… who did? Logan made his way to what looked like the exit and walked out before pausing, there were more walls, and more doors.

Roman heard movement and came down the hall to where he left the human, he saw though the human was in the hall. “You need to lay down.” He said with his loud musical voice.

Logan flinched at the voice falling down, he looked at the creature in horror as he tried to get away, but he was frozen. He just stared in fear.

Roman paused seeing the fear, this just made him feel more angry, who did this to the human. He growled under his breath as he shifted his appearance to look human. He kneeled next to the human. “Who did this to you?” He glared.

Logan stared, “I… he….” Logan shook his head looking away. He couldn’t answer. He couldn’t tell… “I need to go… back…”

“Why do you need to go back?” Roman was a bit more annoyed by that answer.

“He’ll be even more mad if I don’t…” Logan said weakly.

Roman shook his head, “You’re not going anywhere, you are under my care now. Who hurt you, so I may kill them.”

Logan was shocked, “What? You… care?”

“Of course I care! I found a human trembling and half dead looking in my territory, I claim you!”

“He said nobody would ever care…” Logan whispered looking down.

Roman leaned forward putting his hand gently on Human’s chin, “Where is he?”

“A small cabin, near the edge of the woods.”

“Lay down, I will be back.”

Logan nodded and got up limping to the bed. He curled up under the knitted grass blanket.

Roman left, off on a hunt.

Logan was crying softly when the other was back.

Roman walked in covered in some blood as he walked over and sat near the human in his own human disguise. “Human? Are you alright?”

“Logan…”

“Ah nice to meet you Logan.” Roman smiled and put a blanket he had found over Logan. “You are safe, I will protect you. Anyone who hurts you will die by my blade.” He whispered and leaned over putting his arms around Logan and fell asleep.