#uh yeah this is a bit intense jsyk

[redladydeath]

Okay, so last night I decided I wanted to do something with Vox and body horror and this story concept ended up manifesting in my brain. Massive CW for psychosis that's not actually psychosis, as well as self-harm and body horror.

Vox and Alastor meet in the 1940s while they're both doing electrical engineering work for the war effort. Vox is only 22, so he falls fast and hard for Alastor, who decides to use the younger man's infatuation with him to his advantage. One night while they're out drinking, Alastor convinces Vox to make a blood oath with him. He tells him it's just symbolic, but in reality, there's magic involved; if Alastor kills him, he'll get all the years Vox was supposed to live added to his own lifespan, which is dwindling. He lures Vox into the woods and tries to murder him, but is shot by a hunter who happens upon the struggle. Vox nearly loses an eye, but survives the encounter and is able to go on with his life, albeit with some pretty intense trauma.

Twenty years later, it's the 1960s. Vox has been a successful television presenter for 10~15 years now. He's rich and is married with children, but is less than an ideal husband/father. When he's not at work, he's usually with Valentino, a young male prostitute who he's been having a secret affair with for the past year or two. The two of them are currently somewhere between a sugar daddy/baby arrangement and a legit relationship. Vox is overall pretty content with his life and hasn't thought about Alastor in years. That is, until things start to change.

At first, it just seems like a bad cold; his joints are stiff and he has the chills constantly, but that's nothing too unusual, and he continues going about his daily life. But then the delusions start. Vox begins hearing things whenever a radio is on– words and phrases that shouldn't be coming out of it, said in a familiar tone of voice. He starts seeing shadows moving just out of the corner of his eye, but when he turns to look at them, they're gone. When Vox looks in the mirror or watches clips from his show, there's something different– uncanny– about his own eyes that makes him feel like he's looking at a stranger. It must be stress, he thinks; he's been working himself too hard.

But things only get worse. Vox's body is stiff and jerky and cold– suddenly very cold to the touch, although no one other than Vox can feel it. Food and drink and cigarettes lose their taste. His emotions feel muted– all except fear. He starts hearing this loud, irritating humming when he's in the studio which makes it hard for him to work. People are starting to get worried. He's acting erratically, asking if they can hear or feel things that simply aren't there. His wife thinks he's building towards a nervous breakdown, but Vox knows that's not true. Something's happening to him, something no one can perceive but him.

Things continue to deteriorate. Vox thinks he can hear metal creaking when he moves. His face won't show up on camera anymore; the footage always ends up damaged for reasons no one can explain. He smashes the family radio in front of his kids when he clearly hears Alastor's voice coming out of it, taunting him. He asks Valentino, who hasn't even been to church in the past decade, to connect him with his childhood priest because he thinks he's being possessed and wants an exorcism. If the Protestant God won’t help him, maybe the Catholic one will. It still doesn't work.

Things come to a head one night when Vox, desperate to prove to himself and everyone else that he's not crazy, takes a knife and cuts deep into the hand he used to make the pact with Alastor all those years ago. He cuts and cuts and cuts until finally– finally– he sees it: metal and wires and no blood. He was right. He tries to show his wife but only succeeds in scaring her out of her wits. He flees the house and takes the family car. He needs to go see Valentino, show him, ask him for help. He crashes the car into a lamppost while trying to drive with one hand. A cashier working late in a nearby electronics store tries to help him, bringing him into the shop to wait while he calls an ambulance.

When the cashier leaves him alone to go make the call, Vox hears it again. He hears Alastor's voice coming out of a radio, telling him that his time is up. He's been living on borrowed (or rather, stolen) time for the past ten years and now it's time to come join him, down where they both belong. Vox can feel his "bones" cracking, his skin stretching and tearing. He can't hear anything except Alastor's voice alongside the blaring static emitting from all the TVs and radios in the store. He's dying he's dying he's dying– until he stumbles into a fusebox and the whole store is engulfed in an electrical fire.

When the firemen dig through the rubble, they never find a human body.

[ilovemygaydad]

Friends in Dark Places [remastered; ch 10]

pairing: moxiety and logince (later on), background eventual remile, background eventual remy/emile/deceit

WARNINGS: food mentions, eating, sex mentions, affair mentions, crude language, swearing, panic attacks, graphic depictions of self harm, suicidal ideation, abusive family members, yelling, fighting, blood, self hatred, self disgust, hurtful conversations, fear, anxiety, anger, homophobia, possibly something else

tag list: @hufflepuffgirl01 @cocobearthe4th @cas-is-a-hunter @band-be-boss-blog @theunoriginaldaisy

a/n: this chapter is SUPER intense, so please heed the warnings! as always, you’re free to ask for a modified chapter if you need it, but please be extra careful because none of those warnings are taken lightly!!!!

a/n 2: jsyk, it’s totally okay to ask for a modified chapter if you need it! i get it, and it’s no problem for me to quick edit a chapter or whatever :) also, feel free to send requests or questions that you have!

chapter 1 - chapter 2 - chapter 3 - chapter 4 - chapter 5 - chapter 6 - chapter 7 - chapter 8 - chapter 9 - chapter 11 - chapter 12

companion fics: exes and ‘oh’s

consider buying me a coffee

-

It had taken a while, but the idea of going and conversing with the others started to warm up to Virgil. Patton had wrapped his arm around Virgil’s waist and held him close, grounding the anxious teen and giving him small bits of courage. Soon, they stood up and and ventured to the main pavilion to introduce Virgil to the other people he hadn’t met yet. There was Jo, who had a really cool cut down the middle makeup look on his face, and Joan, who did the most ridiculous impressions, and Terrence, who was the biggest ball of energy in such a small body.

For once, it was actually enjoyable for Virgil to meet new people. Years of being almost completely alone--save for a few friends here and there and his shitty ex-boyfriend--had turned him almost completely solitary. At the party, he still clung to Patton like a scared five-year-old, but he felt a little more included in the group. When Virgil began to tense up, Patton would place his hand gently on his back to provide a tether to cling on.

After two hours of eating and chatting, the party was over. Patton, Logan, and Roman offered to stay after and help clean up, but Talyn shooed the boys away, saying something about how they didn’t need any help. Virgil knew it was because they wanted him home ASAP after his panic attack, but he couldn’t bring himself mind. He was tired, and all he wanted to do was wash all of this makeup off and hopefully get most of the glitter off of his body. One day, Roman would pay for this pink glitter catastrophe, but that was a whole other train of thought.

Patton and Virgil were dropped off at their house just before midnight. Both of the boys got ready for bed, and Virgil was just this close to falling asleep when Patton softly knocked on his door.

Virgil groaned and rolled over. “Yeah, Pat? What’s up?”

The door softly clicked open, and the soft hall lights filtered in, giving Patton a light yellow glow. He entered quietly and sat on the desk chair, just barely visible in the low light.

“I, uh, just wanted to say thank you for coming to the party tonight. And also to apologize for your panic attack. I shouldn’t have let myself get swept away when you obviously needed some extra support.” Although his tone was sweet and kind, there was deep regret laced in his words.

“Oh, Pat. It’s okay. It wasn’t even your fault that we got separated.” Virgil assured, propping himself onto his elbows.

There was a beat of silence before Patton hesitantly whispered, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Virgil smiled even though it probably couldn’t be seen by Pat. “I’m sure.”

Patton nodded quickly and left, but not before giving Virgil a small thumbs up. Soon, both of the boys were asleep and the rough day was far behind them.

---

The next week passed by smoothly. Virgil had a grand total of just three panic attacks (and Patton had come to help with each one) and hadn’t relapsed a single time. He was really proud of himself, as was Patton, and he just felt better about himself. It was liberating to have actual friends to talk to and hang out with. He’d even persuaded Logan to join crew!

And then on that fateful Monday--May first, to be exact--everything came crumbling down. It seemed as if everything bad in the word just happened to fall on a Monday. That just made Mondays even more dreadful.

Virgil’s day had started off like normal. He’d woken up, gotten ready, eaten breakfast with Patton, and went off to school. It was almost ridiculously mundane. It was in second block, however, when the not-so-normal things began to happen.

“Virgil Thomas to Office A, please,” the voice on the speaker crackled.

Shit, Virgil thought. What the fuck did I do this time?

His teacher gestured at him to leave, so he did. The walk from his math classroom to the office was basically a joke, so he made his way as slowly as possible, going so far as to dawdle by the bubbler for a minute. 

As he walked up to the office, he saw his dad’s “secretary” standing at the doors. “Secretary” being used loosely, since she was, in reality, nothing more than the girl his dad had chosen to have an affair with this month.

“Hey, Virgil,” Nathalie cooed in her irritating voice. It sounded like sandpaper on ceramic plates. “Your dad is back in town and wanted me to let you know.”

“Why didn’t he just text me? He knows that I keep my phone on me at all times.” Virgil knew that he sounded bitter, but he didn’t care when his father was involved.

“He’s been very busy lately.” Yeah, probably doing you. “He hasn’t been able to find a time to take a break from work to text you.”

Work! Who knew that Nathalie could be so funny.

“Right. Well, I’m going to go back to class now, Nat. Bye!” He spun around on his heel and started to walk away when she cut him off.

“Oh, and your father wants you to have dinner with him tonight.” 

Fucking great.

“Um, I actually had plans with a friend tonight,” Virgil rushed, dancing carefully around his current living arrangements and schedule.

“Why don’t you invite them over? I’m sure your father would love to meet them!” 

Sure he would! Just like he was so fucking excited to meet Virgil’s boyfriend or any of his other friends when he’d brought them over.

“Sure. I’ll ask him.” He was never going to be able to get out of it, so he might as well try to get Patton to come along and soften the blow. Virgil walked to the bathroom instead of to his classroom, sitting in the nearest stall with his head in his hands until the bell rang.

---

“How do I look, Virge?” Patton modeled the black dress pants and blue polo get up he had on. His grey cardigan was actually on him, instead of hanging off of his shoulders or waist.

“Great! I don’t think Dad’ll have anything bad to say about that.” Virgil was ridiculously worried about his dad ripping the happy-go-lucky boy to absolute shreds. Mr. Thomas wasn’t the nicest or most accepting person on a good day, and any way that Virgil could protect his friend, he would.

“Awesome. Now, what are you wearing?” Patton’s question was innocent, but sent a small wave of anxiety through Virgil’s body.

“Uh, black jeans, some dress shoes, and a black jumper.” He’d worn this many times in front of his dad, and he hadn’t yet been ridiculed by his father for it. Unlike all of his other clothing.

Already, Virgil had wiped off all of his makeup and styled his hair out of its floppy fringe into a clean-cut look in preparation for the visit to see his dad. Any bandages that might have disrupted his appearance were removed, all scars were covered with foundation, and his whole personality purged of substance. Even his phone case had been switched out from the pretty galaxy case with the halloween Popsockets to the all black case with as much personality as a stick in the mud. It was absolutely dreadful.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll look fantastic, kiddo!”

Yeah. Sure.

---

“Alright, guys, have a good time! Just text me when you need to be picked up, Pat,” Mrs. Shea said before driving off, leaving Virgil and Patton stranded at the Thomas residence.

For once, the lights were on inside, giving the house the tiniest sense that it wasn’t vacant. Virgil couldn’t help but wonder which of his father’s chefs was cooking their meal. He hoped that it was Mei, whose food was both fancy enough to meet Mr. Thomas’ high expectations but held a sense of casualness that appealed to Virgil. 

The pair walked up to the front door and rang the bell, sending a custom chime echoing through the house. Almost instantly, a mildly-disheveled Nathalie opened the door, grinning ridiculously widely.

“Virgil! Who’s your friend, here?” She greeted with faux cheeriness.

“Uh, this is Patton. He’s a friend from school,” Virgil paused, unable to focus when he could see a white stain on Nat’s mouth. He motioned up to his lips with a small grimace. “You’ve got a little… something… on your mouth, Nathalie.”

Gross. He didn’t even want to think about what had been happening just moments before.

Nathalie wiped gently at her mouth with the back of her hand, being extra careful not to smudge her pristine red lipstick. Opening the door wider, she motioned the boys inside. Virgil led the way to the dining room, not even bothering to wait for Nathalie.

“Oh, Virgil,” Mr. Thomas said as they walked into the dining room. “I didn’t realize you’d brought someone along.” Shocking. “Is this another one of your ‘boyfriends?’”

A pinched smile spread across Virgil’s face. “No, dad. I’m not dating anyone. This is my school friend, Patton Shea.”

“Hey, Mr. Thomas. It’s a pleasure to meet you!” Patton’s happy voice lightened up the room’s atmosphere just the slightest amount, which all but astounded Virgil.

“Virgil could take some fashion notes from you, Patton. He’s always wearing those stupid looking skinny jeans and t-shirts. You look quite impressive and professional for a teenager,” Mr. Thomas commented, adjusting his glasses in a Logan-like manner. That was apparently all he had to say as he took a bite of the food in front of him.

Much to Virgil’s disappointment, it wasn’t Chinese. Apparently, the first dinner you’d have with your son in literal months wouldn’t be complete without a giant French buffet--complete with dessert.

“I--Thanks?” Pat stuttered, confused by the backhanded compliment. Virgil disregarded the comment, instead choosing to lead his friend to the table. They sat close enough to his dad to be considered polite, but it was definitely farther than an appropriate familial distance.

The three ate in silence for a few minutes before Mr. Thomas spoke again. “So, Patton, what are you planning on doing after high school? Virgil said he wanted to be a graphic designer, but he’s probably going to take up the family business. Arts degrees are just a waste of time and money; better to strive to be successful on the first try and not have to go back.”

Patton stiffened almost imperceptibly. “I was planning on going to school to be a therapist, but being a stay-at-home dad seems like a pretty nice idea, too.”

“Psychology is an interesting subject; I’d have to agree.” Mr. Thomas shifted his focus to his son. “Now, Virgil, what did you say you wanted to focus on in school? Something with video making?”

“It was video game design, but I’m not going after that, anymore. It was a stupid fever dream.” None of the food on Virgil’s plate was making it to his mouth; it had merely been stirred into a gloopy mess. He already felt like shit about himself, but leave it to his dad to be make him feel even worse.

“I’m going to go to the bathroom. Excuse me.” Virgil all but jumped up and sprinted from the room. 

Within a few seconds, he locked the door to the upstairs bathroom behind him. Virgil turned his head and stared at the reflection in the mirror. It looked nothing like him. The Virgil in the mirror was normal; he had no flaws, and he was the perfect son. His goals were steep but attainable, and he never said anything out of line. The real Virgil was anything but.

The real Virgil was a gigantic disappointment. He wanted to go into the arts, not business management. He had an attitude problem and a “screw The Man” ideology that ended up getting him into more trouble that necessary, yet he never changed his ways. The real Virgil was an emotional mess, not knowing how to properly express himself except through suicide or self harm. He was pathetic and stupid and, quite frankly, “too gay to function,” as his dad would say. There was no place in this world for the real him. Every single fucking time that his father was around, the façade was put up in some wimpy attempt to deflect some of the hateful words that would always be thrown his way.

And that’s when he broke. Tears streamed down his face, and choked sobs ran through his body. He thought he’d been getting better, but who was he kidding? This was the same old Virgil who’d attempted suicide not once--not twice. No, he’d attempted to fucking kill himself four times. But thank god that he’d survived! The world obviously needed Virgil Thomas’ fucking presence to keep it spinning.

Virgil gripped at his hair. He’d left his phone at the table, but he needed an escape from the emotions berating him.

Think, Virgil! There’s gotta be something that can help you.

His blurry eyes scanned the counter before landing on a familiar piece of metal.

Yes.

Virgil reached out and grabbed the blade, flipping it open with ease. Memories of the past flitted through his mind. Ones where he’d said “just one last time” with false hopes that it’d be true, but the very next day, he’d be back in this bathroom, washing blood out of the tub. Weakness. Had he included that on his list? Because Virgil Thomas was weak.

“Just one last time,” he mocked as the blade sliced the skin of his forearm.

Pathetic. What kind of fucking child do you have to be to continually come back to a blade to solve your problems?

Another cut. And another. It was so calming--so ridiculously relaxing to watch the red blood splatter on the perfectly white floor where it mixed with his tears to make a watercolor painting.

Faggot. Nobody will love someone who’s gay, loser! Think of Jason. He ruined you.

A knock on the door jerked Virgil out of his daze, making him drop the knife in the process.

“Hey, Virgil? Are you okay? I can hear you crying, kiddo,” Patton worried; his words filtered through the door with a slight resonance.

“I’m fine, Patton. Don’t worry.” Yeah fucking right.

“Virge, please just let me in.” There was no way that Patton would take no for an answer.

“Okay.” Virgil pulled his sleeves down harshly, smearing a bit of blood onto his hands. He stepped in front of the blade and blood, trying to hide it from Pat’s prying eyes as he opened the door. A fake smile was plastered onto Virgil’s face. “See--”

“Is that blood?” Patton gasped and snatched Virgil’s wrists up. With an unprecedented gentleness, he rolled up the jumper sleeves that had started to plaster themselves to his arms. The look of worry on Pat’s face soon turned to one of pure anger.

He’s mad. You’ve upset him, and he’s going to kick you out. Maybe he’s finally realized what a mistake it was to save you--

“How dare your dad think he can say things like that to his own son! You deserve so fucking much, Virgil--in fact, you deserve the world. Yet here’s this asshole who won’t give you a god damn break, bringing you to hurt yourself because he can’t keep his idiocy to himself! Grab that towel; we’re going downstairs.” Patton stormed out the room and down the stairs. Virgil followed a few paces behind, terrified out of his mind.

“Mr. Thomas! With all due respect--which is none, by the way--who the absolute fuck do you think you are to think that it’s okay to ridicule your own child like that?” Virgil’s dad opened his mouth to speak, but Pat cut him off. “No! You fucking listen to me; you’re a terrible father! Your child should never be brought to self harm as a coping mechanism--especially not by his own fucking father. Are you fucking kidding? Who gave you the right to do this? First, you spend all of your time away from Virgil, and then you go about barely ever talking to him, and to top it all off, you give him shit for everything that he has a fucking passion for!”

Both Virgil and his father were completely silent. Neither had expected such an outburst from the docile kid between them.

After a long few moments, Virgil said, “Let’s go, Pat.”

Virgil and Patton quickly left the house, not stopping until they were a street away. Patton called his mom to tell her to pick them up, and they sat on the curb to wait.

“Thank you, Patton. For standing up to me. Nobody’s ever done that before.” Virgil’s voice was soft and genuine. A little fluttering sensation rose in Pat’s stomach as he leaned towards his friend.

“It’s no problem, Virge.”

chapter 11

[ilovemygaydad]

Friends in Dark Places [remastered; ch 13]

pairing: moxiety, eventual logince, background eventual remile, background eventual remy/emile/deceit

WARNINGS: kissing, mentions of panic attacks, crying, anxiety, worry, self hate, journaling, swearing, depression, flashback to the first chapter (same warnings apply to the first one), possibly something else?

tag list: @hufflepuffgirl01 @cocobearthe4th @cas-is-a-hunter @band-be-boss-blog @theunoriginaldaisy

a/n: jsyk, it’s totally okay to ask for a modified chapter if you need it or if i need to add tags! i get it, and it’s no problem for me to quick edit a chapter or whatever :) also, feel free to send requests or questions that you have!

a/n 2: :)

chapter 1 - chapter 2 - chapter 3 - chapter 4 - chapter 5 - chapter 6 -chapter 7 - chapter 8 - chapter 9 - chapter 10 - chapter 11 - chapter 12

companion fics: exes and ‘oh’s

consider buying me a coffee

-

Virgil’s lips were so soft. That was the only thought that ran through Patton’s mind. Heat rose to his cheeks as he gently pulled away, raising his fingertips to cover his mouth.

Oh my god. That just happened.

Someone had kissed him. And it wasn’t for their own benefit!

Virgil seemed to have calmed down for the most part, having leaned back on the glass door in awe. He had just done that. He had done that!

Patton called his mom, asking her to come pick them up. He wouldn’t tell Virgil, but their little, uh, incident made him worried that there would be more anxiety to follow if they stayed. He then shot a few texts to Logan so that he’d know what happened.

Patton

Read 9:47

Hey, kiddo! Virgil and I are going to head home. He had a bit of a panic attack, so I called my mom to pick us up

Logan

Delivered 9:47

I could have driven you two home. Roman ditched me to, presumably, make out with someone.

Patton

Read 9:49

Sounds about right :P

Patton

Read 10:05

Logan

Logan

Delivered 10:06

Yes, Patton?

Patton

Read 10:08

Uh

Funny story

So, uh…

Virgil

Kissed me?

And now we’re holding hands

What do I do?

Logan

Delivered 10:08

You what now?

Patton are you serious?

Patton?

Patton

Read 10:11

Sorry I may have kissed him again

And by may have I mean that I definitely did

Wow he’s a really great kisser

Logan

Delivered 10:11

You sound like Roman.

Patton

Read 10:11

That’s fair 

It wasn’t necessarily a surprise that Patton liked Virgil. He easily and quickly grew attached to people, which made it simple for him to get along with others. He was liked by most, and he fell in love with ease. That wasn’t any different with Virgil; he’d just been hesitant to show it.

He saw the flash of headlights pulling up and stood, slipping his hand from Virgil’s. “Are you okay to walk, or do you want me to carry you?” Patton’s mind drifted back to the night that they had first met.

---

He had been trudging home when he saw the figure on the bridge.

It had been a pretty shit night, if he was going to be honest. Patton had been on his way to his boyfriend’s house, hoping to watch a movie or something, and decided to stop by the park to take a more scenic walk. He walked around the beautiful foliage until he saw them. Luke was sitting on a park bench with his hands needily clawing at another guy as they aggressively made out. It was unbelievable, yet the scene made complete sense. Patton spun on his heel and wandered around town for hours, losing track of time before he finally realized that he needed to head home. On his way, he saw the kid. He ran to the railing, hoping to catch them before they ended their life.

“Um,” Patton squeaked; his voice sounded weak to his own ears. “Hello? Please don’t jump.”

The person spun around so fast—far too fast to be safe while standing on the edge of an impending drop. Their scrutinizing eyes scanned Patton for just a second. “What are you doing here?!”

He hadn’t really thought that far. Patton didn’t want them to jump, that much was obvious, but he wasn’t too keen to retell the events of the night. “Um, I, uh, was just walking by and happened to see you here. I don’t want you to jump.”

The stranger stared at him for one. Two. Three beats.

“Look. You have no idea who I am, and I have no idea who you are. You don’t know my intentions, so just go away and leave me here alone.” The harsh tone in the stranger’s voice unsettled something deep in Patton’s stomach. Tears began to drip from his eyes, growing faster and faster until he was flat-out bawling on the sidewalk.

“What are you doing?” The stranger spat.  “You’re being fucking loud! People are going to start trying to find out what’s happening can you—Fucking hell.” Patton heard the sound of feet on the pavement and immediately tried to wipe up his tears.

The teen spoke again. “Look. I’m off the ledge. Just stop fucking crying.” That prompted Pat to look up. He saw the hurt in the kid’s eyes and couldn’t bear to take any chances.

“Promise that you won’t jump off the bridge.”

“Yeah, whatever. I won’t jump off,” the kid scoffed, throwing in a complementary eye roll.

“I said to promise me!” The intensity in Patton’s voice shocked even him.

"I—What? Listen—“ “Promise me!” Patton yelled. “Promise me that you won’t kill yourself tonight! I don’t care what your reasoning is for doing this, but it’s not good enough! Promise me or I’m going to call the cops and tell them you’re trying to commit suicide, and I know that you don’t want the authorities involved.” It was a low blow, threatening to call the police, but he was pretty desperate at this point. Anything that’d work. He dug his phone out and wiggled it slightly, adding depth to his promise.

“I–okay, look–I promise I won’t kill myself tonight just please put the phone down. Please, don’t call the police. I promise; I won’t do anything.” The kid’s voice was rushed and breathy. They were struggling to breathe. 

Panic attack, his mind supplied. Oh no.

Patton dialed his mom’s number in a heartbeat. He quickly asked her to pick him up at the bridge. There was a flash of movement before a body came slumping into his arms. Pat gently scooped the stranger up.

And from that moment, Patton had become invested.

---

“I can walk.” Virgil wobbled a bit as he stood up, but he did seem to have the strength and energy. As soon as they were in the car, however, Virgil slumped into Patton and curled up, reveling in the warmth and comfort of his… friend?

Pat nearly let out a quiet “awwww” at how cute Virge was.

The whole ride home was silent. No music, no conversation, no nothing. Patton expected that he and his mother would be having a long conversation tomorrow about what had transpired, but that was a thought for another time.

Pat picked up the sleepy Virgil once they’d arrived and carried him slowly up the steps to Virgil’s bedroom. He was once again brought back to their first meeting. He’d gently taken set the stranger on his bed and made sure they were absolutely okay before leaving. Tonight, however, he had a feeling he’d be staying in the room.

He quietly went to his own room for a few minutes so both he and Virgil could change into pajamas. It was almost surprising that Virge was sat up, expectantly—and sleepily—awaiting Patton’s return.

“Do you want me to stay in here tonight?” It was barely a question. Virgil nodded and flopped back, pulling the covers up over his head and curling up. Unlike the first time they’d shared the bed, Patton immediately slipped under the blankets.

The buried Virgil grabbed Patton’s hand and pulled it close as if it were some sort of comfort object. Silently, Patton mused that he’d only be able to retrieve full control of his body by prying himself from Virgil’s cold, dead hands. Soon enough, though, they both fell asleep, blissfully sleeping away any stress.

---

Patton woke up in the middle of the night. His body tended to do that--just randomly waking from slumber for no reason in particular. It was irritating, to say the very least.

Pat opened his eyes and saw Virgil’s delicate features just inches away. He was such a good kid. He was such a good friend.

The negative thoughts in his mind overwhelmed him in an instant. Oh, god. Oh no. No! No, no, no! I can’t do this. That would be unfair. I’m just going to hurt him. I’m going to hurt him. I can’t do that. I can’t!

He scrambled back, falling backwards off the bed. Patton stifled a scream with his hand, not wanting to wake Virgil. Of course the intrusive thoughts would come back just when he had something good in his life. Patton wasn’t meant to be happy.

You’re not good enough! You’re a terrible person—just like Jason used to tell you! You only hurt; you can’t fix anything. You break everything you touch!

Tears streamed down his face as he silently ran to his room. He had made a mistake--one that he didn’t know how to fix or even if he could fix it. He texted the only people he knew could help.

pattonly-loveable [1:35, read]

Guys I really messed up

loganch [1:35]

Patton, what are you doing up?

And what did you do?

Are you okay?

Do we need to hide a body?

princeofthegays [1:35]

Are you good????

pattonly-loveable [1:35, read]

So you know how virgil and I kissed??

Sorry if you didn’t know, ro

Anyway

That’s how I messed up

princeofthegays [1:36]

First of all, I’m proud of you

Second, how is that a bad thing? I’m not sure that I understand how love can be bad…

pattonly-amazing [1:36, read]

I’m going to end up hurting Virgil and it’s gonna kill me to see that happen

loganch [1:37]

Patton, that is literally absurd.

You obviously care for Virgil very much. Even I can see that. You have done nothing but have his best interest at heart since you met him. If you truly believe that you would hurt him, you are as stupid as a rock.

princeofthegays [1:37]

I’ve gotta agree with the brainiac for once

That didn’t help Patton in the slightest. He still felt off about the whole thing. He didn’t deserve the love that any of them gave him. He was terrible and just not a good person.

He wasn’t worth it.

---

Dear diary,

It’s been a long time since I’ve written in here—too long, maybe. I think it’s a good time to do so, though.

Let’s get things straight. Or rather, not straight. Pretty damn not straight to be honest. 

Virgil kissed me tonight. It was really great. But there’s just something that doesn’t settle right in me.

I can’t be with him. I ruin everything I touch. I can’t provide the love and care that he needs--I’m useless to him. Not to mention how he’s just going to hate me once he realizes how absolutely pathetic I am.

Virgil should’ve picked Roman. Ro is smart, charismatic, creative, romantic, and so many other things that I’m just not! He knows how to be a good partner. He can plan dates like the best of them, and he’s never once had a partner cheat on him because he’s just that damn irresistible. Roman is perfect; whereas, I’m the exact opposite. I’m ridiculously stupid (just ask Logan; he had to help me with countless assignments over the years), I’m too shy for my own good, and I take exactly zero risks (see: I’ve wanted to kiss Virgil for so long)!

Logan would also be better suited! He’s the smartest of anybody I know, and he’s considerate, thoughtful, and, even though he tries to hide it, loving. Logan has done research on every mental illness that he could possibly think of; he’d know exactly what to do in every circumstance Virgil found himself in.

And me? I just hurt people. I do stupid things without thinking and end up hurting my friends in the process. Nothing I’ve ever done or will ever do will account to anything! I’m worthless! Virgil deserves so much better than what I can give. He’s been hurt too many times before. I can’t. I just can’t.

- Patton

chapter 14