im-an-anxious-wreck

[im-an-anxious-wreck]

overlooked scenes in sanders sides episodes that i love pt. 38??? i think?

patton asking logan to call him by a nickname is very in character for him HOWEVER logan immediately and willingly calling patton by said nickname is the cutest thing ever :>

[im-an-anxious-wreck]

[im-an-anxious-wreck]

but what a promising start, right?

[im-an-anxious-wreck]

a while back on a whim i watched every sanders sides video in a day and immediately drew virgil u know how it be

[im-an-anxious-wreck]

Hhhhhhh 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 that's so sad and sweet ❤️

the one where roman creates you as a construct in the imagination

warnings: descriptions of graphic injury, nontraditional self-harm, examination of mental health decline

He was like a flame when you met him. He was bright and bold and beautiful. You remember blinking open your eyes and seeing him offering you a hand.

"Hello," he had said, pulling you to your feet. "Can you understand me?" You nodded, and he smiled so brightly and you felt love blossom in your heart for this boy, this child who created you from nothing. He didn't tell you how you were made, but you knew. So you did as you were supposed to, and served your purpose and played among the flowers with him, wasting away the daylight running about the grasses and playing games. Things were simpler, then.

He grew up. You stayed the same. Your form had been permanently embedded since the day you were conceived as a flitting thought. But he grew, from young and carefree to lean and reckless. You were supposed to be a master of swordplay and combat, so you taught him everything you knew. He was timid with his blade at first. He held it gingerly, like one might caress a newborn fawn. You corrected him, covering his hands on the hilt and adjusted his fingers to hold it just so. He was a quick learner. Within a few weeks he was able to slice a dummy to shreds, and within a few years he could best even your most dastardly blows. And still he grew, past that until he was stronger than either of you could've imagined in your early years.

---

He comes by to see you less and less these days. You would never admit it, but you do miss him. The village is quiet without him, with common folk simply milling about their preassigned routines. They are merely constructs. They aren't like you, they don't know or even particularly care where the saviour of the kingdom goes when he disappears for months. You care.

It's been nearly a year since he last visited when he finally comes back. Time travels differently here, he tells you when you ask him again. He's explained it before, something about how a whole week passes in the time it takes for him to sleep a proper 8 hours in the Outside. His face looks haggard. You beckon over a lady and she offers fresh bread and cheese, which he gratefully accepts. His shoulders are hunched by his ears, and his back curves like it carries the weight of the sky.

You cannot help him, and it tears you apart. You offer him wine instead.

---

The sky is grey today. It smells like static and the air makes your clothes stick to your skin with sweat. You cannot find him, and this worries you. The sky does not thunder without him here.

Hours of searching find you at the bank of a mirror lake. He stands at the waters edge, fingers clasped over the hilt of his sword with the tip buried in the dirt. He does not look back at you as you approach.

"Do you think," he asks. "I am good?"

You say yes. He is your creator. He must be good to have created life.

A bolt of lightning rips through the clouds and strikes the mirror lake. The water shudders and so does he.

"Am I a hero?" he asks.

You say yes. He has slain a thousand dragons. He has protected kingdoms from ruin, cities from apocalypse, worlds from destruction.

"Then why," he asks, voice almost too quiet to be heard. "Why do I always ruin everything?" You don't have an answer for him.

Thunder rolls and rain begins to pour.

---

You find him again, in the meadow where you were created. It has barely been a week since you last saw him. It has only been a day for him, you think, straining to recall his explanation. He is clad in armor, which stands out starkly against the bright petals of the flowers dancing against your thighs.

You call out to him. He flinches, then turns his head to look at you. "Old friend," he greets. "How you always find me, I'll never know."

You simply smile. His face seems heavier and his eyes don't crinkle when he smiles back. You ask about the Outside, about the center that he has told you stories about. His face falls. You have made a mistake.

"No, don't look at me like that," he pleads. "I'm not angry, I promise. It's natural you're curious. Things have just been..." He trails off.

You wait patiently for him to decide on a word. "Changing," he says.

The wind picks up, whipping through your hair and sending a chill down your spine despite the noon sun. You ask him if it was a good change.

"Perhaps," he says.

His armor clanks as he walks alongside you back to the village. "I think I'll be staying a while," he explains. "I need to defeat some villains. Do you still have my old designs?" You nod, pushing the door to your cottage open. Pulling open a drawer filled to the brim with scrolls, you select a few tied with gold threads and pass them over to him.

He unfurls one, spreading it out on the table. "Perfect," he says, eyes darting over the anatomy chart of a unicorn gryphon.

---

He disappears to the mountains later that day. You don't think much of it. He takes quests often, after all, especially during creative slumps.

It is only later, when you are out at the back of your cottage tending to your garden, that you hear someone call your name from the woods behind it. You drop your shovel and bolt toward the sound.

And there he was, staggering toward you with a hole in his torso that no ordinary human could have survived. Your breath catches in your lungs and you feel like you're going to be sick, but you dart over to his side to help him limp the rest of the way to your house.

You lay him down on your bed. His gaze never moves from your face as he looks at you with the smallest smile.

"You always have been needlessly worried about me," he mutters as you dab healing elixir around his wound with a cloth. You scowl and open your mouth to admonish him, but he raises his hand to stop you. "I know- I should have been more careful." He lets out a hiss as you add more elixir.

"Damn thing got me with its horn," he explains. You grumble, muttering under your breath about the training you gave him for fighting horned creatures. "I'm just a little rusty. I'll do better next time." His eyes drop to the bedcovers, and you cannot help but to reassure him that it's alright.

---

Despite his promises to be careful, he kept returning to you with larger and more worrying wounds day after day. And every morning after he had recovered, he asked you for another quest scroll, each more dangerous than then last.

"I don't know what I'd do without you," he says one day, sitting on a stool while you carefully clean a nasty gash across his back. Your eyes flick up toward the mirror, where he is watching you work.

You worry for him. You are scared that one day he might not have the strength to return. He huffs with a smile. "You might be the only one who does." Seeing your frown, he adds: "But if it soothes you, I'll always return here. No matter what may happen to me, I swear I will."

[im-an-anxious-wreck]

Sad Dad😔👊

[im-an-anxious-wreck]

I hope the fic you are working on right now finds a reader who will think about it constantly for years

[im-an-anxious-wreck]

Logan Sanders stimboard

Requested by @boopypastaissalty

🍁/🍁/🍁☆🍁/🍁/🍁☆🍁/🍁/🍁-(⁠*⁠´⁠ω⁠｀⁠*⁠)

[im-an-anxious-wreck]

I don't know who needs to hear this, but as a creator -

I am fine with "the audience" -

downloading my fics

printing my fics

copy/pasting or screenshotting my fics

sharing your saved copy of my fics with anyone else who might want them in the unlikely but never impossible case that my fics are no longer available on ao3

making a book of my fic(s) and running your fingers across the pages while lovingly whispering my precioussss

doing these things with anything I create for fandom, such as meta, headcanons, au nonsense like 'texts from the brodinsons,' etc

I am not fine with "the audience"

doing any of the above with the purpose/intent of plagiarizing my work or passing it off as their own in any capacity

feeding my work into ai for any reason whatsoever

Save the fandom things. Preserve the fandom things. Respect the fandom things.

Enjoy the fandom things.

[im-an-anxious-wreck]

Awwwww 🥺🥺🥺

oh.

[im-an-anxious-wreck]

Thank you so much!!! They're so pretty 🥺🥺🥺

And look at all the details in the background, and The Prince's hair!! Also Virgil 🥺

||~Hold Out Your Hand and I'll Reach For You Too {The Art}~||

Hi everyone!! I had an absolute blast as an artist working with @im-an-anxious-wreck for the @tss-storytime big bang this year!!! This was really last minute (I ended up assigned as a pinchitter) so I couldn't do as much art as I wanted to, I'm still super happy with what I *have* done, though!

Read the fic Here!!

The art, as promised:

(I tend not to add IDs for art because I'm colourblind and have no idea what colours I've actually used most of the time, if anyone is interested in providing one I'll gladly add it <3)

Reblogs are appreciated!! Click for better quality, and make sure to go read the fic!! It's really good!

[im-an-anxious-wreck]

Hold Out Your Hand And I'll Reach For You Too

Chapter Ten • Virgil

Word Count: 1,946

HOYHAIRFYT chapter collection

First | Previous

-

Cautious Optimism

-

He couldn't stand it. Virgil couldn't stand this waiting game they were playing. Princey seemed to be too polite to actually kick him out or even ask him to leave, but Virgil knew he couldn't impose forever.

Another pang echoed through Virgil's chest as he put a few outfits into a cloth bag he'd found in his closet. He just hoped that Princey wouldn't mind that he was taking them and he felt bad to be relying on Princey's generosity like that, but the brown tunic he'd been wearing when… he left, had most likely been ashy if not a bit burnt, and other than the generic outfit he'd woken up in at the medic's healing place, he had nothing that wasn't given to him by Princey.

This was so hard, and yet this wouldn't even be the most difficult part of his life.

It was just… this had been the happiest he'd even been. Even when he worked with Janus there had been G and the threat of overworking the both of them over their heads. But now… now he'd finally made good with Janus, and getting to stay with Princey, eating together, talking; it was just all so wonderful.

He was going to miss all this even more than he could even fathom at the moment, and that was a lot.

Virgil sniffed, quickly wiping under his eyes.

The longer he fell apart now, the harder it would just be to pick up the pieces and leave. There would be plenty of time to cry and be horribly upset later.

Virgil picked his way down the stair's steps carefully, not fully trusting his legs. He felt unsteady. Why did he feel so unsteady?

Virgil didn't see Princey in the large living area, and even checked the kitchen before he caught a glimpse of dark brown curls through a window.

He went out of the porch and wanted to both sigh in relief, and cry for finding him and having to have this conversation.

Princey beamed up at Virgil from where he was sitting on the wooden porch swing. "Hello! How are…" He noticed the bag hanging on Virgil's shoulder and looked away, confusion and something else in his expression. "What's that for? Are we going somewhere? Let me just—"

"Well, actually... I'm, um, leaving."

Princey turned his head quickly, something odd in his wide eyes. "Wh— er, where will you go?"

Virgil just shrugged his free shoulder. "Don't know."

"Oh, well… shouldn't— well no, you don't need to do anything. But I mean, if you don't know where you're going, you could wait until you figure it out, or I could even help find somewhere or… something, surely. Just… there's… you don't have to be in a hurry to leave."

Ugh, of course Princey, even after all he'd done for Virgil, was still being thoughtful and kind.

Virgil really was the absolute worst. He needed to stop taking advantage of Princey like this.

"No, it's…" Virgil took a deep breath, wishing this conversation could just be over and yet he knew that when it was he would be leaving and he didn't want to leave. He didn't want to. "I nee— I need to do this."

"Oh, right. Of course! Um, how will I know where you are to visit you though? Er, if I can?"

"You… you still want to see me?"

"Of course! And don't think I've forgotten to take you to see art! Especially monet. I made a promise and not only do I need to fulfill it, but I also really want to go with you. It'll be really cool."

"Yeah… cool," Virgil echoed, still in a bit of awe and disbelief that Princey not only remembered that, although maybe it was a bit harder to forget promises when they held so much wait and meant so very much, but that he also was still really enthusiastic about taking Virgil there.

This would still suck so bad… but maybe if he could see Princey sometimes… could meet him at some places, go have a meal together even, maybe it wouldn't be quite so terribly bad. It couldn't be really, even with having to keep up his appearance to not worry Princey, not if Virgil still got to see him. Even if it wasn't a lot.

It wouldn't be the same, not nearly enough, not ever enough, but certainly better than nothing! Anything was better than nothing.

"I'd…" Virgil trailed off, trying not to sound too choked up about something both as infinitesimal and as astronomical as an art trip with Princey. "I'd really like that."

"Good!" Despite it almost being an exclamation Princey still sounded sad.

Oh, geez, how was he constantly messing everything up.

Princey took a deep breath before continuing, "Before I say this I want to make sure that I fully support your choice, and I'm glad you have the freedom to decide things like this, and…" Princey's face pinched. "And I'm going to miss you. Just know that you're always welcome here."

How the hell was Princey so kind? It's not even like he could be mildly lying and just trying to be polite as that wasn't even something he was capable of, what with being a fae and all.

So somehow, even with how annoying Virgil knew he had to be, Princey was still offering for him to be able to come over literally any time and… and that was the last straw.

Virgil'd been trying so hard to keep his overwhelming sadness down, but he couldn't hold it back any longer; it just swamped him and he burst out sobbing, finally dropping his bag on the porch floor to wipe at the constant stream of tears.

"Oh, honey!" Princey said, seeming rather alarmed as he sprung off of the bench. "What's wrong?" He seemed to want to touch Virgil but his hands just hovered a foot away from Virgil's arms.

At least, Virgil was pretty sure that's what was going on, it was hard to see through his tears, let alone think.

"What's wrong?" Princey repeated and Virgil belatedly realised that, oh yeah, he'd asked that before.

"How— why are y— you so nice?"

"What? I— I mean, I just try to be a good person. I'm nice because I choose to be, because I have to be. This world is cruel enough without me adding to it. I just want to do my part to make it a better and more habitable place."

"But— but I'm awful! Why do you still tolerate me?

"Well, I'd say I do a bit more than just tolerate you. I really care about you and appreciate your company! I know you don't believe this but you're really smart, kind even when the world hasn't been to you, and our banter is the highlight of my day! You deserve good things, and if leaving is something that will be good for you then who am I to—"

"No!" Virgil sobbed, putting a fist over his mouth in embarrassment at his sudden outburst. "I— I mean…" He hugged his arms around his middle.

"...The other thing I was going to say, however, is if staying would be best, or very good, or just, heck, just what you want to do then… then stay. You could do that, you know? You don't have to leave."

Princey finally, and carefully set his hands on Virgil's arms and oh… oh, were his hands warm and soothing. Virgil felt a bit like he was melting but in the best possible way, and it took all his strength not to go weak at the knees and turn into a puddle of confused mess. 

"But— I have to… I don't— but… I gotta go."

"Stay."

"But…"

"Do you want to stay?"

"I'm don't want to inconvenience you tho—"

"Is that what I asked?" Princey gently asked.

"No."

"Don't worry about me. You're not an inconvenience. It's not an inconvenience to have someone one cares about around. Even if it's maybe not the easiest that it could be, even if we have disagreements, or whatever else that may arise, I would gladly take it all on to have you here if you want to be here. So, I'll repeat myself. Do you want to stay?"

"...Yes, please," Virgil finally admitted. "I—" And oh dear, the tears just came back even worse. *I want to stay, please! I just— w— want to, to stay with you."

Princey brushed some hair back out of Virgil's eyes before he responded, "Alright. Then stay. Stay with me."

It was all Virgil could do but to nod, bury his wet face in Princey's shoulder, and not completely fall over.

"It's alright, Chrysanth," Princey murmured in his ear as he guided them down onto the bench. "Just let it all out. It's alright. Just stay. Let's just stay here with each other."

"Stay," Virgil repeated into Princey's shoulder. "We'll j— just stay."

"Yes, just stay, my dear."

-

~Five months later~

It was a quiet thing… Virgil didn't think his anxiety would've been able to handle anything else —and it's not like they hadn't had a couple of dates before— but he'd invited Princey to a picnic and somehow it seemed fitting.

They'd met outside, and now Virgil was going to ask Princey— geez he was so nervous, but despite that he was going to ask Princey to be his—

"Chrysanth? You okay?" Princey asked, pulling Virgil's wandering mind back to where he was sitting on the blanket next to Princey, food long finished.

"Yeah!" And oh, that wasn't supposed to come out that squeaky. Virgil cleared his throat. "Yeah, just peachy keen… just wanted to… um, ask you something?"

Princey raised an eyebrow at the way Virgil's voice went up at the end. "You're not sure if you want to ask me something?"

"No, I— I'm sure."

There was a pause, because of course Princey was an absolute gentleman who was patiently waiting for Virgil to ask him—

"Will you be my boyfriend?" Virgil rushed out before he could over think it any longer.

Princey's gaze softened as he absolutely beamed at Virgil. "Oh! Of course. I'd love to be your boyfriend! Does that mean you'll be mine too?"

"I— yeah. I mean, if you want me to."

"Of course! Boyfriendacy doesn't really work just one way, you know," Princey said, mildly teasing, and for Virgil it hadn't always been easy to tell, but he now definitely knew that Princey only ever did it out of a kind and caring place. 

Virgil tried not to bite his lower lip too hard. "So, boyfriends?"

"Boyfriends!" Princey agreed.

"Yeah, boyfriends," Virgil repeated, still somehow in awe. In one way he probably shouldn't be this surprised, and yet his anxiety had been telling a different story.

He was so glad it had been wrong.

"You're the best," Virgil admitted softly, leaning against Princey's side.

Princey threw an arm around Virgil as he exclaimed, "Awww! But also, no, you!"

"No, yo—" Virgil cut himself off. "No, wait, this is going to go on forever. Just admit you're a good person!"

Primcey sighed in fake exasperation. "Well, I mean, to tell you the truth, I guess I'm not so bad."

"Oh, yeah, because you're just such an honest and humble guy!"

"Noo! It's a trap! I thought you'd forgotten about that!"

"Haha, never!"

It hadn't always been okay, quite the opposite, he'd never really truly been okay.

But here, leaning against Princey, hands intertwined and matching smiles on their faces, he was starting to think that for once in his life…

He was actually okay.

~The End~

[im-an-anxious-wreck]

Hold Out Your Hand And I'll Reach For You Too

Chapter Nine • Janus

Word Count: 1,319

HOYHAIRFYT chapter collection

First | Previous | Next

-

Old Friends And Battered Pasts

-

It was Virgil.

Somehow, after these past several years, he'd found Janus, had he been looking for Janus long? How had he escaped G? How… why—

Janus just blinked at Virgil, trying to take it all in when he belatedly noticed that Remus' brother was with him. "Ah, um. Good afternoon. I— do please come in." It was a bit hard to get his feet to move from where they'd been practically frozen to the carpet, but he managed, moving out of the way and closing the door behind their unexpected guests.

"Who 'wis it, Mr. man the planet stan?" Remus called from upstairs.

"Your brother," Janus replied, still in a bit of shock as he guided The Prince and Virgil to sit down, although he was starting to pull himself together.

Remus predictably came bounding down the stairs. "Stinky cheese man!"

The Prince rolled his eyes in affection. "If anyone would be stinky, it'd be you, but yes, hello, Duke."

Remus giggled as he vaulted over the back of his armchair and sat down. "Ooh, hello? Who are you! Can I have your name?"

"Hello, and no, you may certainly not. But you can call me…"

"Charcuterie board? shark coochie board! Board da ban?" Remus asked, rapidly firing joke nicknames with no time for Virgil to answer. "Bingo bongo? Shits and—" 

Janus cut him off. "Tsk, tsk, is this any way to treat our guest? Let him answer."

The Prince and Janus may understand that Remus was just being silly, and also trying to vent his 'meeting a new person' anxiety, but Virgil, who also dealt with new person anxiety, might not take it so well.

"Sorry, oh most farty guest." At a look from Janus, he quickly amended it to: "Uh, I mean, most… party guest… yeah."

"Well, you can call me… um—"

"Um! What a great nickname!! I can't believe I've never used that one before! I—"

"Duke—" The Prince began to no doubt tell him that it came off as mocking but stopped as Virgil began to laugh.

"Yes, because I totally meant for 'Um' to be my nickname, not that I still can't think of a good one."

"Well, good. Because I'm calling you 'Um' for the rest of time! So, I knew it! Um is a brilliant nickname. I'm a genius."

"To be fair this has happened before," Roman said.

Janus raised an eyebrow. "Oh, don't tell."

"Well, considering he told me to call him Chrysanthemum and then was like 'no, wait—', and then he said 'twig' so I'd say that this is almost a habit, or at least close to a pattern."

Remus laughed. "Oh man, I sure wouldn't want to be an author who had to keep typing Chrysanthemum over and over again! Like Chrysanthemum, Chrysanthemum, Chrysanthemum. That'd be so difficult. How many times do you think a dyslexic author would have to struggle through that?"

"I... Well, that was a very specific example…" The Prince just stared at his brother for a moment  before continuing, clearly used to Remus' antics, "Anyway, so," —he glanced from Janus to Virgil a few times— "You two know each other?"

"Yeah," Virgil quietly admitted, and Janus couldn't help but wonder what he must think of him.

How cruel he was, how horrible it'd been of him to just leave like that.

Oh, how he must resent Janus.

"We do. This is, um, this is my friend that I was telling you about, Princey."

The Prince's eyes widened in as much concern as shock. "What! This— but you— your friend was my brother's partner this whole entire time?"

"Whoah," Remus said. "Trippy! Welp, you know what they always say, 'the world's a small dick'."

"I guarantee you they don't."

"Yeah, well… I do sooo…"

"Yes, but you say a lot of things. Ach, wait, we're getting off topic. So, er, weren't there some things you wanted to ask him?"

Virgil took a small sharp breath in and Janus wouldn't have been able to tell if he hadn't already been watching Virgil closely for any reactions.

"Um, yeah, I—, well, yes, I guess so."

"I'm listening," Janus said, quiet, almost too quiet but he knew Virgil had heard him by the way he tried to hide the extra panic Janus' words had brought.

"Right, well, I…"

The Prince seemed to see something there too because he stood and said, "Come on, Duke. Let's go outside, see your garden, and let them… catch up." He looked at Virgil before he left, however. "We'll just be right out the back door right here, okay?" At Virgil's hesitant nod, The Prince continued, "Let me know if you need anything."

After the twins had left, Janus leaned forward in his chair slightly and looked at Virgil, trying to mask his concern with curiosity. "You have questions for me?"

"What happened?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well… it just, kinda seems like you started to resent me… and you never…" Virgil's eyes cast to his lap as his breath stuttered, he continued though, voice soft, "You never visited me."

Janus paused a moment to collect his thoughts. "There was a clause that I didn't think too much of at the time, but it said that I couldn't come within fifty feet of G's property after my work contract was up… and since he didn't… so with you never leaving except to go to these high society events that I certainly wasn't invited to. I'm so sorry, Virgil. I should've, I should've done more somehow. I—"

"But then why did you just leave without telling me? Wh— what did I do wrong?" Virgil sniffed and wiped under an eye. "I just don't understand what I did wrong."

"No! I— you didn't— oh, Virgil." Janus took a steading breath. "You didn't do anything wrong. I was… young and stupid. I was trying to get you to like me less so it wouldn't hurt as bad when I had to leave. I even tried to get you out in exchange for more work with less benefits… not that they were great to begin with. But I wasn't able to— I just eventually gave up, and that was so wrong, and I'll never forgive myself for that. I just. I know this'll never be enough but I'm so sorry."

Virgil hesitated, seeming to be carefully picking his words. "I... need time, but… I think someday I'll be able to forgive you. It's just— a lot."

"Of course! That's more than I could ever hope for." Janus wanted to jump up and sit on the couch next to Virgil, but he also didn't want to startle or scare him, so Janus said, "I'm going to get you a cup of water." 

Virgil was still trying to settle into an even breathing pattern but nodded. "Okay, th— thank you."

While Janus busied himself with getting a glass and filling it at the sink, he considered everything that'd happened. Today had been wild, he'd never expected to get to see Virgil again, let alone talk things out with him —although Janus highly doubted that they were anywhere near done with that—, but nothing about them, how they had met, or their situation they'd found themselves for all those years was normal.

Not being able to help, let alone save Virgil, had weighed guiltily on Janus' mind for far too long, but now that he was free, Janus would make sure that nothing would ever hurt him again. Maybe The Prince had a plan to take down G.

And he knew, even as briefly as he'd seen The Prince and Virgil interact, that by The Prince's loving expressions and the air of soft care that he had around Virgil, that The Prince also wouldn't let G harm Virgil.

He definitely needed to have a chat with The Prince tonight.

It would be dealt with. They would make sure of it.

-

Next

[im-an-anxious-wreck]

Hold Out Your Hand And I'll Reach For You Too

Chapter Eight • Virgil

Word Count: 2,225

HOYHAIRFYT chapter collection

First | Previous | Next

-

Ghosts And Green Grass

-

It was several days before Virgil was cleared to be moved to The Prince's house, and while he could kinda walk short distances now, he was still relying on The Prince to help him get around. At least he didn't need help standing at the bathroom sink anymore, and it had been especially embarrassing when the medic had to help him off the toilet.

But even if he couldn't walk too much on his own, it was nice to stretch his legs, and while the medic's healing place was nice, he was glad and so looking forward to easing into The Prince's house and—

Ah, how could he be so careless, he'd almost forgotten. This wasn't permanent. How long would the prince really tolerate him being there anyway? A few days; a week perhaps? If he was lucky, that is.

A bit of anxiety and apprehension grew in Virgil's throat, but he tried not to let it take over as he, with The Prince's help, made his way to the carriage.

The trip to The Prince's house was rather quiet and uneventful, instead they just sat side by side in the small carriage, if it even could be described as such. There was no back part per sé, just an empty luggage rack, but the front bench was comfortable enough, and The Prince seemed to have enough reputable friendship with the horse to keep them steady, although the unusually smooth dirt road also helped.

But despite the quiet trip, Virgil's mind was anything but.

What was he going to do when he will have overstayed his welcome? Would The Prince let him know when it was time to go? Would he politely guide Virgil to somewhere else?

Should Virgil even bother to tell The Prince when he was leav— he stopped that thought. No, he should definitely tell him when, even if it was very short notice. After everything The Prince did for him, he couldn't just disappear, and while he would no doubt be way too nervous to give The Prince a lot of notice to let the awkwardness stew, he at least deserved to know Virgil was leaving and how appreciative he was of all that The Prince had done for him.

Besides, Virgil knew just how shitty it felt to be on the other side of someone disappearing, and there was no way he was going to do that to The Prince.

"Hey," The Prince gently said, distracting Virgil from his ever turbulent thoughts. "We're here."

"Oh." Virgil looked around, just starting to take in their forest-y surroundings. "Okay, yeah."

The Prince had to tie the horse and wagon around one of the mini trees so the horse wouldn't  wander off while he had to help Virgil down. The Prince carefully wrapped an arm around Virgil's back to help him down, but after that switched to holding one of Virgil's hands with his other arm and the one on his back moved up to Virgil's other shoulder.

The Prince led Virgil beside the stone wall until they went through a wooden gate.

There was so many plants inside the walls, but what instantly took all of Virgil's focus was the old house, with its wild, yet not unkempt garden, it was silent and full of ancient secrets untold, but Virgil couldn't even begin to guess how old the house was for who knew just how old The Prince was exactly. Let alone when he'd built the house.

But with its red and gold stained glass windows, and flowers of every shade of red, yellow, and white Virgil was quite sure The Prince had at the very least been very influential on the design, if not built by his own hands.

Most of the house was covered in ivy, but under it could still be seen some of the stone that seemed to match the stone fence. The door was a mellow maroon but seemed to be peeling here and there, and the window trim was white and must've been painted quite recently, but seemed to be the only thing that had been updated about the house recently. 

The house seemed pretty big before, but now that he was up close he realised it even seemed to have two stories. Yet, it still seemed comfortable, and maybe not even hell to clean… maybe.

Actually, would he be expecting to clean it? 

[Much later, Virgil would ask, only to vehemently be told that no, he wasn't expected to nor should he in his current state, and even after that, they would need to have a healthy plan after G had made him do all of the chores for his overly large estate]

Virgil sighed quietly to himself, once again he'd accidently reminded himself that this was just for a few days, but still, Virgil almost wished it could go on forever.

Well, not almost. He just really wished he was useful and good enough for The Prince to keep him around. He wished he didn't have to be useful to be wanted… He just wanted to be a person.

But he'd never been allowed that privilege, and it was foolish to think that he suddenly would be now.

-

The Prince and Virgil hadn't done much the day prior, but they'd eaten supper and The Prince had shown him to the room that he could stay in, that had a wide variety of clothes in the closet that actually fit Virgil, and in the middle of the room was the largest bed he'd ever seen.

Now it was mid morning and Virgil didn't even feel guilty about sleeping in. Especially not when he'd just had the most amazing sleep of his life. Not only did he feel the safest he'd ever felt, but the mattress and pillows were heavenly, and the sheets were so very soft.

He'd only had one nightmare, but even it wasn't as bad as normal and he'd been able to get back to sleep after washing his face and flipping his pillow over. And while the medic had said that he shouldn't expect them to suddenly go away, with how much sleep he got, it didn't scare him as much that he'd have to deal with them again.

The sleep he'd gotten at the medical place had been fine, but he'd been so out of it that for any of the actual sleep he had gotten, it had to've been under sedation, and it wasn't the same in any capacity.

Virgil leisurely made his way down the stairs, taking them slowly and one at a time. He spotted The Prince reading a book in the living room and sat down in an armchair, exhaustion setting in even though it hadn't been a great distance. "Morning," he murmured. Hoping that his soft greeting wouldn't disturb The Prince, but he didn't want to be rude and ignore him entirely, as well as wanting to greet him.

This was his domain and Virgil had no idea how he'd act or if he would be more possessive or defensive on his property like… well, like G had.

"Good morning!" The Prince cheerfully replied as he looked up from his book and put a bookmark in it, setting it aside on the side table. "How'd you sleep?"

"Oh, good! I still can't get over how soft the bed and pillows are, but also still supporting me somehow??"

The Prince made a half hum, half laugh sound. "Yeah, I was never quite satisfied with basically like all pillows so we actually have a bed and pillow maker here. People actually come from quite far away to buy stuff from him, but of course people who live here get first priority, although we're all quite taken care of by now."

"Well, that's nice."

The Prince paused for a moment before he exclaimed, "I see the clothes seem to fit you well!"

"Yeah, most of it seemed to have a bit of give either way so it wasn't hard to find something!" Virgil considered his next words and maybe he should say this but it was out his mouth before he could really think too hard about it. "I was surprised it was all in blacks and purples."

"Hmm, almost like it was picked out for you?" The Prince said, a knowing look in his eyes.

"Sure," Virgil started out in a teasing tone, "like you would just pick all that out for me, Prince-y—," he quickly blanched though. He was definitely pushing it. "I mean, sir, er— Your Royal Highness."

The Prince frowned. "Hey, it's okay. Why are you taking my title seriously now?"

"Um, well, I am staying at your house and… I don't know, it just seemed proper."

"Oh, hey, you don't need to do that. I rather like Princey, if you wanna just call me that."

"I— well, would that bother you?"

"No! Not in the slightest. I dare say I'm rather fond of it."

"Oh, well… yeah, alright… Princey." Virgil couldn't help it, it still hesitated and looked at The Prince to see if he suddenly changed his mind, but Princey just smiled at him.

"Alright then, Chrysanthemum."

Virgil felt himself flush and looked away. He'd practically forgotten about the silly nickname he'd told Princey to call him when they'd first met.

…That seemed like ages ago though.

Because now— now things were so different.

"...I really did pick those out for you though."

"I— what?"

"Yeah, you needed clothes, so I got you clothes. You really seemed to like violets so I had hoped purple wasn't too far a stretch, and well, black matched your hair and I always imagined you to be a bit emo at heart so… besides, I didn't think you'd really be up to going and picking stuff out for yourself and I at least wanted you to have something until you could go get something more in your style if it wasn't."

"Oh," Virgil breathed, feeling way more touched than perhaps he should be feeling. "That's… yeah, that's definitely my style. I— thanks."

"Of course," Princey said gently, seeming to be quite pleased that Virgil liked them.

-

Over breakfast —a heavenly assortment of apple oatmeal, toast, pomegranate, and cheesy eggs—, Virgil and Princey had some light conversation and Virgil had to be careful not to let himself get too comfortable.

It was all just so homely.

After Princey's last bite he yet again turned to Virgil. "Oh, hey, I was wondering, when you're feeling better and up for it of course, how about we go visit my brother? It's been a while since I've seen him and I… kinda think you and his partner might get along. You can most definitely say no, however. I'd totally understand."

"Well, that sounds just fine to me, especially since, like you said, it'd be another few days anyway. But yeah, I think that'd be nice."

"Oh, excellent!"

Virgil gave him a small half smile, before he asked, "How far away from here is it?"

"Three or four hours I believe."

"Then yeah. I don't see why not."

"Oh, I'm so excited!"

"Well, then I am too!"

Princey gave Virgil the sweetest smile, eyes crinkling in delight.

Huh, was Princey always this cute?

-

It was the trip of a lifetime, especially one like Virgil's, yet all he could think about was how soon it'd all be over and he'd be back on his own, fending for himself.

He didn't want it to end.

He didn't want to… to leave Princey.

Ah, and that was the root of the problem, even beyond having no food, money, or house. He'd have no home, he wouldn't have Princey.

Unfortunately, the trip would take several hours, which gave Virgil ample time to think over and overthink about everything. He was vaguely aware of The Prince telling him about his brother and his brother's partner, but Virgil was having a hard time being able to absorb any information, and with being such a bad conversationalist at the moment, The Prince's conversation soon died down. Virgil felt guilty about it, of course, but he still couldn't quite bring himself to talk just yet.

He just hoped he wouldn't make an even bigger fool of himself when they met— oh, what did The Prince say he could call them both? Duke and… Key? Well, no matter. He just didn't want to embarrass himself and certainly didn't want to embarrass The Prince.

Virgil felt his anxiety bubble stronger in his stomach and yet also felt relief as the carriage wagon came to a stop in front of a rather large tower-shaped stone house.

The Prince jumped out onto the soft green grass before turning around and offering Virgil a hand down, which he took, trying not to let the absolutely normal action cause his face to flush.

Virgil had only a moment to glance around on their way to the neon green door, but he briefly smiled at the rainbow of flowers in the yellow window boxes as he subtly hopped from large flat stone to stone in the pathway.

They both took one last deep breath, although not quite in sync, before The Prince knocked on the door, calling: "Oh, Duke? Are you or your partner home?"

The door opened to show… a very familiar and scaly face.

"...Dee?!"

-

Next

[im-an-anxious-wreck]

Hold Out Your Hand And I'll Reach For You Too

Chapter Seven • The Prince

Word Count: 1,132

HOYHAIRFYT chapter collection

First | Previous | Next

-

Fear And Pain

-

No.

No, no, no, no, no, nO, NO!

He couldn't lose him, he couldn't be losing him. This isn't happening, it's… happening. How could he let this happen?

How could he let Chrysanthemum get so hurt?

Roman gently, but as quickly as he dared, picked up Chrysanthemum and ducked down, trying to keep Chrysanthemum, and himself to a lesser degree, under the worst of the smoke. Although with how thick it was, he wasn't really sure how much it mattered, but despite not being able to see and his eyes watering heavily with smoke, Roman pushed onward until he finally made it outside.

He shouldn't have let himself lose sight of him.

This was all his fault, if he'd just gotten Chrysanthemum away before tonight, if he'd been better at getting G to— G. This was all G. Sure, Roman should've done better… but it was G that would pay for his colossal fuck up of a mistake. Or rather, what he'd done on purpose.

How could he do this on purpose? How much of an absolute—

"Prince!" And that was… that was the medic.

Oh, right, that's where he'd been going. Of course.

"What hap— yes, put him here."

"Fire," Roman said bluntly. "He inhaled a lot of smoke, and was wearing a corset so that wouldn't— wouldn't have helped. I got it off though. Use the dragonian shed skin if it'll help. Talk to you after when… it's over."

"Okay," The medic, 'Em' as Roman had taken to calling him years prior, said absentmindedly as he got to work.

Roman didn't stumble outside, exactly, but he definitely didn't feel as coordinated as usual. He was almost floaty but in a more disconnected way, seeing that he sat on a bench, knowing time was passing, so much time where was medic why was it taking this long what if he was…

After so long, so much painful and so many agonising thoughts, Em finally exited his tiny hospital of sorts.

"Good news, he's gonna be fine."

Roman jumped up so fast the ground seemed to sway underneath his boots, but it soon steadied, so he didn't mind it. Besides, nothing in that moment was more important than— "Chrysanthemum, he's okay?"

"Yes."

"Wait, good news. Is— is there bad?"

"Well, a little yes. But let's sit."

Roman practically collapsed on the bench, both from the relief from Chrysanthemum being okay and from exhaustion that this still wasn't over. "What's the bad news then?"

Em sat down and adjusted his glasses. "There was a lot of smoke in his lungs and while the dragonian skin helped immensely, he's still in pretty bad shape. It'll be at least half a day before he even wakes up due to the sedative I've given him. It should, hopefully, do its job and speed up healing while he's asleep. But he'll still need lots of sleep and bed rest even after he awakes. I imagine he should be walking of his own accord in a week or less though. I don't know if that'll be with a bit of assistance even after a week though."

"Oh, that's fine. How long until I can move him to my house, er, or one of our extra houses, whichever he'd prefer… my point is, when can he be moved?"

"Well, I'd say certainly when he can walk with assistance. I don't have like, an exact day, so we'll have to play it by ear. But for sure when he's feeling well enough for travel. I'd like to keep him a bit longer than is actually necessary just to really make sure he's okay and isn't having any complications. And I'd imagine that he'd rather travel on his own two feet to and from a carriage than to be carried on a stretcher."

"Mm, perfectly understandable of course. I'd… I'd like to see him, if I can."

"Sure, just don't expect him to show you a dance routine anytime soon. "

Somehow despite it all, and maybe just a bit from being so relieved that Chrysanthemum was okay (he was okay, he was alive and okay), Roman laughed.

-

When Chrysanthemum finally woke up —just stirred, really— Roman wanted to sing and yet also cry at the same time, but instead he squeezed the hand he had around Chrysanthemum's, and said softly: "Hey, Chrysanth, you awake? Can you open your eyes for me?"

Chrysanthemum groaned and tried, but just groaned again at the light, turning his face away from it. He tried to say something, but it just came out a lot like his groan, gravely.

Roman turned the dial down to dim the light and assisted him in drinking some water.

After Chrysanthemum pulled back, he managed to blink his eyes open.

"There you are!" Roman praised.

Chrysanthemum smiled a bit shyly before looking around blearily. "Wh— where are we?" He croaked.

"We're in the village medic centre, my house is on the other side of town, and then the, um, ballroom… wasn't a good choice obviously, so I brought you here and had our medic take care of you. How are you feeling?"

"Like I just had smoke in my lungs," Chrysanthemum said wily.

Roman smiled a bit. Good, he felt up to joking. "I would think so. Anything else?"

"Oh, I won't bore you with the details, although, I will say that I'm a bit sore so eh, but not too bad considering."

"That's good at least. I'm glad you're not feeling worse than you are. The medic is pretty good at his job, I think."

Chrysanthemum just gave him a thumbs up as his eyelids slipped close.

A moment passed and Roman tried to keep his voice soft and quiet as he asked, "Are… are you awake?"

Chrysanthemum grunted before mumbling, "Yeah."

"You can just give me a thumbs up or down for what you think about this idea by the way, but I was wondering if— well, that's not really a good place to start, or… no, not that either. Well, once you're feeling better I can move you to my house if you'd like."

"You sure?"

"Oh, of course! I can prepare the guest house here in the village if you'd prefer, but I have plenty of room at my home."

"Well, yeah, sounds—" Chrysanthemum let out a weak cough that made him scrunch up his eyes. "—Sounds good. Whatever's easier."

"Alright, you can stay in one of my guest rooms then."

"Okay. 'ma sleep now."

"Yes, of course! Get some good rest."

He was going to be okay. Chrysanthemum was okay.

Chrysanthemum was his friend and under his protection, and Roman knew that he'd stop at nothing to keep it this way.

G would never so much as see Chrysanthemum, let alone hurt him ever again.

-

Next

[im-an-anxious-wreck]

Hold Out Your Hand And I'll Reach For You Too

Chapter Six • Virgil

Word Count: 2,207

HOYHAIRFYT chapter collection

First | Previous | Next

-

Glamour, Glory, And Gratuitous Consequences

-

Beautiful flowy dresses of every colour and suit of fantastic construction, corsets that squeezed at waists, stiff straight-backed men, elegant hands in sturdy ones. Rings on fingers, gold around necks, and silver in ears, shinny, flashy, dazzling, blinding — It was like a soft hazy dream… and it all made Virgil absolutely sick. 

None of it was real; it was fake. Just a show the rich folk put on to inflate their ego, flash people with bling, and the most truly cunning ones (or the wealthiest) waltz humans around like property.

Virgil wouldn't admit to being nauseous exactly, but he was a bit clammy and far too dizzy to properly hold a smile and that was a dangerous thing, for any second G wou—

G pulled Virgil in closer and hissed in his ear, "Look like you're enjoying yourself, pet, or there won't be much for you to do." To the untrained ear it would've sounded like nonsense if they'd heard, but it certainly had meaning to Virgil; an awful, terrible meaning.

It meant that he'd be spending the next few days in what he'd quickly dubbed 'the boredom room', unless he pulled himself together, and fast.

By some miracle, Virgil managed to paste an approximation of a smile on his face, straightening his back a bit as well before G got onto him about that too.

It was a little while longer before Virgil really paid attention again as he locked eyes with The Prince and minutely shook his head before looking away again. It'd be nothing but trouble if G saw The Prince, and especially after he'd forbidden the two of them from speaking to each other.

It was too late though, Virgil felt his stomach turn and twist in knots as fingers dug into his left side, near the bottom of his corset, even though it wasn't enough to hurt him. 

G was pressed up against half of Virgil's back and practically seething into his right ear as he said, "Don't even think about it."

"I wasn't! I swear."

G just hummed, quite displeased, despite Virgil's assurances.

G walked Virgil around the room, talking with people Virgil didn't know or care about —not that he'd really remember even if he had actually met them before—.

Things almost seemed to be going alright for the next few minutes. Though he should've known. He should've known things never went his way. That he'd fuck everything up.

He should've known.

A waiter passed by with a tray of some bubbly drink in glass flutes.

Virgil's hand shook slightly as he recalled what G had told him in G's office, that the next time he embarrassed G, made a mistake or fucked up in any way, that G would make him more than simply regret it.

But, despite the shaky hand, he reached out to grab a glass of… well, some fancy drink, hoping it would help his nerves. He never got the chance to see if it would though.

His hand almost knocked the glass he reached for over and, in overcompensating, ended up knocking over a different one that knocked over two more and dumped several drinks worth on the poor unsuspecting waiter.

Virgil yelped when G pulled him aside harshly.

"Sorry, everyone, this one just doesn't behave sometimes, even after all the training and everything I've given it." G's smile somehow got even more plasticky. "The matter will be dealt with."

G's grip around Virgil's waist tightened as he subtly pushed Virgil to a grand hallway on the far side of the ballroom.

Once away from the curious glances and  judgmental stares, G said, "I've had just about enough of your bullshit. How dare you act like this, after everything I've done for you and yet you still act this way?! Pathetic. Why you'd think I've been letting you starve and whipping you everyday! Now tell me, *******, have I been doing those despicable things to you?"

"No."

"No, what?"

"No, sir," Virgil gritted out.

"That's right. I haven't." G was leading them farther and farther away from the overwhelming crowd, but somehow that only made a sense of dread form in the pit of his stomach. 

G continued, "That's in our deal, isn't it? But you got to be reasonable and cooperate. But you don't like to behave, do you! You just act bratty and disobey and make me look bad on purpose!"

"No! I never mean to—"

"Be quiet," G admonished. "I didn't ask for your opinion. But you just can't help yourself, can you? You never fucking shut up!"

Something in Virgil snapped and before he knew it, he was struggling, but it was no use, G was a fae and their strength was naturally at least ten times stronger than humans. G's grip on Virgil's waist shifted as he let his whole arm wrap around it instead.

Virgil started to feel a bit panicky as he couldn't even get his breaths in right and his complete lack of control definitely wasn't helping.

G half-held, half-dragged Virgil with one arm, like a limp rag doll, his other hand reaching into his inner suit jacket pocket, pulling out a small bundle.

"What are you doing?"

"Quiet," G growled as he flipped a little switch on the bundle and threw it down a hallway as they passed. A whooshing sound not unlike… flames echoed behind them, but G paid it no mind, instead just continuing on, taking Virgil along with him.

They passed another door or two, but Virgil couldn't see exactly how many from all the jerking around G was doing. Even if none of it hurt, as that'd break their deal — although if G considered it broken because he thought Virgil hadn't been responsible… — it still felt so wrong and Virgil was having a hard time not letting the panic consume him entirely, even as it squeezed his throat and made him want to scream.

He wasn't entirely sure why he didn't just scream, except… he knew it wouldn't do any good, they were pretty far away from the ballroom and even if someone heard him, no one would care and he needed the air —if his panicky breathing was anything to go by— more than the physical act might help him release some tension.

G had opened a door and shut it behind them, pushing Virgil down on the floor in the middle of the room as hard as he dared.

The room vaguely registered as an office type space before his attention snapped back to G as the fae's anger was quickly pulled to the surface.

G spoke, practically snarling, "I think I've let this go on for long enough. I'm just glad I came prepared.

"You know, I never expected you to be quite this bad of a screw up when I first took you in, but then again, you always manage to surprise me, don't you? Just one screw up after another.

"Well, fortunately for you, I'm willing to forgive and forget, well, at least one more time. Another deal, if you will.

"And you'd better do what I ask, or well… I don't think you'll like the alternative."

"Wh—"

It wasn't until Virgil could start to faintly smell smoke and could see it starting to seep in through under the door when a strange feeling of horror crashed into him as he realised that starting a fire is exactly what G had done after all.

A foreboding feeling fell over Virgil and his guts twisted up in knots when he finally knew G's plan and knew that this wasn't going to end well, was it?

G continued on as if Virgil hadn't tried to speak at all. "I almost can't believe I kept you around so long. I really thought I could teach you, train your horrible, awful, defiant spirit out of you. But no, you just had to be unteachable. You never fucking learned. You just kept being a fuck up!

"Your usefulness has ended, you're just far more trouble than your worth. But hasn't that always been true? So fucking worthless.

"Anyway, I'm not letting that stupid prince get the satisfaction of winning you, but I finally found a way to get rid of you.

"There's only so much I can do to save you from yourself, you know."

"Wh—" Virgil broke into more coughs, smoke all but ashy now. "What are you talking about?" Some feeling of dread twisting in his gut.

"Well, you got yourself into this. If you'd just been good and didn't talk to the prince, it wouldn't've gotten to this point. But since I'm just so benevolent and did in fact make a deal with you that I'd do my best to prevent any physical harm coming to you, I'll offer you this deal.

"The only way I can rescue you, and really what's the point if you're just going to get into this kind of trouble again, so I'm afraid you can never look at, talk to, or communicate with in any way with our dear old prince. And in return I'll save you from yourself and well… may help you make sure that you don't accidentally break our deal."

"What do y—" Virgil broke into a fit of coughs before he continued, "Do you mean by that? 'Help me make sure I don't break the deal'."

"Well, if The Prince tries to come see you sometime and doesn't heed the warning… then I'll have no choice but to force him to stay away. But let's not worry about that right now. I just think we should focus on getting you out of here, yes? Let me save you, let me help you, *******." And there it was again, that toxic fake sweetness that had dragged Virgil into this whole mess to begin with.

Virgil shuddered, but he realised that for once it wasn't out of that name having any power over him, it was just out of the pure wrongness that name brought. 

He wasn't going to let G mess with the best person Virgil had ever met.

Virgil brought himself up as much as he could , arms shaking under him, but not from exhaustion. "You stay— the hell, away from The Prince." He started clawing his way up a desk and subtly slipped the letter opener into his hand.

G's face pinched for a moment, barely noticeable through the haze, but Virgil knew to look for it. G stepped closer. 

"Now now, don't throw your insignificant life away for the silly prince. Haven't I always provided for you? Is this really how you're going to repay me?"

"Not gonna… throw it away for you actually. I'm gonna— he's actually —" More coughing, perhaps he shouldn't've stood up into the thick of the smoke, but then again… maybe it didn't matter now anyway. 

Virgil pushed off the desk and shuffled towards G. "He's actually everything you pretend to be. The Prince is actually… actually kind and caring and I'd much rather have a day with him then a lifetime of your fuckin'. Bullshit." 

He tightened his grip on the letter opener and stared G right in the eye as he said, "Leave us the hell alone, and rot where you belong." And with that Virgil stabbed him deep as if it were a dagger, and pushed him away, dragging the letter opener down and out, the wound poured out black oozing liquid down G's front and onto the floor.

G took a deep breath in more annoyed and disgusted than actually hurt. "Wow. Can't say I'm surprised… but I'm still a bit disappointed in you, *******." G whipped forward at only a speed a Fae could and smacked Virgil in the side of the head, making him careen back and bang into the desk.

What little air Virgil had left in his lungs escaped him as he fell to the ground. From his viewpoint on the wooden boards, he could see the fire was eating away at the wall, it was so close now.

He tried to take a breath or at least wipe the fiery sweat off his brow but failed at both. All he could do was flail on the ground and after a strong kick to his ribs, Virgil was almost out of air, wheezing around coughs, smoke, and ash.

"I knew you were pathetic." G said dryly, mildly disgusted, but ultimately like Virgil wasn't even worth the time of day. "But this is a new low, even for you… Well, have a meaningless death."

Virgil could just make it G muttering, "So useless." As he walked out the door at a soul crushingly comfortable, casual speed and locked the door, not even sparing Virgil a second glance. If he'd ever really looked at Virgil to begin with.

And that was it, wasn't it? He'd never seen Virgil as anything but a stupid plaything.

The footsteps got farther and farther away as the fire crept closer, the the side of the rug right in front of Virgil catching fire.

Virgil couldn't do anything but lay flat on his back, crushing weight on his lungs as he slowly choked towards the end.

Virgil just hoped that The Prince would be okay now.

-

Next

[im-an-anxious-wreck]

Hold Out Your Hand And I'll Reach For You Too

Chapter Five • The Prince

Word Count: 1,846

HOYHAIRFYT chapter collection

First | Previous | Next

-

The Road To Hell Is Paved With Good Intentions

-

In one way, Roman didn't really know the stranger very well that he'd met in the garden four months ago (and six days, but who's counting), but in another way he'd never gotten to know and feel comfortable around someone this quickly before. And other than his brother, he wasn't this close to anyone at all.

Their few hour talks they had pretty much every day were the highlights of his week and had been so the moment he had said that Roman could come back and visit him again so long as G never knew.

Chrysanthemum was nothing short of amazing, not only was he interesting and pretty, but he was a superb conversationalist and wonderful at just listening to what Roman had to say. And while there was a lot he didn't know, not having much of a formal education, he was intelligent, and somehow, despite all he'd been through, was kind.

Yesterday he'd had an unavoidable meeting pop up and wouldn't be able to make it to his usual visit with Chrysanthemum. So he'd had to make do with just sending him a letter. It was nice to be able to write to him, but it just wasn't the same as their visits.

He couldn't help it, he missed Chrysanthemum.

He just needed to finish up this contract for one of the farmers in his principality, and then he could go see Chrysanthemum again.

-

Roman's visit was going well, Chrysanthemum and Roman had discussed music, and were now just asking each other questions.

And Chrysanthemum seemed to have a question, so Roman asked, "What's your question?"

"Oh, well, I was just wondering, do you have anyone other than your brother?"

"Ah, well, not really. Er, not since our parents passed away. They might not have been my biological parents, but that never mattered to any of us."

"Oh, I'm sorry! I shouldn't've— I just shouldn't have asked."

"No! Ask me whatever you like, if it was a big deal I can just say I don't want to answer."

"Well, okay then."

"Oh, I forgot that I do have a few more people that I talk to as I have nice experiences with the man who runs my village's cafe, and the person who runs the library is always quite pleasant and super helpful with research, so it's not like I don't talk to anyone but you and my brother, at least when I can find him; he's certainly a free travelling spirit. But anyway, I chat with people in my village, —or maybe it's a town at this point, I'm not sure, I should see if the librarian knows— I have business meetings with all sorts of people, I goof off with Duke when I can find him and his partner, oh yes, that's another person I visit. His partner doesn't really trust me, I think, but he's still very interesting. And then of course I have my lovely visits with you." Roman felt himself smile a bit. "Highlight of my day really."

Chrysanthemum looked away shyly. "Psh, yeah, okay, Princey."

"No," Roman gently insisted, "Really."

"Oh, well. You're definitely the highlight of my day too." Chrysanthemum paused for a moment as he bit his bottom lip in thought. "So… The Prince, where's your kingdom— er, princedom?"

Roman laughed. "Princedom does work, but I've also heard it called a principality. And it's not far from here, I walk here every afternoon, sun-direction for about maybe thirty minutes? There and abouts anyway."

"How many people are in your um, principality?"

"I have forty-seven subjects!"

"Oh, wow, that's… less than I thought but way more reasonable. How can you be a prince with that small of a principality?"

"Well, size doesn't really matter in this case. Forty-seven people are plenty, and besides, I fit all the requirements.

"I have a territory that's all mine in good standing. I have permanent residences. We even have laws and decrees!

"Oh! And I can't forget about my throne in my village office. Also, to make sure my subjects are heard, I have a secretary to write down any notes, meetings people may want to set up with me, or complaints or concerns people may have."

"Oh, that's nice, it sounds like a cozy little place."

Roman beamed at the praise. "It is! Oh, I almost forgot, and lastly… um, right! I'm a Prince, that's the last one. 

"I never really met my parents, but I learned that they had been royal and that's that. I offered to make my brother a duke and then he could have a duchy, but he likes to travel and didn't want the responsibility, so he's just Duke. I'm not really sure if he actually is considering one though if he doesn't have a dukedom, but he is to me, and besides, it's funny and I gotta call him something.

"And really it seems a shame if I'm a Prince and my brother doesn't even get any sort of title."

"Yeah!" Chrysanthemum agreed. "He should get one too!"

"Oh my goodness, here I am blathering on about the people in my village and how I'm a Prince, and about Duke, and I haven't even given you the courtesy of asking you your question back. How rude of me!"

"No, no, you're fine! I didn't expect you to… it's not like my answer is very interesting anyway. I really don't have anyone other than you. Not anymore."

"...Not anymore?" Roman echoed. Wondering what had happened to make Chrysanthemum's face twist in sadness like that, who had he lost?

"Well, for a brief while I thought maybe G would be nice, he wasn't though." He let out a miserable laugh. "I was a fool though. But I did… I guess I had a friend. At least for a few years."

"If you don't mind me asking… what happened?"

"So… G had this worker, and he was really nice to my face, we had a lot of fun together. He made the work more fun, and said I did too. I'm still not quite sure what happened, but all I know was by the time his work contract with G was up, we weren't on speaking terms anymore. He just left, without saying goodbye. I didn't even know it was up until he was gone and G told me… told me I needed to pick up the slack and needed to do all the chores."

"That's terrible," Roman mummered, not sure what to say. What could he even say to such a clearly great loss like that?

"It's… well, it's not okay, but… oh, I don't know. It just sucks. I don't—" Chrysanthemum cut himself off, seeming to try and hold back a sob. "I don't know what I did, or didn't do. I don't know what I did wrong!"

"Whoah, hey." Roman slipped his hand in through the fence and wrapped it around Chrysanthemum's. "I don't know what happened or pretend to know the situation or this other person, but I don't think you should be blaming yourself. I don't know what kind of person your friend was, or the circumstance, but if something happened, he may just not have gotten a chance to say goodbye, or maybe it just hurt too much."

"Or h— he was an asshole who didn't want to see me."

"Hmm, possibly. Did you ever get the feeling that he didn't like you, or resented you?"

"I... I don't know, like, maybe? Towards the end? I just— wish I knew why! If I could just ask him. If I could just tell him how sorry I am."

They didn't say much after that, Roman kept Chrysanthemum company as long as he could, and he seemed to be a bit better by the time he had to go make G's supper.

Roman wished he could stop Chrysanthemum's pain, could help him find his friend, could make G stop overworking him… well, maybe that was Roman's plan then. Just, in last to first order.

Chrysanthemum deserved better. He should have never been stuck with G. If only he'd met Roman instead—

Well, there was no time for 'if only's. Roman needed to fix Chrysanthemum's situation, nothing about it.

He was going to get him out of there if it cost him everything.

-

Roman wasn't the nervous type. Sure, he could be concerned about something, or someone, or hopeful that some super important thing would go well, but he wasn't really nervous, anxious, or tended to worry.

But as he waited around for his meeting, this ultra important meeting, he couldn't help but feel jittery. 

He needed this to go well, Chrysanthemum was counting on him, and desperately needed this to go well… even if he had no idea Roman was doing this in the first place.

If it didn't go well it could jeopardize everything and Roman would need an amazing back up plan, but his short breathing pattern was making it increasingly hard to think.

But if it went well then Chrysanthemum would be free, and that was way more than worth all the trouble he was going through, nerves included.

There was a curt knock at the door of Roman's town office —there was no way he would have this stranger, especially knowing how untrustworthy he was, in his home— and he quickly broke his pacing pattern to open the door.

"Welcome, I'm sure you're wondering what this meeting is pertaining to."

"Yes, I don't have long."

"Of course, would you care to sit down?"

G smiled, but Roman could see his displeasure. "No, I plan on… taking up as little time of yours as is realistically possible."

"Alright, I will get to the point then. I think the way you treat the human in your care is inhuman and neglectful, and I would like to take over. I have a contract written up her—"

"No, that won't be necessary. I haven't broken any part of our agreement and do not wish to part with him. His work is valuable to me."

"Oh, well, I'm sure it… but—"

"I won't be budging on this, and to continue this discussion would just be a waste of time for all involved. Goodbye."

"No, wait! I'm not giving up either. What do you want in return?"

"There will be no deal, and I won't ever trade him for anything, let alone anything you have." G shut the door behind himself with an audible click.

Roman just stood there. What had happened? How had it instantly tanked like that? What was he to do now? What would Chrysanthemum do?

He needed to think of a backup plan, and fast.

Who knew what horrible mistreatment G would berate Chrysanthemum with. Especially about how Roman even knew him to begin with.

Shit, he'd been so sure he could convince G, but instead of that, he'd just made everything so so very much worse. 

But whatever his plan will be, whatever his next moves are, he knew that he wouldn't let Chrysanthemum suffer there for another week.

-

Next