#Remus probably stole one of his jackets again

[fourmoony]

I cannot stop thinking about infatuated Remus x reader in the library 🙏 I’m dying for a part two of their date - maybe where Remus shows reader the constellations and there’s lots of sweet fluff and vulnerability and flustered Remus <3

i can't stop thinking about them either! maybe i could make a lil mini-series out of them???? maybe. thanks for requesting, lovely! hope you enjoy!

1.6k remus x fem!reader fluff language probably completely wrong astrology information

masterlist

"Are you cold?"

You're sitting across from Remus on a blanket he stole from Lily. He's not sorry about stealing it, but he is sorry that he didn't think to steal another to wrap around you. It's the middle of December and even though you're bundled up in one of the university's merch jumpers and a puffy jacket, Remus is worried this date is his worst idea - like, ever - and that you're going to freeze to death. But despite the cold, thin air, you're smiling happily over at Remus, gloved hands wrapped around a cheap hot chocolate from the canteen and your cheeks rounded out in a smile.

You look so gorgeous, Remus thinks. Your nose has gone slightly red from the cold, and your cheeks have followed suit, but your eyes are glistening with the glow of the festive fairy lights hanging from the lampposts in the distance that line the walk ways of the university grounds. He'd really like to kiss you, he thinks. He has done. Twice, since that day in the library. It'd made his knees buckle both times. Once, leaving the pub a little tipsy and dazed, high off of the flirtatious talking and touching all night, pressed up against the wall with the smell of smoke in the air, and once more when he'd dropped you off at your flat door. That one had been sweet, much softer than the one outside of the pub. A simple goodnight followed by bashful smiles and a heartfelt promise to see each other again soon.

He doesn't kiss you, but he does rub a doting hand up and down your leg, attempting to bring some warmth to it under your thin leggings, even when you protest and promise him devotedly that you're okay. How could you not be? You're there with him, after all. Remus concedes under your assurances, moving so he's directly next to you. Thigh to thigh, shoulder to shoulder. He can smell the sweetness of your perfume, the strawberry of your shampoo, and he's so beyond grateful you've given him an opportunity to be so close to you, again.

"So, are you gonna tell me why we're out here?" You ask Remus, head turned and tilted to look up at him.

You're giving him that smile. The one that makes his chest hurt and his blood thrum in his veins. The one that he likes to believe means you're happy to be spending time with him, that you're enjoying yourself, that you'd be happy to be out here counting the blades of iced over grass just because he's there. You'd never admit it if he asked, but you know in yourself it's true. You'd sit here all night freezing your arse off with shitty canteen hot chocolate just to spend time with Remus Lupin. It's sick, honestly. Marlene would laugh at you something awful.

Remus hums, eyes flitting to your lips distractedly before he remembers himself, "The stars."

It's a poor explanation, Remus knows, but he hopes you remember your tipsy giggles, the way you'd gushed about how pretty the stars were this deep into the countryside, and how you'd love to know everything you possibly could about every last one. Well. Remus isn't good at a lot. He's constantly forgetting to remove his reds from his washing and dying all of his clothes pink, he can't cook to save his life, he can't sing, or wax poetic, but he can sure as hell lie on the freezing cold ground in the middle of December and tell you about the constellations. For goodness sakes, it's part of his degree.

The excited smile that comes over your face does absolutely nothing good for Remus' heart rate nor his sanity. He thinks you're going to drive him mad. James says it's not possible. He did, eventually, ask if your beauty could be a leading factor in Remus' inevitable death via heart attack and James confidently told him that it's simply not possible. Remus disagrees. What does he know, anyway? He's not even fully qualified, yet. Idiot.

"Ooooh," You shimmy impossibly closer to Remus excitedly, eyes alight with joy, and pull him to lay down with you.

He complies, your bodies pressed together and emulating a warmth that shouldn't be possible for the minus two degree weather. It startles Remus how right this all feels. You're here, with him. Pressed comfortably to his side, your left hand threaded through his right, puffs of cold air coming from your mouths and fading away into the night air. He'd not sure what he ever did to deserve such an opportunity, but he'll be damned if he's not going to make the most of it. Of his time with you.

"Okay, so, this one." You point to a cluster of stars directly above you both with the hand that's not interlocked with his.

Remus does his best to follow, mapping with his eyes the collection of stars you've pointed to. "That's Orion. Most visible in the UK during the winter, supposed to be January til' April, but it's a really clear night, I s'pose."

You hum to show you're listening, lips parted ever so slightly, and Remus extends his own hand, "If you follow southeast from here," he wiggles his finger and you press the index finger of yours to his, following his line with a giggle, "it leads to Sirius."

"Brightest star in the sky." You whisper, voice in awe of the bright, twinkling star just right of you both.

Remus scoffs. Hell if he'd ever forget it, he's heard his best friend proclaim it enough times. You seem to come to this realisation, too, laughing and pushing the side of your face into Remus' shoulder. He rests his head atop yours, allowing you to take the warmth and hiding place from him, continues on in his mini-astronomy lesson with a finger pointed at a new collection of stars.

"Ursa Major is over here," His voice is a quiet murmur, careful and sticky sweet, "It's like, one of the most famous in the Northern Hemisphere. It's known as 'The Great Bear'."

He looks down to find you staring at the cluster of stars with a smile he can't read. He thinks it's you realising how big the universe is, how small you and Remus are, in comparison. Remus would disagree. He thinks wherever this thing with you goes, his feelings are going to carry on throughout the entirety of the universe. He's sure of that much. And listen, he's studied an astounding amount about the universe, it's gravitational pulls, the sheer size of it, the possibility that there are more out there. He's spent hours upon hours writing thesis papers, studying the actual cold hard facts, the universe is massive. That's a simple statement in and of itself.

But Remus knows. He knows for damn well sure that he's going to fall head over heels in love with you, and he's going to make sure that love fills every single bit of the universe there is to cover. He's not an idiot, though. He's not going to tell you that on the first - official, anyway - date. He thinks maybe you're having a similar thought process, though. At least, he'd like to think.

"Do you ever think about how tiny we actually are?" Your voice is soft, awe stricken, almost, and he doesn't have to look down at you to know your kind eyes are still roaming the night sky.

He makes an amused sort of hum, lips tilting into a cocky smirk and you meet his gaze, a questioning look lingering there. "Well, no. 'Cause I'm a whopping six foot and you're five foot nothing, love."

Your eyes light up when you scoff, using your free hand to whack at his chest and Remus laughs. It's loud and it's obnoxious but you're laughing too. His eyes find yours again, soft and careful, hoping you can read just how genuine he's being when he tells you, "All the time. In the grand scheme of things, we are specks of nothingness. At least, I used to think that."

Your brows furrow, Remus reaches up to pad his thumb over the crease lines before you can even talk, "Why don't you anymore?"

Remus shrugs. Is it too sappy to admit you've singlehandedly changed his opinion on such a subject in the three weeks he's properly known you? Is that coming on too strong?

You're looking up at him, soft lips parted, waiting on an answer and Remus decides fuck it, he's not going to ever refrain from telling you how much power you have over him. "You."

"Me?"

Remus nods, the ghost of an overly fond smile on his lips as he reaches up to push a fallen strand of hair away from your face, "Yeah. How could a girl like you be anything like an insignificant speck of nothingness?"

You both preen at and shy away from his praise, his flirtatious comment, and Remus feels his heart thrashing against his ribs at the way you whine his name. He chuckles softly as crimson takes over your neck and cheeks, an obvious change from the wind bitten skin from before. He smiles cheekily, chasing the line of your sight, head dipping to meet it.

"I'm serious, you know." He tells you.

You look transfixed for a moment. Ethereal. Entirely too beautiful and enamoured with his words. He's about to kiss you when your own cheeky grin comes over your face, eyes bright as you turn to point at the sky, "No, silly," You chide jokingly, "That's Sirius."

And oh, for fucks sake, Remus is well and truly done for.

[sidescraft]

Virgil: I am DISGUSTED

Virgil: I am REVOLTED

Virgil, climbing into washing machine: I dedicate my life to my friend and savior Lord Deceit and this is the thanks I get!?

Deceit: Virgil, you're going to get stuck!

[trashland-llamas]

Regulus & his Hufflebuddy

Continuation of this

also I don't give the hufflebuddy a name, they're just referred to as the hufflepuff or huffledbuddy

Like I said, he meets them through Peter, surprised when they see similar pins and patches on their robe to Sirius' leather jacket

But immediately befriends them over muggle literature and music; they have poplar opposite tastes

The Hufflepuff makes fun of him being a pureblood any chance they get

'Regulus, stop being prejudiced'

'I'M NOT BEING--'

Regulus always tries to cover the bill no matter where they're at

Turns into both of them racing to the register

Is the only one allowed to call him 'Reggie'

Anyone else who tries to call him that gets hexed

Out of the two of them, you think the Hufflepuff would have a green thumb but it's really Regulus who does

'How, and I can't emphasize this enough, the fuck do you accidentally kill a succulent?'

They have a secret language based around botany; confuses the fuck out the Marauders

Hufflebuddy teaches him how to make his own patches and even helps him make his own pair of patch pants

Turns an old howlers from his dear parents into a patch

Sirius makes a matching one

Sirius also calls him a sap, teasing that he's 'whipped' for them

Regulus is always their second in a duel & vice versa; they both consistently get into detention for this

Then again it was that bastard Slytherin's fault for calling his hufflebuddy a mudblood

Regulus helps them dye their hair, 'you're going to go bald'

'Stop being such a buzzkill Reggie'

Eventually coaxes him to dye his own hair, tying beads into it

Hufflepuff has stolen like half his hoodies

He knows which ones they stole when they're returned with multiple accidental rips mended w/ safety pins

'That's it, I'm teaching you how to sew'

'You do realize you're a wizard right? And that there's probably a spell for that?'

Hufflebuddy will randomly appear, undo his tie & then disappear

Unraveled friendship bracelets that really should be replace but they both refuse to

Remus eventually makes them toss 'em

[lumosinlove]

Between Fifth and You

(cw in tags)

~

chapter one

“Olives or twist?”

Sirius had to watch the barkeep’s mouth to make out the words beneath the pounding music, which meant Sirius caught the way his eyes skittered across his face almost fearfully. The sheer amount of obsidian in this place probably did nothing to lighten his features. Not to mention, few people knew how to look him in the eye.

“Twist,” he said.

The man nodded and flipped the bottle of gin until it dipped into a shot glass, the glass into the ice. Sirius watched until he was stirring the bitters in and a hand appeared on his shoulder, lips to his neck.

“Burn this,” Saint said, and plucked at Sirius’ shirt sleeve, rubbing the black material between his fingers. Sirius raised an eyebrow as he turned. Saint’s own shirt was unbuttoned half way down his hard chest, light brown skin warm in the flashing club lights. “You’ve worn it too many times.”

“Hello to you, too,” Sirius said. “I like this shirt.”

“I liked it two months ago,” Saint replied. “It’s September now, your highness.”

Sirius scoffed as the bartender slid him his drink.

“You gonna tell everyone the sun did that?” Sirius took a clean sip of gin with one hand and stroked his other through Saint’s gold curls, only suddenly some of the slightly course strands were almost white.

Saint’s grin turned coy. “Isn’t it nice to have a mystery to think about?”

“Oh, yeah, do blonds have more fun?”

“You wouldn’t know.”

The music kicked up a beat that Sirius felt through his spine.

“Why do we always come here?” he leaned a hip against the bar. “We have an entire city.”

“Yeah, fuck the rest of the world, we have one whole city.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

Saint shook his head. “Because that’s what we do. You see that guy over there? I’ve taken him out four times. Couldn’t tell you his name. They couldn’t tell you mine.”

“Everyone knows your name, Saint.”

Saint grinned. “Maybe. But why do we go back to each other? Because we’re creatures of fucking habit.” Saint cocked his head, stole Sirius’ drink. “And what is this city but a bad, bad habit?”

Sirius’ blood cooled and he looked away.

What am I, Sirius? said the familiar voice from his memory. Am I easy? Am I safe? Do you want me, or am I just familiar now?

He closed his eyes against the memory of his reply.

Bad habit indeed.

XOXO

Spotted—a familiar face from the past. What has this train brought in? Thanks to a tip from @magicinthemaking, I bring you this picture of none other than Remus Lupin (and a certain Southern bell we know and love) under Grand Central’s stars. We missed you, Re—how was England? Or was it Europe?

The rumors can never seem to decide, but why the sudden change in plans to take his Junior year abroad? Here we were thinking he wanted nothing more than to stay.

I wonder how another certain star will feel about this sudden homecoming. And just in time for senior year’s Fall semester, too.

XOXO.

Remus adjusted his suitcase, glad he’d mailed so many of his things home. He’d been on U.S. soil for all of three hours, and he already missed Rome. He wanted to walk down the tiny staircase from his billet family’s apartment and get a cappuccino. He wanted to stand on the drain of the Pantheon and soak up the sheer history in the air.

He already wanted a break.

But he also wanted to see Julian. Sometimes it felt like the only thing pulling him back home was seeing his baby brother’s grin in real life rather than across a Facetime call.

“All good?”

Remus looked up at Leo. His blond hair was still bleached a bright blond from the Roman sun. Their program had ended in May, but Remus was glad they had stayed together. He hadn’t been looking for Leo—for someone to kiss for the first time in the rose garden at the top of the Aventine Hill while Leo told him about its past as a cemetery.

It’s footpaths are laid out like a Minorah, see? Leo had pointed out. To remember. 300 different types of roses isn’t enough. But I like to come here.

Remus thought it had been Leo’s love for history, and his respect, too, that had drawn him in. They both came from a world where the biggest thing most people cared about was what they’d wear to the next party, and who was bringing their next drink.

Remus hadn’t been able to believe his luck, as fragile as his heart was still.

“Yeah,” Remus nodded. “All good.”

But he wasn’t sure. They hadn’t been friends here, in the city, or at Hogwarts. It had been Rome. Remus didn’t know what their old lives would do to them. But he took Leo’s hand and watched the way Leo fingered the star he wore around his neck, the way he shot Remus his dimpled smile.

“Come on,” Remus said. “I want you to meet Julian.”

XOXO

Good morning Upper East Siders—Gossip Girl here. All trends point to Fall’s Hogwartsers coming back in Black—in more ways than one. Sirius Black’s got a baby brother on campus now, and after another wild summer for the Hogwarts College elite, count me in with the rest of them on wondering what to expect. Rumor is he’s not much like our favorite star.

“You don’t have to talk to me, you know.”

Sirius kept his eyes on his eggs and toast. “Your missing your tie. Mom said—”

“What do you care?” Regulus replied. “I hear when she used to make you wear one it usually ended up around some other guy’s neck by ten in the morning.”

“If you’re going to believe everything you read on Gossip Girl about me, then maybe I won’t talk to you.”

Regulus smirked. “So, you read it, too.” 

“Boys.”

Both brothers went back to their breakfasts.

“Good morning, mom,” Sirius said.

Walburga Black smiled with her painted lips, resting a hand on Sirius’ shoulder and bending to kiss his cheek.

“Don’t you both look handsome for your first day. Although that leather jacket has seen better days, Sirius. Do what you want for dinner, ask Chef, I don’t care. I’ll be at the House.”

The House. The House of Black, his mother’s million dollar fashion industry.

“Fine,” Regulus nodded, and rose. “I’ll take the first car.”

Sirius rolled his eyes again. “Really?”

Regulus just snatched up his backpack.

Saint, James, and Thomas were waiting for him on one of the courtyard tables when Sirius got out of the Escalade. It certainly felt like a first day of a semester. Saint’s neck dripped in gold necklaces—a story behind each one. Thomas, who had replaced his short braids with a closely shaved head, wore a white t-shirt and ripped up jean shorts, gold nose-ring glinting in the sun. James had evidently been helped out by Lily, as usual, a green, tight-fitting Henley shirt bunched up at his elbows. The two flanked Saint, who basked on top of the stone table, head tilted back to bare his throat in a way that made Sirius think of last night, in the back of the bar. He could see a purplish mark he had left there.

“You’re looking surprisingly chipper,” James said when Sirius reached Hogwarts’ courtyard.

Sirius raised an eyebrow, knowing he didn’t. “I’m not failing any classes yet, James.”

His friends went oddly silent. Sirius looked around at them, spreading his hands in confusion. Saint wouldn’t look at him, expression going oddly stoney. Thomas, finally, offered him his phone, biting his lip. Sirius took it.

His heart leapt to his throat. He didn’t even bother reading the Instagram caption. Remus loomed out at him from the phone screen.

“Leo Knut,” Saint said. “Who would have thought.”

Sirius cleared his throat and turned away from the picture—from Remus and Leo’s clasped hands.

“Why wouldn’t I be chipper?” he said again, and ignored their unconvinced expressions. “I’ve got class.”

Under his desk while he waited for the rest of the class to show, Sirius pulled out his phone and opened Instagram.

XOXO

Remus approached campus slowly. He felt like he didn’t know anyone anymore, even if he knew that wasn’t true. He thought he saw James from afar, but Lily and Kasey didn’t have class today.

Really, Remus didn’t know if he had many friends that weren’t…shared. That didn’t feel too close to home. Manhattan wasn’t that big of an island.

He looked down at his schedule he’d written out on his phone.

The 19th Century Novel - Hogsmeade R#302.

He made his way to the Hogsmeade building and climbed the spiral staircase quickly. It all felt too industrial, too metallic. At least he’d woken up with Leo, who still had the ancient air about him. He didn’t want that bubble to pop.

“Mr. Lupin,” Professor McGonagall beamed when he walked in, and Remus smiled, too at her familiar Scottish drawl. “It’s so very nice to have you back.”

“Hi, Professor. It’s good to be—”

But the words died on Remus’ tongue. He looked out at the small class—just twenty at this high level—and his heart, out of habit it seemed, had leapt at the sight of familiar dark hair.

Uh-oh. Looks like Pyramus and Thisbe are actually wishing for a wall between them this time.

Sirius’ hair was shorter than it had been at the end of sophomore year, the last time Remus had seen him. He wore a touch of a beard, too, just scruff, really, but it framed his silver eyes like darkness to the stars—two stars, which were zeroed in on Remus.

“Back,” Remus tried to recover, mouth dry. He sent McGonagall a shaky smile, and turned to find a seat, trying not to find those stars again.

He resisted the urge to close his eyes in defeat when he realized that there was only one left. He walked towards Sirius looking ahead and with his heart pounding. Leo. Leo making pancakes for him and Julian this morning. Leo making his little brother laugh. But he could smell the worn leather of Sirius’ jacket. He remembered the feel of it around his own shoulders. Are you cold, baby?

“All righty, then,” McGonagall stood from her chair and leaned against the front of her desk, looking down her spectacles at the attendance sheet. “Looks like we’re all here.”

XOXO

“Well?” Saint asked as Sirius took the joint from between his fingers.

“Sat down next to me,” Sirius said. “Didn’t say a fucking word.”

“Did you say a fucking word?” Saint raised his eyebrows.

Sirius blew out smoke. “No.”

“Well, all right, you fucking hypocrite.”

Sirius looked over at him from where they lay side by side, stretched out in the fading sunshine of Central Park. “I’m keeping this now.”

“No, you’re not. Did you pay for that? I don’t think so.”

Sirius scoffed. “Yeah, like this made a dent in the Montague treasuries.”

Saint laughed, tucking a palm behind his head. Sirius let his eyes linger on the strip of skin where his shirt rode up. He’d kissed that last night, too. It was nice with Saint. He’d been friends with him for longer than he could remember. Saint never looked for more. If Sirius snapped at him, he snapped back and then they laughed about it. Saint wandered through the world loving people freely. He kissed them, or he made them dinner, or he took them for long walks along the river. He showed them his favorite jazz club, or gave them the orgasm of their life, or read to them from his favorite books. He was New York in human form, accepting and inviting, living and breathing.

Sirius wished he was so trusting, even if trust seemed a funny word to apply to Saint.

No one ever got too close to either of them, except the other.

“What are you wearing to your mom’s fashion show?” Saint asked with his eyes closed. “It’s the event of the season.”

“Are you joking? The fittings started in July.”

“Mm, I love that,” Saint grinned, stretching. “Want to come help me decide what I’m wearing? We’re at the Plaza right now, you know that. You know my mother. If it’s not broken, break it. We’re renovating again. We can order champagne to the room.”

“Is that code for make out?”

“Partly. But I will be showing you my outfit choices.”

“Deal.”

XOXO

Remus made it back home seeing no one, but one of the butlers had an envelope with his name on it waiting for him.

“Thanks, Moody,” Remus murmured, but thought briefly about handing it right back to him.

He knew this invitation. He knew its black boarders and heavy stock. It came ever year.

It used to be something they had looked forward to.

The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black

invites you

TOUJOURS PUR

“Jesus,” Remus breathed, but took it up to his room, checking the time on the way. Julian would still be at school, his parents at work. This apartment was too big for the four of them, not to mention just Remus alone.

His suitcases still lay open and unpacked on his floor, and he kicked at one without looking up.

“So, did you just forget to mention that you were home?”

Remus spun towards his bed, only to find Lily sprawled across it and fiddling with an emerald on a chain.

“I had to find out from Gossip Girl?” Lily shook her head.

Remus slapped the invitation against his thigh. “Wow, wasn’t like that was a surprise present for you or anything.”

Lily smiled, red hair in a thick french braid. “I see green and I know it’s for me. What can I say?”

Remus huffed out a laugh, and she gave a small squeal and pushed off of the bed to wrap him in a hug.

“I’m so happy you’re home, Re.”

He let himself rest his chin in the crook of her neck for a moment. ‘Thanks, Lils.”

She pulled back, hands on his shoulders. “What, no, me too?”

“I am,” he said tentatively. “But I had fun in Rome.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Southern fun?”

“His name is Leo,” Remus said pointedly, then eyed the pile of garment bags piled high on the other side of his bed. “Are those…”

“Pour moi, et pour toi,” Lily patted his cheek. “We have a fashion show to go to, sweetheart.”

XOXO

What do we think, Courtiers? House of Black’s fashion show is the biggest event of the fall. But what on Earth does doe-eyed Remus Lupin have to do within that dark forest now?

Is he a Bambi, or still the wolf we knew?

You know you love me.

XOXO,

Gossip Girl

[bothcreativitybois]

Schedules

This is a fic I wrote as a gift for @star-crossed-shipper I don’t usually write analogical stuff so I hope this pleases you all.  Wordcount: 5633 Ship: Analogical TWs: Swearing, panic attacks, sexual refrences, hyperfocusing, isolating.   Taglist (ask to be added): @crazydemigod666 @newtnotfound 

Everything was running like clockwork. Wake up at seven am, personal grooming until seven twenty, head downstairs to make coffee, give Patton his muffin and hot chocolate at seven thirty three, make two eggs and a slice of toast with Crofters at seven thirty five, Roman’s grand entrance at seven forty, eat breakfast at seven forty five. It was now seven fifty, he had another three minutes to finish his breakfast. Then two minutes to rinse his plate. Everything had it’s time, everything fit into his neat little schedule. “Good morning, Pierce The Virge.” Roman announced from the kitchen as he mixed his tea. Logan swerved in his stool. Nearly everything fit in his schedule. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your face before noon?” Virgil was never awake this early. Then again Virgil had no schedule. Everyone else had one, even if they didn’t realise, and Logan had mapped them to fit his own. But Virgil just… did things. Virgil grumbled something and stole the toast off of Logan’s plate. “Hey!” Logan protested. “Your brother’s being loud in my room.” Virgil answered Roman. Logan noticed Virgil wasn’t wearing his usual jacket. Maybe Virgil was who he had heard in the laundry last night? Virgil took a bite of the toast. Logan stood up with his plate and walked around the counter to the kitchen. “That would be because I vanquished him from Patton’s room.” Roman said. He and Virgil were blocking the sink. He needed to rinse his plate but they were talking in his way. It would be rude to interrupt their conversation. Logan put a hand on the small of Virgil’s back to try and communicate that he needed to get past. Virgil jumped at the sudden touch and looked back. He caught Logan’s eyes and his face flushed. Logan wasn’t usually the touchy type. “Excuse me.” Logan said. His voice was still tired and a little rough, it made Virgil’s heart skip a little and his mind raced. Logan noticed the edge of Virgil’s make-up began to sparkle. “Hey! Wheezer! You paying attention?” Roman said, snapping Virgil back to reality. Roman pulled Virgil out of the way so Logan could get past. “Thank you, Roman.” Logan said. His head felt weird, it was lighter. Almost dizzy. Was he dehydrated? Virgil dropped his stolen toast and ran from the room. “Virgil?” Patton tried as Virgil ran. He didn’t stop. Logan ignored what happened and rinsed his plate like he intended. Roman and Patton looked at him in disbelief. “That wasn’t very nice, Logan.” Patton said. Logan put down the plate and checked his watch. “I don’t believe I did anything rude.” Logan replied. “They were talking and I needed to get past so I used a non-verbal gesture so as to not interrupt.” Roman rolled his eyes, Patton sighed. “Yes but people may not like you touching them without warning. Especially Virgil since he has a crush-” Roman jumped across the counter and put a hand over Patton’s mouth. “Crushing amount of social anxiety!” Roman finished. Patton looked at Roman and nodded furiously. That was unusual. “Yes well I thought it would be more rude to interrupt the conversation to tell him he was in the way. I believe I did what was most socially acceptable.” Logan said. “Besides his make-up sparkled which usually only happens when he is excited so it couldn’t have been too intrusive.” Roman and Patton looked at eachother flatly. Logan was so smart yet so damn clueless. Patton gently removed Roman’s hand from his face. “Still it may be best to apologise.” Patton suggested. “You know, for good measure?” Logan gazed up at the stairs, there was a tingling sensation in his stomach. He was sure he’d cooked the eggs thoroughly. Was this connected to the dizziness? He looked back down at his watch. The minute ticked over. “I cannot.” Logan said and began walking out of the kitchen. Roman and Patton began whispering to each other. “Why?” Roman asked as Logan began climbing the stairs. “I have a schedule to keep.”

After being startled Virgil had run back to his room out of habit. He slammed the door shut and sat against it, holding his head. He mumbled incoherently to himself. Unfortunately he’d forgotten the mustached menace in the room. “Really I’m giving you my best here but you’re scared when you leave the room?” Remus pouted. Virgil looked up in shock. Remus knew that look. “A panic attack? I really have been bested.” Virgil looked back down. “Not now, Remus.” He mumbled. Remus slinked over curiously. “Who was it?” Remus asked. Virgil tried to push him away weakly but couldn’t. “Was it my brother? No he’s way too weak.” “Go away!” Virgil curled up tighter. “It obviously wasn’t Daddy Patty.” Remus continued. “It could’ve been Janny but I doubt he’s out of the bath yet. Did you see Scales’ big ol’ trouser snake?” Remus lifted Virgil's head to get a reaction. “Get lost, Crap Face!” Virgil yelled as he pulled out of Remus’ grasp. That insult was weak even for Virgil. “Well then it must’ve been Dirty Nerdy.” Virgil’s head shot up, giving Remus his answer. “Ooh it was. Tell me what did he do? Did he tell you about the sun exploding? The chances of the earth being hit by an apocalyptic sized meteor?” Remus pressed. Virgil buried his head and tried to ignore him. Then Remus caught a glimpse of sparkle under Virgil’s eye. He smiled knowingly. “Or maybe he tried to kiss ya?”   “Stop!” Virgil’s voice echoed loudly. Remus knew he’d hit something with that. “So you wanna bone the teacher? I mean I guess I get it… if you’re into the nerdy emotionally cut off but goes off like a rocket in bed type.” Virgil began picturing it, he didn’t want to but he did. Why did Remus have to know just how to get to him? “No!” Virgil yelled. “Oh so I’m wrong? You don’t want him to kiss your neck? Or see his glasses fog up when you’re pinned to his wall?” Remus kept going. Virgil kept unwillingly picturing everything he said. “Go! Away!” Virgil struggled loudly. “Is it because you want to be in charge? You want to throw him on your bed. You want to pull him down by his tie so his face is between-” “Please stop!” Why was Virgil so embarrassed? “You want him on all fours begging for-” Out of everyone Remus was the least likely to judge him. “Fuck off!” It may be his chance to actually talk about it. “You want to bend him over your leg and-” Maybe it was best to let Remus win. “You’re right, Remus!” Virgil snapped finally. That was probably the first time anyone had ever said that. “I think Logan is hot! I want to kiss him! I want to cuddle! I even want to do… that too! I want Logan!” Remus smiled smugly. Virgil took a few deep breaths. “See? Was it really that hard to admit?” Remus teased. Virgil leaned his head back against the door. “Yes.” Virgil replied. “Logan doesn’t have feelings, or at least not the same way we do. And even if he did there’s no way he’d actually like me back. I’m… me.” Virgil felt hopeless. For pete's sake he was talking to Remus. “You aren’t completely unfuckable.” Remus said. It was actually kind of reassuring. “You definitely have the kinky ‘step on me goth boy’ appeal.” Well by Remus standards at least. Virgil smiled a little. “Thanks.” He replied genuinely. “Well I feel wanted here which means it’s my cue to leave.” Remus said standing. He opened the door, hitting Virgil. “Whatever.” Virgil stood and trodded over to his bed and flopped down. Remus looked back at Virgil. “Hey?” Remus said to get Virgil’s attention. He looked up slightly. “You think if Logan gets some he wouldn’t be such a stick up my ass anymore?”  Virgil threw a pillow at the door as Remus shut it.

Logan heard Remus in the hall as he worked. Maybe Remus would be able to help him with this. While he was messy and unproductive, this was a topic he’d sure like. Logan walked across the room and opened his door. “Remus.” Logan greeted leaning out the door. Remus turned quickly. “I haven’t even done anything yet. I’m just walking.” Remus replied. Logan rolled his eyes. “I believe your insight might be helpful to a problem I am trying to figure out.” Logan clarified. Remus groaned. “Do I have to?” Remus asked. “You don’t. But the problem is about illnesses and their symptoms so I figu-” Logan was nearly floored by the green blur rushing into his room. He looked in to see Remus sitting on his bed. Logan straightened his glasses and closed the door. “So who’s dying and how?” Remus asked. Logan took out a whiteboard and put it on a stand. He separated it into two sides. On the left he wrote ‘symptoms’ and the right ‘possible causes’. “Hopefully no one.” Logan began. “I believe I may have contracted something after our experiments last week in the imagination.” Logan wrote two symptoms on the board. Dizziness and unsettled stomach. Remus summoned a pair of thick fake glasses and slipped them on his face. He scratched his chin. “These seem pretty unexciting.” Remus said. “Anything else?” Logan took out a journal and flicked through the pages. He examined the logs from the days between when he and Remus experimented and now. “Yes.” Logan answered. Remus took the marker and got ready to write. “Five cases of tingling sensation in extremities. Each one seemingly isolated.” Remus added the list on the whiteboard. “Which parts?” Remus asked. Logan looked down then back up. “Be honest.” “Fingers, hands and toes.” Logan answered. Remus wrote one extra place. “Remus!” “If you won’t be honest I will!” Remus defended. Logan leaned over and wiped the crude word off. “I’ve also experienced temperature fluctuation.” Logan added. Remus wrote it and stepped back. “So far not really adding together.” Remus said. Logan looked over too. “Yes, I can’t see any connections either.” Logan commented then looked down again. “Well, are you sure that’s everything?” Remus tried to snatch away the book but Logan dodged. “I mean there’s some tachycardia I’ve been tracking but that’s been going on for longer than the figurative window. Same with some regular shortness of breath.” Logan added. Remus wrote that in the possible causes section. “That would only explain the dizziness and tingling. Maybe the fevers but that’s a long shot.” Remus nawed the marker, getting ink on his teeth. “But if you’ve been having those for longer than our experiment then it may be an underlying condition that’s only just rearing up.” Logan was actually impressed. He’d put the tachycardia and weak lungs down to stress and being generally unfit. “You… may have a point.” Logan admitted. “Maybe there’s something you missed further back? How long has this been going on?” Remus was suddenly serious. Logan thought that was impossible. He flipped through his logs. “The first time for the heart palpitations was a few months ago, I remember because it was the day when I got this new tie.” Logan explained. “What was happening when you got them?” Remus asked, tapping on the board slightly. “I don’t see how this is relevant?” Logan dodged the question. “Just indulge me.” Remus said. Logan sighed. “Uhm… it was while we were in a meeting with Thomas. Virgil had just shown us his new jacket.” Logan said. Remus lit up. He took off the glasses he was wearing and chewed on the arm. “And the shortness of breath?” Remus pressed. “Every morning before I walk down the stairs.” Logan informed. “And whose room is right there?” Remus quizzed.  Logan began to catch on too. “Virgil’s room.” They’d found the common factor. “The tingling?” Remus pressed. “When I’ve been handing or taking things from Virgil!” Logan was getting excited. So was Remus. They’d figured it out. Remus threw his glasses across the room. “You know what this means?!” Remus asked. “Yes!” Logan answered. “I’m allergic to whatever Virgil’s hooded jacket is made of.” “Yes! Wait no…” Remus dissaggreed. Clearly they’d come to very different conclusions. “There’s only one way to find out.” Logan said before sinking out. Remus stood there for a second. “Oh this is gonna be a disaster…” Remus laughed.

Logan rose back up in the laundry room. Virgil wasn’t wearing his jacket earlier and Logan had heard someone in there last night. Given that it was past the time everyone else went to sleep, and Remus is allergic to soap and therefore hates that room, there was only one person it could’ve been. Logan looked at his watch. He had time, Patton doesn’t do laundry for another fifteen minutes. He opened the dryer, thankfully Virgil hadn’t taken his stuff yet. He pulled out the mass of black clothes and threw them around looking for the jacket. He found it and pulled it out. “Ah ha!” Logan said to himself. He held the jacket at arms length, carefully. If his hypothesis was true then this was the cause of his problems. He looked at the jacket, hoping it would cause something to happen. Nothing did. He slowly pulled the jacket closer. “Come on…” he waited but still nothing. Surely this had to be close enough. He wasn’t getting much closer than this to Virgil. There was a catch in his throat with that thought. His eyes went wide. It was working. Logan brought the jacket to his face. This would surely get a result. He sniffed the jacket deeply. “What the hell?” A voice came from behind Logan. He pulled the jacket away and turned around, Virgil was in the doorway. Why couldn’t Virgil just run on a schedule? Logan’s face flushed and his breath stopped. He felt his head get dizzy. “It worked!” Logan announced. He shook the jacket. Virgil wasn’t sure what he’d just walked into. His clothes were all over the floor and Logan was excited about sniffing his hoodie? “What…?” Virgil managed. Logan shook the clothes off his feet and rushed over to Virgil. He grabbed Virgil’s shoulders. Virgil blushed. “I’ve been feeling weird and I went over my symptoms with Remus and we figured out I am allergic to your jacket!” Logan explained. He noticed Virgil’s pale cheeks had gone red. “Wait a minute.” Logan leaned forward, inspecting Virgil’s face. If Virgil was also allergic then maybe they all were. Maybe Thomas was. Virgil wasn’t sure what to do, Logan was so close. His whole chest was full of butterflies, some fluttering into his throat. Instincts took over, but this time it wasn’t flight. Virgil quickly leaned forward and pressed a kiss on Logan’s lips. Just a quick peck, but it was enough to make them both leap back. Like they’d been shocked by electricity. Logan dropped the jacket. Neither moved. Neither spoke. Virgil’s mind was running with anxiety and doubts, Logan was going over the symptoms again. He was feeling them all at once. It wasn’t the jacket. Suddenly a figurative lightbulb lit up. Fast heartbeat, raised temperature, short breath, lightheadedness, tingling, these were things Roman’s songs were about. This was… attraction. Virgil couldn’t believe he’d just done that, he didn’t even ask first. He was embarrassed. He was a terrible person. He’d pushed his feelings on to Logan selfishly. Virgil took off down the hall, covering his face. Logan was frozen for a moment then went after him. “Whoa watch it, Kiddo!” Patton shouted as Virgil pushed past him. Patton with his laundry, like clockwork. Patton looked forward to see Logan also barreling toward him. “Wha slow down!” Logan skidded to a stop in front of Patton. “Apologies.” Logan said breathlessly. Patton looked up at Logan then down the hall where Virgil had just run. “What happened?” Patton asked. Logan wasn’t sure how to answer. He wasn’t sure if he was allowed to answer. He knew nothing about attraction. Or romance. He was clueless and he hated it. He looked down and saw Patton’s cat onesie hanging out of the washing basket. It gave him an idea. “Research….” Logan mumbled before running off. Patton was more confused than before.

Logan’s room was dark, a sign of just how focused he was. It was almost like the rest of the room didn’t exist. The only light was the bright double monitors illuminating Logan’s face harshly. Three books laid open against the screens. “That lighting is not flattering, dear.” Roman said to announce his presence. Logan didn’t look away from the screens. Roman took a few steps closer, he could see a few empty mugs and countless papers cluttering Logan’s desk. Logan himself was hunched deeply over his desk, scribbling furiously into a book. Roman put a cautious hand on Logan’s shoulder. “Hey Logan, you doing okay?” Logan’s head snapped backwards, only just realising Roman was in the room. “Perfect perfect Roman you are perfect.” Logan muttered at a nearly incoherent speed. Logan’s eyes were wide and tired, it scared Roman. He pulled himself away from them to examine what was on the screens. “Is that Crazy Rich Asians and… Eat, Pray, Love?” Roman asked. The movies were going fast, playing at double the speed. “Yes.” Logan answered hurriedly. “Well that can’t be a melodic mix- Wait you hate romantic movies.” Roman was confused. Everything about this situation was out of character for Logan. “I came to tell you Patton made breakfast but I fear I stumbled upon something worrying.” “It’s morning?” Logan asked quickly. Roman nodded. Logan thought for a moment. “I should raise it to 2.5 speed…” Logan grabbed his mouse and began adjusting the movies. Roman backed up slightly. “I don’t have a clue what is happening so I’m just gonna leave you to-” Roman began but Logan stood hurriedly and grabbed his arm. “No no no you’re just the person I need!” Logan said, pulling Roman back over. He picked up his notebook and shoved it towards Roman. “I have been isolating the root of romance. I am looking through every romantic book and movie and recording any recurring themes.” Roman couldn’t read the notes, both from the darkness and how messy they were. He looked past Logan back at the screens. “Is that my copy of Boyfriend Material?” Roman pushed past Logan and took the book off the desk. “Yes. And your copy of Fifty Shades Of Grey.” Logan added. Roman blushed. “Uh no… I uh that’s Remus’ clearly.” Roman stammered. “What was this about isolation and themes?” Logan handed the notebook to Roman and wiped his whiteboard clean. He drew a three circle venn diagram. “I have isolated three elements to a successful romantic coupling.” Logan began. He wrote the first element, vulnerability. “Vulnerability. I’ve noticed most courting at some point or another has someone, usually the male, do something embarrassing or risky. I believe this is what you refer to as ‘grand romantic gestures’, correct?” Logan waited for a response. “Well… I guess?” Roman answered. “But what is the poin-'' Logan wasn’t listening. “Second, sacrifice.” Logan wrote the word down in another bubble. “The relationship does not start until one or more people give something up. Usually something that causes figurative friction between them and the other person.” Roman had an objection. “That is a rather cynical way to-” Logan still wasn’t listening. “And finally.” Logan wrote the final element. “Desire. Shared attraction is key to the relationship becoming romantic. If it’s one-sided then everything will fail and the attracted subject will be subject to embarrassment and sadness. If there is no desire then… I mean they just don’t become romantic partners.” Logan finished by writing one final word in the overlapping sections, Romance.  Roman looked over the diagram closely. “May I ask a question?” Roman finally had the chance to speak. Logan made a gesture for him to continue. “Why the sudden interest in how romance works past, and I quote, ‘an uncontrollable and unfortunate chemical reaction’?” Logan’s face flushed although Roman couldn’t tell in the darkness. “I uh… Well I just think… You see…” Logan couldn’t find a way to answer. Roman rolled his eyes, Logan struggled with emotions and abstracts. He tried to rephrase. “Are you planning on being romantic with someone?” Roman gave a simple yes or no. Logan nodded. Now they were getting somewhere. “Has anything happened between you and this guy yet?” Roman was trying to figure out what exactly was happening. “Be more specific.” Logan said. “Has anything that you would classify as romantic happened between you and this guy?” Roman tried again. Logan’s face burned as he recalled the kiss. This time it was enough for Roman to see. He smiled. “Yes…” Logan answered. “Okay well may I suggest one change to your approach?” Roman asked. Logan held out the marker for him. Roman stepped forward and began rubbing off the diagram with his sleeve. Logan panicked and pulled him away. “Whoa wait what was that?” Logan asked, shocked. “Logan, listen to me.” Roman said and grabbed Logan’s arms. “You’re doing this wrong, and I bet you know it.” Logan pushed Roman off. “I don’t know what you mean.” Logan said. Why would he do this if he didn’t think it’d work? Roman clapped his hands and Logan’s lights turned on. “Look around.” Roman demanded, taking Logan’s shoulders again. In the light it looked so much worse. He could see every crumpled note, every coffee stain, every hastily scribbled note, every smudge on his glasses. “Does this look efficient or healthy?” Logan looked across at a mirror. He had dark bags under his eyes and his hair was akin to a bird's nest. “No…” Logan admitted. “But why else would I do this?” Logan’s voice was weak. Roman sat him down on his bed. “You’re confused would be my guess. You’re not used to strong emotions like this so you’re trying to turn them into statistics and formulas.” Logan held his head in his hands. He didn’t like this. Roman looked down softly. “And maybe you’re holding yourself up in your room to avoid Virgil.” Logan reeled back. He didn’t remember telling Roman who he was having romantic feelings for. “How…” Logan tried. “Virgil is also hiding, which isn’t unusual for him but it doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together.” Roman explained, sitting next to the other man. Logan fell onto his back. Roman was right, he was confused. This wasn’t his area of expertise, hell that was probably an understatement. “Roman… please help me.” Logan finally asked quietly. “You are the expert. In everything I’ve researched it’s shown as a natural instinct or a happy daze but… I’m not used to emotions I can’t control. It’s overwhelming. I can’t do anything about it.” Roman brought his legs up on the bed to face Logan. “Tell me exactly what happened.” Roman said. Logan covered his face and sighed. He wasn’t quite sure how to explain it. “I was looking at his face for symptoms of allergies and he kissed me then ran away.” Logan summarised. Roman ignored the first part about allergies, he wasn’t even going to ask. “Heh, I’m surprised he had the guts to make the move. I owe Patton five bucks.” Roman joked. Logan shot a hard glare. “Did you talk to Virgil about it?” Logan sat up with a huff. “No, we haven’t talked since that happened.” Logan clarified. Roman put a hand over his heart dramatically. “Honestly, what did I expect from you two?” Roman sighed. “Can you be serious please?” Logan begged. Roman put up his hands in surrender. “Listen, the solution is simple. Virgil kissed you because he has romantic feelings for you. And you have romantic feelings for him, correct?” Roman already knew the answer but waited for Logan to nod to continue. “So go tell him. Talk to him and be honest about how you feel and what you want.” Roman advised. He really had to explain the basics, huh? Logan looked over confused. “I don’t need flowers or like… fairy lights on a boat in front of the statue of liberty?” Logan asked genuinely. Roman laughed. “Romance isn’t as complicated as you’ve made yourself think it is. As long as you’re open and honest with him you’ll do fine.” Roman looked over Logan once more. “A nap and shower wouldn’t hurt your chances either…”  Roman stood up and collected the mugs from Logan’s desk. Logan began to lay down. “Thank you.” Logan said as Roman reached the door. Roman smiled back and flicked off the light. “For what it’s worth, I believe in you.” Roman said as he shut the door. Logan laid on his back, staring at the roof. His tired brain began planning the script for the coming conversation.

Virgil didn’t know just how long he’d been locked away, curled up in the heaviest fluffiest blanket he had. Loud music blasted through his headphones. His world was crumbling around him but he was paralyzed and couldn’t do anything to stop it. He knew that reasonably he could just walk down the hall and talk to Logan, but his fear had tied him to his bed. Every worst case scenario danced around his room for him to watch helplessly. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do. Maybe the Others would take him back? Maybe he could just disappear into the imagination? He could probably convince one of the twins to conjure him a nice replica of Sally's tower from Nightmare Before Christmas. A loud knock managed to just get through Virgil’s headphones. “Not now!” Virgil shouted weakly. He was too busy having a crisis to talk to anyone.Whoever it was knocked again. Virgil took off his headphones. “Go away!” He shouted with a bit more strength. “Virgil, it’s Logan.” The knocker announced. Virgil nearly fell off the bed, his chest which had felt hollow seconds before exploded with activity. He couldn’t speak. “We should talk.” Logan said after a minute. Possibilities rushed around quick enough to crack Virgil’s skull. He stood slowly and took a small step towards the door, still silent. “Virgil please, we should both have a chance to be honest about our feelings.” Logan’s stoic voice cracked. Virgil walked up to the door. He knew Logan was persistent, he wouldn’t give up. Virgil rested his head against the door. “I’m scared…” Virgil couldn’t manage any more than that. The doorknob turned and Virgil took a step back. Logan didn’t enter the room, just standing in the doorway. “I think I’m scared too…” Logan said weakly. Virgil looked across the room at his clock. “It’s four pm, shouldn’t you be reading?” Virgil said to try and lighten the mood, it worked as Logan laughed slightly. “Well I never really could fit you into my schedule...” Logan joked. “May I please enter?” Virgil took a step away, signalling for Logan to come in. Stepping across the threshold made it feel real, Logan realised just what he was about to do. Virgil shut the door and stood there awkwardly. Logan turned to face him. “I’m guessing this is about… y’know…” Virgil tried to avoid the word. Logan nodded. “You kissed me…” Logan finished. Virgil bristled at the bluntness. Neither knew what to do, they just stood there. “I’m sorry.” Virgil apologised. He wasn’t sure if it was for the kiss, or the awkwardness. Logan looked over at Virgil’s bed. “Perhaps it would be better if we made ourselves comfortable?” Logan said. Virgil nodded. They both awkwardly walked over, sitting down on opposite sides of the bed. They both stared at the wall across from them, scared to look at the other. Neither could speak. What were they meant to say? Thoughts and fears wrapped around Virgil’s brain, squeezing his brain to say something but nothing came out. Logan looked at Virgil and saw how scared he looked. He had to say something. “Do you think I’m attractive?” Logan asked quickly. Virgil’s head snapped to Logan, his face glowing red. How was he meant to answer that? Why was Logan so calm? Did Logan hate him? Logan hated him. He had ruined everything. He was a terrible person. Logan noticed Virgil’s breaths quicken, his eyes faded in and out of focus. Virgil rocked back and forth slightly, his thoughts couldn’t stop. Logan moved closer as Virgil began pulling at his bangs. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Virgil repeated weakly. Logan put a hand on Virgil’s shoulder, Virgil didn’t even notice the touch. “It’s okay.” Logan tried to reassure. “Focus on breathing.” Virgil couldn’t hear Logan, his thoughts were too loud. They were blocking out everything, he couldn’t escape. They curled around his throat and blocked out the air. They blocked his eyes in the form of hot stinging tears. They blocked his ears so he could only hear the darkness of his own mind. “I ruined everything. I’m sorry. Fuck.” Virgil kept muttering weakly. Logan got closer again. He pulled Virgil’s hand away from his head so he wasn’t pulling his hair. He put the hand against his chest. “Virgil, you didn’t ruin anything.” Logan tried to reason with Virgil but could barely scratch at his swirling thoughts. “Please try and breathe with me.” He just needed to get through. Virgil began scratching at his collarbone with the hand Logan wasn’t holding. Logan knelt in front of Virgil and grabbed his other hand, trying to stop any damage. “No no please no.” Virgil kept muttering through heavy breaths. Logan tried to get close enough for Virgil to see but not hit his head. “Virgil you can breathe, just breathe please.” Logan begged. Virgil shook his head. He couldn’t. He couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t. Virgil began shaking his head more violently. Logan’s hands were already taken up. He let go of Virgil’s hands and opted to pull him down into a full embrace, pressing Virgil’s head against his shoulder with one hand and rubbing his back gently with the other. Virgil's arms stuck out weirdly for a moment before grabbing Logan’s shirt. He pulled at the fabric desperately. Not to try and escape but just to get hold of something. Virgil felt the gentle strokes on his back, the only thing that broke through the darkness. He tried to breathe with them. He had to. Logan noticed Virgil’s breaths become a little deeper, he realised he’d somehow gotten through. “Virgil, you're doing great. Keep going, please.” Logan’s voice was a little panicked even though he tried to stay stoic. Virgil kept timing the breaths with the strokes on his back. Slowly they became deeper, then less shaky. Slowly the darkness gave way to a light dizzy feeling from the lack of air. He stopped tugging at Logan’s shirt which was fully untucked at the back now. “I’m sorry…”  Virgil managed weakly, this time less of a worried mumble and more a real apology. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” Logan said. Virgil pulled away from Logan, their legs stil knotted together but leaning instead on the bed so he could see Logan. His breaths still laboured. Logan grabbed Virgil’s hand. “I want us to be honest, please. Can you do that?” Logan asked. Virgil nodded slightly. “I will.” Virgil agreed. “But please don’t be mad at me.” Logan pushed some damp hair off Virgil’s face and nodded. Virgil nodded back. Logan thought carefully on what to say. “Can you tell me why you kissed me?” Logan asked. He wanted to know. Virgil did too. He looked away. “I don’t know.” Virgil answered after a beat. “You were close and I got flustered because… I really like you…” Virgil had finally admitted it. Logan’s heart felt weird. “You can ask me something.” Logan said. They both had things they wanted to know, it would be more efficient to take turns. Virgil thought for a moment. “Are you mad at me?” Virgil asked. Logan laughed lightly, he squeezed Virgil’s hand. “Not at all.” Logan reassured. “Did you enjoy kissing me?” Virgil squirmed. “I felt bad for not asking, and I was scared you would hate me.” Virgil answered. “Did you enjoy it?” Logan thought for a moment. It was a very quick kiss, but thinking about it made him smile. “I think I did.” Logan said. “It made me realise I have romantic feelings for you.” Virgil smiled slightly before covering his face with his arm, his chin resting on his knee. Logan felt himself blush. “Can I kiss you again?” Virgil asked quietly. Logan laughed. “I think it was my turn for a question…” Logan joked. He moved Virgil’s arm out of the way and rested his chin on Virgil’s knee too. Their noses touching and their eyes looking deeply into each other's. “Can you kiss me again?” Virgil closed the gap and pressed another quick kiss against Logan’s lips. Another sweet and light peck. They both smiled, absolutely giddy. Virgil put a hand on the back of Logan’s neck, making small circles with his thumb. “Do you want to be my boyfriend?” Virgil asked. Logan answered by leaning into another kiss, deeper than the last two. More hurried and warm. They stayed there until they were breathless. “I think I can fit that in my schedule.” Logan breathed happily as they pulled away. “You know I’m not going to stick to it.” Virgil said as he grabbed Logan’s tie, pulling him into another kiss. The world melted away around them, minutes ticked by carelessly. Maybe he didn’t need to schedule everything.

[etheraella]

𝘛𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘚𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘴, 𝘛𝘸𝘰 𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕦𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕖𝕣𝕒

(James Potter x Reader x Remus Lupin)

Summary: Midnight tours, sitting on rooftops, blithe relationships and smiles full of ecstasy, (everything was perfect). Sleepless nights, pitiful eyes, bitter lies and forced promises, (until it all changed). Nothing hurts more than picking a side, especially if it’s between two people you cherish the most. So tell me, is it James or Remus?

Warnings: mentions of forced marriage, sorrow

P.S: We came across a song that describes this story perfectly right as we were about to post, and we thought it would give that final touch to the story. The lyrics will only make it’s entrance after a while. here it is

* - used for flashbacks

!! bold italics - used for lyrics !!

Made up twists:

- The public knows about the marauders being animagus’s 

- The crystal ball used for Divination was found early and only the higher ups, like Dumbledore, had access to it.

- Wizards actually relied on the crystal ball considering how accurate it was

You slammed the fork on the table, annoyed as what you hoped would be a quiet meal got interrupted, causing everyone to freeze still at the abrupt noise.

“Is it really that hard for me to enjoy a meal? One meal. That’s all I’m asking for.” You eyed every single presence on the table, keeping your gaze as intimidating as possible, yet some still mumbled under their breaths and puckered their lips so their smiles would look less obvious.

“Why? Getting shy? Oh, c’mon Y/N, you and James make quite the couple and you know that. Quite probably, the whole school does.” Your eyes shifted towards Sirius, who looked at you from the side of his eye, smugly smiling with a bit of his teeth exposed.

“Open your mouth again, Padfoot, and I’ll shove my fork down your throat.” You threatened, grabbing the fork you previously slammed on the table and pointing it at him. You glared at James, who had never once done anything about the teasing from the entire school. In fact, he just feeds the people with what they want.

While your meal was disturbed, he seemed to be enjoying his. He sat slouched on his chair, with an arm resting on the one beside him, the corner of his lip was perked up as he looked at you. “Don’t look at me, it’s not my fault we got exposed.” He raised his eyebrows, assuming to be portraying the innocent one, with his hands raised up lazily while his arm was still glued onto the chair beside him.

Frustrated, you combed your hair back with your left hand, looking to your right, where Remus happened to be sitting. He gave you a small smile. You returned it.

You and James were the impeccable duo, or at least as Hogwarts thought. Well, it is quite out of the ordinary for a woman to have a male animal as an animagus, specifically, a stag; which was James’s animagus too. It was funny how James, a coarse, vile-tempered boy had a stag, an animal that indicates looking out for others and leadership roles as an animagus. It was all so strange, almost as if you were meant to be… was what they convinced themselves with. Either that, or one of you loved the other so dearly, not only their patronus followed the other person’s, but their animaguses too. However, you didn’t take any of it into account. You thought it was all inconsequential.

Besides, it wasn’t James that had caught your eye, it was Remus. Not that James was irrelevant or anything, you still loved him, but not in that way. And you didn’t want your friendship to rupture. You had more of a connection with Remus though, and you felt as if he did too. But neither of you had the courage to tell each other. Although, there were times when “friendly” wasn’t the word to describe your relationship.

*

“Move!”

You dreaded these kinds of days; the days Hogwarts made their Steak and Kidney Pie. Not because they didn’t taste good, but because you’ve never reached the dining hall fast enough to pick a table where they actually served it. It was just ridiculous to you how they only serve the pies at certain tables. It almost felt as if the staff wanted to watch the students hurdle up like sheep getting chased by a sheepdog and the dining hall playing as their sheep pen.

You stretched your arms out in between the two people in front of you, making a big enough hole for you to push through.

“I’ll even swim if I have to.” You thought to yourself. It was no use, even as you went further forward through the line, the people beside you would push you more towards the wall. And once you reach the wall, it’s game over.

“Budge it.” Losing your balance as you felt a sudden push from one of the ‘sheep’, you got smacked against the wall, or so you thought was a wall.

“Well, good morning to you too.” Looking up at the low-pitched voice, you realised what you were previously slammed against wasn’t a wall, but rather someone’s rock hard torso, or more precisely, Remus’s rock hard torso. Rattled, you try backing away, trying to create space between the two of you, however the hallway was too cramped for that.

Remus slightly tilted his head to one side, making his double chin visible as he looked down at you, grinning. “Cramped places could be useful at times, don’t you think?”

“Don’t try it, Remus.” You said as you buried your face deeper into his shirt, hoping he wouldn’t notice how red you had become. But what you didn’t know was that he could feel your heartbeat fastening, being the reason for his chuckle.

*

“She sure is having quite the dream, isn’t she?” The sound of a pair of hands clapped together was enough to make you snap out of it. In a swift move, you sat straight on your chair. James, who was sitting in front of you was laughing hysterically. 

“You could have picked a different time to daydream about the future you and James hold, you know.”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Later that night, you stared at the ceiling, unable to sleep. You were always the last to fall asleep out of your dormmates, probably due to the continuous night tours around Hogwarts with the rest of the marauders. There was no way you would have a normal sleep schedule now.

Suddenly, you heard what seemed to be a knocking coming from the window. Looking towards the sound, you spotted a familiar owl pecking the moonlit glass window. You smiled to yourself, fully aware of what was happening. Hopping off the bed, flinching once your feet came in contact with the cold floor, you slowly opened the door, hoping not to wake your dormmates up. There stood James, a grin plastered across his face. “Hogsmeade tour?”

You smiled from ear to ear, all too familiarly.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

 You and James found yourselves sitting on the roof of a random shop located somewhere in the middle of Hogsmeade after a walk around what felt like the whole of the village, until you started to feel pain in your legs. You yawned, finally feeling a hint of tiredness in your eyes as you rested your head on his shoulder.

“Tired already?” Unable to open your mouth, you just hum in response. “Another round, perhaps?” Lifting your right hand up, you slightly nudged his head to the opposing side with your index and middle finger, causing him to let out a short giggle followed by a kiss on your forehead.

“G’night, Y/N.” He rested his head on yours as he drifted to sleep along with you.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

You woke up to James screaming. “Get up! We’re late!” Still half-asleep, you let out a lazy groan as he continued screaming in your ear. “If you don’t get up now, I’m pushing you off this roof.”

“Shut up.” You mumbled a quick response in hope of James to stop talking.

“Get. Up.” Letting out a loud sigh, you lazily shook the sleep off your body and stood up. “How late are we, exactly?” You asked, your voice still a little croaky.

“They’re probably having lunch by this time.” Your eyes widen, almost as if they were about to pop out. “Damnit, James! You couldn’t have woken up a little earlier?” Cussing under your breath, you jumped off the roof and started running towards the school, James laughing to himself, following behind you after grabbing his jacket.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

 You two just stood there, your hands behind your backs.

“I swear, it’s not what it looks like.” Looking at the two of you, anyone would have easily misunderstood. How your hair was all messed up, along with James’s, your clothes wrinkled and only returning to the school the next morning. As the students walked by, they stole glances and exchanged giggles. Even at a time like this, where you and James were accused of scandalous behavior, James seemed to be doing nothing about it. It has always been you who had to solve misunderstandings.

You nudged James with your elbow, signaling for him to do something with your eyes. To no surprise, he just frowned and shrugged. Professor McGonagall, on the other hand seemed unamused, with her arms crossed.

Clearing her throat, she finally spoke. “Be that as it may, professor Dumbledore is expecting you. Both, Of you.” And with that, she walked away, leaving you and James exchanging looks with each other.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

“Ah, yes. Please, sit.” Dumbledore was standing behind his desk, admiring a crystal ball which was placed neatly on it. While on your way to Dumbledore to take a seat, he unanticipatedly posed a question.

“So, what are your thoughts on marriage?” Finally looking up from the crystal ball, he looked up at the two of you, with a small smile.

“Pardon?”

“You two are romantically involved, are you not?” You were taken aback by the professor’s sudden straightforwardness.

“No.”

“Yes.”

You shot your head at James, who did the same. Whilst you and James were busy arguing under your breaths, Dumbledore approached the two of you. “Well, it would be nice if that was the case, seeing that you two have a probability of ending the war.”

You shifted your attention to Dumbledore, curiosity filling your head as you wondered what he meant by ‘ending the war’. “End the war?”

“Precisely,” While Dumbledore was walking back to his desk, you and James followed behind him. “You see, being an old man has its own perks as well. Whilst being locked inside this room with nowhere to go, my mind has been pondering.”

Fascinated by the topic Dumbledore had bestowed upon you, you sat down, your gaze still fixed on the headmaster. “It is unquestionably impossible for a female to possess a male animagus, yet somehow you accomplished it.” He turned his back around to look at you. “If it’s not a deep connection that mirrored each of your animagus’s, which surely it must not be, it must be the power you hold. With the both of you combined, surely Voldemort won’t have a chance against you, or your children.”

“Children?!” You almost screamed. Once realising how loud you had been, you sniffed and fixed your position back on your chair. 

“I am aware of how sudden this all seems, however at times like this, I’m afraid not everyone has a choice. But of course, we will not take any risks. Therefore, to determine the success percentage of my proposal, we will be using, this.” He held the crystal ball he was previously admiring in his hands, as delicately as possible. “Divination?” James interfered, his tone smooth.

“Correct, James. We will be announcing the marriage publicly with the purpose of having everyone believe it being true. At which point, this crystal ball will analyse and interpret a wizard’s surroundings by logical thinking and sensibility of mind and body in comparison to Arithmancy, which focuses on calculating probabilities, magnitude, strength and effectiveness of magical forces in general, including properties of numbers and their application, which will be used to foresee a glimpse of the future. If perhaps, there is no sight of the victory of Voldemort, be it in love or not, this marriage is compulsory for the safety of the wizarding world.”

With no words to say, you were forced to carry all the pressure that was caused by what you thought was a miracle; having a powerful animagus. You were forced to pick a side.

“What if it still shows Voldermort’s victory?”

Dumbledore sighed before slumping down on his chair. “Then, I’m afraid my proposal was hopeless. And the marriage would be called off, publicly. I would have to yet again, sit here and… ponder.”

You sat there, thinking about both the possibilities. Although there were positive sides to both situations, the only thing that circled your head was the negative effects; what would happen to you and Remus?

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Your mind was still lingering in the headmasters office that you almost bumped into a wall. Fortunately, James was there to stop you.

“Does it really bother you that much?” He looked at you, his hand grasped onto your arm from when he stopped you from hitting your head onto the wall.

“This is about marriage, James! No, it’s about reproducing!” You looked at him, wide-eyed, seeing as he seemed all too unfazed by all this.

“Well, it’s not as bad when you really think about it. You could be ending up with Snape for all you know!” He laughed hysterically at his own line, whilst you blankly stared at him, unbelievably. “How could he be joking around at a time like this?” You thought.

You’ve been avoiding Remus since yesterday; when the news was announced. You were too afraid he would be disappointed in you; that you didn’t have the courage to do anything about it. You didn’t want to hurt Remus, but neither did you want to hurt the rest of the wizarding community. You decided that your decision would be made once you see what the crystal ball portrays.

“Run along, you too! We don’t have all day!” Your thoughts were interrupted by professor McGonagall who pushed you and James into the headmasters office. She didn’t know that your marriage was a part of a strategy. Dumbledore suggested she shouldn’t know so that she could be the one controlling the crystal ball, in order for the crystal ball to be analysing the professors surroundings; someone who wasn’t aware that it was all a part of a scheme.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

“Well? What do you see?” James pushed, forcing a quick answer.

“If you want to know so bad, why don’t you just look?” You glared at James from the small hole you made in between your fingers which were covering your face. You were too anxious of looking into the ball; you were scared of the outcome. James must’ve felt the same way, since he was also covering his eyes.

There was silence for a while. Nobody said a word. Dumbledore and professor McGonagall exchanged looks before putting the crystal ball away and facing the two of you. Before speaking, Dumbledore cleared his throat, which caused the two of you to turn your backs and face him.

“It seems as though the marriage will come to a great outcome. My proposition was well-built indeed.” He smiled, seemingly pleased with his way of thinking. Meanwhile you, on the other hand, were thinking about how on earth you were supposed to face Remus now.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

The moon had already made it’s entrance as you were still seated on some rocks near the Whomping Willow, with the waning gibbus moon and the forbidden forest in your range of view. You had completely lost your sense of time due to the messy state your mind was in. It was so quiet, even the sound of your stomach rumbling caused you to jump.

“Hungry?” You looked to your right, Remus was looking back at you with a softened gaze. You forced a smile before switching your gaze back to the forest, Remus making his way to seat himself beside you.

“Have you ever imagined life on the other side, Remus? You know, behind the forest and it’s deadly creatures.” You pointed the word deadly out in a sarcastic manner as you thought life inside the forest wasn’t as dangerous as people thought it was.

“Sunshine and rainbows?” He smiled, only the higher points of his face visible as the moon shone on them. “I’m serious.” You frowned, his smile growing bigger.

“What do you say we find out?” he raised an eyebrow.

“What about the deadly creatures?”

“Hey, I’m here for you.” He nudged you back with his shoulder a little too aggressively, causing you to almost fall on your side if he didn’t catch you. “Steady on! The moon already acting up?” You teased, but he seemed to be offended.

“Y/N, my shift was yesterday.” The realisation hit you; you were too caught up with the whole scheme that you didn’t even make time to think about the one person you cherished most. “Oh, I’m sorry,”

“No, no. It’s okay. I mean, I don’t blame you. With your marriage and all.” He sighed. You closed your eyes as you realised what you had done, or more specifically, what you hadn’t done. You wanted to be the one to tell him, he deserved to hear it from your own voice. “Remus, I-“

He took a deep breath in as he stood up and straightened his uniform, giving you a small, reassuring smile.

“ Somewhere far behind The scenes Two thousand and seventeen The start of a story Rumors about you and me Talking 'bout our chemistry But no need to hurry ”

“Congrats, Y/N. I’m glad it’s with James and not someone else.” He tried letting out a laugh, which only came out as a small, forced huff. Hesitating, he walked away, as if he had more to say but he couldn’t bring himself to. You only watched as his silhouette faded. The fact that you weren’t able to stop him built the guilt inside you. It was either this or the lives of many wizards being thrown away. 

It was at times like this that you wished you had gotten a different animal and not a stag as your animagus; even if it meant you had to be rotten inside.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

You winced at the bright light that shone through the window. Not aware how you ended up in your dorm, you looked around you. No one was there. “Has class started already?” You thought.

You studied yourself in the mirror as you fixed your tie. You’ve always had dark circles, but this time it was the most noticeable. But things like this didn’t bother you; it couldn’t. Not with all the bigger burdens you had to carry. You shook your head, giving yourself the idea of the weight being brushed off your body.

As soon as you opened the door to leave, a conversation was already being held in front of you. “Yeah, he got caught shifting the night before the last. He’s been hiding in the Shrieking Shack this entire time! Can you believe it?”

“What?! I mean, I’ve always thought Remus was weird, but I really didn’t think that far! So what’s going to happen to him now? I don’t want to be in the same building with that freak!”

“Trust me, nobody does. They’re having a meeting with some of the student’s parents, regarding his stay at Hogwarts. I wish he gets—"

As much as you wanted to fight back to the two good-for-nothing gossipers, you couldn’t waste the very little amount of time you had left. You would have been an idiot if you didn’t try to speak for him now. After everything else you hurt him with, it was only right for you to take action as a loyal friend, no, as someone who loves him.

Your mind was too occupied with thinking about what would happen to Remus if he got kicked out that you didn’t feel the pain in your stomach and legs as you ran with all your might. The wind harshly hitting your face as you ran, and your tie loosening. You couldn’t let him get expelled; not for something he didn’t ask for, not for something he couldn’t control.

“ 'Cause I will light up Your heaven tonight Light up your whole world Just for you ”

Your running came into an abrupt halt when James reached out for your arm. Worry filling his expression. “Y/N, what’s wrong?”

You looked at him, breathing heavily as you snatched your arm away. “Remus needs me.” Seeing as you were about to rush away again, James placed his hand back on your arm, pulling you to face him.

“Tell me what’s happening. Why does Remus need you? What’s going on?” You studied him before combing your hair back with your left hand. “Someone caught him. Shifting. Yesterday. He’s going to get expelled if I don’t do something about it. He’s not a freak! He doesn’t hurt anyone!” Your shaky voice raising with every word you said, tears filling your eyes as you thought about what would happen if you don’t get there in time, huffing in between your sentences.

James stood there, examining your face, not able to find the right words to say. You sighed, “Let me go. I need to do something.” Trying to push his hand off your arm with your left hand, he only tightened his grip.

“Do you even know where he is? Do you even know where to go? Y/N, are you just gonna go running around the whole castle? With an empty stomach? Do you have any idea how you look right now?! You look like you just got up from your grave, Y/N! You would collapse before even seeing him!”

He paused, before taking a deep breath, followed by you. “Look, he’s going to be okay. Who do you think he is? A weak, fragile little boy? All we can do right now is be there for him when he gets out. Listen to me, It’s gonna be okay, alright?” His tone softening as he lifted your chin up with his folded index finger and looked into your eyes with raised eyebrows. You forced a tight smile and looked away.

“ Wherever you go I will follow Whenever you're low Just let me hold you Let me hold you Don't be afraid I will show you I'll make it okay Just let me hold you Let me hold you ” 

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

 It’s been almost a week since you last saw Remus, and your wedding was in a few hours. You never got to see him that morning. He left without even saying goodbye. Everything was happening too fast for you to take anything in. All you knew was that you were attending a wedding that was held in the entrance of Hogwarts as a bride, and James being the partner in-crime.

A quick knock from the other side of the door was enough for you to snap out of your thoughts. “Come in.” The door slid open, James leaning against the door frame in his suit, holding a bouquet of lily flowers in his hands. You gave him a small smile; you knew this was as hard for him to handle as it was for you. You shared the same burden, the only way for you to cope was through each other.

He walked towards you, his gaze fixed onto you the entire time. Finally reaching for the chair in front of you and seating himself down, he handed you the bouquet. “You’re gorgeous.” He commented, as he studied you in a white gown, your hair tied up in a bun and features enhanced with the way you looked at him.

“The same to you, I almost drooled.” You teased, followed by him cocking an eyebrow. But his eyes soon softened as he remembered the reason why he came to you in the first place. “Y/N, I have something to tell you,” You simply looked at him, listening attentively.

He dithered, still unsure whether he should tell you or keep it to himself like he did all this while. “We were never going to stop the war.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, confused. “What do you mean? I thought this marriage was supposed to—”

“I know, that’s what I wanted everyone to believe.” He paused, realising how much of a problem he was going to cause if he came clean, but he couldn’t keep it any longer; he had to tell someone. He took a deep breath and looked into your innocent eyes before speaking. His tone was filled with desperation.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry. I really am, but I lied to you. I lied to everyone. I messed with the crystal ball to make it look like we could end the war and I—”

“What? Hold on, James, what are you saying? Why would you mess with the crystal ball? What is wrong with you?!” The more you thought of it, the more it aggravated you; it didn’t make any sense, not even a single drop of anything he said made sense to you.

“Y/N, listen to me, I—”

“Were you in your right mind?! Do you have any idea what that silly prank of yours caused? Is that why you were so relaxed about all of this? Because it was one of your stupid jokes all along? And why on earth are you telling me this now?! James, what were you—”

“It wasn’t a prank!”

That was the first time you had ever seen him as exasperated as he was now. You’ve never seen this side of him. You only knew the bully, James, the prankster, James. The spoilt child, James. Seeing all this was new to you.

“It was never a joke. Do you really think I would be that narrow-minded? I wouldn’t go this far if I didn’t mean it. I wouldn’t have went this far, if I didn’t love you.” As he kept talking, his tone softened, as well as his expression.

Your face untensed as you looked at him. “I love you, Y/N. I always have and I still do. I know I shouldn’t have done it, but I knew if I didn’t, you would’ve left. I see the way you look at Remus, I can’t do it anymore.” You avoided eye-contact as soon as he mentioned his name. He was the reason you couldn’t say goodbye.

“Look, I’m sorry. But please,” his breathing became uneasy as he mumbled the next words. “Please don’t leave.”

“ I'm not gonna leave I'm here to stay 'Cause I ain't nobody If I ain't got you ”

You couldn’t scream at him for what he did. You couldn’t tell him off, because you knew how it felt to have someone to cherish. You knew how it felt to love and lose someone. You felt for him, and you hated it. He caused the chaos you didn’t ask for, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to get mad at him.

“We should go.” Your tone softened as you stood up, the bouquet falling off your lap and onto the floor as you did.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here today to celebrate the union of two faithful souls,"

This was meant to be a day filled with joy and happiness. Everyone else seemed to be having the time of their lives except you, and a concerned James, who was standing before you. You examined him, your eyes landing on your joined hands with a ring wrapped on each of our right ring fingers. Who would have thought the moment you’ve always imagined as a child would end up being something you were forced into doing?

“James Potter, do you t…..”

You weren’t paying attention. The rest of his words became blurry for you. It felt as if your ears automatically filtered out the noise and all you could hear was your own thoughts.

Your eyes wandered the venue. Although this wasn’t the memorable moment you’ve always dreamed of, you knew for sure this moment was ought to hold a place in your head.

“Y/N?”

“ Baby, don't let me down ”

You shot your eyes at James, who called your name, then at the crowd. They seemed to be waiting for an answer; it was your turn to make your promise. You paused, your eyes still searching the crowd, until it stopped. And your body froze. “Remus?” you mumbled under your breath. James, following your gaze as he halted to look at him too.

He was leaning against the far behind wall, his arms crossed as he smiled at you. You didn’t expect this would be the first time you would see him after he left; at your wedding, without him being the one who joined hands with you.

“Y/N,” James whispered, causing you to look at him, then back at Remus. Your gaze shifted back and forth between James and Remus as wild thoughts were running your head.

“ Don't let me down Without you, I'm frozen Without you, I'm frozen Baby don't let me down ”

Something was screaming inside your head, and the more you listened, the more you were intrigued to catch it. Your gaze deepened into James’s eyes as you finally gave in. “Just this once,” You thought to yourself. “let me do what I want.”

You held his head in your hands, delicately, caressing his cheeks as you felt sorry for him, then placed a gentle kiss on his forehead as a tear left your eye. Pulling away, you noticed his confused eyes looking back at you. “I’m sorry.” Pulling the ring off your finger and placing it in his right hand before closing it again, you spoke. “We’ll be waiting for you.” Giving him one last smile, you turned to see Remus, his smile faded as he looked at back at you.

“ Wherever you go I will follow “

Lifting your gown up, your feet took off, your gaze still fixed on Remus as a smile plastered itself across your face.

This was the freest you felt in a long time. You deserved this, you deserved a happy ending. It felt as if the weight flew off your shoulders with the wind the more the momentum picked up as you ran. You felt your bun come loose, but you couldn’t care less. You decided to look at what was in front of you, and in front of you only. And in front of you, stood Remus. Your contagious smile now grew on Remus’s face as you grabbed his arm and pulled him with you.

“ Even if time will Fly away We will be hotter Than a flame 'Cause I ain't nobody If I ain't got you No, if I ain't got you ”

“To the forest?” His voice grew bumpy with each step he took, his eyes were fixed on you the entire time. You briefly glanced behind at him as your smile grew wider. “To the forest.”

Without hesitating, he twisted his arm away from your grip and grasped a hold of your hand, slowly intertwining your fingers as he picked up his pace, now leading the both of you towards the forbidden forest.

He shortly looked back at you, his eyes filled with ecstasy as he did.

“ Just let me hold you Let me hold you Don't be afraid I will show you ”

“I’m free,”

“I’m finally free.”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Author’s Note: We are very proud to finally be able to share this project that we have been working on. Celeste has been tirelessly working on the plot, studying more about the project and writing this story, which took her 5 working days to finally accomplish. Meanwhile Luna has put in much effort into editing and polishing everything. It would mean the absolute world to us if our hard work would get noticed. Sending love and happiness to every single individual who interacts with this ♡

[hottestthingalive]

would you like a writing prompt? well you're getting one so- anyways maybe some anxceit with "What the hell were you thinking?!?!" and "Can't you stay a little longer...?"

in shared silence

A snowstorm causes a power outage at Virgil’s apartment, so his partner stops by with Chinese food. Fluff ensues. 

Notes: I’m so sorry this took so long, anon! I hope you like it anyways!

Warnings: Mild cursing, trust issues

Relationships: Romantic anxceit, background implied intruality

Words: 992

Ao3

“What,” Virgil says when Janus stumbles into his tiny apartment at two in the morning, brushing snow from his clothes and hat, “the hell were you thinking?!”

“Well, mostly about you, darling,” he replies, fighting and failing to hide a shiver as he removes his soaked coat. “You weren’t exaggerating about how cold it was in here, hm?”

Virgil, wearing at least three sweaters, a scarf around his neck, a beanie pulled tight over his hair and ears, and the soft Nightmare Before Christmas blanket Roman had given him two birthdays ago, glares at Janus. “No shit,” he snaps, reaching forwards with one hand to help Janus in hanging up his jacket, the other keeping the blanket firmly in place. “You didn’t have to rush over here, idiot. You still had power.”

“I could hardly leave you alone,” he replies, perhaps more soft and sincere than he had planned to be, as Virgil’s cheeks and ears (or what is visible of them, at least) redden. “And besides, we lost it a few minutes after you texted me.”

“What about Remus?” frowns his partner, always more concerned about others than himself, even if others include Janus’ consistently chaotic roommate. 

“Patton is with him, they’ll be fine,” Janus says, dropping the takeout he’d grabbed from the 24/7 Chinese place around the corner on the table and turning to Virgil with his hands on his hips. “I’m more worried about you. This apartment is freezing.” 

“I noticed,” Virgil says dryly, eyeing Janus’ wet clothes critically. “I have some sweatpants and stuff that might fit you. Can you get out the food while I grab them?”

“Grab my sweatshirt too,” Janus agrees, already pulling the plastic containers from the bag. 

“What sweatshirt?” Virgil asks, the picture of innocence in the dim light of the flashlights, lanterns and candles scattered across the apartment, and Janus rolls his eyes. 

“I know you stole it.”

“I stole nothing.”

“Liar,” he says affectionately, and laughs when Virgil flips him off. 

Virgil does, in fact, get him his sweatshirt, and various other articles of warm clothing. Perhaps too many, once they reach the point where Janus reminds Virgil that three scarves may hinder the consumption of the delicious takeout he’s so generously bought them both. 

“Then starve,” his partner grumbles, but doesn’t protest when Janus wraps the third scarf around Virgil’s neck instead. 

Janus is better at using the chopsticks than Virgil is, but it is difficult for both of them to eat in the darkness, unable to see if they’ve actually picked up anything, and so all of their concentration goes to the food instead of their usual conversation. He doesn’t mind, however -- he’s always been able to find a comfort in silence with Virgil, a quiet that isn’t really quiet at all and wraps around them both like yet another blanket in the cold, dark room. 

It doesn’t take long after they’ve finished and cleaned up for Virgil to begin falling asleep, Janus hardly more awake than he is -- it is two in the morning, after all, and neither of them have ever really been morning people (ignoring, of course, that this early in the day could really still be counted as night). 

“I suppose I’d better get going,” he says reluctantly, standing and pressing a kiss to Virgil’s forehead. “You need to get to bed, and I... well, I should probably get on a train back home before all of the lines shut down-” 

“No!” Virgil blurts out, grabbing his hand, before dropping it again like it had burned him. “I mean, I don’t... sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Janus says, slowly entwining their fingers, giving his partner ample time and ability to pull away. Virgil does not, and he counts that as a victory. “What’s wrong, darling?”

“...Can’t you stay a little longer?” he asks, staring at the ground. “I don’t really want you to leave. You’re... you’re warm.”

“Oh, I see how it is,” exclaims Janus, masking the soft smile that tugs at his lips with a teasing grin, “you just want me for the cuddles, huh?”

“Of course,” Virgil answers, smiling too, the familiar banter a safety net for the moments of cautious vulnerability that, truth be told, scare them both. 

Not that Janus would ever admit that, of course; he has always been a liar, and there is nothing he lies about more than his feelings, just as Virgil has always run away from the pesky things. They are, perhaps, the worst possible people to be in a romantic relationship together, and yet they work. They hold hands, they look out for each other, and, together, they each open up just a tiny bit more, buds beginning to bloom in the light of their individual suns. 

“I can’t believe this betrayal,” he cries dramatically. “I thought you loved me!”

“I do,” Virgil says sincerely, and presses a kiss to their entwined hands, and if that doesn’t make Janus feel all warm and fuzzy inside... “But I love not freezing my butt off more.”

“Rude,” Janus huffs, but they end up curled together in Virgil’s bed anyways, within a nest of blankets and pillows, still holding hands as Virgil rests his head on Janus’ chest and closes his eyes. He is truly warm for the first time in hours, and there is no place, Janus thinks, that he would rather be than this. 

"Wake me up when the power comes back on," Virgil murmurs, already half asleep.

"I will," Janus agrees, but he has always been a liar, and when he wakes up a few hours later to the bedside lamp flickering on besides them and the hum of the radiator beginning again in the corner, he simply reaches over and turns off the light, closing his eyes and drifting away once more to the sound of his partner's breathing, floating in the quiet in which there is only himself and Virgil. 

Taglist:

@snek-snacc

[averykedavra]

Set All My Regrets on Fire

Anyone up for some post-POF Roceit angst? I’m way late to the party, but hey, let’s do this. This is for a WTIYS by @hitmewiththatfanart33, who’s a great writer and seems like a really nice person. Check ‘em out if you haven’t already! Congrats on 1k, you deserve it!

This is based around Out on the Town by Fun, a banging song, and I played it on loop while writing this! You can find this fic on Ao3 here.

Words: 10,756 (yeah I can’t write oneshots what of it)

Pairings: platonic Roceit

Warnings: self-hatred, bad self-care, food mentions, extra arms, negative self-talk, sleep deprivation, a bit of an identity crisis, fire, anxiety, panic attacks, crying, some symptoms of depression and/or disassociation, very brief suicidal ideation (only in reference to ducking out), sympathetic everyone including Remus (even though there are some less-than-charitable mentions, it’s because Roman and Janus are in a bad place).

Summary: Roman wants to apologize. Janus wants to explain. It’s a shame neither of them can work up the courage to say hello.

---

I knew there would come a day when all was said and done.

Roman is standing in front of Janus’ door.

It’s a nice door, rather simplistic, with a golden doorknob and a little knocker in the center and a peephole set right below it. Roman’s carefully avoiding the peephole, but if Janus tried hard enough, he could probably see Roman standing in the hallway like he’s waiting for a coffee.

Maybe he wouldn’t recognize Roman, though. Roman isn’t wearing his usual costume. He needed something soft and comfortable, so he stole Virgil’s old hoodie. It’s a darker color scheme than he’s used to, but not too bad, and it settles around his shoulders and makes him feel protected. He’d worry about being teased by Virgil, but Virgil hasn’t come out of his room for days.

Roman pulls it tighter around him. If he closes his eyes, it’s almost like he’s getting a hug, or he’s weighed down by blankets during a sleepover, Disney playing in the background as he does Patton’s nails.

That hasn’t happened for weeks. Janus has watched movies with Patton and nobody else came. Roman lurked in the doorway before turning away, retreating to his empty room and a too-dark hoodie.

A little voice in his head says, you should get used to the dark.

Roman ignores it. He’s good at that, ignoring anything he doesn’t like. Logan, for instance. Or the flaws in his own ideas. Or Janus’ biting words.

Well, that last one has evaded him. They flit around his head like fiery butterflies, searing away his thoughts, whispering when he tried to sleep.

That’s why he’s here.

Standing in front of Janus’ door, one hand raised, trying to work up the courage to knock.

He is courage. He’s a Gryffindor, bold and brave and passionate. So why can’t he make his hand fall? The whole world has frozen around him, waiting in expectation, eyes crawling up his spine. He’s always loved the stage. He always bears the burden of being the center of the attention. Now he feels exposed, wrong, a glossy photo cut from a magazine and pasted into this scene. He scuffs his feet on the floor and hopes no one walks by at this moment and sees how ridiculously pathetic Roman is being. There’s a slim chance of that. Virgil’s in his room, Logan’s in his room, Patton’s in the kitchen baking mounds of cookies and smiling a brittle smile at anyone who enters. Maybe Remus will show up and knock Roman out again. Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad--it would be an excuse not to talk to Janus.

He tries to picture Janus’ reaction. Maybe Janus will ignore his knock. Maybe Janus will attack him, berate him, tell him he’s not welcome here. He hasn’t been hostile towards Roman whenever they cross paths, but he hasn’t been kind, either. Mostly he’s just ignored Roman. Roman’s done his best to return the favor, skipping family dinners and staying in his room. At first Patton tried to get him out, but Patton must have given up, because the knocks stopped coming.

Worse, Janus might pity him. He certainly looks a mess, standing in the hallway in his best friend’s hoodie, hair greasy and falling over his face. Janus might forgive him more easily if Roman looked pathetic. However, the very idea stings. He doesn’t want reluctant or guilty forgiveness--he wants the real thing. And isn’t that so selfish of him?

He could fix everything, of course. He could snap his fingers and get rid of the hoodie, sweep his hair back from his face, rub away the bags under his eyes from several sleepless nights, rub the wrinkles from his black shirt. But that wouldn’t erase the fact that he’s forgotten how to smile.

It’s easy. It should be easy. He’s practiced it in the mirror a thousand times. Crinkle the eyes, lift the corners of the mouth, scrunch the nose, pull the smile tight until it tickles his cheeks. He’s an actor. He should be able to look like he’s happy to be here, look like he’s happy at all, yet he can’t find the right combination. He tries to smile and it feels too stretched, too forced, too disjointed. He lets it fall because he doesn’t think he could bear to let it exist a moment more.

Janus isn’t the only liar here, is he?

It’s just one smile, he tells himself, trying again. This time he barely manages to lift the corners of his mouth before he lets his face collapse.

And he’s supposed to be an actor. Pathetic.

Roman rubs his face and clutches the jacket for warmth. He should give it back to Virgil. Virgil doesn’t wear it anymore, but he tends to panic whenever something isn’t in its place. Yeah, he’ll go give it to Virgil, leave it in a bundle by the door or just sneak it back into the closet. He can conjure his own jacket. Even though it won’t feel the same, won’t have the same comforting weight, like Virgil has his back.

He’s really a mess right now. His lips are cracked and he won’t stop curling into himself like he wants to disappear.

Maybe he does, just a bit.

Roman sighs and turns away from Janus’ door.

He’ll come back when he looks the part.

---

Everything I was is everything but gone.

Janus is standing in front of Roman’s door.

If he’s being honest--which is a hilarious concept--it’s a little too gaudy for his tastes. He’s all about tasteful theatrics and dramatic decor, but this is so over-the-top it’s almost sad. Still, he supposes he can appreciate the effort put into it. Years of effort, in fact. It’s practically a mural of different designs. Roman clearly kept painting over sections when he had a new idea, never bothering to erase the whole thing. There’s also an excessive amount of glitter and enough rainbows to make a leprechaun faint in delight. A large sign reads Prince Roman, Creativity in red sparkling cursive.

It looks like a five-year-old made it, which is the sort of charitable assumption Janus feels he should keep to himself, based on Patton’s advice. It might “hurt Roman’s feelings.” And if he only manages to antagonize Roman, then this entire trip was a waste.

He doesn’t want to be here, of course. He would much rather be reading, or looking after his snakes, or perhaps planning the downfall of society at large. Or...maybe with Patton, baking cookies or watching movies or exchanging puns as they pass.

Hanging out with Patton. As if they’re friends. Despicable. Friendship is a boogeyman, affection is a social construct, and Janus has no use for it.

He told this to Patton, who laughed and said “You’re so silly! Can you grab my oven mitts?” And Janus did, because lulling Patton into a false sense of security meant his master plan could go undetected. He’s not quite sure what his master plan is, yet, but he’s sure he has one. He’s certainly not spending time with Patton for the fun of it.

Definitely not.

Lying to himself is harder than lying to other people, which is annoying. He supposes that deceiving himself would compromise his ability to deceive others. He needs to know the truth, deep within him, so he can obscure it and twist it and use it as he sees fit.

It’s the others who enjoy lying to themselves.

He should be proud of that, that despite their self-proclaimed hatred for Deceit, they lie to each other and themselves every day. He’s not. It stings how much they lie, it eats into his skin and burns. Logan says everyone lies. Well, that’s a paraphrasing, but that was the gist of it. Patton never liked to hear that. Patton still doesn’t, but that’s not an issue anymore, since Logan hasn’t been there to say anything.

It’s Janus’ fault, of course, and it was a necessary sacrifice to get Thomas to listen. He doesn’t mind if Logan hates him. Logan is Logic--he’ll come around He’s always been the smartest of the sides.

Roman, however, keeps grudges.

So Janus is here to ask for forgiveness. Or at least to explain what he meant, why he did what he did. Then Roman can start rejoining the group at dinner, Thomas’ creative pursuits will regain their spark, and Thomas will be alright.

That’s all Janus needs. Janus is self-preservation. He’s only here, standing awkwardly in front of Roman’s door, because Thomas is suffering and his function is to help Thomas.

If Roman hates him, that’s perfectly fine. He just needs Roman to hate him and keep doing his job.

Janus wishes so deeply that he was better at lying to himself.

He stands there, hand raised, poised to knock, for a frankly embarrassing length of time. He’s not sure what’s stopping him. His chest itches and his eyes burn slightly as if the golden glitter of Roman’s door is blinding him.

“Janus?” he hears. “Do you wanna watch Winnie the Pooh?”

“Of course, Patton.” Janus glances at Roman’s door and gladly twirls his cloak and walks away.

He’ll come back when Patton doesn’t need him.

---

All my big mistakes are bouncing off your wall.

Roman is standing in front of Janus’ door.

He shouldn’t be here. He knows that. He’s got two deadlines in the next week, one after that, and he missed a brainstorming session with Logan and Logan’s been badgering him about it. Besides, he didn’t hit the word count for the story he’s writing, and he has to squeeze in some more writing tonight. Long story short, he has much more important things to do than loiter in front of Janus’ door and watch it like it’ll knock for him.

Yet he’s here. Self-control has never been his strong point.

Besides, he’s almost glad of the change of scenery. His room is a magical place filled with ideas and inspiration and lights that dance around the ceiling like fairies or birds. It’s also a mess, the bedsheets half pulled off the bed, pillows strewn about the floor, candles burned low, Spotify playing a million Disney medleys that blend together in his ears, his desk covered in papers with slowly deteriorating handwriting and unfinished stories and reminders of things he knows he’ll never get around to.

This hallway is blank and empty with a gray carpet and a slightly different shade of gray for the walls. But it isn’t filled with his own scratchy words, taunting him for his failure, the grandfather clock skipping around as time seems to scrunch up and speed past like it’s falling in dollops down his windows.

When’s the last time he even left his room? He can’t remember.

He really should be working.

He lets his hand fall to his side, picks it up, and hovers over the knocker.

Roman can’t bring himself to knock.

His eyes itch. He’s tired. He should be sleeping, but he doesn’t feel like it. He knows he can’t. Not until he’s wrung out every last idea, scribbled his way to the finish of each story, made something that’s crappy and unrealistic and vapid but something. He’ll settle for a terrible idea that Logan will tear into the next day, as long as it’s an idea, something coherent from the snarled mess that’s inside his head.

He’ll feel better if he eats or sleeps or just takes a break. The voice that tells him that sounds like Logan and Patton. But he doesn’t have time. There’s never enough time. His mind runs ahead of his mouth runs ahead of his hands runs ahead of the clock that ticks steadily in his room, reminding him that time is running out, that his days are numbered and soon he’ll shatter and fail and crumple to the ground and still, it will never be enough.

He needs to go work.

Why won’t his legs move?

Why does he insist on standing here, one arm raised, frozen in limbo?

He needs to work or they’ll all hate him.

Usually, that gets him moving. Today it barely stings. Of course they’ll all hate him. They’ll hate him no matter whether his ideas are complete or not. The only person he creates for is Thomas, and Thomas doesn’t care.

Sometimes deadlines keep him going. Sometimes passion keeps him going. Sometimes validation keeps him going. He has a lot of the first one and none of the last two. His mind is empty at the bottom and leaking from the side. His joints and limbs are mismatched like a doll’s, and he feels out of control of all of them, like he’s just a character in someone else’s story.

He really needs to go work.

Janus can wait.

Janus probably isn’t even awake--it’s sometime past midnight. Or maybe it isn’t midnight yet. Roman can’t quite remember and doesn’t really care about the difference. He’s wearing bunny slippers and has several ink stains on his fingers and probably looks as exhausted as he feels. He shouldn’t be here. He’d just been thinking too much in his room, and he figured if he could finally see Janus, his thoughts would finally shut up and let him work.

Pathetic, he tells himself, and tries to make that be enough to turn away. It should be enough. Fear and panic have always kept him going before. The one thing that gets in the way of any great adventure isn’t fear--fear is what pushes him to rehearse, keeps his mouth shut, helps him scramble to reach a deadline. What gets in his way is apathy. The sick, cotton-filled nights where he’d much rather close his eyes and sink into the hole in his chest than write another word.

He’ll get through it. He always has.

He doesn’t have another choice.

Roman wrenches himself back into his body and walks down the hallway, each step hesitant and disjointed, his mind buzzing and still at the same time.

He’ll come back when he isn’t so busy.

---

The bottles never break, the sorrow never comes.

Janus is standing in front of Roman’s door.

It’s late. He’s already had dinner and really should be sleeping, since Logan always says to sleep at ten o’clock and Janus can’t argue with self-care. However, he knows that Roman is up. There’s a small light under the door, flickering, and he knows it’s a candle. At first he was scared it was a fire, but that was just instinctive after dealing with the other Creativity for so long. The burning is controlled and flickers on and off. Occasionally shadows shift and Janus steps back instinctively.

Roman does not open the door.

Good, Janus thinks, although he has to admit he’s disappointed at the same time. Perhaps it would be easier if Roman opened the door. Roman would have questions, surely, but it would rid Janus of the obligation to knock.

He is far too tired to knock. He’s practically leaning on the wall. He should go to bed.

He doesn’t want to go to bed. Not yet.

It’s been a long day. Thomas is struggling with the most recent video idea. Remus has become even more manic and disruptive than usual. Patton is sad, Logan is angry, and Virgil is nowhere to be found.

Of course it’s Janus who has to put the pieces back together and calm everyone down. He’s the self-preservation side. He’s the only one somewhat sturdy after that disaster of an episode.

Still, it’s rather tiresome, he has to admit. This is why he doesn’t help people. You do it once, and suddenly everyone has expectations. Suddenly you’re cast in the role of the Good Guy when Janus has always been comfortable on the other side of the battlefield.

But there’s no time for shoulds and shouldn’ts, doubts and worries, the question of whether he deserves this or not--he has a job to do. The world is collapsing, Thomas is struggling, so Janus will tie rope around all the sides’ wrists and puppet them back into position. An unsavory metaphor but an accurate one. He is not their friend, sitting with them until they calm down. He is just playing a part. He’s been called on to steady the ship, and he will do that, because that is his job.

He is not their friend. He only lets them call him that because it gets him what he wants.

That is just how things are, and nothing can change that.

He could leave them behind entirely and go back to how things were. He’s thought about that more than once. He could crawl back into the darkness and lie on a messy couch and watch Good Omens and laugh whenever he hears a white lie. However, things have changed, for better or for worse. Regrets and would-have-beens are other things Janus is not built for, cannot allow. The truth is that the past is the past. He cannot rewrite the story, only play his part to perfection, a hollow face with a useless name and a meaningless place among the sides he barely cares for.

He’s tired. He wants to go to sleep.

But Deceit cannot sleep when he still needs to glue in the cracks.

And he knows Roman should be on his list of Ridiculous Idiots to Help. He knows he should be talking to Roman right now. He knows it’s his job to check in on Roman, who has been more frazzled and angry every time Janus sees him, barely noticing when Patton says hello.

Roman might not want to see him.

And Janus really wants to sleep.

It’s a coward’s move to turn away from the door. But it’s what Janus does, because Janus is self-preservation and cowardly and selfish and that is what he is. It is all he is ever going to be. Pull off his gloves and scrape beneath his scales, and there is nothing there at all, nothing but a name and a title and an ever-shifting voice.

He can imitate any side he likes, help any side he wants, and hurt any side he chooses. Whenever his own desires and emotions get in the way, it only ends in turmoil and trouble and hurt.

He shouldn’t have even shared his name. Not because of Roman’s response, but because now everyone believes he’s their friend, a person in his own right, someone they’re capable of getting to know.

It’s Janus’ greatest lie, and it’s the one he hates the most.

He wants to sleep.

Janus is not in the mood to play pretend with Roman, to bait him into forgiveness, to pacify him with lies. Janus is in the mood to snap back. To bare his teeth and poke at weak spots and say whatever it takes for him to be left alone. He’s bubbling up with emotion and his walls are turning to swords. He can’t talk to Roman like this unless he wants Roman to stab him through the heart.

Janus groans and kicks angrily at the wall. It hurts. He enjoys the sensation of doing something other than sitting still and playing nice.

He’s going to go sleep.

He’ll come back when he’s less tired.

---

So come on, let me in.

Roman is standing at Janus’ door.

He wrote a letter this time. It took him an embarrassing number of drafts to get it, and he’s still not entirely happy with it, and he’s pretty sure he misspelled something in the third paragraph. He’d ask Logan for help, but Logan’s been prickly ever since Janus replaced him--and they were never on the best of terms to begin with. Logan, Roman is pretty sure, would gladly exchange him for another Creativity.

It stings in the way that only the truth does.

His letter is crumpled in his hand. He could simply slip it under the door and disappear. But he feels the urge to explain it, apologize for it, try to say something for himself instead of hiding behind shields of sentences. If only he could figure out what to say.

The letter is simple. It’s an apology and a request to try and work together. Roman ended up going for a short and sweet letter, even though it goes against all his instincts. Being extra like Roman usually is might not be the best idea. Being Roman might not be the best idea. If he wants to convince Janus that he’s not a bad guy, he should act like a little less of a self-centered, impulsive, cruel side with no tact and intelligence.

Wait. Why is this about convincing Janus that he’s not a bad guy? This is about apologizing. All Roman needs to do is apologize. It didn’t matter if Janus thinks he’s the bad twin--Janus has a point, after all.

Roman shakes his head. He shouldn’t be focused on what Janus said. They were just words and he could handle them. He’s the one that needs to apologize. Then Janus could forgive him and things could go back to normal--

Wait.

Was that why he was apologizing? Because it gets him what he wants?

Roman swallows and backs away from the door, letter limp in his hand. No. That can’t be right. He’s guilty. Some days he feels the guilt might tear him apart at the seams, rip through his blood vessels, curl around his heart and strangle his lungs until there’s nothing left but ash.

That’s a very Remus thought.

Roman shakes his head violently but it can’t dislodge the voice in his head. Evil twin.

This doesn’t matter! He doesn’t need to think about this. He can just drop off the letter for Janus and be on his way. He doesn’t need to try and apologize, or ask Janus what he meant by evil, or ask if Janus wants to replace him or if he’s already trying or if everyone’s decided Roman is worthless and needs to be replaced. He’s heard nothing about that, but he’s been in his room. For all he knows, Janus could be ousting him from his spot.

That should make him furious. Why doesn’t it make him furious? Where’s that burning passion that always gets him into trouble?

Is it because Janus is right?

Roman squeezes his eyes shut. He can’t cry. He needs to knock on Janus’ door and hand him the letter. He doesn’t even have to say anything. The letter--the stupid, poorly-written, not-enough-to-take-back-everything letter--can do the talking for him.

He could say he’s sorry. He could say, why did you say what you said? He could say, are you the bad guy? He could say, am I?

He could say a million things. None of them would give him the right answers and none of them would be enough to fix things.

All he has is one stupid letter.

Roman leaves it on the ground by Janus’ door and walks away,

Ten minutes later, he walks back over. The letter is still there. Roman grabs it and rips it into pieces. It spirals around his feet like confetti. He snaps his fingers and the little pieces burst into flames and blacken, crumbling to bits of ash. He kicks the ash into the corners of the hallway and walks away, hands clenched, chin high.

He’ll come back when he thinks of what to say.

---

I will be the sun.

Janus is standing in front of Roman’s door.

He knows Roman has been nearby. Janus’ hallway now smells like smoke. It could be Remus, of course, but Remus wouldn’t light a fire without making a big deal out of it. So Roman lit something on fire in front of his door, whatever that means.

Janus doesn’t know why that makes him feel worried.

He’s here to confront Roman about the fire, nothing else. It should be in and out. “Hello, Roman, might I inquire why you burned something in front of my door? And could you tell me how to get rid of the smell? It would be very kind of you.”

Of course, Janus’ hands have to betray him, and he’s stuck hovering around Roman’s door as if it’s shielded from him. He summons another hand, then another, then all of them. They all curl their fists and rise up to meet the door. None of them fall. None of them make a sound.

Janus almost hisses in frustration. Why is this so hard? What is he so afraid of?

He’s not supposed to be afraid. He’s Deceit. He’s faced down the worst parts of Thomas’ psyche. He’s tamed wild monsters in the Subconscious, gone toe-to-toe with Remus, dealt with Virgil when he was wild and fiery and didn’t know how to stop fighting. He holds the key to every secret Thomas has ever possessed. He doesn’t get scared.

And yet, a simple closed door is enough to bring him down.

Pathetic, he thinks. Then he catches himself. Negative self-talk is unhealthy. Even though it seems to be everywhere these days, his mind falling into old habits and ruts he didn’t know existed, slipping and sliding down a slope until he’s left spiraling and wondering if he’ll ever be able to fix things, if he’ll ever be more than a liar, if being Janus means anything at all or if he’s just fooling himself into believing he could ever have a family--

Janus clenches his fists. Not the time. He needs to talk to Roman.

And say what? Roman, I’m sorry. Roman, don’t hate me. Roman, you’re affecting Thomas. Roman, Patton is worried for you. Roman, I’m worried for you.

Roman, why did you light a fire outside my room?

Roman, why did it take so little work to break you?

He hadn’t even meant to. He always aims to protect Creativity, and well-placed flattery was the best tactic to lure Roman out of Patton’s grasp. He didn’t count on the insecurities beneath the surface that burst into being the moment Roman saw himself as a failure. They were just compliments. It was just a little manipulation. He hadn’t meant to--hadn’t meant to make Roman cry.

Some grand puppet master, hurting the one person he needed on his side.

This is why he can’t be trusted. This is why he isn’t meant up here in the light side. He isn’t good and pure. All he does is destroy things, people, dreams. He should have learned his lesson from Virgil. Instead, he jumped in where he wasn’t wanted and miscalculated the landing, and now Creativity is sulking with the door closed.

Creativity is broken.

Maybe he’s always been--maybe it just took Janus to throw all the fractures into the light.

Janus is good at unearthing secrets. He’s less good at dealing with the messy aftermath. Yet here he is, struggling to knock on a door, running through every word in his head. He is a master of deception, the lord of the lies, a silver-tongued trickster who could slip into skins and play any part he wishes. Yet he runs dry when thinking of what to say to Roman. There is nothing he can say.

Roman is only feet away, but so far beyond Janus’ reach.

Janus leans against the wall, two arms hugging himself, one hand reaching up to grab a fistful of hair, another covering his mouth. His final two still hover over Roman’s door, but Janus might as well have lost control of them entirely, since they refuse to knock.

Maybe that’s a good thing. Roman would surely take well to Janus’ interruption. And Janus doesn’t feel like being mocked for the state he is in--reduced to shudders, holding back tears, as if he has a right to be upset. As if he should be upset. He needs to pull himself together. He’s better than this.

Janus tightens his hand over his mouth. He can barely breathe. Was that what it felt like when he did the same to Logan? To Roman, to Patton, to Virgil? His gloves are soft and rough at the same time. Janus remembers taking one off, holding his hand up, feeling so exposed. He let down all his barriers--and he should have known that would backfire, he was Deceit, he wasn’t meant for truth and openness and friendship. He’d let his guard down and he’d gotten hurt.

Of course, it didn’t hurt him. At all.

Hello, Roman. Sorry about tearing into your insecurities and everything, but could you please apologize for making fun of my name?

Pathetic, Janus thinks again, and this time he doesn’t bother to stop himself. He is pathetic and a mess and about three seconds away from crying in front of Roman’s door.

Janus sighs and turns away, vanishing his extra arms into his cloak, leaving Roman’s door behind him. He supposes he’ll never know about the fire. He supposes it doesn’t really matter at all.

He’ll come back when he thinks of what to say.

---

I will wake you up.

Roman is standing in front of Janus’ door.

He’s angry. Perhaps more furious than he should be, under the circumstances, but he kind of enjoys the way the anger sparks in his chest. It makes him feel more awake and in control than he has for months.

He’s not even sure what he’s angry at. It could be anything. The obvious answer is the fun little exchange he had with Thomas this morning--Thomas wants to bring Remus into more of their discussions. Thomas wants to “explore different directions in his content.” Thomas wants the other twin.

Thomas swears he wants Roman there, too, but Roman sees what this is really about. This is the beginning. This is how it starts--one word, one offer to join in movie nights, and soon Remus will be taking his place. Roman will be ousted from his seat at the table and be thrown into the darker side of Thomas’ mind. Forgotten, ignored, hated.

He’s known this was coming. He knows he deserves it.

But to actually hear it from Thomas himself--it stings. It aches and claws at him until he turns to anger, because anger is safe and anger allows him to find someone else to blame. Or maybe he didn’t choose anger. Maybe anger just came of its own accord, because emotions don’t always make sense, and Logan does always call Roman irrational.

He’s standing in front of Janus’ door and has the urge to pummel it to the ground.

Stupid Janus. Sneaky snake. Slimy boy. A two-faced trickster with a silver tongue and silly gloves. Why had Roman even considered apologizing to him? Janus doesn’t deserve it. He hasn’t--he hasn’t even tried to talk to Roman after everything. He’s just let Roman sit in his misery forever.

Maybe Roman doesn’t deserve an apology, but he’d sure as hell like one.

Maybe he’ll apologize too. Or maybe not. Maybe he’ll leave Janus hanging, unsure of their position, struggling to get a grasp on whether Roman is serious or lying or hates Janus or hates himself or just wants some peace and quiet. Maybe he’ll make Janus confused, like Roman is every single day, and he can finally see Janus’ face when his insufferable righteous in-control expression falls away.

He’ll see the Janus behind the mask.

And maybe everything will make sense then. Maybe nothing will. Maybe Roman’s just grasping at straws, clawing at the sides of the hole he’s falling into, desperately reaching for anything that will keep him from 

He’s wearing his prince costume. It feels wrong and itchy around his shoulders. Too square, too gaudy, too ridiculously heroic. He got black ink stained on the shirt yesterday and panicked because he thought the Mindscape was turning him evil already. He should have known. Evil is a choice, in the end, and soon Roman will have to make that choice. Let himself fall, for the good of everyone, and learn what it’s like on the dark side.

Broadway, here he comes.

Still. Not yet. Roman has always been irritatingly persistent. And he needs to talk to Janus. Yell at Janus. Shake Janus until he gets answers to every question in his head. He doesn’t know what he’ll ask, but hopefully Janus will know, because Janus knows Roman better than Roman knows himself.

Roman raises his hand to knock on the door.

He taps quietly, once, twice.

The door creaks open.

Roman steps forward and looks into the room. It’s empty and still. There’s a surprising amount of dust on every surface. Books line the walls, almost more books than Logan’s room, and there’s a record player by an armchair, and some small lamps that glow the same shade as Janus’ eyes. His bed is old and mahogany and the sheets are rumpled.

Janus must be out, then. Perhaps talking with Remus or arguing with Virgil or debating with Logan or baking with Patton. Maybe he’s talking to Thomas, thinking through how they’ll break the news to Roman that he’s useless, that they’ve decided to lock him in his room and shove him into the back of the mind where he can’t mess up anything else.

The thought is burning and furious and climbs up Roman’s throat. His hand goes to his sword. He looks around at the room, dim and serene.

He could destroy it, if he wanted. He could tear it to pieces. He could burn the books on the walls, slice through the carpet on the floor, throw the record player against the wall and watch it break in two. He could open up the floorboards and read through the books and check under the bed and try to find something that tells him more about Janus, that’s something real and tangible beneath a million layers of deception.

He could. He wants to. He wants to so badly, and this is why he never gives himself what he wants, because desire is a sickening sensation that scares him.

He could destroy everything.

He is Creativity--he is meant to create. But if his title means nothing, what’s wrong with using the other side of the coin?

He could burn this place to the ground.

Everything is so still and perfect. It’s all waiting for Janus. Roman can almost picture him curled up in that recliner, reading a book, humming along to a song on the record player. His hair falling over his face, his capelet messed up, his eyes half-closed.

It’s a beautiful room. Elegant and refined. He should have expected nothing less.

It seems wrong for Roman to destroy it.

Right and wrong have gotten him in trouble before. He’s no authority on the subject. He is wrong. All he does is wrong. That’s what Patton thinks, he’s sure of it, and that’s what Thomas thinks. That’s what Janus thinks. Deep down, it’s what Roman thinks, too.

He is not going to add one more mistake to his tally. He is already falling--there’s no need to tug anyone down with him.

Roman steps out and closes the door.

He’ll come back when Janus is there.

---

I am who I was.

Janus is standing in front of Roman’s door.

He vowed to only come back when he thought of what to say. However, he’s already breaking that promise. He’s in this accursed hallway again, lurking in the shadows like the villain he is, eyeing the door and wondering if it’ll spring open of its own accord.

He shouldn’t be here, of course, but his mind won’t leave him alone.

He wishes Roman would just talk to him and make things simple. But Roman appears to have no interest in communication. Roman has been avoiding him, cutting him off, slipping out of every room Janus enters. It would be irritating--it is irritating--but Janus is more concerned than irritated.

That, in itself, is irritating. He shouldn’t be so worried about Roman. He should be furious with the side, not appearing at his door once again, preparing to apologize when he’s received nothing of the sort in return.

He should just leave Roman alone.

But he’s worried.

Maybe he should just shelve the apologies for now. Maybe he should simply knock on Roman’s door and see if he’s okay.

That sounds like a better plan than stammering through apologies he’s not sure if he means, throwing away every mote of dignity he has left, shattering every wall he’d work so hard to build.

Janus raises his hand to knock on the door.

The door bursts open.

Janus stumbles backwards, tripping over his feet and barely managing to steady himself, trying to look like he was just walking past and not standing in front of Roman’s door like a stalker.

It must not work, because Roman scowls deeply and asks “What are you doing?”

“I...” Janus pulls his capelet tighter around him and tries not to panic. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Make it quick,” Roman says. His eyes are red and there’s a smear of ink down his cheek. Janus has the urge to reach out and wipe it off.

“I was worried,” Janus finally says. “I am worried.”

“About what?” Roman asks.

“You.”

That gets Janus an even darker glare.

“Everything’s under control,” Roman spits out. “No thanks to you.”

“Are you sure?” Janus finds himself asking. “You’ve been--”

“I’ve been what?” Roman’s lip curls. “I’m doing fine. I’m doing my job. I have so many ideas, you wouldn’t believe. If there’s a problem with what I create, it’s because you won’t leave me alone.”

“That’s not what I--” Janus swallows. “I’m not concerned with your output.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you’ve already decided it’s not worth anything.” Roman looks Janus up and down. “Still wearing that? Thought you’d get a wardrobe change now that you’re officially one of the good guys.”

“I like this,” Janus says weakly.

“Don’t see why you do. It looks like a curtain swallowed you whole.”

Bile rises up in Janus’ throat. “And you certainly look like the pinnacle of fashion,” he snaps back before he can stop himself. “You’re giving Virgil a run for his money with those eye bags. I thought princes were supposed to be poised.”

He seems to have hit a nerve, because Roman’s eyes flame. There’s no other word for it. They snap and crackle like a bonfire.

“What are you still doing here?” Roman grits out. “I’m busy.”

“Like I said, I’m worried.” Janus holds up his hands. “But clearly, I shouldn’t bother.”

“No, you shouldn’t!” It’s almost a scream. “I don’t need you here! I’m doing fine!”

“You do know who you’re trying to lie to, right?”

“Yes, I do.” Roman sneers. “Deceit. I know exactly what you are. And you will never take my place, understand me? I am never going to be a villain. I know you want to oust me, but you’re powerless. You’re a two-faced trickster with a million lies who doesn’t care about anything, and I’m Thomas’ Creativity. You go up against me, and I will win every time.”

“Is that a threat?” Janus asks, his mind whirling.

“It’s going to be if you don’t leave.”

“Look, listen--” Janus spreads his hands. “I’m just trying to help, no one is replacing anyone, if you’d just listen to me for once in your life--”

“I listened to you and that’s why I’m here.” Roman waves a hand. “I’m done hearing what you have to say. Leave me alone.”

“But--”

“Leave!”

Roman slams his door loud enough to rattle the walls.

Janus is left standing there, part of him knowing that he probably caught Roman at a bad time, but his chest squeezing despite of that. He shakes his head and tries to think on the bright side. He’s gotten his answer. Roman wants nothing to do with him. Not a surprise, and not something Janus can blame Roman for. So everything was alright. He now has an excuse to go about his day and stop worrying about Roman all the time.

He sighs and turns away from the door, tears rising to his eyes unbidden. He swipes them away. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t. He’s heard worse.

Janus leaves, planning to curl in the corner of his room and listen to his favorite playlist and try to scrub Roman’s fiery eyes from his mind.

He’ll come back if it’s desperate.

---

Just open up your heart.

Roman is standing in front of Janus’ door.

Well, no, he isn’t. He’s crumpled in a ball at the foot of it, back pressed against the wood, arms around his knees and his head tucked between them. He figures he probably started out standing, but he can’t remember. He’s been here for a while. It’s late--maybe past midnight, maybe not. He doesn’t really care. Everything’s dark. He could conjure a light, but that would take energy he doesn’t have, energy that’s going towards trying to stop his breathing from stumbling over itself and stopping.

In and out. In and out. What are the numbers Virgil always uses? Four, five, eight? No, four, five, six. Does it even start with four? He should remember this. Why is he so stupid?

In. Out. In. Out. His breathing is shallow and too deep at the same time. It rasps at the edge of his lungs. He squeezes tighter at his thighs. His throat is choking up. At this rate, he’ll be crying or fainting soon enough. He hopes it’s the second one. He wouldn’t mind just going blank for awhile. Everything’s so loud in his head.

He’s crying now. Great. Never gets what he wants, does he?

He tries to rub away the tears. They keep coming. They drip over his hands and burn like fire. They trickle down his skin and he tries to scratch at them to make them go away. All that happens is irritated red skin.

Something’s itching and tugging inside him. He wants to grab it out of his chest and unspool it until he feels less like he’s trapped in someone else’s skin, thin and papery and about to shatter under his fingers.

In. Out. In. Out.

Breathing is so simple. Why can’t he do it? Why won’t it work? Why does he have to mess everything up like he always does?

He should at least move. He should sink out. He should get away from Janus’ door. What if Janus sees him like this?

Then again, that’s all he wants, isn’t it?

He wants Janus to see him. He wants to look Janus in the face. And he wants to beg for forgiveness.

He wants to--he wants to say sorry.

Say everything.

He wants to tell Janus his name isn’t stupid--it’s beautiful and unique and drips with the mythological implications that Roman loves. God of doorways. Beginnings and endings. Two-faced. There’s room enough for both evil and good in Janus. There can be both friend and foe. He may have ended things for Roman, but he’s also found the beginning of something new, and as a fellow creator Roman can respect the change Janus has wrought.

Janus is wondrous and hilarious and smart and so, so worthy of the place he’s finally received.

And he’s worried about Roman.

And Roman yelled at him.

Because Roman can’t stand the idea--the fact--that he’s going to be replaced. He’s such a coward. He thought he could step down gracefully, but he had to claw his way back to a place he isn’t wanted, because he’s desperate. He’s so desperate. He would do anything to get Janus’ approval. Or Patton’s, or Logan’s, or Thomas’. He would do anything in the world to be loved.

Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic--

Roman curls tighter.

Maybe he won’t mind being a dark side if it gets the knives in his lungs to stop slicing deeper.

Maybe he should just duck out before he causes any more trouble.

Everything’s itching and spinning and his breath comes in short gasps and he can no longer tell if he’s breathing in or out.

He closes his eyes, opens them again, blinks away the tears clustered on his lashes, tries to tighten his grip on his legs so he can finally be crushed into little pieces or feel safe or pretend that someone is there with him, running him through exercises, saying that he’s worthy and loved and still a hero even when he’s crumpled on the ground with a heaving chest and wrinkled pajamas.

Logan would do it. Maybe. If Roman asked. Logan would calm him down, at least. Maybe Virgil would, too.

They’re nice that way.

They’d calm him down.

Then they’d kick him out and say he’s too weak to ever be a prince.

He should leave. Why is he still here? Why can’t he move?

Why is everything collapsing around him?

Why is he such a failure?

He’s forgotten how to breathe. He’s going to die. He’s going to fall to pieces in this hallway and they’ll find his burned edges tomorrow morning and they’ll kick the ashes into the corners and move on.

He needs to go.

He doesn’t want to go.

He wants to slam his fist into Janus’ door and break it down and collapse around Janus and sob into his shoulder and promise he’ll be better, promise he’ll make things right, if Janus just gives him one more chance and opens up his heart--

Roman takes a long shaky breath.

In. And out. In. And out.

You’re doing good, says a voice that might be Logan’s and might be Virgil’s and somehow manages to cut through the haze in his head. Keep breathing.

In, out, in, out.

Roman lets his head loll forward. He’s done. He’s exhausted. He wants to curl up under his blankets and sleep forever.

He raises one hand.

He could knock on the door.

Janus is probably asleep.

Janus hates him.

Janus is right to hate him.

He needs to go.

Roman closes his eyes and lets his head thunk against Janus’ door. Cold and stiff and hard and telling him to go.

Roman snaps his fingers and sinks out.

He’ll come back when he’s less desperate.

---

I know I could be more clever, and I know I could be more strong.

Janus is standing in front of Roman’s door.

It wasn’t his idea this time. He’d been perfectly happy avoiding Roman any chance he got. But Virgil had come running into Janus’ room, insisting that Roman had been on-and-off panicking for the past few days, and begging Janus to do something about it.

“I don’t know what you want me to do,” Janus had said. “I’m not exactly the best side for the job, and I’m sure he’d love to see me.”

“Please,” Virgil had said.

Janus had always been weak for Virgil, a fact he abhorred, and Virgil was asking him for help. Janus. Virgil trusted Janus to help Roman, even though Janus had done nothing but help Roman sink to even greater depths.

What was Janus supposed to do, just turn Virgil away?

So now he’s here, knocking twice on Roman’s door, ignoring the nerves that crawl up his throat and tickle under his scales. He hopes Roman isn’t here. He hopes Roman is in a good mood. He hopes Roman is okay.

There’s no answer.

Janus knocks harder.

“Go away,” he hears.

Janus contemplates shifting into Patton or Virgil or someone else. But Roman is remarkably good at catching him in disguise, and the idea just feels wrong to him. Besides, that would certainly get Roman to trust him--once again impersonating one of his closest friends.

Janus knocks once more.

“Go away, Patton,” Roman calls.

Janus opens his mouth to correct Roman and finds that it’s gone too dry for speech.

He settles for knocking again.

“I’m coming!” There are rustling noises. The irritation in Roman’s voice is plain, but so is the fatigue, and so is a crackling, cutting edge that betrays he’s upset.

The door flies open. “I told you, Patton, I’m not coming to dinner--”

Janus waves sheepishly.

Roman stares at Janus for a few very long seconds.

“Roman?” Janus asks. “I...I came to check on you, Virgil says you’ve been upset lately and you seemed rather--volatile when we last spoke. So...I...is everything alright? Would you like to talk?” He laughs to himself. “I know I’m the last person you want to see, but I could fetch Patton, or--”

Roman keeps staring at Janus.

“Roman?” Janus asks again.

And Roman bursts into tears.

He tries to stifle them, if the way he presses a fist to his mouth is any indication, but it doesn’t work. Tears drip from his eyes and he starts sobbing softly. It’s a pathetic sound and it makes Janus’ chest ache.

“Hey,” Janus says frantically, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to--”

“‘S not your fault,” Roman chokes out between sobs, “just bein’ stupid--”

“You--” Janus gives up on words and reaches out, touching Roman’s shoulder. He expects Roman to throw himself away from the touch. Instead, Roman whines and throws himself forward, latching onto Janus’ clothes and curling up against his chest.

Janus bites back a gasp--when was the last time he’s been hugged? He doesn’t remember--and slowly slides to the floor, bringing Roman with him. He sits in the doorway with Roman practically in his lap, sobbing into his shoulder.

He expects Roman to stop crying soon. He waits for Roman to realize exactly what he’s doing--that he’s in the arms of a side he hates. But Roman doesn’t. He must be really upset.

Janus swallows and shifts into Patton’s form. A cat hoodie settles around his shoulders and he clucks his tongue, running his hands through Roman’s hair.

“C’mon, kiddo,” he says in a voice that’s not his own, “let it out, okay? Let it out.”

Roman makes an unidentifiable wailing noise and pushes at Janus’ shoulder.

Not Patton, then. Janus slouches and lets a purple hoodie form around his arms. It’s surprisingly comfortable. He huffs, his bangs fluttering a bit, and rubs circles in Roman’s back.

“What happened, Princey?” he asks in Virgil’s growling tones. “Who do I need to yell at?”

Roman shakes his head vehemently.

So Janus straightens again--as much as he can, he’s still gay, and why is he making ridiculous jokes when Creativity is crying into his shoulder--and a tie knots itself around his neck.

“Breathe in for four,” he instructs in Logan’s clipped voice. “Hold for seven, out for eight. You are figuratively breaking down and you need to steady yourself.”

Roman flinches away.

Janus switches back to Virgil, because he’s feeling anxious and he’s run out of people and Virgil seems to be the person Roman likes the most.

“Stop,” Roman pleads, looking up into Janus’ face that isn’t Janus’ face. His eyes are red and tears cling to his eyelashes.

“I don’t know what you want,” Janus blurts out. “I can be Thomas, I can get the real Thomas, I can leave you alone--”

“Don’t leave.” Roman clings to him tighter. “Don’t.”

“Thomas, then?” Janus coughs and shifts into Thomas. It’s the hardest one yet and it makes him feel rather bad. He’s never impersonated Thomas before. That’s been an internal rule for him--Thomas is off-limits. But if Roman needs it... “Keep breathing, buddy--”

“Stop!” Roman yells. “Stop pretending to be people!”

“What else am I supposed to do?” Janus asks, his panic probably showing. “What do you want me to be?”

“You!” Roman shakes his head. “You’re who I want, stop hiding and just be you.”

Janus is silent.

Roman starts crying again, making a mess of Janus’ clothes, but he finds himself barely caring.

“Shh,” he says, cupping the back of Roman’s head, remembering all the nights he had to talk Virgil down, the little spider curled up next to him. “Shh, easy, okay? In and out. You’re safe here. I’ve got you.”

“I--” Roman stumbles over his words. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t talk. Focus on breathing.”

“I’m sorry!” Roman insists. “I-I’m so sorry, Janus, please--”

“I know.” And Janus finds he does, at least right now. “I forgive you.”

“You shouldn’t,” Roman murmurs into Janus’ shoulder.

Janus smirks. “Don’t tell me what to do, Roman.”

“You--” Roman sits up straight, eyes wide. “You--please don’t make me leave--I’m sorry--I can do better, I promise, I know you want to but I don’t want to leave--”

“Leave?” Janus repeats. “Where on earth are you leaving?”

“H-here.” Roman waves a hand, his face crumpling again. “‘Cause I’m bad. I’m the evil twin.”

Janus feels horror clench in the pit of his stomach. “That is not--I said that as an offhand jab! Roman, you’re not evil--and for that matter, neither is Remus--Roman, listen to me.”

Roman has disappeared into Janus’ arms again, shaking like a leaf in the wind.

“Listen,” Janus orders. “You’re not leaving. Remus is not replacing you. I have no idea where you got that.”

“You’re lying,” Roman says miserably. “That’s all you do.”

Janus hisses between his teeth. “That’s not--”

“I know. Sorry.”

“It’s not.” Janus pauses. “Your name is Roman. You are the embodiment of Thomas’ creativity. You like Disney and love to write and want to find Thomas the prince of his dreams.”

Roman shifts a little in Janus’ arms.

“You have a brother named Remus that you aren’t proud of. You are friends with Virgil, who you used to dislike. You often fight with Logan but you care for him nonetheless, and he feels the same for you. You are good friends with Patton.”

“Not anymore,” Roman says.

“You are. Things will work out between you two. He still views you as a close friend.” Janus reached out and swept Roman’s hair off his forehead. “You are Creativity. You are strong, passionate, and indispensable. Everyone here cares deeply about you and forgives you for your mistakes. You are not broken or evil or a dark side.”

Roman shudders.

“I can speak the truth,” Janus says, and it sounds wrong but also so right. “I am not only my lies, and you are not only your mistakes, and I speak the truth when I say that I will never make you leave.”

“I’m sorry,” Roman says. “I’m so sorry.”

Janus sighs. “I’m sorry, too.”

And they fall silent, with nothing left to say, Roman still clutching Janus like a lifeline, Janus rubbing the back of Roman’s neck and bringing out another arm or two to help keep Roman in place. Roman doesn’t flinch. Janus finds this oddly reassuring.

“It’s late,” Janus finally says. “I’m sure you’re tired after that.”

“Yeah,” Roman admits. “But I’ve got work to do, I can’t just--”

“You can’t possibly get any work done in this state, unless your creativity is increased by mental breakdowns.” Janus sighs and pulls Roman to his feet, wiping away the last of his tears. “Go to sleep, Roman. I’ll be able to tell if you haven’t.”

“Creepy,” Roman mutters, but he grins shyly and turns to go into his room.

"Roman?” Janus asks before he can talk himself out of it.

“Yes, Nag-gini?”

“Ouch,” Janus says blandly, to convey that he isn’t hurt at all. On the contrary, the nickname makes him feel somewhat bouncy. Ridiculous emotions. “I wanted to...extend an invitation, actually.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” Janus tucks one hand behind his back so he can fidget. “I...my room. Tomorrow afternoon at three or so? Just knock on the door.”

“What’ll we do?” Roman asks.

“Whatever we feel like.” Janus swallows. “Of course it’s perfectly understandable if you wish to spend your time elsewhere, I was only raising the possibility--”

“Calm down, you sound like Logan.” Roman laughs a bit. “‘Course I’ll come. Um--thanks.”

“It’s no trouble,” Janus says smoothly, neatly avoiding mentioning the several weeks he’s spent trying to work up the nerve to talk to Roman. “I’ll see you then. Now get some rest or I’ll send Remus to knock you out.”

Roman laughs again. It sends fluttering happiness through Janus’ chest. He hasn’t heard Roman laugh for weeks.

“Bye,” Roman says, closing the door and waving.

“Goodbye,” Janus says back.

Janus lingers for a few more moments before turning away.

He’ll come back soon enough.

---

I'm waiting for the day you come back and say "Hey, maybe I should change my mind."

Roman is standing in front of Janus’ door.

It should be easier this time around. He’s been invited! Janus expects him to knock on this door, and if he hasn’t suddenly decided he hates Roman again, Janus will welcome him in.

What if he has changed his mind?

No, that’s ridiculous. Janus wouldn’t do that. He’s steady and ridiculously one-note--if he says one thing, he sticks by it.

He said Roman was the evil twin.

Then he said Roman wasn’t.

And he’s a liar, a trickster, so Roman can’t figure out which one is right.

One was said during a fit of anger. The other was said to calm Roman down. One is the truth, one is a lie, and Roman knows well enough that he’s very bad at telling when Janus is lying. Maybe Janus only complimented him to manipulate him later--maybe it was all flattery--maybe it was a joke Roman was too stupid to get--

Roman’s mind is spinning. He needs to stop overthinking this or he’ll start panicking again. This is fine. Everything’s fine. Janus invited him and it’s going to be fine--

Unless this is a trap. Maybe everyone’s waiting in there, ready to send Roman to the Dark Side. Or maybe it’s a test, and Janus will interview him, see if he’s realy changed. And he’ll find ouut that Roman hasn’t. That Roman is a failure and always will be.

He doesn’t want those piercing eyes staring him down.

If Janus can sense lies, he’ll know all the things Roman lied about.

Is he lying? Is he telling the truth? Roman runs back and forth in his head, exploring every possibility, but it all comes down to the fact that he doesn’t know Janus at all. Janus could be doing anything with this. He could have changed his mind and Roman could be pushing himself into a space he isn’t wanted. He should just leave before he causes any more trouble--

“Roman?”

Roman flinches back as the door opens.

And Janus smiles. “There you are. Come inside!”

Roman does, hesitantly, still feeling like any moment the other shoe will fall. He tries to look around at Janus’ rom like he’s never seen it before. Janus would surely be mad if he learned Roman had snuck into it before.

“What are we doing?” Roman asks after Janus has settled into his armchair and Roman has perched on the edge of the bed.

“A little bird told me you’re struggling with your ideas,” Janus says, pulling a few books off the shelf. “I figured a change of scenery might help? And I fancy myself rather good at telling tales.”

“Really?” Roman asks.

“Of course.” Janus smirks. “Would I lie to you?”

Roman’s indecision must show on his face, because Janus sinks a little bit and sighs.

“I know you can’t trust me,” Janus says quietly, “but I really am just trying to help.”

“I don’t trust Deceit,” Roman agrees.

“You shouldn’t.” Janus nods. “It’s not wise.”

“I don’t trust Deceit,” Roman says again. “But...I think I could trust Janus. If I got to know him a bit.”

Something flashes across Janus’ face. “Janus doesn’t exist.”

“It’s you.”

“No, it’s not, it’s--” Janus is getting worked up now, and Roman has no idea what he did. “I can’t explain it. Janus isn’t real. Deceit is who I am.”

“Janus is real,” Roman argues, because he doesn’t know Janus that well but even he knows that. 

“No it’s not! I’m not!” Janus throws up his hands. “I’m a liar, I’m a fake, I’m a fraud, why don’t you get that?”

“You’re not.” Roman leans forward. “You’re a dork and ridiculously dramatic and you like musicals and you don’t like being wrong and you look good in a suit and you can pull off a hat the way I can’t and you love sarcasm and--” Roman shakes his head vehemently. “That’s not Deceit. That’s Janus. And I’d like to see a little more of him sometimes.”

“Don’t...” Janus pauses. “Just...I’d like not to be Janus. For a while. Janus...I’m scared of that. I’d just like something between Deceit and Janus, if that’s alright. ”

“Dee?” Roman asks. “Does that work?”

“Dee,” Janus repeats. “That’s...” A smile flashes over his face. A real smile. “I like that.”

“Dee, then.” Roman smiles. “Aladdin?”

“Hunchback of Notre Dame.”

“Snow White.”

“Black Cauldron.”

Roman grins wider. “The Incredibles?”

Janus laughs. “Not Disney.”

“Pixar, and we’re doing it.” Roman pauses, searching for words. “Um... you alright, Janus? Are we...good?”

Janus is silent for a long time.

“We could be,” Janus says. “I think we’re getting there.”

“Great,” Roman says. And finds he means it. Things aren’t perfect, but he can get better. He knows that.

Roman can leave some things unspoken for now. Janus hears them anyway.

And he’ll come back to them when he’s ready.

---

I was out on the town so I came to your window last night.

Janus is standing in front of Roman’s door.

It’s open, so he slips inside, sits next to Roman on the bed, and stares at the swirls of paint across the ceiling. They look like the currents of an ocean, the sweep of galaxies across the sky.

“Everything’s changing,” Roman says.

“Yes,” Janus says.

“I don’t like change.”

“Nobody does.”

“This...this is good change, though.” Roman pauses. “Right?”

Janus thinks of the discussions they’ve had. The way Thomas is really trying to put himself first when necessary. Patton’s cookies, Logan’s debates, Remus’ little octopus plushies that he gifted them all after getting accepted. Virgil, who gave Janus a quick “sorry” over breakfast cereal, and somehow that said everything that needed to be said.

He thinks of Roman. How wrong he was about Roman. Roman is not broken and never has been--he simply stumbled, and with help, he is rising again. He smiles more often. He sings along to Disney movies. He laughs at Patton’s puns. He’s started reading wit Logan in the afternoons. He’s even sparring with his brother, and it seems less vindictive than it used to be, as if it’s only a playfight now.

Roman is happier. Not happy, not perfect, but better.

And Janus feels...a little better, too.

“It’s good change,” Janus agrees.

“You want to do some Shakespeare?” Roman offers.

“I was thinking Dante’s Inferno,” Janus responds, like he always does.

“Boring,” Roman says like always, wrinkling his nose. “Disney?”

“Disney,” Janus agrees.

“I’ll get it ready, Janus--” Roman pauses. “Um...is Janus good today?”

Janus thinks about it. Because Janus has connotations and weighty moments and Roman’s laughter still rings in his ears. He doesn’t want to be Deceit. He’s scared to be Janus. He wants a little space in between, to find out who he is without the lies, to find out how he could be...more. More than his job. Maybe a friend, maybe a confidant, maybe somebody worthy.

Janus could be that. If he wanted.

Some days Janus crawls over his skin, wrong and itchy and reminding him of how much of a lie he is. Today it settles in place--strange and a little new, but not bad. A change. Not a bad change.

Sometimes things need to change.

Sometimes you need to talk a leap of faith and knock on the door.

“Janus is alright.” Janus smiles. “Janus is good, actually.”

“Yeah,” Roman agrees, smiling back, “he is.”

The door is open. It’s remained so for weeks. And even if it wasn’t, Janus would find the courage to knock. Because he knows Roman would do the same for him.

He’ll always come back.

He’ll always try again.

---

Now I'm causing a scene,

thinking you need a reason to smile.

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[naminethewriter]

Breaking The News

Second Part of the Remus and His Daughter Series     ⬅First | Next➡ 

Here on Ao3

Characters: Patton, Roman, Virgil, Logan

Relationships: platonic LAMP

Rating: T

Words: 2,665

Summary:  After Patton's encounter with Remus, he has to tell his friends about it. It's not as easy as it sounds.

While Patton was searching through his pockets to find his keys, he could already hear Roman inside. Most likely he was practicing his lines for his new show that would premier next month. Roman was the lead (which wasn’t a surprise anymore at this point) and when he’d come home with the news, a huge smile on his lips, Patton had given him a bear hug, baked a cake and called Virgil and Logan over for a celebration (you know, like they did every time). Patton was pretty sure that by now, Roman not only knew his own lines but almost the entire play by heart but he guessed a little extra practice never hurt anyone. Plus he loved watching Roman perform, even if it was just rehearsal.

Finally Patton located his keys, pushed them into the lock and opened the door. After closing it behind him, he hung his keys on their hook on the wall. He slipped out of his shoes and hung up his jacket on the coat rack. (He hadn’t really needed it – it was warm enough – but better be safe than sorry!)

 “I’m home!” Patton called into the now quiet apartment; Roman must’ve heard the door. A moment later, his head appeared in the entrance of their living room.

 “Welcome back, padre! Perfect timing, too. There are a few lines I’d like to run by you if you don’t mind?” Roman asked, giving him a puppy look he knew Patton couldn’t refuse. Not that he wanted to. Actually he was glad to be given an excuse to postpone the discussion about his earlier encounter with Remus until later.

 “Sure, kiddo! Just let me slip into something more comfortable and grab a snack,” Patton said cheerfully.

 “Great!” Roman disappeared back into the living room while Patton went to his own room.

 A few minutes later, Patton entered their living room, now dressed in a loose sweater and long skirt with a plate of apple slices (the healthy snack) and cookies (the tasty snack). Roman was pacing up and down, staring at his script and muttering under his breath. With a fond smile, Patton sat down on their couch.

 “Alright, Super Star! Lay it on me!” Roman grinned at him and handed him the script.

 “Wonderful! So in this scene…” Roman began to enthusiastically explain the context of the lines he wanted to work through, occasionally drifting off into sub-plots or character analysis, making his explanation longer than it needed to be. But Patton didn’t mind. He listened with rapt attention, asked a few questions here and there and slowly ate his snacks. After around 40 minutes, Roman put his pen down after writing the last few notes, looked them over and gave a satisfied nod.

 “Thank you so much, padre. I feel much better about this part now!”

 “You’re welcome,” Patton said with a smile on his lips. “Glad I could be of help!”

 “You always are!” Roman pulled Patton into a hug that he gladly reciprocated. “But I think it is time we prepare for game night. Logan and Virgil are gonna come down in less than an hour!” Patton glanced at the clock and saw that he was right. Roman had let go of him and started to clean up a bit. Patton joined him, fixing the couch while worrying his bottom lip. Should he tell Roman now? Having to repeat himself would be inconvenient but he couldn’t tell how Roman would react to knowing Remus was back. Sure they fought last time they’d seen each other but they were still brothers, right? Roman still cared for Remus, didn’t he?

 Patton had gotten so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t realised that he had stopped smoothing out the couch pillows until Roman called out to him.

 “Patton? Are you alright?” He hovered a few steps away, unsure if he was allowed to touch, worry etched on his face. Patton blinked at him, surprised. He tried to smile reassuringly but he could see Roman’s brows furrowing, so he probably failed.

 “I’m fine, it’s just…” He trailed off, fiddling with the pillow in his hands. Most likely Roman would get mad on instinct, like always when Remus was mentioned. So it would probably be for the best to give him some time to cool down before the others arrived and then he could give a more detailed explanation. He looked to Roman who was patiently waiting for him to continue. Patton took a deep breath.

 “I saw Remus today.” Cautiously, he observed his roommate’s reaction. For a few seconds, nothing happened. Roman was frozen, his worry for Patton still on his face. Then, as if time needed to catch up, many other emotions flickered through his eyes, only a handful of which Patton could catch. There was anger, of course, totally expected but also confusion, sorrow (maybe?) and even a slight sliver of hope. Or maybe that was Patton’s wishful thinking. Finally he settled on, what Patton could best describe as, displeasure.

 “Where?”

 “The mall, on my way back. We didn’t speak though.” Roman gave a sharp nod.

 “I see. Probably for the best. Doubt he’d have anything nice to say anyway,” he practically spit out. Patton wanted to disagree but Roman continued before he could.

 “I’m gonna go change now.” He left, leaving no room for protest. Not that Patton had wanted to. Roman needed time to process, he got that. It had been the right decision, to tell him first. Patton put the pillow down, gave the room a once-over and, deeming it presentable, moved to the kitchen to prepare a simple dinner for the four of them.

   By the time Logan and Virgil arrived, Roman still hadn’t come out of his room. The food was nearly ready when Patton let their two friends in, giving both of them a hug before hurrying back into the kitchen. The other two followed after him. Logan moved to help set the table while Virgil remained by the door, looking around.

 “Where’s Princey?”

 “In his room. He wanted to change.” Virgil nodded, relaxing a bit. Normally Roman would have greeted them at the door as well and the deviation from their routine had caused his anxiety to spike. But hearing Patton’s reassurance eased it again. The three of them together finished preparing dinner and once they were nearly done, Patton asked Virgil to get Roman. He left with a grumble. Logan and Patton finished up and sat down in silence which made it easy to hear the exchange down the hall.

 “Yo, Prince Fancypants” A knock (or maybe a kick, hopefully not) echoed. “Dinner’s ready, you ‘coming?” A muffled response, barely audible from the table before a door opened.

 “Greetings, Emo-Nemo, how nice to have you almost break my door down!” Roman sounded alright, in Patton’s opinion, maybe he wasn’t as worked up as he had feared.

 “Emo-Nemo? Seriously? Also I only kicked your door once, if it broke from that it’s just as weak as that nickname.” They continued their banter on the way back to the table where Roman greeted Logan with his usual gusto but Patton noticed he was avoiding looking at him. It stung a bit, but Patton understood. Remus was a sore subject for all of them and he did bring it up out of nowhere. So he kept on smiling and they fell into pleasant conversation over dinner. Toward the end however, Patton grew quiet, trying to plan out what he was going to say, even if that was never his strong suit. Logan noticed.

 “Are you alright, Patton?” he asked. “You seemed somewhat distracted since we have arrived.” Suddenly everyone’s eyes were on him. Being the centre of attention was another thing that Patton couldn’t count toward his strengths but at one point this evening it would have been necessary anyway. Better now when it seemed like everyone had finished eating. Patton took a deep breath.

 “Well…” He paused, all his preparation flying out of the window when he couldn’t find the right words. “There is something I need to tell you.” He spoke slowly, carefully. Logan raised an eyebrow but didn’t interrupt. “Something happened on my way home and…” He didn’t get any further because Virgil suddenly sat up straight, eyes wide which startled him into silence.

 “Shit, Pat, did someone attack you? I should’ve gone with you, I had a bad feeling through our shift, but I didn’t think…” Logan placed a hand on his shoulder, effectively stopping his rant, his breathing now a bit rapid.

 “Deep breaths, Virgil. I am sure if Patton had sustained any form of physical or emotional trauma we would have been informed earlier.” Virgil nodded, the movement still a bit too sharp but he followed Logan’s breathing to calm back down.

 “Yeah, kiddo, I promise it’s nothing bad, it’s just –“ Patton stole a glance at Roman, who had his gaze fixed away from all of them, mouth set in a hard line. “– complicated.” Logan’s eyes flickered between the two of them, apparently picking up on the tension but choosing not to comment.

 “Alright…” Virgil said, sounding not completely convinced but at least he was breathing evenly again. Patton cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. ‘Just rip the bandage off, come on,’ he thought to himself before taking a deep breath.

 “I walked back from work through the mall again today,” he began, “to window shop, y’know, maybe visit the shelter, like I do sometimes.” He swallowed, staring at his dirty plate to avoid eye contact, his hands fiddling with a crease on his skirt. “And I ran into Remus, well not literally, I just saw him from across the hall and we didn’t even speak, but…”

 “Hold on!” Virgil interrupted again, but not in panic this time. “You mean Remus as in –“ He pointed at Roman. “– his twin brother, Remus?”

 “Yeah.”

“What? How? When? Why?!?” Virgil sputtered loudly.

 “Erm…” Patton was confused by the barrage of questions.

 “None of those questions are relevant right now, Virgil, especially since he has already told us when and how and cannot answer why. It seems to have been a complete coincidence, am I correct, Patton?”

 “Oh, um, yeah. He seemed to be as surprised to see me as I him at least.”

 “So he did see you? You said you did not speak to him, I assumed he didn’t notice you,” Logan said and adjusted his glasses.

 “No, he did see me, he was just otherwise occupied.”

 “What is that supposed to mean?” Virgil asked, exasperated. Roman scoffed.

 “He was probably flirting with some poor fellow; you know how he is.”

 “Actually, it was pretty much the opposite…”

 “Someone was flirting with him..?” asked Virgil, now unsure.

 “No, no flirting whatsoever. He was there with a kid.”

 “What he’s hanging out with teenagers now?” Roman rolled his eyes. “Not that surprising, honestly, he was always immature.”

 “Could you two please just let Patton finish his explanation?” Logan cut in, his tone sharp. Virgil looked a bit sheepish and Roman scoffed again, avoiding eye contact once more but neither said anything else. Logan motioned for Patton to continue.

 “When I first noticed him, he was standing alone further down the hall and on the other side, staring at something I couldn’t see. I was so caught off guard that I ended up staring.” Patton once again started nervously fiddling with his skirt. “Suddenly he crouched down and this little girl, maybe ten years old, came up to him with ice cream. He picks her up, sees me and we awkwardly wave at each other before the two of them disappear into the crowd.” He helplessly shrugs at the end of his explanation and waits for the others to react.

 For several moments there was silence.

 “Great!” Roman suddenly said loudly, throwing his arms up dramatically. “My brother’s a kidnapper now, just wonderful.” Logan raised an eyebrow.

 “You believe he kidnapped her? For what reason would he do that?”

 “How should I know? I haven’t known what goes on in his head since we were nine! But as if there are any children who would spend time with Remus willingly.” Patton opened his mouth to protest but Virgil spoke first.

 “Do you think she’s the only one or are there more?”

 “Could be! I wouldn’t put it past him. He gets obsessed with the weirdest stuff.”

 “His ‘obsessions’, as you call them, were always academical in nature, he never would inflict any harm on others, intentionally. If he needed a test subject, he would always use himself before anyone else,” Logan protested.

 “And how do you know that, Mr. Research Assistant? I’ve known him my entire life and even I don’t know the boundaries of his insanity! He might not even have any!”

 “You are being ridiculous, Roman. Just because you don not like him, you cannot just assume that he would harm children for some sort of thrill or –“

 “Maybe we should call the police.”

 “See, Virgil’s on my side.”

 “I mean, just as a precaution, he might be dangerous.”

 “You are working off assumptions from five years ago, you cannot –“

 “Oh shut it, Specs, the police can at least make sure he’s not harming anyone –“

 “Nobody’s calling the police!” Patton’s sudden volume cut them all off. He had stood up and was now glaring at them. His eyes softened at their shocked expressions. He took a deep breath and continued calmly.

 “Look, I know Remus did some bad stuff, I won’t defend him on that, but Logan’s right: he never hurt anybody on purpose, at least not physically. And when we dated, neither of us were in a good place and yes, he hurt me badly but that was five years ago. We all changed, so could he, for better or worse. From what I could tell that girl seemed really comfortable with him. Plus Roman, didn’t you say Remus was good with kids when your cousins were visiting one Thanksgiving?” Roman mumbled something under his breath but didn’t argue.

 “We also have no viable information to give the police,” Logan spoke up. ”We have no address, he might have changed his name and none of us have spoken to him in five years. Filing a report would be ludicrous.” He stood up. “Now I believe we should all take a few minutes to calm down before proceeding with the games. If you would excuse me.” He moved to leave the kitchen while simultaneously pulling out his phone.

 “What are you doing?” Virgil asked, eyeing his phone. Logan glanced at him, barely slowing down.

 “I am going to call Janus. Considering that Remus used to be his best friend, I am sure he would be grateful to know that he is indeed still alive.” With that he disappeared down the hall. Silence enveloped the kitchen once again and Patton sat back down. A door opened and closed somewhere in the apartment. Virgil and Roman both pointedly avoided eye contact. After a few moments, Patton sighed.

 “Look, I know you two had your problems with Remus, so did I. And I’m honestly not sure how to feel about this either but regardless of all that, I’m glad to know he’s ok. He’s still a friend and your brother, Roman. Who knows, we might not see him again for another five years. See the positives?” He glanced between the two, waiting for their responses. Virgil just gave a slight nod and Roman pouted, though he did look at least a little bit guilty. Patton gave them a small smile.

 “Alright, kiddos. I’m gonna go set up the living room. You come over once you’re ready, ok?” Two hums were his answer which he could understand as agreements. Satisfied he moved towards the living room but paused in the kitchen doorway.

  “Oh, and if you could clean up the table, that would be great!” Roman and Virgil groaned in unison.

[midnight-inthe-kitchen]

“Don’t Burn Your Tongue...”

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader (Marauders Era)

Word count: 1185

Summary: (7th Year) James somehow gets you and Sirius a table at Madame Puddifoot’s on Valentine’s Day and no amount of pink scenery or embarrassing situations could make you guys not act like petty 12-year old boys.

Warnings??: Fluff, Angst I don’t know you guys are just weird😂🥰

“This place is...” He stuttered as his words failed to describe the pink explosion of affection before him. Y/n noticed Sirius shift his weight uncomfortably as they stood in the doorway of Madame Puddifoot’s Tea Shop.

It was Valentines Day and James had gone behind everyone’s back to reserve a whole thirty minutes of unbearable awkwardness for just the two of them. Apparently thirteen hex-threats and Sirius trying to throw hands wasn’t enough for James to avoid cornering them into the cramped little tea shop.

“Yeah,” she added, not wanting anything to do with the steamy chasm of stupid looking teenagers probably all too lonely to spend Valentines by themselves. If you asked y/n, a book by the foggy black lake was the perfect alternative but alas; everyone who could buy a scammy reservation off of Rudolphs or find a semi-decent date was all cramped into the same delusional shop in Hogsmead.

“Do you wanna just...?” She watched as Sirius shrugged in the direction of a small table in the corner. Hands buried in his pockets, Sirius was abnormally quiet as they made they’re way to the back of the room.

Y/n could have sworn she saw him flick up his jacket collar as to not be recognized.

...Narcissistic vampire.

“This is really dumb,” Y/n laughed as soon as they sat down. She awkwardly shifted in her chair, imagining how stupid she must look up against the girly background of the caffé... Even if she was blushing, literally no living thing would ever have been able to tell thanks to the unnaturally iridescent red and pink glow emitting from the walls and ceiling lamps.

Sirius let out a breathy laugh he didn’t seem to realize he had been holding. In attempt to brush the awkwardness off, he slumped down in his chair and picked up a little menu off the table. “So...” he choked back a laugh. “... Do you think anything this place sells is...quali-tea?”

Even his half-hearted smirk knew that was a terrible pun.

Y/n chuckled as she rested her hand over her face in embarrassment. “Wow, you’re really at your finest, aren’t you?” she mocked the boy in front of her.

He laughed defensively. “Wh-Hey! I’m just trying to lighten the mood...” He crossed his arms as his eyes flicked to the couple next to them snogging across the table.

Y/n scrunched her nose as her eyes found what he was looking at. She internally gaged. “Wow. I would actually rather be washing Snape’s hair than be here right now.”

Sirius put his hand across his chest looking taken a back and offended.

Sure she really liked Sirius (mostly because they were freaking hilarious together and neither of them needed any sort of mushy hufflepuff-affection to appreciate each others company) but this was way too far beyond any emotional depths either of them had developed within their shared seventh-year, 12-year old boy mentality.

“Oh don’t go looking all offended, Sirius, it’s not like I’m here with Lucious or something,” she retorted.

Sirius felt his face grow hot, but he simply brushed his hair out of his face. “Well it’s a good thing I’m not here with Lily then,” he bit back.

“Oh come off it,” Y/n laughed, “You know Lily can’t stand you or James...”

Sirius simply reclined in his chair, propping one arm over the back. “Oh please.... I could get her.”

Y/n laughed out loud, making the couple next to them break apart for a moment to make sure the shop wasn’t burning down.

Y/n crossed her arms, mimicking Sirius. “Oh please, do tell how,” she replied sweetly. “...Since you couldn’t even get me here on your own merits-”

Sirius cracked his knuckles like a pianist and propped his head on his hands to counter her. “You know, I don’t think I will... Wouldn’t want all my famous lady-swooning moves to be leaked now would I?”

Y/n rolled her eyes, knowing this was not the hill she wanted to die defending. “Whatever you long strip of greasy leather, if I’m so inferior to Lily, I might just go sit with Lucious and mock him about his Veela hair all by my self...” she jabbed a finger over her shoulder to where she had noticed him sitting alone upon arrival.

Sirius’ face remained stoic as he screamed internally. He had known that this whole idea was stupidly idiotic and that he was probably watching his most treasured relationship walk away in front of him thanks to some petty quarrel...

Y/n raised her eyebrows giving him a chance to protest, before over dramatically grabbing her bag and standing up. She got a whole two feet away before something hit her in the back of her head.

She turned around abruptly, expecting to see a sour Sirius ready to give an apology.

Instead, she looked around to see Sirius smiling. Y/n looked all over for whatever had hit her, but couldn’t find anything.

She reached behind her head to feel a crumpled piece of paper magically stuck to her hair. She pulled it out and flipped it over.

“I’m sorry.” was writen on the side. She held up a poorly scratched-out line to the pink light. She looked over at him with mild distaste when she read; “...that you started a fight with me and I continued it.”

He smiled like an innocent child who had just destroyed his mother’s new box of makeup.

Y/n stared at him with the essence of a thousand reluctant groans before slowly making her way back to the table.

She sat down but didn’t offer any response.

Sirius sat up in his chair as if trying to start over.

“You... got my letter?” He asked attentively.

Y/n let out a laugh. “Yes, you completely moron,”

He nodded, taking in the response. “You maybe want to...?”

“Start the bloody hell over?” She finished. “Yes.” Sirius smiled contently while both of them picked up their menus for the second time.

“I just don’t know how much time we’ll have left-“ Y/n started again.

Sirius checked the watch he stole from Remus a couple days ago (He’s still looking for it). “Twenty-seven minutes,” he answered.

If Y/n had had her tea yet, she would have choked on it. “We’ve only been here for three minutes??”

“Things tend to go fast when I’m around,” Sirius laughed coyly.

“Pity,”

After a couple more minutes of bickering and laughing, they finally got they’re drinks.

“Careful,” y/n warned. “...Wouldn’t want to burn your tongue...”

Sirius made a face at her tease before taking a big sip.

Needles to say, Madame Pomfrey wasn’t all too happy spending an hour out of her Valentine’s Day fixing up the most charismatic and disrespectful delinquent child’s oral region next to four of the most frequently visited students laughing their heads off.

[futurewriter2000]

Close Friends - pt.2

A/N: Okay I don’t really know how this ended up like this but I think I have some idea where I want to take this. Next part is gonna be cuter? Better? I don’t know the word but probably better written than this one????

XX

“All I do is flirt with her and she just doesn’t get it! It’s like- like-” Sirius started to get frustrated, venting to his friends.

“Like you’ve been flirting with her all Hogwarts years and dating other people meanwhile?” Remus quirked an eyebrow at him. 

“She probably thinks it’s a normal thing with you.” said James beside him, peering out of his magazine. “Do the opposite. Don’t give her any attention.”

“Or just tell her the truth-”

“Shut up, Moony. I think James is on to something here.” he sat on James’ bed and stared at him. “Go on, mate.”

James chuckled and straightened his posture. “I’m just saying, maybe if you ghost her for a while, she’ll come running to you-”

“And eventually you will have to tell her you fancy her for two years now.” Remus continued but both Sirius and James ignored him.

“Or I could wait for her to realize that she needs me!” Sirius jumped from the bed triumphantly. “That’s a great plan.”

“That’s such a bad plan.” Remus shook his head at the idiocy. “If you ignore her, she’ll be confused not in love.” he continued to speak but they were already whispering something in each other’s ear, plotting. “What am I? Invisible?” 

---

To be honest, you didn’t much notice the first two days as Sirius was avoiding you, ghosting you and ignoring you, which pretty much meant the same thing. He hasn’t talked to you in class or sat next to you at the table. 

It only meant one thing; he got another girlfriend. 

So you brushed it off because that was the usual pattern you had to go through through the first week of him and his brand new grilfriend. Sirius was just like that. He disappeared and then he appeared again. So you brushed it off and focused on your studies. 

Meanwhile Sirius was glaring at you from a far. 

“She’s just studying.” he grumbled, gritting his teeth.

“What would you expect her to do?” 

“We haven’t talked in three days and she’s not even a bit worried about me? Like what if I’m dead.” he scoffed, throwing his arms in the air and pouting. 

“You’ve been the one avoiding you, Sirius. You. Just go talk to her.” 

“No.” he scoffed again, turning away and feeling the hurt eat away his soul. “I wonder how long will it take her to notice. I mean if she cared, she-”

“She cares!” Remus tried to convince you. “She just-”

“I don’t get it. We’ve poured each other’s secrets to one another and there she is, studying. Doesn’t she miss me? Like not even a little.” 

Remus just stared. It was as if he was talking to a wall. A solid, rock built wall. “You’re joking?” 

“I’m not.”

“Then tell her that.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to see if she cares?”

And you did care. You cared a lot for Sirius and you missed him dearly, so later when days turned into a weeks, you were starting to get more confused. 

Why was he not talking to you? Why was he avoiding you? Did you do something wrong?

But you were done being the one to always reach out first. You knew him and his little games he played. He was alright with you and then few days he disappeared and when you asked him what was wrong, he snapped at you. It happened so many times and since then you learned that it’s best to leave him alone and figure it out by himself. 

So you waited and he waited and both of you... waited. 

---

“I know he broke up with Callie and all, he’s not dating any other girl but why is he not speaking to me?! Did I do something wrong?” you ranted to your friends, pacing up and down your room. 

“No, you didn’t do anything wrong.” one of them said and the others nodded. “And to be honest you always cared for him way too much than you should-”

“He just cut all connections! I wanted to talk to him today after school but he just left! And then again I saw him at the courtyard and we made eye contact- WE MADE EYE CONTACT-” you shouted at them. “AND AS SOON AS I STARTED APPROACHING, HE LEFT!” you started to feel something burning in your throat, sorrow filling your heart. 

“He doesn’t care about you. He’s a dick and he’s an idiot and you shouldn’t be worrying about someone like him.”

“You’re right. I mean if he doesn’t care, then I won’t care.” you huffed, throwing yourself on the bed and thinking. “But... I miss him.” you grabbed the pillow and squeezed it. 

“Yeah, I know but he’s not worth it and it’ll pass.” 

“Do you think I should send him a letter?”

“No!” all of them spoke in unison. 

“Show him what he had lost.” 

And you did. This time you put effort in it as much as he did, which was none. Week after week, you stole glances of him, finding him careless and free without you. He flirted with other girls, he laughed with his friends- there was nothing that could even tell you that he cared. Nothing. He cut you off. He just cut you off like that. 

He did and he felt incredibly guilty about it. But if you really cared about him then you would go over the mountains to get to him, which you didn’t. James would go over the mountains and the seas but not you. You were sitting there with your friends planning another Hogsmeade trip. 

He kept tabs on you. Every time but he felt like something was missing. There was this missing piece inside him where it hurt and ached. That piece was you and whenever he felt it, he couldn’t bare it. 

It hurt. 

It hurt for you because you missed him so much. He was someone you told everything to. Everything and now he’s just... there. He’s just there and he’s there so many times that it makes you furious. You’re so angry at him because you really thought you had a close friendship with him- and he, well he just left it to rot. 

---

When you heard that he was going to Hogsmeade as well, you made it your mission to look incredible. Not beautiful, not hot but beyond believable outstanding. 

You didn’t know why you cared so much for how you looked in front of him but maybe- just maybe he will start talking to you again and explain why he had cut you off as he did. 

You pulled out your most uncomfortable jeans that outlined your legs so nicely, toned your thighs and butt. You tucked in a black Rolling Stones shirt and pulled it out so that it looked a bit baggy. You grabbed hairspray, brush, ties and pins and spent half an hour on your hair. At the end, it was slicked back in a tight, high pony tail with the front hair falling in front of you. You grabbed a pair of sunglasses and put them on top of your head. Makeup was gentle, foundation, eyeshadow and transparent lipgloss that made your lips look glossy and juicy. Mascara was the final touch and when you looked at the final result you were more than pleased. 

Grabbing your jacket, you put your puma shoes on and ran outside where everybody was gathered. 

You found your friends first, them gaping at you and your look. 

“Holy shit- you look like you’ve walked out of an american teen movie!” one of them smiled and they all giggled as you turned around to show off. 

“Thank you. Thank you. I don’t know where I found this outfit but I am glad I did because I am prepared to catch some fish.” you winked at them and interlocked your arms with theirs. 

You haven’t seen Sirius your whole way there but he sure had seen you and words couldn’t describe that watching you was not enough. He wanted to go up to you so badly. He dreaded being stuck behind and not being able to flirt with you, smell which parfume you had or see up close your eyes. 

“Still think it was a good idea, cutting her off?” Remus smirked beside him as Sirius rolled his eyes.

“I cut her off becasue she clearly does not care enough for me.”

“Mate, she is looking-”

“I know, Prongs. I know how incredibly hot she is right now but can I do something? No. Why? Because I have an impecible amount of pride and stubborness.” 

“So you admit, finally.” 

“Yes, I admit but she’ll be back. She will.”

“It’s been weeks, Sirius. She’s moving on.”

“She’s not. She’ll come back, I’m telling you- she just-”

“She what?” James asked and Sirius stopped, turning his head to him and smiling. “She will see that I’m fun and irresistable-”

“Sirius.” Remus put his hand on his shoulder. “What if she finds what she’s been looking for.”

“What do you mean?”

“A boyfriend because right now I’m seeing loads of boys pining after the girl.” he nodded at the group of Ravenclaws at the side. 

“Oh, I’m not worried mate. She won’t go out on a date with these stuck-up losers. “ 

“How are you so sure?” James asked and Sirius tapped his shoulder.

“Because she told me herself she’s waiting for the perfect one, and if there were any of them in our school, she would be dating them and she’s not.” he continued to smile, watching you turn into one of the shops. 

After a while of stalking you on the map, he finally decided to “accidentally” bump into you in Three Broomsticks. 

You were already drinking your butterbeer with your friends, your lipgloss already printed on the glass and the foam on top of your lips. One of your friends pointed it out and all of you giggled at your mustache. 

He could hear your laugh from a far and his heart leaped a few beats when it did. “I’m going to talk to her.”

“You are?” both Remus and James asked in unison.

“I have to. It’s my fault we’re not talking.”

“What about the not caring?” 

“JAMES!”

“You’re right!” Sirius straightened his posture, meanwhile James was getting some deadly stares from Remus. 

“You’re being stubborn, Sirius.”

“So is she?”

“And what happens when you both wait it out and neither of you make a move- then what?” Remus asked and for once Sirius listened to him, wavering his head and sighing. “She’ll move on and both of your prides and stuborness will just leave you without each other.”

“He’s right, mate. I know I didn’t agree earlier but you really aren’t the same since you stopped talking to her.”

“What if she’s pissed?” Sirius looked at them. 

“Just tell her the truth.”

“But what if she’s pissed?” Sirius asked again and continued to see you walk to the bar. 

“You two are friends. It’ll come around.” Remus put his hand on Sirius shoulder and gave him a simper. 

Sirius mirrored his expression and stood up. “Guess I’ll annoy her until she forgives me.” he winked at them and started walking to you. 

You on the other hand were just ordering another four butterbeers for you and your friends, waiting for the waitress. 

Except it wasn’t a waitress that you saw. A man, tall and handsome walked out of the back, trying to tie his apron as he did. He had a buzzcut, dark hair, thick eyebrows and extremely dark eyes. He continued to suffer with the apron and as he was about to give up, you decided to lend a hand. 

“Need a hand?” you smiled and he looked up, clearly a bit embarrased but smiling back at you with perfectly white straight teeth. 

“I don’t really need an apron when my boss leave but when a beautiful girl like you asks, how can I decline such offer.” he grinned and you felt yourself blush. “Just go around the counter-” he said and you did as you were told, taking the two strings from his hands and as touch of his fingers brushed yours, your whole body electrified itself, letting go of the strings. 

“Oh-” you took a step back, a bit shocked from the sudden feeling in your body but quickly grabbing the strings again. “Sorry about that.”

“Told you that it’s a figter.” he joked and you laughed, tying it into a bow. “Can you do it tighter, just in case?” he asked and you laughed, untying the bow and redoing it, tightening it with all your might.

“Demanding, are we?” you started to tease and he laughed, letting out low, smooth chuckles. 

“First time a customer is helping the worker. Have to exploit it a bit.” he turned around leaning on the counter with his large arms as you made your way to the other side. 

“Didn’t know you were the bar had another worker?” you quirked an eyebrow and he smiled yet again showing those perfect teeth. 

“I have to get some money for college-”

“College?” you asked and he shook his head, licking his upper lip. 

“I’m no wizard, beautiful girl. I have to do it all the Muggle way.” he leaned on the counter. “So what can I get you? Butterbeer?” 

“Four actually. It’s for me and my friends over there.” you said, pointin to the giggling girls behind you. 

“No boyfriend?” he asked, grinning.

“Depends on who you’re asking for?” you leaned back and he opened his arms, gesturing at himself.

“Who do you think?” 

“Then, yeah. No boyfriend.” he smiled wide at your answer and turned around to make you some butterbeer. 

“Don’t get the wrong idea. Promised mum I won’t be dating any of her customers.” he gave you two of them, looking so damn gorgeous as he pressed his arms on the edge of the counter, his eyes locked with yours as they gazed into you. He pushed himself away and turned to make another two. “If I want to keep this job, I have to follow the rules.”

“Wait... your mum as in Madam Rosmerta?” 

“The one and only.” he turned his head over his shoulder, smiling heavingly before his whole face expression dropped. 

“I thought the weiters are supposed to work, not talk.” Sirius goaded as he sat beside you. 

“I call it multitasking.” the weiter put one beer first before turning to the other, clearly buying himself some time. 

“Four butterbeers.” said Sirius, looking at you from the side and changing his tight-lipped frown into a soft simper you usually got from him. “Hey, stranger.”

Surprised by his appearance, you exchanged glances between the two boys, grabbed the butterbeers and gave him a soft smile. “Hi, Sirius.” you said before turning to the boy and smiling more brightly at him, which Sirius noticed quickly. “Thank you for-”

“Of course, and don’t worry. It’s on the house.” he gave you another smile before turning to make four more. 

Sirius saw you leave back to the table, finding your friends whispering, giggling and laughing with you. 

Hi? All he gets is a hi? You’ve held a whole ass conversation with a stranger and all he gets is a hi. 

---

Your whole group of friends were teasing you and the weiter, building you hope and creating scenes in your head as him as your handsome new boyfriend and the very jealous Sirius that angrily made his way as he saw you flirting with the new boy. 

Of course, you only rolled your eyes at their little fantasy ideas and laughed along. Sirius would never be jealous. The two of you were always friends. Close friends and he had dated so many girls and managed to be your friend all along- except were you in love with Sirius? 

The thought rushed so fast in your head you had to stop. You’re not. You’re just not. The two of you are far away from happily ever after. He’s not your type even and he’s- he’s- he’s just a no. No. 

You should think about Madam Rosmerta’s son, you had no idea existed- but he said he was a Muggle and Rosmerta is a witch, then why?

He’s a Squib. - it rang in your head and you felt extremely sad over that realization. Being a witch is one of the most amazing things in your life and he didn’t get to experiance that. 

Good thing you haven’t mentioned the fact that he’s the owner’s son to any of your friends. They are quick gossip and you just didn’t want to say something that wasn’t yours to say. 

“Hey, (y/n)!” Sirius shouted and all of your friend group turned around to find him running after you. 

You nodded at your friends and smiled. “It’s alright.” you said as their cue to leave you alone. 

You waited for him, seeing the group moving as you stood in your place. When he finally caught you, he stopped. The two of you were simply standing in silence, not even looking at each other. 

“It’s my fault.” he said and you looked up, listening. “It’s my fault and I know it is. I just- uhm- I thought maybe if I started ghosting you, you would show me how much you cared for me and when you didn’t after three days and a week and a month it felt like you didn’t care at all for me and I was so furious because I miss you but I was also too stubborn to be the first one to break this silent treatment.” he took a deep breath, waiting for you to respond but you continued to watch. “I’m sorry.” he finished and continued to watch you watch him. “That’s it.”

“That’s it?” you asked, clearly unsatisfied. “You wanted to see if I care when you ghosted me and when I didn’t climb up to your window to get your attention, you thought I didn’t care- Sirius what were you thinking?!” you started to explode. “You think that everything is about you?! That every day I worry about how you’re feeling and how you are doing because I do! And I did! And when I did try to talk to you, you left. You left and sorry not sorry Sirius but I won’t be running after you and your little drama you like to start up. You cut me off and I’ve been overanalyzing and overthinking and overfeeling things because of you. What did I do for you to cut me off? Because I have my own life, Sirius and my own problems and stress to deal with and just because I didn’t go to the ends of the Earth to talk to a person who didn’t even want to talk to me, didn’t mean I didn’t care!” you pushed your finger into his chest as his head dived down into the guilt. 

“I know- it was immature, childish even but- I... When it started it kept going on and after today at the bar I just- I want my best friend back.” he said and you continued to watch him. 

That charming little fucker in front of you was giving you the eyes. You turned around, huffing and rethinking everything. It really wasn’t worth arguing about this, was it? 

“Here’s how it’s going to be.” you said, turnng around. “I’ll slap you and kick you for being an enormous ass towards me and then I’ll hug you because I missed you so much and after that we’ll talk about you being a dumbass.” you said and he started contemplating.

“Does there have to be a sla-” he was cut by your hand on his cheek and when that was over you just jumped into his arms, bringing him so close to you that it felt his energy was pouring with yours, hugging it, feeling it- it felt like all the miss and the dread that came from this whole silent treatment was replaced by having him in your arms. 

And for him the slap was the least thing to worry about because now he was holding you and that was all he needed. He needed you and he needed your touch, your warmth, your energy and your scent which was the winter parfume you bought in November last year. He would notice it anywhere. 

This time he was sure not to let you go. “I love you.” he mumbled into your neck and you smiled, pulling away and cupping his cheeks.

“I love you too, Sirius.” you tapped his cheek and started walking after the group that distanced itself so far from the two of you. “Come on now, let’s catch up with them.”

Sirius sighed as he watched you walk away. “Not like that.” he mumbled under his breath, slowly walking after you. You still didn’t get it. He loved you. 

[plztumb1rhelpmegetoveranxiety]

Virgil has dots all over his body, they're tiny and much paler than his skin (which Roman has joked about a few times, but stopped after seeing the upset looks it causes), and a rubber band he keeps on his arm. Sometimes the rubber band is swatched out for one of a different color or the placement of it fiddled with, but there's one always on him.

Patton is known to jump every time it's snapped against the skin, which is why he along with Logan and Roman think it's a thing for Vigil to use to direct attention towards himself. But the sides don't really know for sure it's purpose and don't want to upset Virgil by asking, at least the majority of them.

None of them have the memory of a late night when a much younger Virgil came to Janus' room, shaking all over. They don't know that Janus held Virgil close to calm him down while the young side distracted himself with the stitches on Janus' gloves. When Janus gave him a small sewing kit as a distraction.

The memory of Virgil running up to Janus' room a few days later proudly to show off a messily sewn shirt mad from some cloth Virgil probably stole from Remus that Janus happily praised is only shared between the two of them.

No one remembers better than Remus the first Halloween that Virgil sewed his own costume, when Virgil tried to scare him and Remus got quite startled. He never had the heart to tell Virgil that the only reason he got scared was because he thought one of his creations got loose at first, instead he and Janus made it a tradition to always fake fear at Virgil's attempts to scare them after seeing how happy Virgil was that he scared The Duke of Everything Dark himself.

Janus and Remus remember watching Virgil's slow changing into no longer being the side that shown the brightest of all, when seeing him with his purple eyeshadow was a lot more rare, unable to do anything to help. Though that doesn't mean they didn't try their hardest.

And of course the light sides don't know the day that has taken to ingraining itself into Remus' and Janus' memory, it was the day when they caught Virgil.

It was midday when Remus got Janus to come with him to wake up Virgil; apparently Remus had made a new spider thing and wanted to show it off to him, but figured Janus would be better at convincing Virgil to get up. Virgil was sound asleep in his bed, his signiture jacket was hung on a bed post. Janus smiled fondly at it, he and Remus had been trying to convince him for years to spruce it up a bit, but with no luck as it remained black.

Janus snapped out of it when he bumped into Remus, he followed Remus' gaze to Virgil's arm laying across one of his pillows... With purple thread stitched into the skin. They didn't mention it then, they didn't wake Virgil up, but they did try their best to make sure Virgil knew that they cared about him.

But of course he didn't stop.

Janus can't count on all of his hands the number of times he or Remus found Virgil in the middle of a panic attack, mumbling about how the light sides and Thomas have to hate him.. The best cases where when Virgil had only just opened up his sewing equipment, the worst when they caught him midway through, with whatever Virgil was trying to make still a jumbled mess and the needle dangling by thread it just pulled into the skin or worse when it was sticking out if the skin.

Remus had it the hardest when he caught Virgil trying to sew; Remus had to deal with his own thoughts, too. Remus had to bite down his tongue till it bleed to not encourage the sewing, because he didn't want Virgil to hurt himself. He really didn't, but his own thoughts ran through his mind, wanting to ask if he could sew too, as about how the needle felt, was it really as easy to move around after piercing as it looked? The answer is yes

None of the "light" sides ever stayed up all night trying to learn how to undo stitching from the top in a way that no thread would be left under so there would be no thread trapped under the skin of one of the people closest to them when they inevitably self harmed again. They've never tried so hard to learn that they ended up crying because they just don't understand.

And Janus and Remus hope more than anything that they've never had to act happy after being showed or given something by Virgil that was sewn with thread taken from the same spool that made the newest flower in his skin.

But they have those memories and the others don't. So they'll sit back as Logan wonders if it's a certain skin condition despite there's barely any "dots" on his face and none on Virgil's back. They'll sit back as Patton enjoys finding shapes and talking about how certain clusters look like certain things while Virgil looks mildly uncomfortable. And they'll sit back as Roman goes on about how there MUST be a story behind them.

It's not their place to say the "condition" is self hate, the reason the "dots" look like stuff is because they were sewn to be that, and that the story behind them is years of being outcasted and disliked.

But they will smile at how Virgil seems to getting better, he might not be fully better and he may never be, but Virgil isn't adding more "dots".

They'll smile as Virgil smiles and they'll ignore the memories.

[starsandmoonys]

Uh oh, here's another shitty one shot.

*

Regulus Black, the happiest Ghost

"That's a bad colour on you" 

Sirius spun, there shouldn't be anyone in this room. He reached for his wand, startled. He was picking what to wear because he was going to see Remus today and was really trying to look his best. 

"You can't just show up out of nowhere and scare the shit out of me," Sirius said, aggravated but turning again to his wardrobe to search for a proper shirt, a better colour.

"Especially at these times, it's not safe. I could've-" He added, but stopped himself. 

"Sure, give me all you got, I'm see-through." The voice behind him chuckled, getting nearer. "Also it's the whole point of my existence, I show up whenever; scare you. It's fun." Arrogant and annoying even after death, some things just don't change. 

"Yeah, that's how you get your kicks, now." 

"It's my power, and I love using it. I can't exactly scare anyone else. Stuck with you, my dearest brother."

"You can leave now, I'm busy." Sirius was buried in his pile of clothes, getting more annoyed and finding he has absolutely nothing to wear or nothing that would fit appropriate to where he's going. Sirius normally never cared what he wore, he thought he always looked good in whatever and anyone else's opinion never mattered, but it was Remus and he needed to please and impress.

"I can help, Blacks have always had style." He was now beside him. He could feel the coldness spreading out. Sirius looked up, he saw Regulus, his little brother. He was cold, pale, transparent, but he was smiling. It wasn't the first time Sirius would see him after he died. He would always show up to Sirius. He would talk to him, keep him company when the days would just be unbearable. 

Regulus would always be beside him even during missions and duels with death eaters. Helping with lines like "Watch it.", "Lookout.", " on your left.". He'd been there when he cried over Remus. Sirius would talk his ears off but he never leaves, no matter how repetitive the conversation gets. He listens, and funnily enough to use the new information to tease the hell out of his brother in important situations. Like the last meeting of the order when he kept walking around making kissing faces at Remus just to irritate Sirius and get him to lose his focus and stare at the wrong person. Regulus's ghost was far happier and playful than when he was actually alive. Sirius thought of all the reasons why that made perfect sense. 

Regulus had no Walburga, no missions, no pressure or responsibilities, not even the dark lord could hurt him. He only existed for his brother, and that was enough. He was always in a great manner. Only got sad when Sirius would cry or finish a mission looking miserable.

Sirius had a really hard time accepting Regulus's death. He always blamed himself for it. He was the one that left him. He abandoned him to those wretched humans they call parents. He let his brother be fooled by them, he let him sink into the darkness until it swallowed him whole. Until he died, and that was always on Sirius. Maybe if he hadn't left, his brother would still be alive. Maybe they would get through this war together. Regulus would move on with his life, be happy. Instead, he got his brother as a ghost, a voice and a shape, only Sirius could see or hear.

The first time Regulus appeared in front of Sirius, he thought he had finally slipped into madness. He knew he wasn't wired up right in the head, but to actually be able to see his own dead brother, a few days after his death, was his final straw. Especially when no one else could see him, he wasn't a normal spirit. His existence broke Sirius, it was always a reminder of what he did. Sirius would crash, breakdown, cry, sob, and scream at the pale figure. He couldn't be real. It was his mind playing sick tricks on him, maybe it was his parents doing something to him. It had to be anything but the fact that Regulus was actually there. 

That was a year ago. After many sleepless nights, experiments and research, Sirius came to the realization that Regulus was a legitimate ghost, he was there for staying. He wasn't a part of Sirius's mind, and it made everything so much worse for him. His brother didn't choose afterlife, he chose to stay. When Sirius asked him, he would tell him that he wanted to be by his side, just like Sirius stayed and took all the spells and hits for him at the Grimuald place. It's torture to Sirius but he got used to it. Regulus wasn't going anywhere and Sirius was enjoying the company, maybe it's selfish but he has his brother. 

"Shut up, turtle neck." Sirius eventually responded. Starting to give up on the colourful floor he sat on; piles of shirts and trousers, spread everywhere. 

"They're cool, and you know it." 

"Sure they are, Reggie." 

"Coming from the bloke who owns half the stock of silk shirts in Britain. You buy them in every colour, it's disastrous." 

"Why are you here, again?" Sirius turned his head to face his brother, who was now crouching examining the clothes, making disapproving noises and frowning.

"Fine, I'm leaving. You're on your own. Good luck." Regulus said, getting up and going towards the end of the bedroom, walking rather slowly.

"You're just going to roam around the house then come back again because you're a lonely bitch." 

"You're a lonely bitch, Sirius." The Spirit responded, monotonously.

"We're both lonely, now can you please come and help, and stop being a pain in the ass, Reg." His brother just smirked at him. He knew what was coming. So he added and beat him to it. "Do not say the joke you're thinking about."

"Oh, you mean the joke about the pain in the ass? Yeah, you just stole it." Regulus was now beside him again, grinning. "Sure, I'll help. You wouldn't really want to miss tonight's pain in the ass, would you? Big bro." His grin got wider. Sirius could only facepalm as his brother was now laughing and doubling over on the floor with laughter at his very lame joke. 

"I'm losing my mind here, in a crisis, and you're laughing," Sirius growled. He wanted to grab Regulus, smack him. His hand would just go through him, it makes him sad. 

"So, the usual. Except, I'm the one laughing this time." Regulus said, finding his composure again. 

"I'll just cancel with moony, and miss out on the opportunity to see him for the next three months," Sirius mumbled, getting up, shoulders slouched. He felt like crying.

"Or, you could wear those and have the greatest evening for the next three months." He turned around and saw Regulus trying to pick a shirt and a pair of trousers out of the pile, he failed obviously and ended up pointing at them while looking at Sirius. He walked back and picked up what his brother chose. 

They were dark Jeans, a white shirt and a black leather jacket, except that it's not the one he normally wears. It's much more modest, without all the chains, pockets and excessive accessories. "Simple, yet charming," Regulus commented as Sirius was examining the clothes. 

"Thank you, you're a lifesaver." Sirius looked up to meet his brother's eyes. It's insane how they're just more alive now than ever before. "Aren't I always?" Regulus beamed back at him.

"Yeah, I'd hug you." Sirius smiled, looking down at his clothes. "Don't worry, I hug me every day." Regulus was wrapping his arms around himself, "Like that, self-love.  It does wonders. You should try it." 

"One day, Reg. One day, I just might. I'll go change now." Sirius said, smiling sadly. 

"I have all the time in the world," Regulus spoke confidently, hands on his waist. "By the way, you really needn't stress that much about what you wear. I don't think Remus gives a shit, Sirius." Sirius cracked up, hummed in response and turned around for the second time to leave the bedroom. "and I mean it in every good way, brother." Regulus shouted from inside the bedroom as Sirius was shutting the bathroom door.

It's funny how things turned out with Sirius, he grew up in a hell house, with abusive parents. Ran away to his new family, the Potters. Left his actual brother in the hands of Voldemort. Fell in love with his male, half-blood, werewolf best friend. How he's currently fighting in a war against his former family, against everything he was raised to believe in. How he has his brother with him at any given time, comforting him when neither James nor Remus could be there. It's funny how everything in Sirius's life seems shit yet the best it could ever get at the same time. He didn't want it to end.

*

The Au I was talking about. I tried not to make it sad. Probably failed. Idk. Anyways, if you like it. Tell me. Maybe I can think of part two. I'm a Regulus stan, I have so much Regulus content and would write essays and essays about him. :)))))).

His relationship with Sirius is just so precious. :')

This is not in anyway edited sorry for the mistakes.

[98prilla]

Loved

Follow up to Unwanted, because I love some soft Dark Sides

Next

AO3

...

“Are you sure? Like, really, really, really sure?” Remus asks. Logan squeezes his hand gently, smiling softly, because he understands Remus’s hesitance, he understands why he is afraid, because he is a bit afraid, too.

 “You’ve asked him ten times, Remus. If the answer didn’t change after the first five, why would it change now?” Deceit drawls, though his nervousness shows in his tense posture where he leans against the wall, pretending to examine his fingernails, though he is wearing his gloves.

 “I know! I just, I don’t… I don’t want him to regret it. I don’t want you to regret it and then hate us for making you change and then you’ll be miserable and we’ll be miserable and-“

 “Remus. You aren’t making me do anything. I want to do this. I promise.” He says softly, slipping his hand from Remus’s, approaching the new door in the hallway, hand hesitantly resting against the unblemished wood as he takes a deep breath.

 “Logan! I… be safe. Please.” He nods once at Deceit’s words. He takes a final breath, then opens the door, not hesitating as he steps inside.

 The door slams closed behind him, the echo loud as thunder in the dead silent hall, Deceit and Remus both unwilling to move from their posts, in case anything went wrong.  

…

 The slam of the door makes him jump. Everything is silent, so silent, and the room is pitch black. He squares his shoulders resolutely and walks to the center of the room.

 Then the world seems to spin. He can’t keep his balance, it’s like the explosion of a supernova, it’s silence so loud it’s deafening, it’s nothing and everything and hot and cold and it burns and it freezes and it’s too, too, too much!

 He feels his center shifting, changing, growing, shrinking, it hurts, it hurts, but it also feels so right as his being rearranges itself, adding to his purpose, tilting it on its axis until it is the same, but different, and he doesn’t know whether he wants to cry or laugh or scream as he feels everything settle into place with an ear shattering void of noise.

 He doesn’t know how long it is before he moves from where he fell, crumpled on the floor. He is sore, every part of him aching, as he forces himself to his feet, stumbling at the cresting wave of exhaustion washing over him.

 But he has to know, he has to see, before he can let himself rest, he has to see what he has become.

 He’s not afraid. He thought he would be, but he isn’t. It’s… anticipation. Relief, almost. Because whatever he is now, he knows Deceit and Remus will still want him. Will still care. It’s strange to think that his former family wouldn’t.

 He has changed. His hair is a deep, dark black, in the light it has an almost indigo sheen that he rather likes. His eyes as well, one is that deep indigo, the other a startling silver. His suit jacket is black, buttoned once halfway down, silver embroidery mapping out constellations, his shirt a deep blue. He has a bow tie now, as well, that matches his shirt.

 He reaches up, letting out a small laugh as he feels around the edges of each eye, soft, silver scales dotting up his cheekbones and half outlining his eyes. They sparkle like stars and he loves them immediately.

 He can see. He’s not wearing his glasses anymore, but he can still see perfectly fine, though his silver eye seems a bit sensitive to the light. He wonders if Deceit’s snake eye is also sensitive.

 Deceit. Remus. They’re probably worried. How long… how long has he been in here? He doesn’t quite know, but long enough he’s sure they’re a bit frantic. He stumbles to the door, fumbling with the handle before managing to open it, falling forwards into someone’s arms.

 “gan. Logan!” His ears are ringing, but his name manages to cut through the darkness threatening to overtake him. He manages to blink his vision clear, realizing he’s being supported by Remus, who’s looking at him with fear and wonder and worry.

 “Fine, I’m… I’m fine. Just took a lot… a lot out of me.” Remus’s face softens, some of the worry fading away, and he is pulled into a tight hug before he can say another word.

 “you scared me. You were gone forever!”

 “It was not forever, Remus. It was three hours. That felt like forever. I certainly wasn’t worried, or anything.” Logan chuckles at Deceit’s obvious lie, finding himself unwilling to move away from Remus’s steady warmth. Then Remus takes gentle hold of his shoulders, moving him back, so he can examine him.

 “Nice new look, by the by. Hair, cool, like the blue, new style, nice, very formal rebel chic. You look like a real bad boy, Logan.” He rolls his eyes, suppressing his light blush at the teasing.

 “Dee?” He asks, softly, turning to face Deceit, who hadn’t yet looked up from the ground, as if he were almost afraid to. Slowly, Deceit looks at Logan, examining him from the feet up, letting out a soft, small noise as he reaches Logan’s face.

 He is before Logan in two steps, hands shaking as he reaches out, hovering around Logan’s face, eyes filled with something almost unreadable.

 “may I?” He asks softly, and Logan responds with a smile just as soft.

 “of course, Dee.” He shivers slightly as Deceit’s palms rest on his cheeks, his thumbs carefully stroking his newly formed scales with a feather light touch that just barely tingles against his skin. He closes his eyes, leaning into the touch. It feels so… nice.

 “Logan!” Deceit yelps, startling him awake. Awake? He hadn’t been sleeping, had he?

 “sorry. I... don’t know what came over me.” Deceit had caught him in his arms, holding him carefully.

 “It’s fine, sweetling. You just surprised me, is all. You need to sleep. Preferably in your new room.” He closes his eyes again, nuzzling against Deceit’s chest. One of his favorite things about the Dark Sides, he didn’t feel the need to be the grown up one, the serious one. He didn’t feel embarrassed about wanting or needing touch and affection. They never judged him for it, never made him feel less for it.  

 “What do we call you now, anyways?” Remus chimes in, “I mean, not Logic, anymore, right?”

 “Ambition. I am ambition.” He mumbles, eyes slipping shut once again. “stay? Please? Till I… till I wake up? Don’t wanna be alone.” He feels Deceit lift him up, into his arms, and his hands fist around the fabric of his shirt. “remus too.” He mumbles, and Deceit chuckles, running a hand through his hair.

 “of course, Ambition. Whatever you want, darling.” He feels Deceit kiss his scales, then he succumbs to darkness.

 “Ambition.” Deceit says softly, and Remus can see the gears turning inside his head, trying to process the implications, the meaning, the why and how. “ambition. I think it suits him. He always wanted so much more than they gave him. Still uses facts and figures, uses logic. Logic with emotion. Ambition.” Deceit muses approvingly.

 “God, you two are such nerds. Now, I’m not one to pry,” Deceit snorts, “buuuut since we are spending the night with him, let’s go scope out the new room, already!” Remus is bouncing on the balls of his feet as he skips over to the door, which is now a deep, midnight blue. “c’mon, c’mon, c’mon!” He whines.

 “Shush, you’ll wake him. I’m moving fast as I can. Just go in already!” Deceit laughs, and Remus giddily complies, taking one step inside before he freezes, jaw dropping, eyes wide as he stares up at the ceiling.

 “whoa.” Is the only word that escapes him, and Deceit hurries inside to see what the fuss is, because not much can stop Remus’s endless talking, much less awe him. His eyes widen as he looks around, a soft whistle escaping his lips, because wow.

 The ceiling is moving, swirling, space. It is pitch black, and as they watch, galaxies swirl past, comets shooting across the space, distant stars glittering as supernovas explode in the distance. It is an ever moving, ever shifting, ever changing view of the universe.

 And the floor is like that of an infinity room, mirrored so the ceiling is reflected over and over and over again, like you’re walking through the stars, like you could reach out and touch a sun, like the endless possibility of the universe is unravelling at your feet.

 The walls are dark marble, embedded with shimmering, small moonstones, which shift and glimmer with the light, going from pale, milky blue, to fiery, alit orange, like more endless stars, and gods, it is beautiful and amazing and incredible, and it mirrors Ambition perfectly.

 His bed is still simple, though the duvet is blue and silver, like his jacket. A desk is against one wall, bookshelves line the other, a closet with clothes sits yet untouched. Any personal items, Ambition will have to fetch from his old room. Deceit bites his cheek at that, because he doesn’t know if he can face the others, if he can face Virgil, after this. Because no matter what Ambition says, they will all blame him. They will all say he somehow coerced, tricked, stole, Logan, and forced him to turn dark. As if him and Remus and, once, Virgil, were evil beings sent to hurt them. They aren’t, the terms light and dark arbitrary, but good luck telling that to Thomas.

 It upsets him to be blamed, of course, just because of his role. But that’s not why he’s angry at the thought. It undermines Ambition’s choice. He chose this. The issue shouldn’t be that he changed, the issue should be all the reasons why he changed.

 “DeeDee. You’re overthinking again.” Remus’s soft voice cuts through his thoughts, and Deceit sighs, shaking his head.

 “Caught me red handed, my ever observant Duke. Let’s get settled, before my mind runs away once again.” He replies, rolling his eyes as Remus jumps onto the bed, instantly burrowing under the covers, patting the space beside him.

 “Coming, I’m coming.” He mutters, tucking Ambition under the blankets first, whom Remus quickly secures in his arms, cooing as Ambition tucks his head down against his chest, mumbling something incoherently happy. Deceit slips in next, sandwiching Ambition in warmth, wrapping his arms around both him and Remus, letting out a long breath as his body relaxes, all the tension seeping out of his muscles at the warmth, head resting against Ambition’s.

 “Dee?” Small, hesitant. He smiles, not cracking open his eyes.

 “Yes, Remus?”

 “love you.” Innocent, quiet, the Remus none of the others get to see, don’t give him a chance to show. The one who is sensitive and kind and caring, in his own way. Who is just as insecure as Roman, just as romantic, just as full of love and fierce protection for his family. The one who was the most broken when Virgil left. Because he had loved Virgil, like a brother.

 “I love you too, Remus. So does he.”

 …

 It’s… odd. Waking up, surrounded by warmth, surrounded by arms, gentle breathing near his ear, the rise and fall of a chest, being held like he is the most precious thing in the universe.

 He needs a new name. Logan… doesn’t feel right, anymore. It doesn’t feel like it… fits. Honestly, he’s not sure it ever did. Logan was a name chosen out of convenience. Logic, Logan, simple, clean, easy to remember. It hadn’t mattered much, what he was called.

 But now… now it felt important.

 Idly, he looks up, eyes widening as he sees the ceiling, watching the stars shimmer and spark, earth far away, a vague blue dot against the endless vastness. Space. He’d always loved space, the stars, the theories of the universe’s formation, the mechanics and unknows of it all, how it just… worked. By some miracle, it worked.

 As he watches, the sky changes, swirling, to show what the night sky looks like from earth, the constellations stretching out before him. Ursa major, minor. Big dipper, little dipper. Orion and his belt.

 “Cygnus.” He whispers, lips twitching upwards in a smile. Cygnus. The swan. In Greek myths, so many warriors, heroes, were transformed into swans to escape death, the constellation itself was said to be Orpheus, transformed into a swan and placed in the sky to forever sing his songs. The ugly duckling, finding his place among his species, turning something old and ugly into something new and beautiful.

 “ugh, morning.” Deceit mumbles, and he rolls over to meet Deceit’s eyes, which are still blurry from sleep, his curly hair adorably tousled. “how are we feeling this morning, Ambition?” He smiles at Deceit’s use of his new title.

 “good. Not about to pass out, anymore, at least. A bit sore, still. But better.”

 “Ambyyyy why are you talking? Go back to sleeeeeep.” Remus whines, hugging him tighter around his waist, face buried against his back. He chuckles, heart warming further at Remus’s nick name.

 “We should get up sooner rather than later. Even they won’t be able to ignore a shift this big in the mindscape. Sooner rather than later, we’re going to be summoned. I would prefer to look my best to deal with this occasion.” Deceit says dryly, and Remus groans, but relents, releasing him and sitting up. “go get dressed. I’ll start on breakfast. Everyone needs to eat something today.”

 He shivers as Deceit leaves the bed, wishing they could stay there all day, but he knows Dee is right. Remus plants a soft kiss on his head, before slipping out from behind him.

 “take your time starlight. Look around. It’s pretty amazing, what you made.” Remus slips out the door, Deceit following, shooting him a final, gentle smile as he lets the door close behind him.

 He sighs, letting out a huge, deep, shaking breath. He still couldn’t believe he’d done this. Had the courage, to do this. But honestly, he’s never been happier in his life.

 …

 When he does emerge from his room, his room, for breakfast and makes his way to the kitchen/dining room, much more informal than the light sides dining area, a small table, a counter island with three stools, a vase of flowers on the table.

 “Foxgloves. Pretty and deadly. Literally every part of the plant is poisonous. From your garden, Remus?” He asks, amused as he sits down at the island, where Remus is already leaning, watching Deceit cook, scrambling eggs, based on the smell. Remus’s eyes light up at his classification of the plant.

 “Uh huh. Oh! I should show you! It’s all filled with poisonous plants! I’ve even mixed and bred new breeds! I dunno if they’d actually survive in the real world, but it’s the imagination so, anything goes! If… if you wanna. I know… my part isn’t as pretty as roman’s.”

 “I find that hard to believe, Remus. You have the same level of passion and drive as Roman, and you don’t limit yourself half as much as he does, based on public perception. You don’t let public pressure alter your work. It’s true, unbiased, unfiltered art. I fail to see how that could ever be anything less than beautiful, regardless of how ‘perfect or ‘pretty’ it is or isn’t.” Remus is blushing furiously, and Deceit is staying facing the stove to hide the delighted, glowing grin on his face.

 “And yes, I would love to see your garden. I may be able to offer some advice, as well, if you’re looking to up the toxicity of your specimens. For purely scientific reasons, of course.”

 “Of course.” Deceit echoes, amused as he turns around, spooning eggs onto each of three plates, along with two slices of bacon and a piece of toast, sitting down on a stool on the other side of the counter, across from Remus. They eat in silence for a few moments, before Logan pushes his plate away, mostly finished. Turns out changing burns a lot of calories.

 “I… have something I wish to tell the two of you. In regards… to my name.” Deceit and Remus both freeze, locking eyes a bit frantically.

 “You don’t have to-“

 “It’s not necessary-“ they both blurt out at the same time, stumbling over each other in their rush to stop him from saying anything more. Then they both shut up again as Logan laughs.

 A real, honest, deep, full, laugh. Like church bells ringing, like distant thunder, like heady, summer nights. It’s beautiful, it’s stunning, it’s amazing. And it feels… good. When was the last time he laughed, more than an amused snort, at best? He was too serious, too focused, too adult, for laughing. Not anymore. His laugh finally dies down, leaving him smiling brightly, looking at the two stunned faces of Remus and Deceit.

 “I know I don’t. That’s why I want to. Because I trust you two and I… I want you, to know. I just… I don’t want it to sound… stupid.” It had felt so right, lying sleepily in bed, but he cringed in the cold light of the kitchen, because what if it isn’t? What if they laugh?

 “Ambition. We won’t laugh. We won’t judge. And if you aren’t ready, do not feel the need to say another word on the subject.” Deceit says softly, and he half smiles, taking a deep breath.

 “Cygnus. It’s a constellation. Of a swan.” His face is furiously red, but when he looks up, he sees nothing but warmth and softness and a bright, wondering kind of joy.

 “it’s perfect, Amby. You’re perfect.” Remus whispers, taking his hand and rubbing circles on his knuckles, easing some of his tension, evaporating his fear.

 “Don’t… don’t tell the others?”

 “Of course, sweetling. You tell them if or when you’re ready. We won’t tell them a thing, Cygnus.” He shivers a bit at the use of his name, the way it rolls off Deceit’s tongue, like music. He nods, biting the inside of his cheek.

 “I think… I think we should go to them. Before they summon us. I don’t want to wait around for them to notice something is different. If they haven’t noticed by now, I want to show them. I want to say my piece, before they have time to put words in my mouth.” He squeezes Remus’s hand tighter, determination and a hint of fear spiking through him, but Deceit is nodding.

 “Whatever you want, Cygnus. Everything is up to you. Everything is at your pace. Whatever you want, it’s yours.” And he’s flushing again, at the sincerity of Deceit, the promise in his words, and he knows Deceit means it. Knows he could ask Deceit to walk off the end of the earth, and he would.

 …

 Everyone is yelling. Roman is threatening Deceit, Patton is trying to calm him down but he is also afraid, unsure, and his frantic energy adds to Roman’s. Virgil is staring at him with wide eyed horror and disbelief, his face pale, eyes angry and hard as stone as he spits something cold and cruel at Remus, who flinches, backing behind him, almost as overwhelmed as he is at all the noise. Then Roman breaks free of Patton’s hold and actually swings at Deceit.

 He smoothly steps in front of the snake side and catches Roman’s arm, eyes cold as stars as he halts the swing, and the room goes silent as the sword clatters to the floor, all eyes on him.

 “You don’t want to do that, your majesty.” He hisses, and Roman stumbles back, the three light sides staring down the three dark sides, with Cygnus at their head.

 “Logan… you don’t have to do this. Whatever they told you… it isn’t true. We love you. Please.” Patton, open armed and teary eyed.

 But he knows. He knows Patton wants him back because he’s afraid he won’t be able to moderate Virgil and Roman without him there, that he doesn’t want things to change, that he wants everything to go back to the way it was. But he is not, for a single second, thinking of wanting ‘Logan’ to be happy.

 “You want to be the pinnacle of light, Patton. The perfect father, perfect leader, perfect person. You spend so much time worrying about appearances, Patton. If you looked a little deeper maybe you’d realize no coercion was necessary, nor attempted.” His words are cool, evenly spoken, but Patton still winces, mouth opening and closing several times before he simply looks away.

 “Why? Logan, why go… to them? After everything, after what they’ve done-“ He cuts Virgil off.

 “I don’t know what they’ve done, besides try and do their best for Thomas. Try and help him accomplish his goals. And why? Are you really asking me that? Do you not have a single idea of what could have led to this choice?” He asks incredulously, looking from face to face, seeing nothing but honest puzzlement and it almost makes him furious.

 “I have been gone. For five days.” Patton’s hands fly to his mouth, Roman’s eyes blaze as he glares at Remus, Virgil gasps softly. “I’m glad to see no one noticed my absence.” His lips twist in a grim smile, and he shakes his head, gathering his thoughts for a moment.

 “I have never felt listened to. I have never been valued. I do the work, I put in the time, I try my very hardest to get all of you, any of you, to listen to me, to see me, to care about me, and I am pushed aside again and again and again. It is only when something goes wrong, only when everything has fallen apart to the very extremes does anyone come looking for Logic. So clearly, it wasn’t needed. Logan… wasn’t needed.” They all have the grace to look ashamed at that, and he feels Remus slip his hand into his, before he continues.

 “I was ill. I thought it didn’t matter. I thought I didn’t matter. None of you cared to notice, cared to check on me, cared to ask where I was, while these two were taking care of me, fevered and unconscious for nearly two days. And no one even noticed I was gone. You can have that, as your answer to why.” There’s more, but those feelings are personal, and they have lost all right to his personal emotions, though they barely had it to begin with.

 “Logan-“

 “No. That is not my name anymore. I am Ambition. And that is what you may call me. You have not earned my name. I don’t think you ever truly did. You will leave Deceit and Remus alone. You will not punish them for this. You have only yourselves to blame. If you wanted me so badly, you should have fought for me a little sooner.” With that, he takes Deceit’s hand, and they disappear, back to the dark side, leaving the three lights in stunned, broken silence.

 …

He stumbles, nearly falling, Deceit catching his arm and steadying him.

 “Cyg? You okay?” Remus asks as he straightens, shooting Deceit a thankful glance.

 “Just not used to that popping in and out thing. A bit more dizzying, than sinking in and out.” He replies, sinking onto the couch in the common room, laughing as a blanket is tossed at his face from across the room, which he promptly pulls around himself.

 “You wanna watch anything, Amby?” Remus asks, hesitating by the T.V. Remus wants to play his game console, but only if he is ok with it. Remus, above everything, wants him to be comfortable and happy. He smiles, though he’s on the verge of tears again.

 “No. Go ahead, Ree. The new Resident Evil remake?” He asks, and Remus pauses in turning on the television.

 “How did you know?” His voice is pure curiosity, as he plops on the couch beside him, Cygnus leaning against him as the game loads.

 “New role, new abilities, I suppose. As Ambition, I can tell what people want. Both eventual goals and whatever the current top desire is.” Remus hums thoughtfully, as Deceit comes in from the kitchen, holding a bowl of popcorn. He sits on Cygnus’s other side, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, resting the bowl between them.

 “So, then. What is my current desire, Ambition?” Deceit asks, and he swallows hard, because it is radiating off of both Remus and Deceit, and he has never felt like this before. Never felt this blooming warmth in his chest, never felt so wanted, needed, loved, and it burns in a pleasing, soft way.

 “to love me. To show me I am loved, to give me whatever I need, whenever I need it, no matter if it is space or touch, company or solitude. To… to be here, with me, right now. My happiness, is your ambition.” He whispers, conscious of the tears slipping down his face.

 Slowly, gently, Deceit reaches up and wipes away his tears, before pressing a kiss to each of his newly formed scales, nuzzling his head against Cygnus’s cheek before pulling away.  

 “yes. And it always will be.”

 “MOTHERFUCKER” They both jump at Remus’s screech, popcorn flying, looking up at the screen to see a giant monster chasing his character through zombie infested streets. He recovers from his shock first, and chuckles, getting caught up in the action as Remus dodges and shoots, all three of them letting out a cheer as a stranger appears, blasting the monster with a rocket.

 He can still feel the warmth and love radiating off the two of them as they are all sucked into the game, the plot, and he slowly finds himself relaxing against Remus, Deceit massaging his head, and it feels so good, for once everything feels so good, so right, so perfect.

 He is home.

[hydra-collector]

Whole: Chapter One

AO3

Fic Page (all chapters listed here)

Second Fic in the Series

Chapters Finished: 6/6

Ship: Intrulogical

Characters: Logan Sanders, Remus Sanders, Patton Sanders, Virgil Sanders (minor)

TW: self-harm, panic attacks, suicidal thoughts, food, sex mention

Words: 3,630

Summary: 

Logan can't feel.

Because every time he does, someone gets hurt. His emotions have no place in the world. He vows to squash them down until finally, maybe they'll be gone. But it's not a good idea to suppress such an important part of yourself, to tear your sadness, happiness, anger, until you're left dry and empty.

And Logan doesn't understand that until he meets someone. Someone very, very special.

Note: I actually have this finished, it will be updating daily. I’m likely going to write some extra works, later in Remus and Logan’s lives.

Why are you yelling? Stop yelling, stop.

Logan didn’t know what else to do. He had to tell them why this was happening, they were wrong, he couldn’t control this. It was awful, this awful feeling that made him completely unable to focus while incredibly worried about how he wasn’t focusing. He was just trying to tell them why.

 But he didn’t have to yell.

He had no reason to be angry at them. They did nothing wrong. But he couldn’t help it. He wanted to scream and cry and hug his mom. He wanted her to understand what this was like. The fuzzy mold that dug into his brain and gave him fears that he didn’t want. The bricks that crawled into his chest and weighed him down and he couldn’t get up. But she didn’t understand them and he couldn’t explain, so he yelled.

 He hated yelling. It hurt, it scratched, he knew it was bad and he should stop, but he couldn’t. He needed to cry and he did cry, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted to destroy something, he was angry, he wanted to punch someone.

 He couldn’t.

 He was nine, he shouldn’t be doing this to his mother. She was good and kind, and all he did was hurt her. He was awful to her, and she tried to help, but he couldn’t stop from getting annoyed, or angry, or sad. He couldn’t help but wail when the bricks got too heavy, he wanted them to be lighter. He had to move, had to hit something when the fears wouldn’t go away. He was scared his mother hated him, that she would abandon him with his brother. It didn’t make any sense, but he knew what he was doing to her and he didn’t stop. He was too much work for her.

 Two years later, he was the same. Still loud, still full of emotions. His throat hurt all the time, his mother kept getting fed up (she’d tried to take him to a therapist and that didn’t work), his brother Patton was scared for his health, and his dog wouldn’t let him anywhere near her. He’d developed ways to stop bothering them, though. Hold his hand to his mouth and bury his head in the pillow until the frustration went away. Bite his arm so he couldn’t keep screaming. Hit his head again and again and again until he couldn’t be angry anymore. It hurt. It was calming.

 He’d managed to become a bit less of a nuisance, at least. He’d tried to stop explaining the bricks and the mold and just let them be. They always fade after a while to something manageable. His tears were his own now. His emotions were his, and no one else needed them.

 He tried to be happier for his mom. He spent more time with Patton, trying to make him happy. Patton was concerned for him, and he appreciated that, but he knew asking for help would only make them suffer, and they weren’t allowed to suffer. Only he could suffer.

 He vowed to become a robot someday. Where he didn’t want to scream or hurt people. Someday it would be gone, everything would be okay. Maybe he’d have a wife and kids that he didn’t hurt like the people he loved now. They would love him and he would deserve it.

 Another two years and it had a name.

 Depression. Anxiety. Mental illness. They told him what he was and he hated himself even more. He was a thirteen year old being told that he’d been sick since he was a child. He was given ways to cope. He’d never tried to bleed.

 He did the day he learned he could.

 It was freeing. Hitting and biting was hard, but slicing his skin was so easy and so pretty. The blood that rose from within told him that he was a person, and an awful one. If anyone ever saw, it would be the end of this.

 He didn’t yell anymore. Most of the time he was absolutely silent. Yes, he participated in class so he didn’t get a bad grade, but only the bare minimum. He never raised his voice, never allowed himself to laugh too loud. His brother was scared for him, but he didn’t know the half of it. He had few friends, only one other anxious teen named Virgil. He felt more comfortable talking about fear and self-hate, but only in a joking way. He had to close himself off from everyone. He couldn’t hurt anyone.

 His mother had, again, tried to get him to go to therapy. She said it would help his anxiety. God, she didn’t even know. He stopped cutting his arms pretty early on, since his mother got concerned that he always wore long sleeves. His legs got all the more blood on them.

 How could he have this with people who care? How could he hate himself this much when nothing had ever happened to him? Why had this ever happened?

 He didn’t know.

 Fifteen was his worst year yet.

 He’d made so many friends this year, yet it all got worse. He felt like he couldn’t breathe most days, like every day he was dying. He wanted that, he wanted this feeling gone. How could he heal after eight god damn years?

 It was a warm October morning today. The sun shone on his back, glittering across the autumn leaves. The normally boring school looked orange and majestic. Students laughed and chatted as he passed by.

 It had been a bad month. He was sure that he’d only been happy for a couple hours in the past thirty days. He didn’t understand why he hadn’t killed himself yet.

 Patton was talking to him about something, probably about another cute kid. Ever since he’d come out as pan, he’d endlessly talked about the people he found attractive. It was exhausting for Logan to hear his brother point out girls he might like. He wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to come out.

 He wanted to date. It might be nice to have someone to kiss and cuddle, to offer comfort when the days got bad. To have more comfort than cold, sharp blades. He couldn’t do that, though. He’d hurt enough people already.

 Still, he couldn’t help but fantasize about some guy that would share his interest in science, talk to him about space and chemistry and biology. He wasn’t good enough for someone like that. Someone that would never date him.

 He waved to Roman and Virgil as they passed. They were probably scheming some new way to get out of doing classwork. Logan sped up, realizing it was nearly time for him to organize Ms. Kachinsky’s books. He had to finish before she left her room in the morning to teach. There was supposed to be another kid, too, so he couldn’t be late.

 “Hey, Lo, where’re you going?”

 “Kachinsky, remember?”

 “Ohhh, yeah.”

 The building was cold inside. He headed into his teacher’s room, decorated blandly with supposedly motivational posters. He’d volunteered to do this job, no one else was going to organize encyclopedias for a 70-year-old woman. He didn’t know why she even had so many.

 As he walked into the half-renovated closet, he was presented with many emotions.

 One, this man was munching on a sheet of paper.

 Two, he was not adhering to the dress code.

 Three, Logan was glad he wasn’t because a crop top and booty shorts looked damn good on him.

 “Um. Hello.”

 The teenager looked up, paper in hand. He stood up and tossed it in the trash, swallowing. Logan pointed slightly to the trash can.

 “You were eating a piece of paper.”

 “Yeah?”

 “That doesn’t seem like it should be healthy.”

 “I looked it up, it’s pretty much fine. Are you here to start on the books?”

 Logan nodded and the two of them got to work in silence. The boy was pretty, he had a slight mustache that doesn’t work for many people, but it did for him. He looked a little like Roman, but with a broader build and stronger jaw. He was exactly the type of person that Logan would have designed as the most attractive, in his opinion, if he would have ever designed an attractive man.

 “How’d you get roped into this?”

 The boy turned his brown eyes to look at Logan expectantly, who wasn’t expecting any kind of interaction with him.

 “I volunteered.”

 “Oh, teacher’s pet?”

 “She’s 70. No one else was going to help.”

 “Fair. This is my substitute for detention ‘cause I have to work after school. I’m Remus.”

 He stuck out his hand, which Logan took.

 “Logan.”

 “Oh, really? I was kinda looking into that name. One of my friends stole it, though.”

 A look of confusion crossed over Logan’s face, but it disappeared as Remus held out the trans pin on his jacket. He noticed now how many pins there really were. There was the trans one, he/him, a weed symbol (however he got away with that), a skull one, an atom one, a chemistry tube, a gay flag, and various other little ones. They offered quite a bit of insight onto his personality, which seemed more and more attractive as their interaction went on.

 Remus kept talking to him, which he didn’t quite understand. He didn’t have much of a personality, and what he did have, he didn’t really show. Most of his personality was just extreme emotions. He didn’t show those, either.

 They did get to talking, though. Remus somehow pried out Logan’s interest in science and his plans for the future. They talked about how they’d do anything in STEM if they could. They talked about how annoying humanities majors were, and how annoying they were to humanities majors.

 They finished the books, and Remus’s conversational skills got Logan to stay a tiny bit longer. Too much longer.

 Before they even knew, there was a click at the door. The closet was big, so it wasn’t like they were right next to the door.

 “What was that?”

 Logan headed cautiously to the door and turned the knob. It wouldn’t budge.

 “We’re locked in.”

 Remus whispered “shit” under his breath before running to the door and banging loudly. The sound was fast and loud. They were locked in, they wouldn’t make it to class, they’d get in trouble, he’d be awful all over again-

 He couldn’t breathe. He was a failure all over again. He needed to get to class, his nails dug into his skin, his razor could help now, but he was shaking now and everything was wrong and this was supposed to be a simple morning thing and he shouldn’t have stayed and he shouldn’t have liked Remus and he shouldn’t feel anything, not anger, not fear, not sadness, not love-

 “Hey, hey, are you okay? Is there anything I can do?”

 This is the first time you meet him and he’ll already know you’re fucked up.

 Logan dodged away from him, tripping over a chair and falling on the floor. He could barely control his movements, his arms and hands wouldn’t listen to him, and he was already seeing this, he was never going to get a boyfriend or make another friend and he was dumb for thinking that. He grasped his upper arms with his hands, digging his nails into them, hoping it would help enough to stay fucking still.

 “Logan, can you take my hands? If you don’t want to, that’s fine, I know we don’t know each other, I just wanna help.”

 Logan tentatively reached out his hand, well aware of the indents on his arm. Remus’s hand was warm and strong, so he reached out his other hand as well. He rocked slightly, trying to steady his breathing.

 “If you’re worried about getting in trouble, they can’t exactly blame us for getting trapped in a closet. It’s only one day, I’m sure it won’t hurt to miss a class or two. You can make up work and you can talk to your teachers if you’re concerned about missing important stuff.”

 “Yeah, you’re right. Thanks. I’m sorry for wasting your time with that.”

 “Don’t be. It’s okay.”

 Logan leaned against the wall now, holding his knees. Remus slid down beside him.

 Why do you feel comfortable with him?

 Even from their distance, Logan could feel his presence there.

 You just met him.

 “Whaddya wanna do?”

 “...I think I have travel checkers.”

 “...Sure.”

 Logan searched through his bag, pulling out a tiny box and opened it. The little magnetic pieces had to be pried off of the board and rearranged. They played probably over ten times before the game couldn’t sustain their attention any longer. Logan started trying to stack them, knowing it wouldn’t work, but hey, he was bored. Remus took the ones Logan wasn’t using to form the shape of male genitals.

 “Hey, could I borrow some of yours?”

 Logan wasn’t getting anywhere anyway. He pushed his pieces over to Remus and leaned back on the wall. He checked his watch. It was already an hour past the time they were supposed to be in class, and no one had come by yet. They probably weren’t going to until Ms. Kachinsky came back to get her lunch. Since her room was being renovated, she was teaching health either in other classrooms or outside if they got desperate.

 Remus looked rather proud of himself when he finished his creation. 

 “So we’re stuck in here for another few hours, with nothing to occupy us but encyclopedias, whatever we have in our bags, and each other.”

 “The things you could do to someone in here… With someone. That’s not better.”

 “Who cares what anything implies at this point?”

 Remus joined Logan against the wall, staring blankly with him. 

 “You got your phone?”

 “Didn’t think I’d need it. How about you?”

 “Broken. Like it usually is. At least I have a job. And a brother.”

 Remus paused for a moment before speaking again.

 “I suppose we’re kinda obligated to become friends. After spending so much time alone in a closet.”

 “We could play a game. You do that with friends, right?”

 “Never have I ever been stuck in a closet before.”

 Logan held up his fingers and put one down.

 “If we’re talking metaphorical closets, yeah.”

 He took a moment to realize what he’d just said. He’d half-outed himself to a practical stranger. He hadn’t come out to anyone yet.

 “Oh, I guess I told a lie then.”

 Remus put one of his own fingers down.

 “...I’ve literally never come out before. You’re the first person and I barely know you. Heh, maybe I should actually tell my brother so he starts pointing out cute guys instead of girls.”

 “I’m honored. Your turn.”

 “Oh, yeah. I guess I’ll go for the boring one. Never have I ever been in a relationship. Not surprised, though.”

 “Can I be excused ‘cause it was a girl?”

 “Fair. You go.”

 “Mm… Never have I ever had a dog.”

 “Really? You seem like a dog person.”

 Logan put his second finger down, shifting slightly.

 “Nah. My dad’s allergic. I keep trying to sneak one in anyway, but my brother always catches me. Didn’t think it’d be that hard to get him on board. He loves dogs. Side effect of being the perfect child, I guess. You don’t let yourself do what you want. My parents are good parents, they just… trust him a bit more.”

 “It’s not so bad to be independent. No trans kid with transphobic parents ever chopped off their hair, or binded for the first time, or wore a wig or a dress with their parents’ permission.”

 “No one ever found their passion from someone who tried to choose their path.”

 “Very insightful.”

 “Thank you. Anyway, it’s your turn.”

 “Never have I ever worn a crop top.”

 “Hey, that’s cheating. You should, though, you’d look good.”

 “Would I?” Logan’s cheeks dusted slightly pink.

 “Would it be weird to offer you to try mine on?”

 “Probably, but I don’t think either of us are very normal. Plus, you develop a certain kind of relationship with someone you’re locked in the closet with.”

 Logan’s small blush only darkened as they turned away from each other and he heard fabric moving about. Remus tossed the shirt over his shoulder, and probably blushed as Logan took his own shirt off.

 Remus had buttoned his jacket to cover his chest. It didn’t completely cover it, but it didn’t matter to him all that much (Logan, however, turned red when he saw it). The shirt fit reasonably well, a little loose but it looked good nonetheless. Logan was hesitant, but Remus might have thought it looked very good according to the color of his cheeks.

 “Didn’t think you could get much hotter. I was very wrong.”

 Well that confirmed it.

 Logan didn’t usually get flustered so much that other people could tell, but this had triggered the darkest shade of pink to cross his cheeks. Remus giggled at that, which only made them darker.

 “Hah, made you blush.”

 “Was that your only intention?”

 “Oh no, don’t get me wrong, I meant it.”

 “We barely even know each other.”

 “Are you saying I’m not allowed to flirt?”

 “Do what you want, I guess. Sure. Flirt. All laws are broken, we’re locked in a closet.”

 “Whatever I want?”

 “Now it’s enough.”

 “Fine. Got any more ideas?”

 “Search for a morsel of food in my bag, maybe.”

 “I might have chips in my bag. If not, I may have to resort to cannibalism.”

 “Then you wouldn’t have anyone to talk to. And didn’t you say I was hot? Pretty sure a half-eaten body won’t be as nice to look at.”

 “You never know.”

 Remus found a small bag of chips in his bag, opening it and handing Logan some chips. They both munched quietly until it was done, then returned to their placement on the wall.

 “Oh, do you want your shirt back?”

 “Not really, but I should take it. Someday when we’re not trapped in a closet I’m gonna buy you a crop top.”

 They changed back into their original clothes, Remus nearly stealing a glance at Logan’s shirtless body.

 “How much time do you think we’ve got left?” Remus turned his head lazily towards the other boy.

 “Probably another hour or so.”

 “We never finished the game, did we?”

 “No. Your turn, I believe.”

 “Except now we both have to put a finger down ‘cause you wore the crop top.”

 “That’s not how it works!”

 “Hey, I put a finger down for metaphorical closets. Plus I let you wear my crop top, it’s only fair.”

 “Well… I guess I have two left now.”

 “Hah, three. I’m winning. Never have I ever,” Remus began, “eaten pie. It’s the one sweet thing I’ve never had. My mom tries to make it sometimes, but it always gets burnt. I’ve tried to convince them to let me eat it anyway.”

 “Hm. Me neither.”

 “Seriously? Hasn’t basically everyone eaten pie?”

“Too much sugar.”

 “At least it’s fruit, though. I mean, you accepted the chips, those aren’t exactly healthy.”

 “That’s an exception. We don’t have any other food.”

 “Well, fair. Your turn.”

 “Never have I ever… heh, never have I ever been happy. Shit, no, didn’t mean to say that.”

 It’s not that inaccurate, though.

 “Guess we’d both have to put a finger down. You’re smiling.”

 “Hey, doesn’t mean I’m happy.”

 “I know how smiling works. If it’s real, your eyes squint at least a little bit. Your eyes are squinting a lot. It’s cute.”

 Logan accepted this and put another finger down. He hated feeling because he knew what it did to people when he did. When he was happy, he wasn’t on guard. He had to be careful about what he was doing, else he could end up being insensitive.

 “Okay. If I can get one more, I win. Never have I ever been on a plane.”

 “God, I wish.”

 “Oh, come on. If you end up beating me, I’ll eat your homework.”

 “Never have I ever had to copy someone’s homework.”

 “Well I guess you managed to get both of us to one. My threat still stands. Never have I ever played piano.”

 “Nope.”

 “I’m gonna change that at somepoint. You’d be hot playing piano.”

 Logan leaned in closer.

 “Never have I ever been as pretty as you.”

 “We both lose.”

 “That- doesn’t even work.”

 “Sure it does.”

 “God, I barely know you and I’m flirting with you.”

 “Like we’ve both said, locked in a closet. Who cares what we do? Honestly I’d be down to fuck if we weren’t in school.”

 “We’re teenagers.”

 “So? Heh, we’ve already taken our clothes off in front of each other.”

 “We weren’t looking at each other.”

 They heard footsteps from outside. Remus got up immediately and started knocking on the door as loudly as he could. They thankfully got closer, and they were both relieved when the doorknob turned and the classroom’s light poured in and it wasn’t just a dim lamp lighting the room. Logan felt as if he’d lost something, despite the return to class supposedly being a good thing. He felt just a little bit emptier.

 “Ms. Kachinsky! I apologize, it seems as if we were accidentally locked in.”

 “Oh no, I’m sorry, boys. I mean, I’m the one who locked you in here, I’m guessing. Well, you’d better get to class. I’ll send you both with a note.”

 She wrote them both a note and they went on their way, no way of knowing what she’d just created.

[mimssides]

Life on Crow Avenue: Part 10

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___

Warning: Description of a car accident! Self-deprecating tendencies form Remus and Roman! Mention of abusive and homophobic parents! 

A particular graphic description of Roman’s injuries is marked in the text like this, so you might skip it if you need to.

___

A few minutes of silence followed after they all had sat down around the table. Remus was fumbling with his fingers and Patton was playing with the thought of interfering with that when Logan suddenly asked: “Do we need to keep it down so Roman will not be bothered by our conversation?”

Remus looked up and pulled his eyebrows up.

“Nah. He’s one of those people who can lie down and are just knocked out. He’s probably asleep for some minutes by now,” Remus explained and leaned back in his chair.

A short moment passed, little noises from the five men sitting and adjusting themselves in their seats.

“Is there a moment where it started? Like, for you to have these thoughts of, uhm-” Virgil asked out of the blue just to for Janus to swat him in the arm and Remus cut him off with a little laugh.

“These thoughts of me killing myself? When that started?” Remus completed the question for Virgil and continued before any of the three others could tell him he did not have to talk about it. “I’m impressed that you go for the direct route. Usually when I only mention that the stupid jokes are more than that people just straight up walk away. You’re impressively brave, kid…”

Remus chuckled a bit and ran his fingers through his hair, nervously rubbing his feet together under the table. He felt itchy and weird. A little as if he stood next to himself, as if he wasn’t quite sure who he was.

A breath in. A breath out. Here he was.

He looked up to Virgil and then to his side, to Patton and Logan. Lastly to Janus. Remus smiled and titled his head. Shrugged.

“I suppose, I can tell you how it started but it’s not going to be fun,” Remus then said and watched the reactions of the others.

Janus was reserved but did not seem like he would interject. Virgil looked fearful and so did Patton. And Logan-

“What does ‘it’s not going to be fun’ mean? Could you be less vague?”

Logan was cautious but interested. The spirit behind these glasses, so sharp, so unyielding. So much more interested in him than Remus had ever dared to hope.

“Oh well,” Remus answered pushing his thoughts aside, “the usual fun stuff: homophobic parents, a car crash in which I lost a part of my hearing, a bit of homelessness and that junk. You know. Just the regular.”

They all held their breath. Except for Remus, who grinned and took a sip from the glass of water in front of him. It was easier to smile through it. It stopped him from crying.

“Still wanna listen?”

The answer was no. Nobody ever wanted to listen. Hell, Roman did not want to listen or talk about it. And Remus understood why. It was hard and heavy and it hurt him. He could not just unload all of it on him. He was carrying enough as it was. And even less so he could do this to those men around the table.

“Yes, very much so.”

Remus jerked his head up and stared at Logan. Logan looked at him so intently, so sincerely and added seeing the confusion in Remus’s face: “I understand you want to talk about it. I will offer you my ear and I am prepared for what you will tell us. It is fine, Remus. Please share with us what you need to share.”

Remus blinked disoriented and then felt how his hand was clasped in Patton’s and he looked to Patton. He gave him an encouraging nod paired with a wavery smile and Remus did not know what this was. What was happening.

He frowned and at once had a hand put on his shoulder. It was Patton’s, he had moved it up form his hand, and through all the numbness he had felt thorough today, an itsy bitsy, tiny spark of something light up inside of him. Remus thought that it had no right to be there.

“Lo’s right. If you need to you can tell us. We offered our help and if we couldn’t give it, we wouldn’t have stayed here. I promise you, Remus,” Patton said so gently and Remus looked over to Janus.

He would disagree, Remus was sure. But when he looked at him, he just gave a nod with is lips pressed together in a firm line and Remus took a moment to realize the meaning of that. That he possibly could tell his story.

As if he was in a trance Remus’s eyes landed back on Virgil and the young man nodded in agreement as the others did. So, it was settled. Remus could despite everything tell his story.

For the first time in a long while Remus had to collect himself. Had to think about how he should start this. He circled his shoulders and Patton’s hand was gone and did no longer distract him.

“Uhm, so,” Remus babbled and scratched the back of his head, “I suppose I begin with our father finding out about – well me being pan and Ro being gay, even though I still don’t know how he figured Roman out, because he was pretty good at pretending, he was not in fact gay as a rainbow. Anyway, we were seventeen and he found out. It was a Thursday and we came back from school and he was somehow home and started shouting about what a disgrace we were, how disgusting it was and I naturally shouted back at him and it became a huge fight. He hit me a few times-”

“He hit you?!” Janus exclaimed horrified.

Remus shot him a look and shrugged: “Yeah, he did. Not every day and not always but he did quite often. He also drank at the weekends and it wasn’t fun. But that’s another thing. Anyway, he hit me a bit and then Ro got between us and Dad hit him a few times and for some reason, he then stormed off. Which left me relieved for a short second before I panicked and thought about how it would turn out when he’d come back. I had already the great imagery of him shooting me with a rifle he stole from neighbours, when Roman grabbed me by the arm and told me to pack our clothes. Before I got to ask why, he said he’d take our documents and we’ll go. We’d leave and never come back.”

Remus took a short breather and remembered the look in Roman’s eyes when he told him that. The look of a boy who had suffered and tried too long and wanted to flee.

“He had a car and a license. And I had thought about running away for years at that point but I was certain he wouldn’t want to leave and – So, I did not talk back, got our clothes and raided part of the kitchen and we hurried into his car and then he drove. Away. We did not know where, just that we’d leave the state and then see how further. I know it was stupid and unplanned but we were at the end of our wits and it felt good to get away. It felt good to feel free.”

Remus eyed Patton’s hand close to his own. He wanted to hold it. Needed to hold it almost felt like. And promptly Remus reached for Patton’s hand and took it. He took a wavery breath and quickly met eyes with Patton before he continued.

“Then – Well, it was not Roman’s fault. He was not on his phone and he was not driving too fast. He never did. Something was wrong with the car, which was weird because he just had it checked by the mechanic like a few weeks before but. In a curve, something malfunctioned, Roman never could explain me what it was, but we went over the edge and the whole car rolled over several times. Something made a terribly loud sound close to my ears and I lost my orientation for a good bit. Blacked out or something. When I was back again the car stood still and was upright and I somehow manged to yank open the door and I stumble outside. My head hurt like a bitch and I realized that there was still the strange noise and I cursed and I couldn’t hear myself properly.”

Sighing. With his right Remus touched his hearing aid and looked to the cane next to Janus. Something he had to rely on no matter how much he did not want to rely on it.

“I later was told that hearing loss could develop from inner ear concussions after strong whiplashes and such. I was lucky enough to have just that. And I felt sick and was freaked out as fuck, because Roman had no longer been sitting next to me. He – he must have been yanked out of the car through the broken windshield and I started looking around for him.

“I found him a little upwards the hill. He was full of cuts, probably from the glass shreds, a huge one from the right of his forehead over the top of it and there was blood sticking to him everywhere. It looked grotesque, all the blood smeared in the grass, sticking and soaking out of such a little body. When I got closer, I saw bruises and then looked if something was sticking out of him or turned in the wrong direction. Nothing was sticking out and … to my relief I found that he was still faintly breathing.”

Remus stopped again. He looked up. He gulped and watched Janus on the other side of the table. The unbelieving and mortified look in his eyes. Remus chuckled without any humour in it.

“Yeah, I looked like that too. Also, it doesn’t help that we really looked so much alike, so seeing myself kinda bleeding out’s an awfully not fun experience. Anyway, I then took my phone, which somehow had survived all of it safely in my pocket and called 911 because it was the only number I remembered. I told them to stay on the phone, that I could not hear them, because my ears rang like shit, that I was in car crash, that my brother was bleeding out and where we roughly went off the road. That they were not to contact our parents because they would possibly kill me or not come at all which both was shitty and I talked to the phone for a few minutes before I started walking back to the car and got a jacket out, I then threw over Roman. So, he wouldn’t get any colder and stuff. Because I didn’t dare to move him and then I climbed up to the road and waited for the ambulance to come.”

Remus knew he should not be smiling. But he was and the pictures from Roman laying there almost lifeless in front of him shot in front of his eyes again. It was not fun. No laughing matter. But the smile was there nevertheless. And he could not force it away.

A hand was put on the small on Remus’s back and he yanked his head towards Patton. He smiled at him so very gently and Remus felt his grin falter. Felt his expression turn sad and Patton’s arm pull him towards the other. Remus let him do so and gave into the side hug. It was weird to feel alive. It was weird to feel held and warm.

“I would have tried to end it right there and then if he hadn’t been breathing. I would have,” Remus mumbled and to his surprise he got an agreeing response.

“I get that and nobody could fault you for that, Remus. Nobody possibly could fault you for it,” Patton said quite clearly and Remus let those words sink in for a moment.

“That must be such a fuck up thing for the two of you. No wonder Roman did not want to drive back home,” Virgil said after a while and Remus sat up.

He looked at the young man in front of him and sadly shook his head. It was hard to admit but Remus was alone with his memory. Helplessly alone even.

“He doesn’t remember any of it,” Remus started saying and gulped as he felt Patton’s hand sliding away from his side back into his hand and intertwining their fingers helplessly together. “He was in a coma for three days after it. I spent the time learning this fucking chart by heart and was as much in his room as I could, while they had me checked up and asked for our information. They didn’t know what was wrong exactly with him, save for the few bruises, burns, cuts and four cracked rips. They didn’t find anything when they had a closer look of his head, but they weren’t sure when he’d wake up. Eventually, he did on day three and immediately requested to see me and first thing he wanted to do was to stand up and know what was wrong with me and stuff. The day after, to everybody’s surprise and displeasure he did stand up and walked around to ask people where we’d find an ear specialist and someone who could teach us ASL.”

Remus paused and massaged the bride of his nose before he let out an airy laugh.

“Some nurses and I eventually got him back to bed and we could convince him to stay there for a week or so. Then things were temporarily settled and we were brought to foster parents. I had some bruises from my Dad on me which were enough to convince them to not send us home again and that’s how we ended up with an okay couple and their daughter and son for a year or so. It wasn’t really good. I was struggling with not understanding what was going on around me and we had nothing left. Nowhere to turn to. Roman meanwhile learnt ASL and taught me as much as he could and well, he then – basically did everything which led us to be here.”

Remus made a wide, cantilevered gesture and pointed to the room around them. He looked to this room, which was so much bigger than anything he ever thought he could own. And it was just their living room. Just the place they were meant to watch TV together and eat. Just this room alone was so much more than Remus ever dreamed of possessing.

“What do you mean by he did everything? What exactly did he do?”

Remus turned back to Janus. Remus blinked and chuckled a little.

“He got us an apprenticeship as florists when we turned eighteen and learnt about flowers and plants despite never really being passionate about it. He signed me up for all the doctor’s appointment I needed to go to get my ears checked out properly and helped me get a credit for the hearing aids. He got a stupid van where we lived in for a few months and sold flowers from before we could afford the first place we started from.”

Janus looked like he wanted to cut Remus off but Remus continued talking as if he hadn’t seen Janus wanting to cut him off.

“And he did so, while throwing his whole fucking life away. He didn’t try to pursue his dream of Broadway, he didn’t have friends anymore but me and he still acts as if it was nothing. As if I had not fucking ruined his life, as if I hadn’t fucking stolen his life in exchange for continuing to live mine. And I know it’s not this easy and shit, but for fuck’s sake; He made this, he accomplished this on his own! He can live on his own. He doesn’t need me for this nonsense.”

A moment of silence followed and Remus shivered. It was getting later and his bare feet were getting kinda cold. It didn’t matter. He deserved it.

“This ‘nonsense’ meaning life I assume?”

Remus shot a glare to Janus and shrugged pointlessly looking away.

“I doubt that he would agree with you calling your lives ‘nonsense’-” “He wouldn’t.” “-but nevertheless, I have a suspicion that you are not giving yourself enough credit for what you did here.”

Remus laughed. Why would someone ever say this about him? Why would Janus-What-is-your-problem-with-me say this of all people?

Yet before Remus could say that Virgil took his chance and said: “Uncle J’s right for once. Like, this here is not something any person I know could manage to make on their own. You said you did nothing but, like, you learnt about all of these flowers too. You work every fucking day, despite wanting to end it? And how long has it been since the accident now?”

“Nine years,” Remus said his throat feeling incredibly dry.

“Nine fucking years! You didn’t kill yourself for nine fucking years, Remus. You, you are here! You own a house; you have your own store and you did this with your brother! He was so miserable when he learnt what you did and you must know that he’s not doing well either. You two kept each other alive for so long, which isn’t – isn’t really good or okay in – in a way, but it’s outstanding and definitely not nothing! You say he can do this on his own, but you know he can’t. Of all the people who know him you must know that better than anyone else. I know, I’ll make sure of it even, that Roman won’t be left alone, but he’s – he’s not ready to let you go. Not any time soon.”

Remus did not want to hear that. He knew it was right. He really did. He had known for so long that Roman wasn’t ready. That he possibly would never be ready.

“But I am so tired. I just. I don’t want anymore. I can’t anymore. I just don’t want to have to do this anymore. To continue suffering. I want it to stop…”

Remus didn’t know when the last time had been when he cried. He hadn’t known that he still was alive enough to even cry. To laugh, certainly. To joke, always. To flirt, every day.

But to cry?

No, he had believed that those times had long been over.

And yet here he was. Crying in his own living room, surrounded by people, who in all honesty wanted him to stay alive despite not knowing him for much longer than a month.

The weirdly thin arms of the beanpole were draped across Remus’s shoulder and he realized for a tiny fraction of a second that he smelled like cat food and that that somehow smelled very delicious and then took the embrace needily.

Remus wasn’t sobbing and whimpering like Roman, just a few tears and a bit of sniffling but not much more. He got lost in the contact, in the delight of being touched, of being held and when a second pair of arms was put around him, he could have melted on the spot. Even more so when he sensed Patton’s scruffy chin shortly brush over his shoulder as the man pulled him towards himself. Patton was holding him. Patton was holding him and it was so unspeakably nice to be held by him.

It shouldn’t be. Remus wanted (he didn’t) to pull away. But severing their contact, losing Patton’s touch, felt like flames burning his skin. He had to let go but he didn’t want to.

“It’s okay, Remus. It’s okay. I’ll hold you as long as you want me to.”

And Remus did that. For the first time in a long while he let himself have what he wanted. He let himself be held and be warm for a few moments.

___

@varthandi

@sickeningly-deceitful

@sammy-is-obsessed / @exhaustedfander

@unoriginalgayboyalex

@alexisrealgay

@softie-sushi

@wolfs-feder

@just-a-neoclassical-painting

For this fic:

@frawkeye

@arodynamic-enby

@espepspes

@ladysuperheros

@bullet-tothefeels

@fukindork

@shadeofadye

@magic-but-its-green

@liv-is-a-fander

@croftersjam15