#but man. dammit. oh well. gotta sculpt new teeth now.

[practically-an-x-man]

not me JUST now realizing that I completely forgot about the teeth I had sculpted for my mask prop and I may have accidentally tossed them when i cleaned up the studio

[etherealblasphemy]

Falling Slowly

So I made a thing because pre-calc sucks and I wish it were summer already.

(based off the song “Falling Slowly” from the musical Once- go check it out, it’s awesome!) (apologies if the text messaging is difficult to understand. i spent an hour trying to format it in HTML but that didn’t work so here we are.)

update: here’s where you can read the sequel, Africa!

…

“I don’t know you,

But I want you”

…

   He knew he should’ve brought an umbrella. He had glanced up at the darkening sky as he closed the door of his townhouse and shrugged, figuring it was simply overcast, as it had been for the past week. He hadn’t expected his bus to be more than half an hour late, nor had he expected for the clouds to open up and let out a torrent of rain beating down on the roof of the little shelter. The bakery wasn’t more than a minute’s walk away from the stop he got off at, but he would’ve preferred keeping his hair dry.

   Virgil pulled out his phone once more, trying to update the bus schedule to see how much longer he’d have to wait for the absent bus. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw someone sit down on the other end of the bench, dripping wet and coughing. He chanced a look at them and nearly dropped his phone in the puddle of rainwater at his feet.

  The man was gorgeous. His skin was perfectly smooth, almost like a statue sculpted by the gods. His hair was soaking wet, droplets of water rolling down his face as he flicked his head, throwing the curly brown locks out of his eyes. A tooth peeked out of his lips, biting down on the pink flesh as a soft sigh escaped his mouth. His eyes- holy shit, his eyes- were the color of hazelnuts, full of warmth and laughter and met his for a fraction of a second before they flickered to the rain pouring from the heavens like the tears of some divine being.

   The man slipped off a red jacket, shaking it. Virgil continued to watch him out of the corner of his eyes, entranced with this beautiful newcomer. His phone buzzed, making him yelp as he saw a text message appear on the lock screen.

   “Hey, kiddo! I checked WMATA’s website, your bus seems to have broken down about a mile away! They’ve almost got it fixed, it shouldn’t be more than 30, but i thought i’d let you know so you don’t worry! See you at the bakery, kiddo!! :DDDD!!!” it read. Virgil smiled at his friend’s kindness, almost able to hear Patton right behind him, telling another awful dad joke that would still make him snort.

   At least he knew now when the bus would come. He felt his gaze wander back towards the pretty man, a blush creeping onto his pale cheeks as he caught notice of the man’s tight white shirt slightly tugging at the muscles underneath.

   “Dammit, Logan,” he whispered, adjusting his shirt. “I told you, this is a hand wash shirt; it can’t be thrown in with the colors, it’ll just shrink.” Virgil would never admit it, but he secretly thanked whoever this Logan person was for making the shirt caress the planes of his body just so, altering his mortal appearance into that of a god. The blush on his face spread to his collarbones. Ah, fuck.

   Virgil averted his eyes, dragging them back his phone were they should be. If he focused enough, he could hear the man’s quiet breaths over the sound of the patter of raindrops. NO. No. No, Virgil, show some restraint. He stared intently at the little white lights on the screen, willing the little butterflies in his stomach to fuck off. His last relationship hadn’t ended well, to say the least.

   He jammed earbuds into his pierced ears, playing his list of rainy day songs on shuffle. He nearly gagged as the first song turned out to Falling Slowly. The first line, mournful and bittersweet, swam through his ears as his eyes glanced back to the man sitting opposite-

   Holy shit.

   Virgil blinked hard, tilting his head more to confirm, yes, really, the man had scooted down the bench. Closer to him. He made some awkward sound of surprise, grabbing the man’s attention.

   “Bless you,” he mumbled as Virgil muttered a thank you, hiding his blushing head in the blinding lights of social media. The man fiddled with the arms of his jacket as Virgil watched from the corner of his eyes.

   Virgil’s heart was hammering. Ooh, he was in deep. Chewing his lip, he sent an SOS to Patton.

[chat log: he regretti the spaghetti]

chemically imbalanced: patton help cute boy @ bus stop

he regretti the spaghetti: Omigosh WHAT?!! PICS PLEASE

[chemically imbalanced has sent one image]

chemically imbalanced: sorry quality sucks

he regretti the spaghetti: Don’t tell me you’re crushing…?

chemically imbalanced: fuck that sixth sense of yours

and.

yes. i think i’m crushing

he regretti the spaghetti: JSABJGFHKJ YES

WAIT TIL I TELL REMY

chemically imbalanced: he scooted closer, what do?

he regretti the spaghetti: Scoot closer, of course!

chemically imbalanced: WAT. 

NONONONO WHAT IF HE FINDS IT WEIRD?

he regretti the spaghetti: Virge.

i can hear your typing from here,

Don’t worry!

I will physically fight him if he hurts my son

chemically imbalanced: pfft

shit i think he heard me laugh

eeeerrrrgh he’s smiling at his phone what if he has a bf????

he regretti the spaghetti: Well you can break them apart! :D

chemically imbalanced: patton wtf

he regretti the spaghetti: I’m kidding! :)

Anyways

Back on subject

SCOOT.

THE BOOTCH.

chemically imbalanced: if i move closer will you never use that phrase again

he regretti the spaghetti: DEAL :D

   Virgil sighed as he turned off his phone, feeling his anxiety swell. He gave him a side glance and saw him still entranced with his phone, shaking his head as he let out a little sigh. If he actually did have a boyfriend… he shut down that thought.

   He took a deep breath. Here goes nothing. Slowly, he shuffled down the bench as his anxiety screamed this was a horrible idea. He kept his eyes trained on the falling rain, chewing his lip faster as he stilled his movements, his eyes flickering quickly to the man, who hadn’t looked up from his phone.

   All at once, the silence was interrupted by a loud voice. Virgil startled, clapping a hand over his mouth to muffle his shriek. The man sheepishly answers the call, cutting off General Shang in the middle of his belting as Virgil paused the music he was listening to.

   “‘Sup, Logan?” he answered. Oh, God. Logan might be his boyfriend, which would explain why he was washing this man’s clothes, though maybe they were roommates, but maybe he actually- Virgil let out a whistle of air between his teeth, breathing firmly.

   “Oh, come on, nerd, I’m not that late to band practice… Well, it’s not my fault the bus broke down! ...Yeah… Elliot’s on their way, they shot me a text just now.” So that’s who had him smiling at his phone. Were they…? “Yeah, they were telling about some more of October��s antics. I swear, that kid has too much energy for the morning. Apparently they met some kid named Ed in school yesterday and wouldn’t stop talking about hamsters or something? I’m not really sure what happened.” The man laughed, throwing his head back, flicking away the rain that still clung to his hair.

   Virgil felt his heart skip a beat. Oh, sweet MCR, he was cute.

   “Don’t you fret, dear noble,” the man said suddenly in a theatrical manner. “Your prince shall arrive to rescue from distress!” Virgil unconsciously scooted closer to hear Logan’s response.

   “...last name…” was all he heard.

   Virgil crossed his legs, hoping to draw attention away from his colored cheeks. He studied an ad on the side of the bus shelter, promoting a new show at the local theater. Maybe he’d check it out.

   “Alright, Calculator, I gotta go. Keep that guitar tuned for me!” The man gave another chuckle that gave Virgil a storm of butterflies in his stomach. With a start, he realized he had moved closer to the man, almost able to reach out and touch this divine figure sitting beside him.

   He pretended to look for the bus, stealing a glance at the man. Up close, Virgil could see hints of a golden eyeliner, making his hazelnuts eyes stand out against dark eyelashes that enticed Virgil to touch them and see just how soft they were. His eyes seemed to smile at Virgil, promising him a tomorrow and a today and a yesterday and an always.

[chat log: he regretti the spaghetti]

chemically imbalanced: i swear on the holy emo trinity i’m love with him

he regretti the spaghetti: Woah, that’s pretty serious, Virge

Are you sure, kiddo?

After, y’know...

chemically imbalanced: i don’t know

...

what am i supposed to do?

he regretti the spaghetti: Try talking with him

chemically imbalanced: holy shit he just scooted

we’re almost touching

he regretti the spaghetti: IS THIS A DRILL

VIRGE, THIS IS GREAT!!

chemically imbalanced: NO IT’S NOT

WHAT IF I LED HIM ON AND HE GETS MAD

he regretti the spaghetti: If he’s a good person, he won’t

Good people understand if you explain

chemically imbalanced: HOLY FUCK HIS HAND IS JUST THERE

AT HIS SIDE

LIKE HE WANTS TO HOLD MINE

he regretti the spaghetti: THIS IS NOT A DRILL

I REPEAT, THIS IS NOT jfhgashel

chemically imbalanced: patton?

he regretti the spaghetti: vee, it’s remy get to work and stop distracting patton

chemically imbalanced: yessir

he regretti the spaghetti: and you better tell me everything when you get here

chemically imbalanced: fuck

   He was breathing too fast. His heart was beating too hard. His mind was racing. His cheeks were blushing. He could hear Patton in the back of his mind, telling him to breathe. To focus on one thing and one thing only. He concentrated on the rain, still pouring from the sky like whoever was up there had a broken heart.

   He unpaused his music, the sounds of Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova crooning together filling his ears as he tuned out everything else- except the man beside him. His hand was right there. Right. There.

   Virgil swallowed thickly, and dared to put his hand down on the bench. He held his breath. He could see the man’s hand out of the corner of his eye. Their pinkies had but a breath between them. If any one of them moved, their hands would touch. The thought made his heart skip a beat, and made his stomach crawl. What the hell had he gotten himself into?

   He saw movement and panicked.

   He stood up suddenly, startling the man, who yanked his hand away as if it had been bitten by some venomous creature. “I’m sorry,” he blurted out, hating how his voice noticeably cracked. Virgil grabbed his bag and ran, the rain soaking his face mixing with the storm pouring out from his eyes.

…

“Raise your hopeful voice

You had the choice

You’ve made it now”

…

   Others would have been brokenhearted. Even others would have been mad, distraught, or confused. But not Roman. He took it as a challenge, this mysterious shadowling who had fled from the bus shelter, soaking his beautiful ebony locks tied back in a small ponytail at the nape of his neck.

   Every day, he went back to the bus stop. Normally he’d walk to band practice, but after that chance encounter with fledgeling thunderstorm, he couldn’t help himself from going back to the bus stop everyday to see if the man who listened to Falling Slowly loud enough for him to hear was back. Something in him yearned to see his enigmatic eyes again, to unravel all the secrets of this pretty mystery, to learn his name and treasure it like gold.

   It had been almost a month now. Either the guy had just been looking for an escape from the downpour, or he was avoiding Roman. Roman didn’t know which thought made his heart hurt more.

   Roman walked sullenly to the bus stop today. It was overcast and chilly, much like that fateful day, and the gloom of the world was starting to make him doubt that the shadowling would ever turn up again. He looked up from the slate sidewalk as he neared the stop and choked on his breath.

   There he was, lissome as always, the tintinnabulation of his earrings enrapturing Roman immediately. He was focused on his phone, typing away rapidly. Roman sighed happily, sitting down on the bench opposite this enigma as discreetly as possible.

[chat log: dic(k)tionary]

prince charming: Logan.

Logan.

Logan!

dic(k)tionary: I’m not talking until you tell me where my glasses are.

prince charming: NO TIME LOGAN

HE’S HERE <333333

dic(k)tionary: Who?

Oh, is it ‘Hot Topic’?

prince charming: Obviously hun

[prince charming has sent one image]

dic(k)tionary: If you want advice, give it up.

Where are my glasses, you CENTURION?

prince charming: *sigh*

they’re in your I Believe mug.

dic(k)tionary: Thank you.

And also why did you actually type out “*sigh*”?

prince charming: Why do you actually type out grammar corrections?

dic(k)tionary): Fair enough.

My advice to you is to see what he does.

Perhaps you were being too forward last time.

Let him make the first move.

If he shows indications of romantic interest,

you can take things from there.

See you at band practice.

…

Good luck. :)

prince charming: WHY DIDN’T I THINK OF THAT THANK YOU

THIS IS WHY WE’RE FRIENDS

LOVE YOU NERD

:DDD <3333

   Oh. Now he had to wait. Great.

   Roman twiddled his thumbs as he leaned back against the bench, sighing. He peeked at the mysterious man, who had yet to look up from his phone. He looked up towards the sky, which was growing darker and darker by the second. Good thing he brought an umbrella.

   As it would turn out, the bus was late again, up to its usual antics, as per usual. Roman saw the first few drops of rain splatter the pavement a few minutes later, the calming pitter-patter soon escalating to a full-on northern downpour.

   He chanced a glimpse at the one he had fondly nicknamed Hot Topic and felt his heart sink. Nothing had changed. Should he really wait for Hot Topic to make the first move? What if Roman had been leading the poor man on? He brushed his curly bangs out of his face, deflating. Perhaps the man didn’t even like, and the whole thing had been a trick of the mind-

   He heard something shuffle. His eyes went wide, his breath hitching, his heart swelling with the possibility that maybe, just maybe, this whole not-exactly-a-plan of his would work. He waited a beat before briefly turning his head to look. His heart soared, an eagle navigating the dusty skies of the savanna.

   Hot Topic had slid down the bench, still as a statue as though waiting for some sort of reaction from Roman. Holy shit. Holy shit, this was happening. He wasn’t dreaming, of that he was sure. Roman let out a breathy giggle, quiet beneath the steady drumming of rain on the roof of the bus shelter.

[chat log: dic(k)tionary]

prince charming: LOGAN HE DID IT

HE SLID CLOSER

WHAT SHOULD I DO???

dic(k)tionary: I told you.

“If he shows indications of romantic interest,

you can take things from there.”

prince charming: BUT WHAT DO I DO

dic(k)tionary: Roman.

You do whatever your heart tells you.

For lack of a better word,

duh.

   Roman held his breath, and moved over on the bench. He could feel his palms sweating beyond belief as he bounced his leg rapidly in hopes of quelling the anxiety rising up inside him. He let out a rush of air. Do what his heart told him, eh?

   Well, his heart told him to run off with this dream of a man, riding upon a majestic horse off into the sunset of a thousand hues. And Roman was pretty sure that’s not what Logan had meant.

   His attention was grabbed by someone coughing. He looked up at the man and held his gaze, his eyes met two violet irises filled with wonder and hope that whispered to him tales of a day by the beach, resting in each other’s arms, of a day in bed, cuddling together, of a day spent sneaking glances at each other when the other wasn’t looking, creeping closer together on a bench of a bus shelter they just happened to be in together on a rainy day.

   They broke their gaze at the same time, faces flushing with color and painted with hopeful smiles. Roman was struck with an idea. He took a deep breath and began to sing. “Take this sinking boat and point it home, we’ve still got time.” He heard a gasp from the pretty mystery as he joined in.

   “Raise your hopeful voice, you had the choice, you’ve made it now.” Without thinking, Roman slid the remaining distance to the man and crashed into him, the touch of their shoulders electrifying and invigorating and everything he ever hoped it would be.

   They finished the song, falling into silence that brought youthful hearts to the brink of madness, wondering who would speak first.

   Roman’s hand fell back to bench, jolting slightly when it touched warm flesh rather than the cold bench. He saw the pale hand and followed the path of the arm attached to it to meet with those awe-inspiring violet eyes that made his heart tremble with want.

   He knew what he had to do.

   He turned his whole body towards this mysterious man and stuck out his hand, smiling genuinely. “My name is Roman Prince. What’s yours?”

   The rain calmed down, two crepuscular rays of light breaking through the storm clouds to greet the two strangers waiting side by side at bus stop, strangers no longer, but two people falling slowly.

…

“Falling slowly

sing your melody

I'll sing along”

…