#im still struggling to figure out how she and elliot would interact i just do not know how that side of the dynamic would play out

[puphoods]

fuck cooper and elliot they can go have lame bad gay sex as much as they want idc. can we all care about dahlia

[timeoutforthee]

Like It or Not (Chapter 8)

Summary: Logan, Patton, Roman, and Virgil are all struggling in their recovery. Their doctors, Thomas Sanders and Emile Picani think they can help each other out.

Aka Group Therapy AU

Trigger Warnings: mentions of disordered eating habits, bullying. 

Read it on AO3!

Taglist: @itsausernamenotafobsong, @sea-blue-child, @iaminmultiplefandoms, @princeanxious, @uwillbeefoundtonight, @zaidiashipper, @arandompasserby, @levyredfox3, @falsett0, @error-i-dunno-what-went-wrong, @scrapbookofsketches, @podcastsandcoffee, @helloisthisusernametaken, @amuthefunperson, @michealawithana, @yamihatarou, @heck-im-lost, @unlikelynightmareconnoisseur, @idkaurl

“Logan…? Are you trying to...untangle your spaghetti?”

Logan glanced up at his mother before going back to his plate.

“Yes,” he said, unphased, pulling another noodle from the pile on his plate. He uses his fork and knife to stretch it out straight across his plate. It lines up almost perfectly with about fifteen other noodles.

His dad sighed. “Are you actually going to eat it after you do that?”

Logan paused.

“Maybe.”

His mom and dad look across the table at each other. Usually they were accepting of their son’s...quirks, but this? This might have been too far.

“Logan? Could you maybe just eat the damn spaghetti?” Kurt Crofter asks, wondering when exactly his son had become...this, and why he wasn’t back to normal yet.

“I would like to,” Logan says, stretching another strand across his plate, “But I have to do this first.”

“You have to?”

“Yes.”

Kurt looked over at his wife again, this time in desperation. Madelyn Crofter decided it was time to use her best coping skill: denial.

“So, honey, are you nervous about school tomorrow?”

“Not particularly. I hope some of the course material proves to be at least a bit challenging, since they are, in theory, supposed to be college-level.”

“And your electives? Are you excited for those?”

“Did you sign up for the computer course like I suggested?” Kurt asks. He sees his son hesitate for a just a second, and he narrows his eyes slightly, “Logan?”

“Well, I actually decided to take Psychology.”

“Why?”

“My therapist keeps throwing around terms and such that I don’t understand. I’d like to know how my-” Logan hesitates. “I’d like to know, chemically, how my brain is working, and why it’s different from others. I...think it would help. Plus, as you know, I am not used to not understanding.”

“Logan, this is a minor glitch in your overall life. In a few years, you may not even remember it,” his dad tells him, “Yet you want to put your career on hold due to it?”

“See, I would understand forgetting if it was a one or two appointment approach like we originally assumed it would be. But I have been in treatment for about eight months and it doesn’t seem to be ending any time soon, so I couldn’t-”

“Wait, why is it not stopping soon?” Madelyn asks, “How long are you going to be doing this? Will you be able to concentrate on school?”

“I entered treatment while I was in school, so I would assume-”

“Yeah, but now you’re going into junior year, Logan, do you know how important this year is for college?” Kurt asks.

“You have made that clear,” Logan mutters, and now the pile is completely stretched out on his plate, every piece lined up in a row. But it’s still not good enough. Carefully, Logan raises his knife and cuts the first noodle into thirds.

Irritated, his dad stands up and goes to the sink, getting rid of his own plate.

“Honey?” his mom asks.

“You deal with it,” he growls, heading upstairs.

Madelyn sighs, turning back to her son, who is concentrating on his plate.

“Don’t you think it’d be easier to just...cut them all at once?”

“I can’t do that.”

She looks up at the ceiling. Okay. Back to denial.

“What about your friends? Are you excited to see them?”

“I’ve told you multiple times. I do not have friends. I do not want friends. I do not need friends.”

“What about the boys in your...what was it...group? Group therapy?”

Logan pauses. He supposes, technically, he could call Patton, Roman, and Virgil friends. It was an interesting situation, because they had access to some of his best kept secrets, and he had theirs, but he didn’t have much more information. They would be at school tomorrow. Probably even Virgil, since he mentioned he was transferring. That...might change this year. Just slightly.

^

Who wanted to die?

Virgil didn’t even mean that in an angsty way. He meant it in a someone-is-texting-me-at-five-in-the-morning-on-my-first-day-of-a-new-school-and-therefore-clearly-has-a-death-wish way. His phone had not stopped buzzing on his night stand.

A smart person, he realized, would just reach over and silence it. But he knew once he had the phone in his hand, he’d get curious and actually read the damn things. Well. Time to stop fighting it.

Virgil picked up his phone, hissing when the phone’s light shone in his eyes.

Hey.

I’m assuming you’re still pissed at me, since you haven’t texted. And that’s fine.

I guess.

I just had to do something, V. I was scared for you. I wish I could say I’m sorry.

Virgil groaned. It was too damn early for feelings.

I am sorry for breaking your trust though.

Anyway. That’s not what this text is about. I meant to just text you and tell you good luck at your new school.

Congrats, you got out of this place.

And don’t worry about me. I know you worry about everything and everyone, but I have Kai and Lauren to watch out for me now. Also I’m still broken up with Mitchell.

Virgil still doesn’t respond, but he can see that Elliott is still typing on their side.

I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry and I’m not I know your aunt is taking better care of you and I did the right thing I think but sometimes I don’t know and I just want you to be happy and I hope you are. I’ve tried asking Picani how you are, to just see if you’re still alive and at your aunt’s, but that breaks confidentiality, so

That was a ramble. I’m sorry.

I’m going to go before I make things worse.

But I miss you. And I hope you text me back, eventually.

Virgil is tempted, he really is. Partly because of what Elliot said, partly because they got up at five to text it to him. They haven’t spoken to each other in two months, and Elliott is right, Virgil has been worrying about them.

But there’s still something that stings whenever he thinks of what happened. He knows, deep down, that it wasn’t their fault, and if they swapped places Virgil would have done the exact same thing. He should be the bigger person and text them saying he forgives them.

Instead, he turns off his phone.

^

Logan freezes at the entrance of his English classroom.

He hadn’t seen the other three all morning, and for a second it felt just like every other year. Yet, there Virgil was, sitting in a desk, headphones in and eyes closed, just like the first day of group.

The problem was that it was only now occurring to Logan that they had never discussed their interactions in the “real world.” How had they missed that? Most likely because they hadn’t hit school yet, but still. It really should have come up. What if Virgil didn’t want to talk to him? What if they all had their own friends? What if being around each other just made their disorders worse? What if-

Virgil cracked one of his eyes open, and looked directly at Logan. They stared at each other a bit, before Virgil jerked his head to the side, nodding at the empty seat next to him. Oh. Okay then.

Logan slid into it as Virgil popped his headphones out.

“You know, I didn’t know the teachers allowed you to have those.”

“They allow you to have anything as long as you don’t get caught.”

“Ah. I see,” Logan paused, “So I can ask a question that some may consider to be ‘blunt’?”

Virgil raises an eyebrows, “Go ahead.”

“You claimed you were not smart, yet you are in AP English.”

“Yeah, I’m just as confused about it as you are. I don’t know, I had to take these tests so they knew what classes to put me in, and when I got my schedule, they had stuck me here. And my aunt was too excited to do anything.”

“Well, yes, it is an exciting thing.”

“I can tell, you seem to be jumping for joy.”

Just then, the bell rang, and their teacher walked to the front.

“Hello, everyone,” A woman with red-framed glasses greeted them, “I’m Mrs. Spencer, and I will be your teacher this year.”

^

Logan picks up his books and carefully slides them back into the bag. He and Virgil didn’t get a chance to talk during the class, but he’s wondering if he’s made plans for lunch already. He usually spends it in the library helping the librarian organize, but he figures it’s time to start actually eating at lunch, and he’d prefer not to do it alone. He glances over at Virgil, just to see his slumped over on his desk.

“Uh, Virgil?”

“I can’t do this, I am stupid.”

“You know, you keep saying that, I’m not sure I believe you.”

Virgil turns his head slightly, just enough so he can hiss at Logan.

“I’m sorry, did he just hiss at you?” their teacher says, coming over cautiously. Most of the class has cleared out by now, already rushing down to the cafeteria.

“Yes. But it’s okay, not very unusual.”

“O...kay,” Mrs. Spencer starts to say something else, but she’s interrupted by someone shouting her name.

“Mrs. Spencer!” Virgil and Logan look up to see Roman walk through the door, “You will not believe-” he cuts himself off, “Oh. Hey guys.”

“Shouldn’t you be at the cafeteria?” Virgil asks.

“Oh, uh, this is actually the room I eat in. If that’s still okay,” he rushes to add, looking over at his former teacher. She nods and he relaxes.

“Are your friends joining us?” she says, looking at Logan and Virgil.

“I, uh…,” Roman is going to say no, because why would they want to eat with him? But he’s going to take a wild guess and say they hate the cafeteria as much as he does, so instead he just raises his eyebrows and says, “Do you guys want to?”

“Yes,” Logan says, quickly, not giving himself time to overanalyze.

Virgil sighs, “Sure. But first, we should see if we can find Patton.”

^

It’s fine!

Everything’s fine! It’s fine that he stayed up too late last night bingeing! It’s fine that his yearbook friends didn’t have enough room at their table! It’s fine that they keep glancing over their shoulders to look at him with pity from the table over! It’s fine that he hasn’t found Roman or Logan or Virgil!

They wouldn’t want to sit here anyway.

And that’s fine! It’s really, really-

“Hey Fatton!”

And Patton freezes, like ice water has been poured down his spine. Okay. It might not be fine.

Cameron Burk slides in across from him. One of his friends plops in next to Patton so he’s blocked in. He forces a smile on to his face. No, it’s going to be fine.

“Hey, guys. How’s the first day going?” Because he can’t be mean. He can’t be mad at them for saying what everyone else is saying.

Cameron laughs.

“Oh, it’s great Fatton,” and Patton forces himself not to flinch. He wishes for that name to go away, but it’s followed him since middle school, resurrected every year by none other than Cameron himself, “Why are you all alone, hm?”

“He’s not.”

Cameron practically jumps out of his skin, whirling around in his seat. He’s met with an icy glare that cuts through him. Who...who the fuck was that?

“Who the fuck are you?” Cameron stands up. At his full height, he towers over this kid, but he just raises an eyebrow, unimpressed.

“I’m Virgil. I’d ask who the fuck are you, but it’s irrelevant.”

Patton glances between the two as Cameron’s friend laughs next to him. That earns him a glare.

“I’m Cameron fucking Bu-”

Virgil presses a finger to his lips, and it catches him off guard enough that he actually shuts up.

“Maybe you didn’t hear me the first time,” Virgil bares his teeth in a smile, a warning, “I don’t fucking care about who you are. But I do care about you staying the fuck away from my friend.”

Charles furrows his eyebrows, before glancing behind him at Patton. He looks back at Virgil, in his black, ripped skinny jeans, black hoodie, with his purple hair.

“...friend?”

“Yes, friend.” But that’s a new voice, coming from...Roman Prince?

What the fuck is going on?

Patton is standing up now, walking over to the two.

“You know, guys, maybe we should go.”

“Good idea,” Virgil says, but he and Cameron are still glaring at each other. Patton puts a hand on Virgil’s elbow, and guides him away, following Roman.

Roman pauses, “Don’t forget your lunch, Patton.”