#pretty sure my anxiety amplifies it YAY | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

demure2 · 1 year

Text

Blood is Thicker Than Wine _ FOUR

> BLOOD IS THICKER THAN WINE [MASTERLIST]

— 1930s au

— yandere neighbor!chanyeol x reader || ft. best friend!sehun

— genre: angst, suggestive

— warnings: language, alcohol use, cigarette/substance use, mental illness, watching from afar, anxiety, gun, blood, older fella chanyeol

— word count: 3.5k

— note: hey guys, sorry i got caught up in schtuff. final smut chapter after dis one and then i will FINALLY BE ABLE TO START NEW WRITING. smut chapter IS coming soon. um YAY…!! open to suggestions and criticisms always :)

“Would you stop doing that, Chanyeol?” Your voice can’t help but come out small and innocently, not sure if he even hears you. You’re inundated by the pressure of his gaze beating down on you, the embarrassing urge to cry tugging relentlessly on your soft features.

“Baby, doing what?” His face softens. The gash across Chanyeol’s nose bridge looks more salient than ever, the dried blood glistening in the sodium light. His boastful posture deflates.

He inches dangerously close to you, until you can feel his emanating body heat. Blood on his lips threaten to spill over from teeth marks branded deep into his skin, eyes blown out and impatiently waiting for your response. A simple-minded man, he’s always been unsure of how to confront feelings meaningfully. If he could make himself think harder of anything better than easing it all with a smoke, he’d do it, but he can’t.

The yearning is sudden and impulsive on his fingertips, creeping down into his jacket. He’s ready to balance a cigarette between his forefinger and middle, but his pocket is vacant no matter how many times he runs the pads of his fingers over the patch of surface. Fuck.

“Stop telling me stupid things. Responsible for the death of Park Yoora? Sehun’s a mailboy and author, working part time as a mechanic. He’s never maimed anyone, never hurt a soul, let alone someone from your bloodline, Chanyeol,” it comes out harshly from your throat, crudely. “I have no reason to believe you and your lies anymore.” As if watching Chanyeol’s face falter and fall dramatically was too much to bear, you lazily shut your hooded eye, which have no problem sticking together easily due to the air’s stagnant moisture. The words are oddly visceral in his ears, cold and unforgiving all at once.

The townsfolk would agree that they’re used to, maybe unsettlingly too used to, Chanyeol’s eyes being void of much emotion. That’s the kind of man he is, after all, no one else can ignite unexpected life in them besides you.

And so, the gleam of betrayal in his eyes tonight is suddenly immediate, catching you off-guard nonetheless. His fitfully soft gaze hardens and his eyebrows scrunch angrily, watching your irises amplify with fear beneath him. “What’s so unbelievable about that, [Y/N]? Believe me, your little boyfriend’s maimed whether you want it or not, and he’s maimed my sister. Her husband couldn’t pay off a car loan and she was dead, just like that. Accept it, like I have.

You don’t have to be best friends with a murderer, you can come keep me company, bring me pastries or bake me an apple pie every weekend — I’ll take care of you. He's not your best friend. Don’t want him to be,” Chanyeol’s voice breaks, the weight of his acidic jealousy and grief awfully agonizing. He pauses to watch your stoic face carefully, searching for regret, but he won’t find any more than his own. “There’s bathtubs of our moonshine in front of you, aren’t there? Then what’s so hard to believe about that? Can’t you just believe me?” His firm tone becomes desperate, tender and divulging of his feelings.

“When it’s Sehun doing dirt, you don’t bat a pretty eyelash, you don’t think he could ever do it. When I tell you, you’re quick to deem me incredulous. You just don’t know everything like you think you do, bunny,” Chanyeol’s complexion toughens up just enough for him to not break down, an almost-sneer. The words come out in fragments, bits and pieces, his eyes still eager for validation in yours. The distance between your bodies makes you anxious.

You attempt to save your case, beginning to look crazed going back and forth. “Your lies are in poor taste. Let’s not forget that you’re villainizing Sehun, when you’re just as worse, Chanyeol — you’re jealous, aren’t you? You can’t bear the thought of me hanging out with him, because your filthy mind is convinced he’s fucking my brains out over the hood of one of his flivvers,” you hiss, voice tight and indignant. Chanyeol’s jaw clenches, teeth gritting together in his guise of red-eared anger.

“My ‘little boyfriend,’ Chanyeol? You think I’m a damned slut? He’s still my best friend, and I won’t let your apparent matters get in between us. And you said you'd take care of me? With what, with the criminal cash you’ve laundered? Why do you even do this filthy work? Where did you fuck up, Chanyeol? Tell me! What went wrong with you?”

The confrontation reminds Chanyeol of his roots. He bares his teeth, putting his hands up defensively. “No. Don’t talk down to me. I’ll take care of us. I will.”

“No, really, Chanyeol. Why else would you be working for bootleggers? You fucked up, and then you try to make it all better by making me think my best friend is just as bad.”

“I wouldn’t say that I fucked up. Would you rather have not known that he was doing those things? Would you have rather lived in euphoric bliss all your life, hanging out with a murderer? You should be thanking me, [Y/N]. Are you upset, baby? Maybe I did make you hate your little boyfriend and you’re afraid to admit it.” You flinch as he gets in your face, mere inches away. But the smell of ash is unusually absent from his breath, and on nights like these, where you’ve wandered too far away from home, it’s more unsettling than comforting.

Chanyeol feels his words pile on top of each other in front of you, unable to withstand his anger. Despite this, sweet relief merely washes over his anger for a second, like a crisp breeze. He hopes you can sense it, too. More or less, he’d tasted victory. He knows you’re sort of unsure now, insecure of your accords with Sehun and who you thought he was.

Men like Chanyeol are stupid, so he takes the chance to finally close the distance between you, taking you into his arms and murmuring into your hair. “You don’t like him anymore, do you?” Chanyeol is hopeful and gentle with his words, softly in your ear. “You don’t love him more than you love me,” he repeats. “You love me.” The feeling deep inside you that Chanyeol was right is acidic in your mouth, and it eats at you tenaciously.

You push him off of you and wipe your mouth, as if being that close to him was depraving, although you’d been pressed up to him before.

Over and over again, countless times before, but never close enough.

Sehun still occupied your mind without a doubt — how could he not, having known you for 4 years? You’d deeply cared for him since you first met in highschool — you, a junior, and him, a second year college student. Brought together by your close-rooted excursions home from school, he’d been your older brother figure. You remember it clearly, he’d bring along his two college friends with him to walk you home some days — Junmyeon and Yixing. They both had a crush on you that winter, red noses and all.

JUNMYEON’S ETHYL & GARAGE WORK’s formation was starting to make a lot of sense. Especially regarding their choice of hired hands.

By your senior year, Sehun had already been close to dropping out twice, but for some reason, stayed. Your momma liked Sehun all the same, wishful thinking that he’d end up somewhere.

You start hesitantly, worry etched into your expression. “I didn’t know he was like this. I didn’t know both of you were involved in this, Chanyeol, and if I did, I wouldn’t have decided to know you. I’m compliant. I am sorry, but I cannot love crooked men like you.” Again, the words reverberate twice as cruel in Chanyeol’s large ears, echoing over and over. He can’t find a solution.

Still feeling the phantom trace of both of your hands pressed up to his chest, pushing him away, Chanyeol doesn’t like the feeling of defeat. “Talk about compliance? With what, laws or rumors? Was it so compliant of you to loiter and trespass into my house at midnight? Are you so compliant when Sehun asks you to use your pretty skirt to sneak a few cigarette packs out from the store? Who cares about what we do for cash, I know sure as hell that you of all people fucking don’t, [Y/N].”

You’re stunned, defensive and cold, so the words blurt out of your mouth before you have the chance to fully apprehend them, swiftly and fleeting. "I have a right to care, do I not?”

But they’re nothing of swiftly and fleeting to Chanyeol, repeating over and over in his mind in your gentle voice. You almost clasp your hands over your mouth, feeling your teeth gnawing on the inside of your cheek. Gravity had pulled your senses together too late, long after the words had left your mouth. Chanyeol releases his heel, ready to turn around just seconds before.

The lull in his voice isn’t deceptive for once, something of a catharsis. “You’ve never cared. Aren't you scared of me, [Y/N]? You don’t think I notice? You don’t think I’m self aware? Of course I’m jealous, I know that I’m fucking sick, I’m in love with someone who I’ve watched for weeks." He says this in a tone matter-of-factly, but shameful in its meaning. He can’t help but feel allured to the thought of protecting your sugary elation from his potent, black tar of a psyche, despite eagerly desiring its corruption. “I just can’t help it, anymore. Men like me are stupid,” he says, and you notice that he says that a lot. “I always want what I can’t have," Chanyeol exhales, catching his breath. "You’ll never get it, [Y/N].”

Unsure of what to say, you look up at Chanyeol with demure eyes, tears threatening to fall at the motion of a blink. The cellar air is still cold yet saturated against your skin, harsh and unforgiving. You're just as destroyed, turning away from him.

You don’t think he does, but of course Chanyeol takes notice of you eyeing the stairway carefully, the center of each step slightly depressed in crescents after years of crude weight. You take one more look behind you at him, eyebrows still furrowed and focused on you. Then, holding your skirt down, you run as fast as possible. “I’ve gotta go.”

Chanyeol stays still, watching your form retreat up the stairs.

Making it back to the intermediate EMPLOYEES ONLY desk room, your eyes meet Jongin's. He's breathing heavily, his body already backed up against the door, barricading it with muscular leverage. Jongin smiles gently at the sight of you, sweat from the parching tension condensing at his cupid's bow. His eyes curve upward as he smiles. "Why don't you stay with Chanyeol, instead."

The sound of steady footfall echoes in the stairwell behind you, creaking the wood underneath. Desperately, you run up to Jongin. "Let me out, I have to leave." You whisper thinly, pushing Jongin's hair back to reveal his pink flushed ears. He pauses for a moment, allowing the stairwell noises to reverberate louder. Quickly, voice hitching in his throat, he quietly urges. "Relax. He’s gon' go mad if he sees you this close to me, sweet stuff. Let's back up, ‘kay?”

Discomfort vaguely reflected in your expression, you back away slowly, turning your gaze to the stairwell. You watch intently as Chanyeol's torso slowly emerges from the stairs, holding onto the left railing.

Your eyes grace each other instantaneously, doubtful and ashamed. He approaches you first, although timidly, head down. Then lowly, pulling you toward him so only you can hear, he murmurs a pitiful "I'm so sorry."

Chanyeol looks up to press his lips together into a quick smile, glancing at Jongin — slang for thanks! Jongin nods, subsiding his body from the door. "Sehun's in the back again tonight. Still working on that flaming ‘32 Buick."

When you two meet the night air outside, his smile collapses again, everything inside of him falling in on each other. “Let’s bring you to him, now. He can drive you home tonight,” Chanyeol asserts coldly, angry at himself. He didn't mean to tell you all of that, especially before he’d told you that he’d loved you. He didn’t mean to tell you all of that for weeks, but stupid men like me aren’t good at thinking before we speak. His hands are rough and calloused, the functional arm brushing against your shoulder before quickly retracting.

You make your way around the back together to the rows of vehicle hoists in the large outdoor garage, moments of stillness and night peeking through the open air on the sides. Feeling pissed, you make sure to walk in front of Chanyeol, so he can see the perfect ellipse your hips sway in when you walk. You know he likes it.

You see it all at once; a vibrant and lousy red car with stained white wheels, and beneath it, a quietly focused but normally lousy boy. Black hair pasted to his forehead with sweat, and eyes thin at practice.

“Sehun!” you call eagerly, desperate for his familiarity. His narrowed eyes snap to you in an instant, then darts to the taller man next you.

You run towards him, even against the emanating smell of gas and motor oil from his work station. Then, you fall to your knees on the rough asphalt, meeting him eye level as he sits there in baggy denim, one knee up and the other leg stretched out like a cat.

“He took you here, doll?” His voice is shaky and concerned for the both of you, glaring at Chanyeol from a distance. Sehun’s face is covered in sweaty dew from exposure to the close heat, hands diligently buried in the car’s hind suspension beam and axle.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner that you work with him?”

Sehun’s gaze hardens intensely, his dark brown irises piercing the scene behind you. You turn around quickly, realizing Chanyeol was now close to the car as well, having walked to where you two were.

Sehun draws back his hands from the machinery and hoists himself up to the other side, out from sitting underneath the raised car. He dusts off his knees, standing up to reach Chanyeol’s height, separated only by the flaming red Buick between them — and you, sitting at Chanyeol’s feet. They stare at each other menacingly in the dim garage light momentarily. Their mannerisms are similar in this way; backs straight like soldiers for war, eyebrows furrowed and heaving chests. What could you do?

Chanyeol breaks the silence. Snarkily, he’s unphased, unmoving and still. “Just wanted to show your sweetheart what you were up to. Car fixing, wine selling, killing innocent families for patriarchs’ loans. She actually really missed you, Sehun. I’m so jealous, really.”

“Still caught up on big sissy? That happened months ago, don’t be so brash in front of [Y/N], now. Does she know that you taint the liquor you sell, Chanyeol?”

“She knows what my tongue feels like,” Chanyeol cocks his head to the side, sticking out his tongue to bite down on it. A taunting demonstration in Sehun’s face, the mockery is jarring. He’s taken aback momentarily, but that doesn’t stop him from putting his arms down onto the Buick’s hood, triumphantly. “What’s your fucking problem?”

“That someone I’m forced to work with keeps fucking with things I care about.” Sehun fucks up on the job, and he gets away kindly with a lengthy talk from Junmyeon about not killing innocent people for fear. Sehun fucks up off the job, and he’s got no one left to clean up for him. These things are still foreign to Sehun, still young and unsure of trivial matters. Like if the way his dick curves to the right will make him die sooner, or if he’ll ever grow any facial hair.

Your eyes dart between the two men and their exchange, though its difficult to see Sehun from your position, so you stand up.

Sehun throws his denim jacket to the garage’s floor, nothing underneath except skin slick with grease. The buttons make contact with the cement, clicking and clunking. Their eyes are locked, not parting for a second.

“You wanna go? Fist to fist like men?” Sehun clenches his fists with bruising grasps. Chanyeol laughs, “not really.”

He’d lose anyway, with one functional arm, the other in a sling to his side.

Sehun seethes, seconds away from lunging at Chanyeol anyway. “What’s got you so pent up? The girl here has your panties in a twist?”

“Every man’s own right to go and have his own wife.”

Then, Sehun frowns upon reaching an epiphany. “So pitiful of you. You dragged [Y/N] along so she would hate me.” Chanyeol smiles shamelessly, not completely a lie. “Some of it.”

Sehun begins to make his way around the hood of the car, nothing in between you now to shield against his vexation. The denim jeans he wears are dirty and caked with dirt at the knees, and the baggy fabric folds between his legs at every motion.

“Why don’t we put this in the past, Chanyeol? You always let all your emotions get the best of you, except anger. You always let the anger bottle up! Even now I know you’re not angry at me, even though I can’t bring Yoora back for you,” Sehun contends, strangely assertive behavior for him. “Let’s start over, Park Chanyeol. I’ll hang out with [Y/N], and you can go back to that Mélis doll. We’ll work together from now on, I’m not bargaining with you, now.”

From the corner of his eye, he can see Chanyeol raise his hand up from his hip, slipping into his coat.

You almost would have missed it if it weren’t for the proud blood splatter on the cement, the vehemently loud noise over in the span of a blink.

Sehun jerks his body away from Chanyeol’s at once, your heart thundering in your chest. You watch stock-still and he wretches an agonizing groan, clutching his lower abdomen and collapsing onto the bloodied cement. Sehun calls out your name faintly, but you try not to look. His stomach makes an obscene sticky squelch.

Your scream makes Chanyeol wince with an eye closed, though the gloating smile tugging at his lips is harder to hide. “He’ll be fine, ready to work in a week. Just in the hip. Jongin and Baekhyun heard it, it’s nothing,” nonchalantly, he returns the hand to his side.

You rush to Sehun’s side before you have the chance to puke all over the pavement, holding his face in your hands. His eyes are hazy, but eyebrows still furrowed in a fit of silent rage, teeth hissing. “Hurts so bad, [Y/N]. You need to run,” he pants in your ear, tucking his head in between your neck and your collarbone. He’s lightheaded because of the blood loss, blooming through his denim jeans. His eyes plead, and he manages a small “love ya.”

“You’re gonna be okay, Sehun, I’m here.”

The silence makes you twist your head to find the older man, quickly. “You did this to him! You sick creep, he’s bleeding out, he’s hurt, he’s in pain. He’s going to die!” But Chanyeol is already leaning on a concrete pillar haphazardly, without a care in the world, “let him.”

You take off your slip-on coat quickly, then your tight, long sleeved blouse. The tourniquet you make resembles a bloodied kitchen rag, but it will make-do until Jongin and Baekhyun flood the scene. The slip-on coat makes it back on your form before they arrive.

When the men reach Sehun’s side, they work hastily and efficiently, before hefting his weight onto their backs.

You slip next to Chanyeol, still gazing at Sehun’s disheveled form. He’s still conscious, but in shock and daze held up. “You still want him to take you home tonight?”

“What is wrong with you?”

Chanyeol had gotten into the illegal trade while youthful, following his discharge from the militia. A jarhead, blunt and unsure, he’d reluctantly majored in business. When it all came crashing down in the midst of the roaring 20s, he’d decided that he’d work in law enforcement customs — an easy job that brunt men could understand, watching the crime rate reach an all time high. During these times, he observed Mr. Kim Junmyeon, a sophisticated industrialist, audaciously bringing in wooden crates of illegally distilled liquor crossing between Montreal to Manhattan. He wasn’t worried, because he knew it would work out in the end — and he was good at networking, even with the authorities.

Really, he admired Junmyeon’s work and dedication to the craft, lacking his own ambition. He'd let Junmyeon slip through easily, beginning to lack integrity. Junmyeon knew this, so he’d go back and forth with new bottles every two weekends, sparing Chanyeol a few for his kind gesture. Now, they hand out laundered money together at the pubs like candy, and crash autos like they’re nothing more than just carnival bumper cars. Sell wine like water, corrupt what you need to in order to get what you want.

Out of all, though, they don't meddle in each other’s businesses.

#by demure2 #chanyeol angst #sehun angst #yandere exo #exo yandere au #yandere chanyeol #exo au #exo x reader #chanyeol x reader #chanyeol au #sehun au #yandere au #yandere!chanyeol #yandere!exo

35 notes · View notes

residentanchor · 6 years

Text

A Lesson in Practicality 14

<<Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Summary: Roman and Virgil do some tests, Logan gets asked a question and... what is that? WARNING: I mention a bit of a panic attack and minor cursing in this one at the end. Please proceed with caution Word Count: 8850 (The longest chapter in the entire story!)

It had been a few weeks since their last run-in with Thomas. No one had heard from him besides Patton, who would happily get a reply every once in a while. Patton had let them know that Thomas really did live a normal life. He didn't seem to have any effect on anyone else besides them. The others were still wary of the man, but most of the apprehension had dissipated when Patton went on a speech about acceptance. Thomas was one of them but had the ability to live life as if nothing was different, but that didn't mean Patton was willing to let him ignore what had happened, it wasn't healthy to push it all aside.

Roman buttoned up his jacket, Virgil having upgraded it a bit. There were no more tassels hanging off the side after they had caught on something and ripped. Virgil still managed to keep the Prince theme, even going as far as redoing his mask. It was still black but wasn't a cheap fabric one that slid around on his face. Virgil had come up with one that molded to his face and fit much better after a bit of digging on the internet.

He was eager to finally go back out, he hadn't been out while Virgil worked on the costume. It had been impossible to wear with needles and pins sticking out of it. It wasn't professional or perfect, but it was nicer than before and Virgil had done it mostly by hand, making it perfect for the hero.

He had tested out Virgil's theory a few times and found it didn't quite work the way they thought. Roman had to focus to find specific people, but he did seem to have an energy about him. He couldn't attract people to him, but if he wanted he could make enough of an effect to make people glance his way. Tonight he was going to test what he had done with Thomas weeks before. If he focused on finding someone with ill intent, will his feet lead him the right way?

The answer was a resounding yes. He started slow, only really finding one criminal a night if he was lucky. After a few days, it became easier, almost second nature. With the costume on, he felt confident and strode through the city with determination as his feet brought him to those who dare to do wrong. Sometimes it brought him to people merely thinking about such crimes, and the site of him staring them down sometimes drove that idea away, stopping the crimes even before they occurred. Roman had been practicing while he was out of commission, coming up with a few more tricks himself. His little taser stun was helpful, but he had managed a few other tricks as well. People still ran when he let out sparks to scare them off, but he had managed one more trick in his spare time, though it took concentration. He was still working out the issues, of course.

He placed his hands together and pulled them slowly apart, creating a current between the two. Quickly, he grabbed it, causing it to form and shape in his hands. He waved it back and forth as the electric current stretched out. It worked a bit like a rope or a really weak whip, and Roman smacked it against the ground at the mugger. He launched it forward and grabbed the man's wrist, tugging it towards him afterward. The current was small at that distance, more light then energy, but it still shocked and burned as the mugger stumbled forward onto the ground. Roman ran up and grabbed the purse, kneeing the man in the back.

"Foul villain, I believe you owe someone an apology for your behavior!"

"F-fuck off freak!"

Roman flexed his hand and placed it on the man's back. "Wrong answer." He pushed down, sending a jolt to the man, causing him to go unconscious. He stood up, looking over at the woman who had been assaulted and sighed. "Why is everything a cliche nowadays?" He carefully tossed the purse over, keeping his distance. "Not to fear, ma'am! He is indisposed. If you wish to call the police, I will stay until their arrival so he may not harm you further!"

Roman had stopped three people that night. One mugging and two people breaking into places they shouldn't. Despite the repetitiveness and how exhausting it was trying to calm down the people he was saving, his appearance was always intimidating to some effect but come on, it was all worth it. Seeing people finally relax or knowing someone was going to be safe because of him always filled him with a warmth and giddiness he couldn't describe and it never went away.

Roman returned home quietly and sighed in relief, removing his mask from his face. He looked up and jumped, his eyes meeting Virgil's as he sat on the couch. "Virgil!" He grasped at his chest, angrily whispering. "You surprised me, what are you still up for?"

Virgil stayed quiet, staring Roman down with a cautious gaze. After an extended silence, Roman sighed and walked in, ruffling his hair. Normally he would be picky about it but a hot shower and sleep were all he was focused on at the moment. "Roman." He paused, one step in his bedroom doorway and turned around. "You've been out every night since I finished your costume."

"Yes, and your point being?"

Virgil still faced the front door, not turning to look at Roman. He stood up and headed to his room without another word. Roman was confused, not quite sure what the point of the interaction was, but decided to focus more on getting cleaned up and in bed as soon as possible.

The next morning, Roman slept in a bit more than normal. He'd been getting his workout and today was his first day off since he donned his metaphorical cape once more. He stretched and walked into the living room, turning on the tv to local news as he went to make himself something to eat.

He sat down and munched on his toast and jam while the local news played. They ran a report of his exploits once and he eagerly awaited to see them give an update. 'Masked hero continues to be awesome', he could see it now!

He heard a noise and looked over, finding Virgil sitting next to him at the end of the couch. Roman jumped, choking on his toast as he cleared his throat. "V-virgil! W-where did you come from?!"

His answer was a smirk. Virgil had started moving in stopped time more to make him seem like he could teleport around in an effort to scare Roman. Unfortunately, it was working. "Roman, we need to talk."

Roman leaned back into the couch and looked at the news. "What's up? This about your weird behavior last night?"

"You're going to get hurt."

Roman looked over at Virgil who stared him down with a serious look. "I'm fine. I've been fine and I'll continue to be fine."

"You've found a way to find the crime you want, yay. If you don't calm it, you're going to find yourself in more than just trouble."

"Aww, you do care." Roman winked. "Anything for my number one fan."

"What if they have a gun, Roman? What then?" Virgil grew louder. "How are you going to stop a bullet?"

"I can disarm people who use metal." Roman waved it off. "I'll be fine."

"You can disarm it if you touch it, maybe!" Virgil leaned in. "You'll get yourself killed one of these nights!"

"What do you expect me to do?" Roman looked back over. "Let innocent people get hurt while I sit around and do nothing because it just might be dangerous?"

Virgil huffed and leaned back into the couch, growing silent. Roman turned back to the news as they went over local weather broadcast. "Can you at least let me help you help yourself?"

Roman looked back over at Virgil. He didn't seem as angry, but he was still glaring, though his attention and anger seemed to have moved to the couch. "Help how?"

Virgil looked up. "I have a few ideas, wanna run a few more science tests?"

Roman thought back to when Virgil had joined him in drinking on the roof with a smirk. "Yeah, sure. What do you have in mind?"

Another quick stop at the convenience store down the street later, they were headed back up to the roof. This time, Virgil hid what he had purchased, only saying it wasn't alcohol this time. They stood on the roof and went over to the center. Roman stood there as Virgil slowly reached into the bag and pulled out a can.

Roman's face scrunched up in disgust. "I'm not drinking that."

"Oh come on!" Virgil held out the can in front of him. "You never had energy drinks before?"

"Years ago and never for enjoyment. I bet you lived off of them for a while, huh?"

Virgil shrugged. "Yeah, so? Besides, this is the best one you can get without digging through the internet." He walked up and handed it to Roman, who reluctantly took it. "It was banned for a few years because it had too much sugar and caffeine in it. They lowered the dose a bit, but it's still pretty strong."

Roman cracked open the can and held it out as it fizzed over a bit. "So what is this plan of yours exactly?"

"Well, alcohol makes you all dulled down, right? That's what it does. Energy drinks create a burst of energy, so it should be like a temporary power boost before the crash."

Roman looked down at the can with a bit more interest before pulling it closer. "What do you think will happen?"

"Only one way to find out!"

Roman sighed and brought it to his lips before squeezing his eyes shut and taking a sip. He quickly pulled it away and coughed. "This is disgusting, how do you drink these?"

"Shut it and keep going."

Roman took a few more gulps, emptying the can halfway before reaching it out for Virgil to take. He took a step back and took a deep breath, looking at his hands. "So, I should feel it amplify my abilities?"

Virgil shrugged, taking a sip from the can. "I dunno man, I'm just taking guesses."

"I thought you didn't drink those anymore because of your anxiety?" Virgil shrugged and took another swig. Roman shook his head and took a deep breath in before looking down at his hands and reaching for the fuzzy feeling that stemmed from his powers. "Oh, that feels weird." He rubbed the spot on his chest. "It's like it's not fuzzy, but more like... static? I guess that makes sense."

"Alright then!" Virgil took a few steps back. "Light up!"

Roman let the energy flow to his hands and perked up as the familial fuzzy feeling ran down his arms. He held up his arms for Virgil to see. Instead of sparks jumping from finger to finger in an electrical charge, it had coated his hands in tiny sparks, creating what looked to be a glove or shield of pure energy. "Woah..."

"I'll say." Virgil took a few careful steps forward. "How does that feel?"

"I dunno, kind of like when your leg falls asleep but I can still control it just fine." He flexed his fingers. "I wonder how this works?"

"Maybe they're like boxing gloves?"

Roman looked at the roof before marching over to the side. One of his old targets used for practice was on the ground, a glass bottle he had found one day. He picked it up and it vibrated before crumbling and shattering into near dust-like pieces in his hand. He jumped as it did and opened his hand and looked down, not a scratch or even a feeling left behind from the bottle. "I didn't feel that at all."

He looked over at Virgil and smiled, holding both his hands up. "What are you planning?"

Roman ignored him and focused on his hands, placing them together and pushing more of the energy down to them. The small field of electricity grew, before stretching out a foot in diameter. He kept his two hands together and lowered them, looking over at Virgil from behind the newly created shield. "This is awesome!"

Virgil looked around and picked up an old broken piece of cement. "Hold still, make it bigger!"

Roman held it up and the shield slowly grew before completely covering Roman. Virgil put down the can and focused his aim before throwing the cement as hard as he could. It hit near the center of the shield before bouncing off, completely ineffective.

Roman shrunk the shield and lowered it more, a giant smile on his face. "This is amazing! I wonder if I could stop a bullet?"

"Woah, no!" Virgil grabbed the can and walked back over. "That is not something I ever want to find out about, you're staying away from guns."

"Hey, I have a way to protect myself now!" He concentrated on his shield and watched as it slowly melted down his arms. He flexed and held them up. "Look! No one can stop me in a fight now! I bet I can even hold a knife like this."

"Again, please don't test that. I'd rather not find out you can't!"

Roman relaxed and his arms fell to his sides, the surge of the power dissipating. "No worries, I don't plan on finding out either. At least this way, I can protect myself from danger more!"

Virgil groaned out. "I still hate the idea."

"Oh?" Roman leaned forward, smirking. "Don't like the idea of me getting hurt, do you?"

"I just want you to be safe, but I do not like to worry, too much work." Virgil glared back at the other. "Please don't make me do more work than necessary."

"You are my Alfred, don't forget!"

Virgil groaned and hid his smile behind the can, taking a sip. "I have a first-aid kit, don't make me have to use it."

Roman let out a laugh and walked over. "I knew it! You seem like the kind of guy to keep stuff like that on hand."

Virgil shrugged and looked to the side. "Everyone should have an emergency kit at the ready, just in case."

"Yeah, but what is yours, exactly? A zombie apocalypse kit?"

Virgil raised an eyebrow at the statement. "Uh, no. Although it could be used as one, I guess. It's got enough rations to last me a while along with a spare set of clothes and the first aid kit and other essentials." Virgil smirked over at Roman. "I'm waiting for the fall of society, this government will be the death of us all."

Roman smiled and shook his head. "When you were a young boy, did your father take you to see a marching band, emo boy?"

"Everyone loves that song, don't try to lie to me, Roman."

Roman's phone went off and he reached for it before stopping. "How long do you think this charge is going to last?" He looked down at his hands and they lit up for a moment. "I can still feel it and I don't want to fry my phone."

"I can tape oven mitts to your hands until it wears off. I'm sure if you're using it more it'll fade out quicker."

Roman's hands lit up in an electrical field once more. "I will let you do no such thing!" He started messing with the currents, trying to mold it in more ways than the simple shield he had managed. "I'll just wait here and burn it all off."

Roman ended up laying down on the roof, staring up at the sky with his hands in the air, watching the sparks on his hands shoot out a bit. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to change the charge of just one hand, making them magnetic sort of."

"Can you even do that?"

"Dunno, it hasn't worked yet." Roman kept his attention on his hands before looking over at the other. "Hey, Virge?"

"Yeah?" Virgil had finished the energy drink and was messing with the can, trying to balance it on his hand.

"When you're in stopped time, how do you pull people out?"

The can fell off of his hand as his attention turned to Roman, but he let it fall and roll away a bit. "I just kind of tug you out of it. It's not that hard."

Roman looked back up at his hands, giving up and letting his arms fall to the sides. "So, do you think if you pull someone out of stopped time, they can then pull someone else out? Or do you think because it's your ability, only you can do it?"

Roman was answered with silence but didn't bother asking again. He turned his head and Virgil was staring down at the can just out of his reach. "I don't really know, I never tried." Virgil looked over at Roman with a frown. "I never really used my powers much. The only person I really pulled out of time before Patton was my dad, and he wasn't a big fan of it so I never had the chance, I guess."

Roman sat up and turned to Virgil, reaching both his hands up. His palms faced outward and the can near Virgil suddenly shook before rolling and then eventually flying over to Roman's hands. "Ha! I figured it out!" He held up the can triumphant. "And I think it's worn off by now!"

Roman got up off the roof and dusted his clothes and hair. Quicky reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his phone and turned towards the door. "Come on, we can go and have some lunch!"

Virgil got up and followed Roman. The other suddenly stopped while staring down at his phone. Virgil approached and he quickly pocketed it, continuing towards the stairs. "So," Virgil spoke up. "you planning on making something? I'm not in the mood to do clean up."

Roman groaned. "I don't want to bother cooking, maybe we can get some cheap food out?"

"Someone, to cook and clean for us? Sounds like a plan."

They quickly stopped by the apartment before heading out. Virgil left a note for Patton, pretty certain they would be back before the others returned from their respective jobs but wanted to be prepared either way. They walked down the street towards town, tossing ideas back and forth.

"Italian?"

"Nah, we already eat pasta a lot."

"How about this Thai place I know? It's a bit of a bus ride but totally worth it."

"Eh, not really feeling up to it."

"Well then, how about you throw some ideas!"

"I told you, I don't really care, just pick something."

Roman looked at Virgil who knowingly smirked over at him. "You're one of those, god that's annoying." He heard a snicker coming from his roommate before shaking his head. "How about a diner? Good old fashioned food, plenty of choices, and you can order that pasta you just said you wouldn't order but totally will."

"Ouch, way to call me out on it." Virgil playfully elbowed Roman. "Best idea you've had so far, so why not?"

The nearest diner wasn't far and the sun was out shining brightly, so they saved bus fare and walked. Roman jogged up the few steps to the door and opened it, bowing dramatically like a prince for Virgil. He ignored Roman and walked in, pulling open the second door and letting it close behind him. The hostess at the front looked over and smiled. Virgil could only assume the face Roman was making, looking offended as the door closed in his face. The bell chimed again as he walked in, glaring down at Virgil. "Table for two, if you don't mind." Roman looked up and gave a smile as Virgil glanced around, looking at the diner. Despite it being a weekday, the diner still kept a decent amount of business, though most seats were currently empty.

She led them over to a booth in the corner and handed them the menus before walking off. Roman took out his phone and glanced at it before shoving it to the side and picking up his own menu.

Virgil dropped his and reached over, pulling the other one down from between them. "Okay, I was quiet about it before but I know how you are, so talk."

"What are you going on about?" Roman looked down at his menu, not raising it to cover his face a second time.

"Your phone went off and whatever it was upset you. You don't want to ask to talk about things but you want to be asked, so this is me asking." Roman looked over at him baffled. "I kinda work the same way, I see my bad habits in others. Now talk."

Roman huffed and dropped his menu, leaning back. "Is it too much to ask to be romanced once in a while?"

"E-excuse me?" Virgil flushed at the statement.

Roman leaned over in his arms towards him. "Do you remember that date I went on a while back?"

"Oh." Virgil thought back to the day they met Thomas. "Yeah. What about it?"

"It was an okay date, we had fun, but it wasn't special. He didn't give me anything or plan anything special and the talk was the normal talk we always did when together. We were on a date and it felt like he expected me to do all the whooing, you know?" Roman picked up his menu again, glaring down at it a bit. "Then I never hear from him and he has the audacity to text me that he's dating someone else? At least tell me you're not interested after the first date. What was even the point?"

Virgil sat there speechless, looking over at Roman. He seemed upset but had turned his attention to his menu to hide. Roman sighed and ran a hand through his locks, looking down. "Sorry, I know you asked but I shouldn't have thrown all that at you."

"No, dude, it's okay." Virgil picked up his own menu to try and give him something to focus on. "Sorry, he kinda... never gave you a chance. That's a shitty thing to do."

Roman shrugged, flipping through the menu. "It's fine, it's not like we were serious. Just..." He placed the menu down again, getting Virgil to look over his own at him. "If you asked someone out, what would you do for a first date?"

"I..." He looked up at Roman, tired eyes staring back. "I guess it depends on who I was going out with?" He shrugged, not really giving an answer.

The waitress walked up at that exact moment and Virgil hid back behind his menu. Virgil just got a glass of water, while Roman stared down at the table before looking up with a determined look and ordered a milkshake. Virgil looked over at him and smirked as the waitress walked off.

"I've earned one, I think. Self-love is important, mister glass of water."

"Aww, did you just call me a tall drink of water? How sweet." Virgil answered back with as much sarcasm as he could muster.

A comfortable silence finally fell before Roman put down his menu and stared at Virgil. He looked up and hunched over more, becoming extremely self-conscious. "What if it was me?" Roman asked suddenly.

"What if you were what?"

"What if you took me on a date, hypothetically of course."

Virgil, to his utter surprise, laughed at the idea. "Oh, that's funny, princey."

"What?" Roman sat up straight and stared off into the distance. "Don't tell me you haven't ever thought about it. Look at me!"

"I see you, Roman, and I can say with complete honesty..." Virgil leaned in. "It's never even crossed my mind."

"AH!" Roman gasped and placed a hand over his heart. "How rude! I was under the impression everyone thought about dating me!"

Virgil snickered to himself and went back to his menu. "Keep dreaming, Ro."

"Only if you're there." Virgil looked up at Roman as he winked back. Virgil raised an eyebrow in response. "Well? What would you do if we went on a date?"

"I'm not answering that."

"Come on..." Roman leaned over the table. "My ego has been bruised and I need the help of a friend to aid in my pain!"

Virgil looked over at him before folding his menu closed. "If you asked me or the other way around because that matters."

"Since it was the situation, you asked me."

"Well then, you like big romantic gestures. I'd probably do something stupid like I dunno, bring you flowers and take you to a fancy restaurant." Virgil played with the end of his sleeves a bit, looking anywhere but at Roman. "Dinner and a movie is cliche, so I'd probably take you for a walk in my favorite park and we'd just talk. Maybe ice cream if it was hot or hot cocoa if it was cold after dinner settled a bit."

"Oh." Virgil spared a glance up at Roman, who seemed shocked at the answer. "That... actually sounds nice. Huh."

"You sound surprised."

Roman had an impressed look on his face as he shrugged. "I dunno, it just didn't seem like you were the romantic type. Thought you'd take me to some loud concert or maybe to some dark forest or something."

"What do I look like, a serial killer?"

"Well-"

"Don't answer that."

The waitress came up and they took their orders, bringing their drinks. Roman happily dug into his milkshake like a little child.

"Hey, Virgil?" He looked up from his glass of water. "Thanks, you know..."

"Don't mention it."

"Hey, if you ever need a wingman, I'm your guy!"

"Yeah, sure."

Roman smiled over at Virgil. "Like, how would one go about trying to whoo a dark emo of the night? I'm gonna need to take notes."

Virgil rolled his eyes at the question. "The same way you would anyone else, Ro. Just consider what I would want before doing anything." Roman nodded at the answer. "So, did you hear that news report about you the other night?"

"Oh my goodness, have I?!" Roman went on and on about the small news segment and Virgil was just happy with the change of topic. He'd rather not think about Roman trying to help him with his non-existent love life.

A few more days had passed and Virgil had nearly forgotten about the lunch with Roman. Nearly, because he did not forget about the leftovers he brought home, happy for the late night snack a day later.

He hadn't thought it important enough to mention to Logan or Patton, but Roman had mentioned it in passing.

"Then we went to the roof and Virgil had this idea and I learned a new ability I have! It's so cool, but I was tired after, so we went out to lunch. I haven't tried it, but you have to see it!"

Patton was surprised at the statement but made no comment as Roman continued telling his story a mile a minute. While Patton was happy Virgil was getting along with Roman finally after all these months, and now even close enough to be spending all this time together like they had been, he took a moment to think back to some self-reflection.

He wasn't quite sure how his mind went from thinking about his roommates to thinking about himself, but he sat up on his bed and stared at the wall before he disappeared in a flash of light. Suddenly, Two and Three were there, he had been letting more copies out since the incident with Thomas. It made him nervous he may lose them someday, knowing what it felt to feel them fade away.

"Two, Three, I need your help."

Logan heard a knock on his door in the late morning. Standing up from the computer on his desk, he took a moment to stretch before reaching over and answering it. "Oh, good morning, Patton."

"Hey, Logan! I was wondering if you had some time to hang out today?"

Logan looked puzzled as he adjusted his glasses. "I was under the impression you had work today, Patton."

"Oh, I do! It's been taken care of."

"Ah." Logan nodded in understanding. "You never send a copy to work for you, so I take it you must be Two?" The Patton shrugged and smiled in response. "Well, I have a bit of work left to do today."

"Oh, no that's okay. If you're busy... it wasn't important."

Copy or not, the look on their face would be the same as Patton would have. Smiling but visibly upset, Two was trying to play it off and act like it was no big deal. Or, at least that is what Logan thought he was doing, it was still hard to figure out emotional cues at times.

"Actually." Logan looked over at his computer. "Perhaps taking a bit of a break and coming back with a fresh mind will help." He turned and smiled a bit. "What was it that you needed, Two?"

Two perked up, smiling brightly. "Are you sure? I just was thinking about going for a walk, there was something I wanted to talk to you about!"

"Of course, just allow me to get myself ready."

Logan walked out into the living room and found Two sitting on the couch and leg shaking nervously. He looked up and practically launched off of the couch. "Ready?"

"You seem tense. Are you alright?"

He nodded, walking towards the door. "Yeah, I'm okay. Do you mind if this takes a while?"

"If there is something you wish to talk about and it is worrying you, take all the time you need."

They made it a couple blocks down the road in silence, Logan waiting for Two to speak up. They sat quietly on a short bus ride, Two giving reassurance that he had a place in mind he wanted to be. They got off at a stop and Two grabbed Logan's hand, tugging him along. They walked up to a gated area that was open and Patton finally slowed down, turning to walk on a path.

Logan looked around at the area, it was like a park covered in flowers and statues. Different roads led to different areas, but he turned to where Patton had been taking him.

"This is my favorite place in town, but I only come here when I need to think. It always manages to cheer me up." Two turned and smiled at Logan. "Sorry, it's out of the way."

"An arboretum? I'm rather surprised I haven't been here before."

"I thought it was just a garden..."

"An arboretum is like a garden that specifies different types of trees, though there seems to be a lot of flora here as well." Logan looked over at a small fountain they were passing. "It is rather calming."

"They have a small cafe to buy food if we get hungry before we leave! I could spend all day here..." Two jumped and turned around. "I know your busy so we won't! I just wanted to go somewhere nice."

"What is pestering you and how may I be of assistance?"

Two snickered and looked over at Logan. "That's one way to ask how I'm feeling." Two walked over to an area surrounded by flowers off of the path. Logan followed and noticed a few benches underneath a tree in the center where Two took a seat. He seemed in his proper environment with all the flowers surrounding him. Logan could tell that he already was more at ease, becoming the smiling, bubbly roommate he was familiar with. He followed, sitting next to him comfortably on the bench. "I have a question for you, and out of all of you, I think you'd answer it the best."

"Of course." Logan nodded. "What is the question?"

Two took a quick breath and turned to Logan. "Am I Patton?"

"... I'm afraid I don't follow."

Two sighed and frowned, staring at a group of flowers next to them. It wasn't often Logan saw Patton upset, but he seemed to be in thought before turning back. "So, Patton is Patton."

"Yes, that I understand."

"So, when copies are made, they are just... copies of Patton, the original."

"Ah." Logan nodded in understanding. "You wish to determine if you are a person you own or one with the original." Logan placed a hand on his chin and closed his eyes. "This is a perplexing dilemma, but I understand what you mean."

"You said that copies could be pieces of the original broken off and duplicated to make a new one."

"Indeed, however, there is no evidence to this." Logan looked over, adjusting his glasses. "It is possible that in that flash of light that is generated when creating you, Patton manages to copy his full self. However, this does not quite explain how each comes out very slightly different than the other. Talking to you, seeing as you are the first to appear, you are most like our original."

"So, if Patton is the original, we aren't Patton."

"Not necessarily, I would still think you were Patton, in ways."

Two looked up, a completely lost look on his face. "How so?"

"Well, let's say that when you split from the original, that not only creates you but affects Patton since a piece of him is no longer there. This, in theory, could explain the empath ability. However, you all have your own thoughts and experiences when broken apart. This clearly shows you each being your own part of a whole. Oh." Logan perked up and looked at the other. "That does make a bit of sense..."

"What?" Two perked up and smiled. "I love it when you come to realizations, what did you figure out?"

Logan smiled at Two. "Yes, well." He cleared his throat. "When you are all with Patton, that makes you all whole, but that means when I'm talking to him, I'm also talking to you. Because you have merged back with Patton, it would be within reason that I am not only talking to him but all possible parts of him he creates as well."

"Oh. I never thought about that." Two placed a hand on their chest, rubbing it a bit. "When copies get pulled back in, the memories merge back. So, they're all one whole person together? But we're still all one person apart."

"Let me explain it like this. You are you. However, you are also Patton. You are both your own person as well as a part of a greater person, like a piece to a puzzle. Even if it's just the one piece, you are still a puzzle piece. Together you still make a bunch of puzzle pieces, however, the whole picture is also there." Logan sat in silence as Two looked up at him. "Did that make any sense? I tried simplifying it as much as I could."

"No, it does... but I have another question." Logan motioned for him to continue. "If you are hanging out with a copy, is that just like hanging out with the original?"

"I'm sure the experiences could be different." Logan started thinking once more. "How to explain this... If Patton is having a bad day, it's different then hanging out with him when he is having a good day, but both days are still Patton."

"So... This is would be considered a day with Patton, not just a day with a copy?" Logan nodded in agreement. "So, if Patton wanted to go on a date, he could send a copy. Or sending one to work would be no different than going himself."

"Oh, no, I feel that would be a bit unfair." Two looked over at Logan. "Not the work, the dating one."

"Oh. How is that different? If a copy is still Patton, would it not matter?"

"I think it would, even if it was Patton who had gone and left you at home." Logan sighed and turned away. "This is all personal opinion, and in a field, I have very limited knowledge on."

"I wanna know what you're thinking, that's why I asked you specifically. Why would it not be fair?"

Logan watched the flowers move with the wind in relative silence. "If he were to leave you at home, that would not be fair because you would not get to experience it. However, if you went, he would not experience it." Logan turned to Two with a smirk. "It is my understanding that love, as well as a chemical reaction in our brains, is a promise. If you were to start dating a person, I would hope you go as a whole, so as each part of you could experience it together. If you promise yourself to someone, you should bring your whole self."

Two looked up at Logan in awe, silent as the words soaked in. Slowly, a shining smile grew as he launched himself forward, wrapping Logan in a hug. He froze and his harms became stiff at his sides. "That... was so beautiful!" Two pulled back and looked up, eyes shining. "I know you say you don't understand love, but I think you do. In some way all your own, I think you get it completely."

Two shot up from the bench and spun around. "Come on! I think I owe you some lunch after dragging you out here and making you get all philosophical on me! It's the leaf I can do!"

On the way back to the apartment, Two was much more verbal and energetic than on the way to the arboretum. He even asked Logan a bunch of questions about the flora, some of which he knew the answers to. Not really being his field of expertise, Logan ended up searching a lot of information up, becoming engrossed in the new knowledge.

They walked back into the apartment, Two's spirits completely lifted and happy as can be. Logan closed the door and turned towards the entryway that led to the back part of the apartment. He still had work to do, but a part of him didn't want to stop talking so soon.

Another Patton walked in, smiling up at them. "Hey, welcome back!"

"Hey, Three." Logan looked at the two, always curious how they knew which was which but was sure it had to do with being a part of the same entity. "You finish everything for tonight?"

"Yeah, cleaning is all done and I have dinner prepared, you just have to stick it in the oven."

"Patton, I was under the impression it was Roman's turn to cook?"

Two turned to Logan with a smile. "I wanted to thank you for today."

Logan grew more puzzled at the statement. "You had no idea I would be helping you, or how it turned out."

"You're so smart, Lo, I knew no matter what you said it would have been helpful!"

Three walked up and looked at the other, confused. Two smiled and shrugged, causing Three to shake his head. "Well, my work here is done."

Three reached up and tapped Two on the shoulder, disappearing in a flash of light.

"Strange." Logan turned to the other. "I was not aware you could combine copies. I was under the impression they could only rejoin the original, Patton."

"Why do you call me Patton if you think I'm Two?"

Logan blinked at the question. "Well, we just went over how you are the same person, did we not?"

"Soooo." He rocked back and forth on his heels. "What makes you think I'm Two?"

"You told me so."

"No, I didn't." He smiled up at Logan. "I told you I had work today and it was taken care of."

Logan looked at Patton, the original apparently, baffled. "You led me to believe you were a copy this whole time?"

Patton smiled and confidently placed his hands on his hips. "I wanted to see how you treated my Patton Pals without me around, but you treat them just like they are me!"

"Because they are!" Logan rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Oh, I'm going to get a headache at this rate."

"Sorry, Lo, I didn't mean to upset you." Logan looked up and saw Patton smiling, but looking away in shame. "I just wanted your opinion and when you thought I was Two..."

"No, it's fine." He fixed his glasses, pushing them back up. "I jumped to conclusions. We established that you and a copy are the same, so being upset about that would be foolish, and being upset about me making assumptions would be silly. However, do correct me next time if I make a mistake like that."

Patton giggled and turned towards his room. "Of course! Thanks for spending the day with me, Lo!" He stopped in his doorway and turned around. "It meant a lot. I'll leave you to your work."

As Patton's door clicked closed, Logan stared at it with a loss for words. He blinked, snapping out of it as he glanced around. "Huh." He looked down and shook his head, returning to his room to continue on with his work.

Logan had worked through straight til dinner was ready to finish the project he had been commissioned to do. He typed away, mind completely absorbed into it until he was done, realizing the smell that had drifted into his room. He emerged finding the others almost done, chatting happily along.

"Logan!" Patton perked up happily. "I didn't want to bother you since I kept you distracted all day. Are you done?"

"I have just finished my work, thank you for the consideration. However, you may have distracted me, meals are vital for a healthy diet and one should not be missed."

Logan took his usual spot, finding a plate already full and waiting for him. "I was going to bring it to you when we were done so you didn't have to stop. I'm so glad you could join us!"

Roman stood up from his spot and picked up his now empty plate. "Not all of us, I hear a nice hot shower calling my name."

"That's not the shower, that's me begging you to take one."

Roman shot Virgil a look on his way out, earning a tongue stuck out at him back. Virgil got up from his seat and grabbed his plate as well. "I'm off too. Thanks for dinner, Pat."

Logan wasn't too far into his meal before Patton also stood up, headed towards the sink to rinse off his plate. He stopped and looked at Logan, who looked back as his brows knitted together with a silent question.

"Just... thanks again for everything today, Lo." Patton quickly retreated back to his room in silence. Logan enjoyed the rest of his meal in peaceful silence.

Hours later, the apartment was silent as Roman woke up. He stared at the wall in his room, confused and oddly somewhat refreshed. He sat up and looked around his room but not an object seemed to be out of place. He turned towards his shut door and saw a pale flash of light come from underneath.

He debated sitting in bed and trying to go back to sleep before begrudgingly getting up, swinging his legs over the side of his bed. He slowly opened his door, peaking out into the living room.

The tv was most certainly on, but it was muted and not a sound came from it. He opened is door further and peaked out, glancing around the room. His eyes eventually fell onto Virgil, laying down with a blanket facing the tv.

We walked out and carefully glanced down before Virgil moved, looking up and locking eyes with Roman. "Hey, did I wake you?" Virgil spoke softly, voice heavy and low from exhaustion.

"No, just was thirsty." He wasn't sure if it was a lie, not quite sure why he had woken. Roman quickly went to the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water, finishing it quickly before walking back. "You couldn't sleep?"

Virgil was playing with a loose thread on the blanket, eyes unfocused. He shrugged, not diverting his attention. Roman sat down on the other end of the couch, placing a hand on Virgil's ankle next to him. Virgil made no movement or any attempt to answer. Roman squeezed his ankle and Virgil pulled it back underneath the blanket.

"Sorry," Virgil mumbled, pulling his legs close.

"It's okay. You alright?"

"Couldn't sleep." Virgil finally looked over from the string and up at Roman. "You don't have to stay up with me."

"I want to. Unless you don't want me to." Roman held up his hands as a sign of peace. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Virgil lay silently for a bit before taking a shallow breath. He pulled the blanket off of him and shoved it at Roman, though it didn't get very far. Roman understood and grabbed the blanket from him, wrapping it around himself. "Need a pillow?" Roman grabbed the decorative pillow and held it out. Virgil slowly sat up and grabbed it, switching sides and pushing down Roman. He hugged the pillow and lay on the inside of the couch turned away from the tv, causing Roman to hold onto him lest he falls off the couch himself. He was shocked at his roommate but made no comment, holding him close. He could feel Virgil shiver and wrapped the blanket around him before noticing he was warm. He pulled him closer as Virgil shifted restlessly for a moment. Roman shut his eyes and quickly fell asleep.

He wasn't sure what time it was, or how long it had been, but Roman awoke quickly as the world shifted around him. His heart raced as a small rush of wind passed him until he very gracefully met the floor. Roman let out a groan and slowly sat up, rubbing the back of his head.

He glanced up at the couch, finding Virgil huddled into a ball on the opposite end they had been sleeping. Roman leaned over and looked up before becoming frozen in his spot.

Upon the couch, right where he was just sleeping, lay two shifts in space, ripples like funhouse mirrors you could see through. Which only meant one thing.

He quickly turned to Virgil and froze with his hand extended out. He quickly pulled it back and balled his hand into a fist. "V-virgil, are you alright?" He didn't receive an answer other than the impossible silence and Virgil's rapid breathing. "Hey, Virge, you need to answer me or I can't help."

Virgil shook his head and looked up. "S-sorry." He gasped out.

"Oh." Roman thought back to Virgil on the couch, not noticing the silent signs in front of him. "You were having an attack, oh I'm sorry." He sat up straighter and reached out. "Is it okay, you can nod yes or no."

Virgil nodded and Roman reached forward, pulling him into an embrace. "Okay, I think I read about these. I can't really google anything when the time is frozen, huh?"

Roman forced a chuckle at his own joke as Virgil looked up at him. "Okay, it's in for four breaths, our for four, right?" Virgil nodded and Roman tried helping, being as dramatic as he could. After a while, nothing had improved and Roman groaned. "Sorry, I'm no good at this, maybe we could get Patton or Logan?"

A sound started to groan out into the room. It was painfully obvious and loud since no other sound really existed outside the two of them. Roman looked around and turned to the portals before freezing completely.

The portal closest to the back of the couch, Virgil's portal, started to ripple and shake as if something was coming from it. "Sorry, Virgil, I'm going to have to move you," Roman spoke softly and as calm as he could as to not raise suspicion. The last thing Virgil needed was something coming out of his portal and scaring him further. Who knows what he was thinking of when he broke free from time amidst a panic attack. He reached down and pulled the man up in his arms, one around his back and the other underneath his legs. Virgil grabbed onto his shirt and made no further complaints. Roman turned around and carefully headed towards Virgil's room.

He froze as the static noise suddenly grew louder, slowly turning and looking back into the living room.

He hoped Virgil didn't see what he saw, as a mass of dark grey smoke slowly slithered out as if alive. Roman quickly walked down the hall and nudged Virgil's door open with his shoulder. He carefully placed the man down on his bed before prying his hands off of his shirt.

"Virgil, look at me, okay? You're in your room, nice and safe. I promise." Virgil looked up, shaking a bit less but still silent. "Now, answer me, do you think you'll be okay for a moment alone? Do you know what to do to try and calm you down?"

Virgil's eyes shifted around erratically and he looked down, unsure. "Hey, don't worry, you're going to be just fine. You're doing great. Now, I don't want to leave you, but I want to try and get Logan or Patton to help, okay? You froze time so I'm not sure if I can until you start it up again but I'm going to try."

Virgil slowly nodded and pulled back onto his bed. Roman carefully walked out and closed the door, leaving it cracked open just a bit.

A beat of silence passed before Roman ran back into the living room, the creature still stuck in the portal but now about a foot in length. He ran back into the kitchen and grabbed a pot with a lid drying on the rack. "Sorry, Pat. I'll buy you a new one."

Roman ran back into the living room to see the creature finally break free, floating around in space before moving around. It shifted in place before it wriggled a bit like a worm as Roman could only assume it took a look around. It twisted and he froze, feeling what could only be its gaze staring him down. The creature shifted and headed his way causing Roman to freeze before jumping into action.

His hands lit up, one on the handle of the pot and the other on the lid. The creature flew at him and he stepped aside, catching it in the pot and slamming the lid down. He focused and magnetized them together so they wouldn't separate before pulling a hand away. The pot jerked suddenly and he held on, not wanting to let the creature go. Suddenly, Roman stumbled forward onto the couch as he could only assume Virgil had somehow managed to start time again. He quickly stood up and ran to the window, unlocking it and pulling it up. After a few attempts, he managed to get it and the screen out of the way before chucking the pot as hard as he could. Roman slammed the window shut and spun around, gasping and out of breath.

"Whaaat the hell." He ran a hand through his hair, still panicking. "Shit, Virgil!" Chapter 15>> Tag list: @cyberpunkjinx @phlying-squirrel @equipodeleo @ace-anx

#sanders sides #sander sides au #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfic #sander sides #superpower au #slice of life au #practicality fic #tw panic attack

115 notes · View notes