#that’s two of seven that are logince

[halfhissandwich]

For science.

[vinbee631]

Family Ties

Logan used to have a hard time expressing his emotions. His new family ensures this changes. (For the better, I may add.)

writing these logince fics has been so much fun! i can't believe I'm almost done with all of them!

thank you all for the support on my last couple posts. it means the word to me, and it's crazy to me that there are several humans that have read all the silly little words I mash together and neglect to proofread

anyways!! this work is connected to day 4: winter, so you may have to read Welcome to the Family to understand some of this

enjoy! (the prompt for day 6 is hopes & dreams also)

Logan had been in college for eight years.

It was strange to think about, all that time (and money, as well. Even with financial aid, college was unreasonably expensive) he had spent to get to this point. In two weeks, he would graduate with his doctorate degree, and he wouldn’t ever have to step foot on a college campus again if he didn’t feel so inclined.

And yet, this very thing he had worked for, the commitment he poured his soul into for eight years, was overwhelmingly anxiety-inducing.

He had no idea what he was going to do. Oh, not with his career. He had already been job searching and starting applications that he needed his doctorate certificate to finish. However, the idea of leaving behind an atmosphere he had accustomed himself to for so long was ridiculously daunting.

He had become an adult here. He pulled his first all-nighter during freshman year finals, and it was followed by an incredibly unhealthy amount in the next seven. He made some of his best friends here, friends he had trusted enough to drink in front of for the first time when he turned 21. He got his autism diagnosis mailed to the apartment he still lived in two years later.

He came out here.

He lost contact with his biological family because of that, and gained an entirely new family as a result, not necessarily while he was at college, but during that timeline, so it counted in his opinion.

That was perhaps his fondest memory of all those he had made in his time tied to his school. Roman and his siblings, cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents had been so welcoming to him from the very beginning, and his love and trust in them had grown stronger than ever through the years.

Even as he endured all the teasing from them when he and Roman finally decided to start dating three years ago.

It was a very stark contrast from his biological family’s reaction, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

…His family.

Logan had tried to distance himself from thinking about his biological family ever since they disowned him, but the three of them had been extremely close up until that fateful day. Coming out had gone… poorly, and ever since then, the complete loss of contact has been jarring.

Perhaps jarring was an understatement. His mother and grandpa were the most important people in his life up until he was 22 years old. They’d raised him, fostered his love for astrology, helped him with even the hardest of classes, and paid for his first four years of college in full.

Then, Logan told them he was gay, and they threw him away like he’d never meant anything to them in the first place.

Logan sighed, shaking himself. It was too early in the day for this many mental tangents.

Perhaps he should call someone.

To anyone else, this would be strangely out of character. Logan had never been one to willingly talk out his feelings. Another thing his biological family had given him, always being closed off, opting to deal with personal problems quietly and alone.

After spending about 10 seconds with his new family, it was clear none of them had ever operated that way.

They shared everything with each other. Good news, bad news, funny news articles they’d found while doom-scrolling, anything they could. It took Logan some time to get used to this, but now, it was instinctual to be comfortable sharing what was on his mind.

And now, he did a lot more infodumping as well, something he had never been allowed to do with his biological family.

Yeah, the separation from them had taught him a lot about the reality of how good his biological family had actually been for him.

Subconsciously, as he had found himself mentally trailing off, Logan had called Gram.

“Well, hello, dear. It’s been quite a long time since you called me. I was beginning to think we’d never speak again.” Logan snickered at the teasing. He’d called her two days ago, but he was quite used to her dramatics and had picked up quite a bit of her sarcasm himself.

“Hello, Gram. I didn’t imagine I’d ever see the day where you, of all people, complained about having a conversation, but I suppose there is a first time for everything,” he jested back.

“Oh, leave an old woman be, I was just surprised. I figured you’d be busy with all the graduation preparation or whatever it is they make you poor kids do nowadays.”

“Gram, college is not that much different than when you were a kid. But no, my schedule is rather free for the next few days. And… I have missed you, quite a bit.”

“Oh dear,” she mumbled gently, fondness overtaking her tone, “you are far too sweet to me. I’ve missed you as well, darling. You’ve had a long couple of months, haven’t you?”

Logan nodded, then quickly realized his mistake. “Ah, yes, I suppose so. I suppose it has been worth it, though. The only thing I would change about all this is allowing myself some more free time for my family.”

“Entirely too sweet, Roman has been a terrible influence on you,” she joked. “Now, what’s going on?”

Logan blinked, taking a long moment to process her question. “I’m- not sure what you mean? I have a completely free day today, so I called to talk to you, as I have done many times before. So, nothing is going on other than this conversation?”

“My bad, darling. That was a bad way of phrasing it. I meant: what’s wrong? I can tell when one of my babies is upset, and it’s pretty clear, hon.”

“N-nothing’s wrong, Gram. I... I mean, it has been a long week, but nothing out of the ordinary. I am doing just fine,” he replied smoothly, sneaking in as much of a smile into his voice as he could manage.

Logan could hear her head shake through the phone, and not just because of the audible rustling. “You’re testing my grandma senses, dear? Trust me, I dealt with Roman in his slumps. I know how to tell when someone’s hiding a problem from me. Especially you, considering all the time it took to convince you that sharing is alright. I mean that nicely, by the way, I care a lot about you feeling alright.”

“Thanks, Gram. I… suppose it is a bit complicated to explain.” He didn’t elaborate further, cutting himself off with a long sigh. Was this really how he wanted to spend his valuable time talking to one of his closest family members?

“I have an idea, if you’ll hear me out. Why don’t you come up for the weekend. Roman will be here too if you’re not up for talking with me this time. He’ll want to see you anyway, and so do I.”

Logan thought it over. He didn’t have any classwork. Really, the only reason he was still near campus was because he’d already made his final housing payment, and he intended to use the space for as long as he owned it. If he left on Friday, he’d get plenty of time with Gram and Roman, and whoever else happened to be there, and still have the opportunity to leave on time to get back to his minimal responsibilities on Tuesday.

“...Yeah, I’ll be there. It will be… nice to talk things out in person. And to see you, of course.”

“Oh, you, such a flatterer. Worse than Roman, I swear. I’ll be looking forward to seeing you, hon. Love you big bunches.”

“Love you big bunches as well, Gram.”

…

The weekend came far too quickly, and yet not fast enough. Logan was anticipating the time with his boyfriend and family, but the real reason for his visit had been looming over him all week.

He knew it would be good to discuss what was bothering him. That did not make it any easier to look forward to doing so.

The four hour drive passed as fast as a blink, and Logan realized with an achinly fond smile that Gram had been waiting on the porch for him.

“Get over here, baby,” he heard her call as soon as he closed the car door behind himself. She met him halfway, wrapping her arms securely around his waist and inching up on her tiptoes and nudging Logan to bend down so she could kiss his cheek.

“Hello there, beanstalk. I’ve not missed this height difference, but I did miss you. You’ve been so busy, I’ve been lucky to get all those weekly calls.”

Logan chuckled. “I wouldn’t mist those for anything, Gram. I’ll always have time to talk to you.”

“Don’t remind me, I’m sure I know that,” she reassured. “I recall a good handful of those calls prefaced with a warning that you were at work or driving to class, or whatever else it was that made you so busy, you wild little multitasker.”

“Says you,” Logan teased right back as she ushered him inside. “Every time I come over, you’re cooking six things at once and in three separate conversations. I’d argue that’s much more impressive multitasking.”

“Flattery,” she laughed, pinching Logan’s cheek, “but as much as I love to tease, that’s not quite why you’re here, now is it?”

“Well, of course not, it’s because Romam is coming tonight, and you’d hardly miss the opportunity to tease us together under one roof,” Logan replied innocently, making her chuckle again.

“Oh, you are terrible. I would never do such a thing! Except, perhaps I already have. Alright, stop distracting me! I had a point, and you have become a worse instigator than your boyfriend,” she chided, nudging him along to the living room and onto a couch right next to her.

“Now, I won’t push you outside of what you’re comfortable with if you’re not up for this right now, but even over the phone, it was obvious you’re having a hard time. We can talk things through now, or wait for some other time, or never if you’d rather talk things out with Roman when he gets here. Or, a surprise fourth option, I guess.”

“I’ll take door number four,” Logan deadpanned, his false glare breaking with Gram’s laughter. “No, I… suppose I should talk things out. It won’t do any good to let them fester.”

“At least one kid listens to my lectures,” Gran shook her head, gently squeezing Logan’s hand. “Ignore my whining. You talk whenever you’re ready, dearheart.”

Logan took a deep breath, squeezing her hand back. Despite all the ruminating he’d already done, it was considerably difficult to figure out how to express all those pesky emotions he’d been dealing with.

Eventually, it all just spilled out. It started with his biological family, how the memories had been creeping up on him now that he was finally going to be moving on from the last connection he had to them.

Next, it was losing that connection, losing his home of eight years to graduation. He was still confident with his job choice and the ease of getting one of those, but the act of leaving… he was terrified.

There were other things as well, his returning, paralyzing fear of failure creeping back as he began to transition into something new. There were a few jobs he had considered applying for that he had to stop considering because of their terrible policies for the disabled. Not that he needed many accommodations, but an institution such as those would likely not be welcoming to an autistic individual.

And after all the work he’d put into acquiring this job, he was not about to settle for a place that would not make him feel human.

By the time he had gotten everything off his chest, and shed a few tears in the process, it had been… a while. At least an hour, likely more. Gran had been attentive the whole time, offering nonverbal support and comfort as he vented.

God, he loved her so much.

Once he was feeling calmer, a byproduct of the venting and the love his grandma had been pouring out to him, she tugged him along to the kitchen with a smile.

“Instead of making you sit through a saccharinely sweet talk about how much I love and support you, and whatnot, we’re gonna bake cookies. Sound good?”

“I would not be opposed to the love and support but yes, cookies sound fantastic.”

Gran whacked him gently on the arm, the smirk peeking through betraying her true feelings. “Quit being cheeky, you absolute menace. Here I am offering my home to you and giving you all the support you deserve, and you treat me like this in response? The cruelty! Whatever happened to respecting your elders?”

Logan laughed, and in an impulsive but familiar move, leaned down to wrap her in a firm hug. “Thank you. I… I needed this, more than I think I realized.”

“Oh, of course, Lo. Anytime, I-” Gran cut herself off with a smile. “Enough from me. You’d better go and say hi to your boyfriend.”

Logan perked up immediately, ending their hug with a final squeeze before rushing out the door to meet Roman as he hopped out of his Uber.

“Logan!! Oh, my precious starshine!” Roman exclaimed, throwing down his bags to scoop Logan off the ground. Logan giggled, nudging halfheartedly at Roman’s hold. “Roman I am taller than you, this is obscene-!” He cut himself off with a squeak as Roman began to spin him around joyfully.

“If you drop me I will never forgive you!!” Roman laughed joyously in his ear, but he did noticeably tighten his grip on his boyfriend. “Worry not, light of my life! The only thing I’ve ever dropped is my jaw at the sight of your lovely face!”

Logan resisted the urge to roll his eyes, smirking fondly at Roman as he was set down. “You are perhaps the clumsiest man I’ve ever met, forgive me for doubting the validity of your statement.”

Roman gasped loudly, a dramatic move Logan could recognize from a mile away. “You- don’t believe me? Your own partner? Would I ever lie to the loveliest man in existence, the force of nature that keeps my very heart beating? The slander, in my own childhood home! You disparage me, starlight!”

“You are incorrigible, but I suppose I knew that when I signed up for this,” Logan continued, laughing at the over-exaggerated gasp that was so forceful it made Roman cough.

“You win this one Tall, Dark, and Handsome. C’mon, let’s go in. Gram’s probably got a whole laundry list of teasing remarks at the ready, the old sap. Emphasis on the old.”

“Be nice!” Logan chided, huffing at his boyfriend’s antics. “Your grandmother is a saint, and to imply that the first thing she will do at the sight of us is jest is a slanderous oversight. I cannot believe you right now. She’s already teasing us right now, under her breath, testing out which ones sound the best.”

Roman wheezed, nearly buckling over as he walked. “You- you have a point, beloved. Forgive me for such an oversight. Now, let’s head in to hear what she’s planned for us, yes?”

…

The rest of the day continued similarly. Logan eventually ran out of conversation spoons just after dinnertime, and spent a few hours in his guest room destressing. Around ten that night, he wandered down the hall to Roman’s room, curling up with him on his bed.

“Welcome back, dear. Feeling calmer?” Logan nodded, shifting closer so he could kiss Roman’s cheek. ‘Much calmer, thank you, sweetheart. How are you?”

“Oh, a bit stressed about the upcoming show but hey, that’s just life. Also, Gran snitched on you, so I’m gonna awkwardly transition into bugging you about that now.”

Logan groaned, hiding his face in Roman’s chest. “Awful, terrible family. Why did I ever sign up for this? You people are so cruel to me.”

“Not as cruel as them, I can assure you of that.” Roman had meant it in a teasing manner, but Logan couldn’t help but wince. It was perhaps a bit too soon to be joking about something like that so soon after he figured out all his feelings.

“Ouch, that was in poor taste, wasn’t it? I’m sorry, beloved.” Logan shook his head, leaning up for another kiss. “Not your fault, I suppose it was a bit funny. I’m just… “I let them control me for years, and I didn’t even realize. They were so… harmful to me, but they were the only people I had. It… it was so hard to realize that all that time spent idolizing them was time wasted. And, I don’t think I’ve ever completely moved on from it, which is terrible. They don’t deserve it, even if they are just thoughts.”

“First of all, you are allowed to grieve over losing them as much as you need. No, they don’t deserve it, but you deserve to process what they did in a healthy way. And yeah, the things they’ve done were terrible, but it wasn’t time wasted. You truly did love them, and they taught you so many things that make you so special. It’s not time wasted, it’s just… time you had to spend to get to us.”

Logan blinked, pushing away the sting of happy tears. “I.. suppose you have a point. I know I need to process my grief healthily, I just wish they didn’t make that so difficult. They… I almost wish they would have made it more obvious that they were terrible people. They hid it behind so much positive and healthy behavior, it can be hard for me to remember that they are bad for me.”

Roman sighed, rubbing a hand across Logan’s back, sending shivers through his body. “I know, darling, it is very complicated. It can be hard to deal with all the gray space in the black and white of talking to someone or cutting them off entirely. But, no matter how positive some of their influences were, you’re so much better off here. I hope you can remember that.”

“I am trying,” Logan decided, “and I know I will get there. It just… I want to be able to block them out forever as they did to me, but I’m not sure I’ll ever be capable of that.” “You don’t have to push yourself to forget them entirely, but I can understand why that would be desirable,” Roman reassured. “You have dealt with all of this incredibly well given the circumstances, and you have accomplished so much. Hell, you’re graduating with a doctorate this year! You’re amazing, Lo, and if they can’t see that beyond the hatred, then it’s their loss.”

“It truly is,” Logan agreed, “especially since it means they never get to meet you.”

“Aww, come here, precious.” Roman grinned, hugging his boyfriend so close, Logan could feel his boyfriend's heartbeat pulse through his own body. “You’re incredible. I am so proud of you and the things you have accomplished. I am so confident in you, and I know this change is going to be hard, but you’re gonna embrace it just like everything else.”

“Ah, she really did snitch on me, huh?” Roman nodded solemnly, still holding his boyfriend as tight as he could manage without actually hurting him. (Logan loved this, he had been encouraging Roman to help him with pressure stimming for years, and his boyfriend always agreed.)

“I can’t say I’m surprised, but… I’m not upset that she did. Talking about everything again would be way too many spoons for one day.”

“Well, if you do need to talk more, I’m always here, my love. You are so important to me, and anything you need, I can provide.”

“The same to you, dearest. Now, it is getting late, and I know you’re going to be up early working tomorrow. Sleep with me?”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, starlight.” Logan smiled, kissing him gently on the lips before pulling the covers up around him. He truly was lucky for every single person in his life. Even his biological family, he supposed.

Without them, he never would have received the kind of love the Reyes family would be outpouring to him for years to come.

He and Roman fell asleep tangled in each other's arms, and Logan only dreamt of love and happiness.

[i-am-bitterly-jittery]

Could you write a Logince sickfic with a very delirious loopy Princey?

Domestic Sick Days

Word Count: 904

Rating: gen+

Pairing: Logince (obvi)

Warning: there is one swear word at the end which is what the plus means, but I didn’t have it in me to actually rate this as teen. Also one minor teeny tiny allusion to sex, but it’s literally a quote from an episode soooo

~~~START~~~

The kettle had just come to a boil when a loud crash came from the bedroom. Logan froze for exactly one second before reacting.

“Roman!” He called apprehensively, already making his way back to the bedroom. “Are you alright?”

He opened the door to find his husband, face down on the floor, struggling to free himself from the comforter that he had insisted on being cocooned in before Logan left to make him tea.

“Roman?”

“I’m late for school!” Cried Roman, struggling harder. “I have a project due! And Remus is going to tell Logan I have a crush on him if I’m not there to stop him! And I gotta… I gotta…”

“Roman, you are thirty-seven years old, you are not late for school, you do not go to school,” Logan corrected him gently.

Roman had finally managed to at least free his upper body from the blanket and was now staring up at Logan like he’d seen a god. Logan stared back at him, bemused.

“You’re gorgeous,” Roman told him, it took everything Logan had not to laugh outright.

“Thank you,” he chuckled. “You are very attractive as well.”

Roman preened at the compliment as he seemingly forgot that his legs were still trapped underneath a blanket.

“Now, how about you get back into bed, and I’ll be right back with your tea.”

“Nooo! I hafta… hafta… ugh!” Roman began struggling against the blanket again, though for some reason he seemed to have forgotten that his arms were completely free, and would be able to untangle the blankets much more easily than the unhinged flopping method he was currently deploying.

Logan chose not to point it out to him, not yet anyway. Roman’s illogical behavior just proved further that he was unfit to get up — though his 102° temperature was truly all the proof Logan had needed.

“Logan!” Roman whined, giving up his struggle to instead lay helplessly, sending Logan his best puppy dog eyes.

“Are you ready to get back into bed?”

“I hafta get to work! They’re expecting me!”

“They are not,” Logan corrected. “I have already called Virgil and informed him of your illness, no one is expecting you to come in today.”

Roman continued to pout, but Logan just gave him an unamused look until he finally gave in.

“Fiiine,” he sighed dramatically. “Can we watch Disney?”

“Of course.” Logan leaned down to help his husband free himself before guiding him back to the bed and handing him the remote for the TV. “You pick something out; I’ll go get the tea.”

“I love you!”

“I love you too.”

Roman fell asleep during the first movie (Big Hero Six), so Logan turned the volume down, and used the opportunity to grade some exams.

Normally, Logan liked to use the bed just for sleeping… and one other thing. Things like grading or other work would be best done in his office — or the living room when he wanted to spend some quiet time with Roman. This system allowed him to fall asleep more easily at night. He hadn’t even wanted to have a television in their room at all, but Roman had insisted (and Logan couldn’t deny him anything he wanted), and it was nice for times like these when one of them was sick.

Luckily, today was a Tuesday, and Logan did not teach on Tuesdays. He normally held office hours, but he’d emailed his students as soon as he’d realized that Roman was sick, and informed them that he would be holding extra office hours on Thursday and Friday, and would be reachable by email for any questions that couldn’t wait.

By noon, he’d received two emails from students with questions about the o-chem homework that was due next week, and had gotten through half of the exams for his gen-chem classes. Roman was still asleep, so Logan turned on Tangled, and carefully made his way out of the bedroom to prepare lunch — chicken noodle soup for Roman, and a ham and cheese sandwich for himself.

Roman was awake and blinking at the screen when Logan came back.

“Ah, I see you’re awake. I’ve brought you lunch.”

Roman continued to blink owlishly, so Logan set the soup tray down on the bedside table and took it upon himself to help Roman sit up.

“Her dress is pretty,” Roman told him, matter-of-factly, pointing at Rapunzel’s dress on the screen. “I want a pretty dress.”

“Roman, you have a pretty dress — many in fact,” Logan informed him while he propped Roman up against a mound of pillows.

“I want to wear a dress!” Decided Roman.

Logan rolled his eyes. “You’re sick, you would be more comfortable in your sleep clothes.”

Roman pouted as Logan placed the soup tray on his lap. “Please?”

“Fine,” Logan sighed. “Eat your soup, then I’ll help you change.”

“Yay!” Roman cheered, nearly spilling his soup. Logan glared at him, but he grinned back, unabashed. “Love you, specs!”

Logan sighed again. “Yes, I love you too, Princey.”

Roman began eating his soup, pausing only to sing along with “I’ve Got A Dream”.

“Logan?” Roman asked several minutes later. Logan glanced at him quizzically, waiting for him to continue. “Did Remus tell you I had a crush on you in high school?”

Logan couldn’t stop himself from snorting. What a ridiculous thing to be concerned about after twenty years and one marriage.

“Yes, he did.”

“Fuck.”

~~~END~~~

I was trying to write all the requests in order, that plan has been thoroughly scrapped, they come out in whatever order I finish them in. I have six more left, two are almost done, one is like half-done, one is started but it’s clearly gonna take me a while, and two of them are 0% done

General taglist:

@pixelated-pineapple @royalty-of-all-things-snuggly @knight-shives

[nonbinaryroyalty43]

Logince fic where logan becomes a dark side

I have gotten so many prompts and I’m slowly working through them. Thanks for your patience!

Characters: Logan, Roman, Thomas (mentioned), Dark Sides and Light Sides (mentioned)

Pairing: Romantic Logince

Warnings: Mentions of death, and I think that’s it

Summary: Ever since Logan became a Dark Side, he and Roman have had to meet in secret. This is one of those meetings.

Tell me if I need to add more warnings.

I could have made this super angsty, but I didn’t want to, so enjoy!

*****

The alarm Roman set went off ten minutes before midnight. Still half asleep, he shut the alarm off and sat up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

He pushed back the covers and stood up, snapping his fingers to replace his rumpled outfit with a spotless one. Satisfied, he moved to his door and pressed his ear against it. Silence. Perfect.

With another snap of his fingers, a door appeared in the middle of his room, glowing slightly. A quick glance at the clock showed that he had seven minutes until midnight. He had to hurry if he was going to get there on time.

He pulled the door open and stepped through it. The door closed behind him and automatically disappeared. Roman found himself standing on a dirt path that sloped down into a forest. He followed it.

Although it was night, the forest was well lit and welcoming. Roman would have enjoyed the stroll through the woods if he wasn’t so late. As it was, he arrived at their designated meeting spot 2 minutes late. Unsurprisingly, Logan was already there, waiting on Remus’ half of Imagination to be invited in to Roman’s.

“It is about time,” Logan complained. “You are late, again.”

“Wonderful deduction, Sherlock,” Roman quipped, coming to a stop in front of the other side. 

Logan rolled his eyes. “Just let me over, Princey. We do not have all night.”

Roman obeyed and created an opening through the barrier big enough for Logan to get through. The apathetic side ducked through the hole and Roman allowed it to close.

For a moment the two sides stared at each other and then Roman broke. He threw his arms around Logan’s neck and held him close. The other side reciprocated the hug.

Eventually the two pulled apart and Roman gave Logan a gentle kiss. “I missed you, my love.”

“And I, you.”

“I wish we didn’t have to meet in secret.”

“You know why we have to,” Logan reminded him. “The other Light Sides, thinking I betrayed them, hate me and the other Dark Sides hate you. This is the only way for our relationship to work.”

“I know,” Roman sighed. “I just don’t like this. We’re like Romeo and Juliet.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “You do know Romeo and Juliet died at the end, right?”

Roman laughed. “Yeah, perhaps that wasn’t the best comparison.”

Silence fell for a second before the conversation moved on. The couple talked about their day, about the other Sides, and eventually they found themselves laying on the ground, once again in silence.

“Why were you late today?”

Logan’s question came out of the blue. “I, uh, sorta fell asleep. I set an alarm just in case it happened, but I guess I didn’t set it early enough.”

“Apparently not.” Anyone who didn’t know him would have thought Logan was irritated, but Roman could hear the hidden fondness in his voice.

“It’s not my fault you think being early is on time,” Roman teased. 

“It is not my fault you do not understand the meaning of the word ‘punctuality’,” Logan countered, trying and failing to hide a smile. God, what was this Side doing to him? He was supposed to be emotionless!

“I probably should head back,” Roman said sadly. “Patton is an early riser and I don’t want him coming to check on me.”

“You are right,” Logan said, rising from his spot on the ground and extending a hand to help Roman up. “Besides, you are filming a video today, are you not?”

Roman nodded. “Yeah. I think I’ll have Thomas reintroduce you in the next one. Hopefully, we can end this Dark Side/Light Side nonsense once and for all.”

Logan actually smiled at that. That was his boyfriend, always the dreamer. “Yes, hopefully.”

Roman pulled open the barrier once again. Logan gave Roman one last kiss before slipping through. 

“I will see you tomorrow, Roman. And don’t be late this time.”

“I’ll do my best,” Roman promised. He stayed still until Logan faded from sight. He then made his way back to his own entrance.

Both Sides were going to be exhausted throughout the day, but it was definitely worth getting to see each other, even if it was only for a few hours.

They both knew, that at one point or another, their arrangement was going to change, but for the better or worse, only time would tell.

[sidespart]

For the prompts, may I request 22 with Logince?

(Perhaps with Roman being on the receiving end of the affection?)

College /uni AU

“Oh for God’s sake – have you been up all night?”

Roman, clad only in boxers and their roommate’s hoody, unfurled himself from his position hunched over the laptop and blinked at Logan with wide unfocused eyes.

“Um…. No?”

Surreptitiously, he tried to nudge a coffee mug out of Logan’s line of sight.

It tipped over.

The last dredges of sludge slowly dripped onto the kitchen table.

Firmly not looking at the mess, Roman grinned up at him with a smile so bight it was borderline feral.

“I finished my paper!”

“The paper that you’ve known about for months? That paper that you said ‘was so easy I’ll probably get it done a week early? The paper that’s due in,” – Logan glanced at his watch – “two hours? That paper?”

“Wait it’s only seven?” Roman raised a wobbly fist in the air triumphantly, “Personal record!”

Logan sighed, stepping closer. As soon as he was within reach, Roman latched his arms around Logan’s middle and buried his head against the other man’s chest.

Lip twitching, Logan hugged him back, absently kneading at the tense muscles in his shoulders.  

“You can’t keep doing this you know.”

“Mmhmmm.”

“Sleep deprivation has significant health consequences”.

“Mmmm.”

“Time management is not an unlearnable skill.”

“Hmmpph?”

Logan sighed again, fondness winning the battle with exasperation.” “Would you like me to proofread it?”

“Thanks, but I already submitted it.” Roman finally pulled away from the embrace, waving one hand dismissively towards the laptop. “It’s with God now.”

‘God’ in this case referring to Roman’s English literature professor. Logan winced. The man did not have a reputation for heavenly mercy when it came to SPAG errors.

“Well done.” He told Roman, electing to keep those concerns to himself for now. “Now, go to bed.”

Roman stretched. His spine audibly popped.

“Alas, as much as I would love to make like Aurora and snooze, I need to be Tiana.”

Logan squinted at him.

“I need to dig a little deeper Logan.”

“Ah…. No. That still makes no sense, what?

“Group presentation. Morning seminar. I need to be there.” Roman stood and crossed to the coffee machine, collecting the fallen mug as he went.

Logan opened his mouth to argue and closed it with a click.

"Give me a brush. I'll fix your hair for you."

Roman spun round to face him, surprise written all over his face. “Really?”

Logan nodded.” I haven’t got any lectures till this afternoon. I can drive you once you're ready. But! You’re going home straight after the seminar and going to sleep. Understood?

In three long strides Roman had crossed the room and pulled Logan into a tight hug. Logan had to shift his feet to hold his weight, exhaustion making him lean heavily against the other man.

“Thank you” he whispered.

‘It’s okay,’ Logan whispered back, turning his head to plant a kiss on Roman’s ear.

“You’re still getting a lecture on sleep schedules when you wake up though.”

Roman pulled back enough to press a kiss of his own to the corner of Logan’s mouth. “I look forward to it.”

[whenisitenoughtrees]

a slow voice on a wave of phase

Logan has a voice like a galaxy, shot through with silver and streaked with stars, and today, Roman has realized that he is in love.

Roman has seen colors in sounds for as long as he can remember, and Logan's voice paints the night sky across his vision. It's no wonder that he falls in love with him, though it is surprising that he took this long to realize it.

(Wherein Roman pines, Remus' input is surprisingly helpful, and Logan has a lot more feelings than anyone is giving him credit for.)

Content Warnings: Remus-typical inappropriateness, mild Roman-typical insecurity

Word Count: 5,629

Pairings: Logince, platonic Creativitwins, brief mention of Dukeceit

(masterpost w/ ao3 links)

The idea comes to him suddenly, and by ‘suddenly,’ he means ‘with the force of a giant shark crashing through the wall of his bedroom at ninety miles per hour,’ because that is how Remus makes his entrance: half-naked, dripping wet, and straddling the back of a two-and-a-half ton great white.

“Tada!” Remus crows, sliding onto the floor. “You bet I couldn’t do it!” The shark, presumably irritated either by the lack of water dooming it to slow asphyxiation or by the loud, annoying man yelling in its face, flops around on the floor helplessly. Roman watches it through half-lidded eyes, and briefly considers getting up to deal with it before it starts knocking things over.

“But the proof’s in the pudding!” his brother continues, slapping the shark with a wink. Who the wink is directed at, Roman has no idea. Hopefully not the shark, though he wouldn’t put it past him. “Or in the big-ass shark! It only ate me three times before I got to ride it!” At this, he makes a disgusting motion with his hips, calling attention to the fact that his swimming trunks really do not cover enough, and Roman wonders just what, exactly, he did to deserve this treatment.

“What are you doing in my room?” he demands. Or at least, he means to demand; it comes out sounding more like an exhausted sigh, and he supposes that he shouldn’t have expected anything different. Lying in bed in pajamas is not a position from which one can demand much of anything, even if that one happens to be a prince with an incredible amount of creative power at his fingertips.

Not that he’s feeling much creative power at the moment.

Remus finally seems to register his tone and position. He stalks forward, his nose wrinkling, and Roman is greeted with a close-up view of his brother’s bare chest, which is just about par the course. It could be worse, he supposes. At least he’s shirtless and not pantsless. Mostly.

“What crawled up your ass and died there?” Remus asks. “Ooh, was it a spider, like, the itsy-bitsy spider climbed up the waterspout, except the waterspout’s your--”

“Oh my god,” he says, and finally works up the willpower to sit up and shove his brother away. “Can you stop?”

“Can’t stop won’t stop!” Remus trills gleefully, but Roman ignores him in favor of standing to inspect the shark in the middle of his bedroom floor. It is, he has to admit, a bit impressive, and all those teeth are equal parts cool and terrifying. He would likely be more impressed if it wasn’t expiring on his carpet, or if there wasn’t a shark-sized hole in his wall leading to parts unknown. He frowns, focusing and waving a hand, and both the shark and the damage disappear. Unfortunately, the water all over the floor does not.

“Wow,” Remus says. “You are no fun.”

“If you think I’m leaving an open path to your side of the Imagination in my room, you’re…” Remus grins at him, propping his head up in his hands and waggling his eyebrows expectantly. “... nevermind.”

“I never do mind,” Remus agrees, and takes the initiative to flop down onto his bed, thus getting water all over his bedsheets, because he’s an inconsiderate jerk. “So, what’s got you all down in the dumps? Usually, I crash a shark through your wall and you get all pissy about it, but you’re being boring. What gives?”

Roman glares, and seriously considers trying to remove him too. There was a time when he would have been able to do so easily, a time when he knew for a fact that he belonged in the light and Remus belonged in the dark, with all of the other things that ooze and crawl. But things aren’t so black and white these days, and now that Thomas has begun to tentatively ask for Remus’ input every now and again, it’s harder than ever to make him leave when he gets it in his head that he wants to be somewhere. He is, in that way, a bit like a pimple, or a particularly persistent mold. Neither of which he can actually call him to his face, because he’ll just take it as a compliment, but the fact remains that once he grows on, it is incredibly difficult to scrape him off.

“What gives is that I want you out of my room,” he tries, crossing his arms, but Remus makes a tsking sound.

“Oh, sure,” he says. “That’s why you were lying there all sad and shit? You looked like someone that decided that their idea of fun is to lie down in the middle of the street and see what happens.” He pauses. “Actually, do you think Thomas would--”

“Don’t finish that sentence.”

He pouts. “Boo,” he says. “You never let me do anything. But I mean, really Ro Ro, it can’t be a creative block. I’ve seen you in one of those, and you get all whiny and sick and then you start acting like you’re a poet in the 18oos and you’ve got consumption.” He lays a hand across his brow. “Oh me oh my, if only I could write one last poem before I cough my whole lungs out of my body. Ooh, could you imagine what that would look like? Your lungs, just sliding out of your mouth like big grey sacks?”

“First of all, no, gross,” Roman says. “Also, I didn’t know poets dying of consumption sounded like congested Southern belles.”

Remus waves a hand. “Eh, not the point,” he says. “And maybe the poets didn’t, but you sure do.”

“Hey--”

“But my point,” he continues, “is that it can’t be that, ‘cause Thomas has got a backlog of weeks’ worth of ideas to peruse if he actually wants to do something, which means that’s not your issue.” He rolls over on his side, so as better to make eye contact. “So what is your deal?”

Roman opens his mouth and promptly closes it again. Honestly, if this were about anything else, he might consider telling him. As annoying as he is, he feels closer to Remus now than he has in years, perhaps to the point where he could feel comfortable sharing something personal. Sure, Remus will probably laugh or make fun, or twist it into something weird or a horrible innuendo, but at least it would be out there, in the open, and someone else would know of it. At least there would be proof of its existence outside of his own mind. 

But this? Can he share this?

Because the deal isn’t a messed up audition or a troublesome idea. It isn’t even one of his usual personal issues, like the self-doubt that creeps into his mind in the small hours of the morning, the whispered thought that none of his ideas are worthy of use, that he himself is failing in his purpose, a mere facsimile of the prince that he is supposed to be.

No. For once, it’s not that, and he refuses to fall down that rabbit hole.

The deal is that Logan has a voice like a galaxy, shot through with silver and streaked with stars, and today, Roman has realized that he is in love.

-----

It took a while for either of them to notice that none of the others experience the world the way they do. They never thought to question it; Roman saw colors in sound, and Remus heard music in images, and that was just the way it was. It wasn’t until they were a bit older that they figured out that the weird looks they garnered when they brought it up, when Roman mentioned a teacher with a corn-yellow drawl or when Remus talked about a picture in 3/4 time, weren’t just disapproval directed at the way the Creativities saw the world, but instead a genuine lack of understanding.

They stopped talking about it, eventually. Or rather, Roman stopped talking about it, and Remus accepted that nobody would pay attention to his eccentricities as long as he presented them in a certain way.

So really, it’s not that Roman is hiding it. It’s just never come up.

Remus’ voice is like an oil spill, black and thick and oozing, but with flashes of lime green running through it, the color of slime and radioactive waste. Patton’s is pink, yellow, and blue all swirled together, like a field of flowers, or every flavor of cotton candy all at once. Virgil’s voice is more difficult to pin down; once, he thought it was a black, swirling smoke, but as the years have passed, Roman has realized that the smoke is not black, but dark purple, only showing its true color when light is shined through it. Janus’ is similarly difficult to interpret, but lately, he has likened it to a still, quiet forest, all dark green and brown, secrets lurking just under the surface.

But Logan’s has always been his favorite. Because Logan’s voice sounds like space itself, a backdrop of black peppered with millions of shining, twinkling lights, mixed with bright galaxies and spinning nebulae, vast and beautiful and incomprehensible. At his calmest, it is a void, the light of the stars distant and cold, but when he gets excited, when he begins to ramble about a topic, the stars increase in number and illuminate his whole face, swirling in his eyes and hair, and Roman could listen to him for days.

He’s always known that he has a bit of a crush. But he’s always thought that a crush was all it was, and if it was a bit longer-lasting than crushes are meant to be, well, it’s not as if there are a lot of other options. The mindscape proper only has seven inhabitants, and it would feel wrong to try to date someone from the Imagination, considering that he controls the place. So, he’s been content to linger on his feelings for Logan, never pushing for anything more than he would be willing to give, because another thing that he’s always known is that never in a million years would his feelings be returned.

Logan, as he has said himself so many times, does not do feelings. And even though Roman knows very well that Logan is not nearly as unfeeling as he would like to pretend to be, that does not mean that he would be comfortable with, or even open to the idea of a relationship. And even if he were, he would not choose to be with him, would not choose the embodiment of dreams and fantasies, everything that logic attempts to deny. So it’s a hopeless crush, a one-sided romance for the ages, the type of story that Roman would be captivated with if he weren’t at the center of it, if thinking about it didn’t make his chest tight and his eyes sting.

But this morning--

Oh, gods of Olympus, this morning--

He has no idea what prompted the epiphany. By all rights, this morning was like any other morning: Patton at the pancake griddle, Virgil slumped and half-awake at the table, Logan sipping at his coffee. Roman made his usual stunning and gorgeous entrance, ready to tackle the day’s challenges like a true knight would, and traded his usual morning barbs with Virgil. But before he could even sit down, Logan looked up at him, smiled slightly, and said, “Good morning, Roman,” a galaxy glittering around him, and Roman took a brief moment to think about how much he loves him.

And then stopped up short. Because, what? Love? No?

Except, yes.

These feelings have been bursting in his chest for so long, fireworks setting off whenever Logan speaks, whenever Logan so much as looks his way. And he thought they were a crush, no more than that, if not ignorable then at least possible to work around. But that’s not right, has never been right, and in this instant, years’ worth of suppositions came crashing down around his ears.

So, his mind racing, the silence stretching too long, he did the only thing he could think to do.

“I, uh, forgot a thing,” he stammered, and beat a hasty retreat back to his room, ignoring the way Patton called after him. Upon closing the door behind him, he changed back into his pajamas and collapsed back on his bed, his mind whirling, intent on not facing anybody else until he has to.

Because he loves Logan. Is in love with Logan. Has been in love with Logan for years and years now, has been pining away without even understanding that that was what he was doing.

Frankly, he’s not sure he can think of a worse position to be in.

-----

Which brings him here: his floor wet, his arms crossed, and Remus staring expectantly at him, waiting for an explanation. And Remus isn’t one to back down easily, which leaves Roman in a predicament.

He could try lying. But he’s not sure he could lie well enough about this, and frankly, he doesn’t want to risk Janus getting himself involved. But the only other option is the truth, and he’s not sure he wants Remus to know the truth, not sure he trusts Remus not to hold it over his head, to mock him or to stick his fingers in an open wound that he himself has only just discovered.

Because Remus would definitely do that. Both literally and figuratively.

“Bro,” Remus says, looking amused, “whatever it is, I’m almost positive it’s not that deep. You know what is deep?”

“What?” Roman replies, hoping beyond hope for a change of topic.

“My butt!” Remus says, and then cackles.

Roman buries his face in his hands, and Remus’ laughter stretches on and on and on, filling the room with slick oil, painting the walls with slime and noxious fumes, and green squiggles worm their way onto the backs of his eyelids, and he absolutely cannot do this right now.

“I’m in love with Logan,” he mumbles into his hands, and the laughter cuts off abruptly.

“You’re what?” Remus asks, and Roman looks up from his hands. Remus has sat up in his bed, and is staring at him with a peculiarly intent expression.

“I’m in love with Logan,” he repeats, firmer this time. He holds Remus’ gaze, daring him to say something, so of course, Remus does, erupting into laughter once again.

“You can’t be serious,” he says in between giggles. “Really? Logan? He’s such a stick in the mud. A stick in the mud with a stick up his butt. It’s like a flag, except, instead of a flag it’s Logan, because the stick is both in the mud and up his butt.” He pauses, and Roman’s face must be doing something, because Remus sobers just a bit, raising an eyebrow. “Huh. You’re actually serious.”

He groans, plopping down in the middle of the floor, ignoring the way the dampness of the carpet seeps into his pants. “I don’t know what to do,” he moans, more to air his grievance than to accomplish anything else. It’s not as if he’s expecting Remus to have any useful suggestions for him.

But Remus shifts on the bed so he can face him completely. “Okay, you’re gonna have to explain this one to me, because I don’t get it,” he says. “Whenever I look at Logan, I get robot noises and video game music on full blast.” He breaks off, humming a few bars, and Roman has to admit that it’s not an unpleasant tune, though not one he would think to associate with Logan. “Plus,” Remus continues, “he’s so boring. Sure, he’s fun to wind up, but he’s all about the rules and being logical and no, Thomas can’t do that, he’ll get acid burns, so why don’t we watch a documentary instead?” He says the last in an almost perfect imitation of Logan’s voice, his face darkening. Oddly, when Remus does it, Roman doesn’t connect the sound with space at all, hearing only the same oily splatters that his brother’s voice usually consists of. “I don’t want to watch documentaries. I want to do shit.”

Roman shakes his head. “You don’t hear what his voice actually sounds like,” he insists. “It’s… gods above, he talks, and it’s like he brings all the stars down to earth. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve heard in my life.” He scrubs a hand across his face. “And sometimes he smiles and says something smart, and I’m just, wow, I would die for you. Do you know how pretty his smile is? And he’s so frickin’ smart.”

Remus’ expression has frozen halfway between awe and disgust. “You’ve got it bad,” he says, and Roman groans.

“You think I don’t know that?” he says. “I just don’t know what to do about it!” He sighs. “Theoretically, I know all about romance and wooing. I’m the romance guy! But when I think about wooing Logan, my stomach gets all twisted up in knots. Like a sad pretzel. I mean, grand gestures and gifts are the way to go, right? But what even could I give him that he would like? He hates things that are ‘frivolous and unrealistic,’ but that’s my whole thing!”

Remus cocks his head. “Bones,” he says sagely.

He blinks. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Give him some bones,” Remus says, nodding, like this makes perfect sense. “Like, two, maybe three bones. Boys like bones.”

“... Where am I getting these bones?”

Remus’ face brightens. “I’ve got a few extra!” he proclaims. “Wanna see?”

“I-- no,” he says. “Stop. I’m not giving him bones. Why do you--” No, best not to question. “Nevermind. Is that how you got Janus to date you?”

Remus grins. “Nah,” he says. “I mean, maybe that helped. I think what really did it was that I wrote him our song.”

“You wrote him a song?”

“No, stupid, our song,” he says. “Like, how I look at him and I hear a song. And then I’ve got a song, too. So I figured out a way to mash them together. And then I gave it to him.” He sighs, almost dreamily, if Remus has a dreamy setting. Roman would like to never hear that again, thank you, because frankly, he doesn’t much want to hear about whatever weird relationship his brother has with Deceit, and he sort of regrets bringing it up in the first place. “He really, really liked it. Said it was the best thing he’d ever heard.” Remus pauses, an odd light entering his eyes. “He said something about it being from the heart. I tried giving him my actual heart, but then he said that wasn’t what he meant.”

“From the heart,” he mutters, considering. So, something heartfelt, personal. Remus literally gave Deceit something that showed how he perceived him, everything that he felt. But how can he do the same and make sure that it’s something Logan likes? Logan likes science, likes math and numbers, likes facts, and Roman doesn’t know anything about any of those things. All he knows is how Logan makes him feel and the way his voice shines like starlight in his mind’s eye, and he’s not sure how to translate that into something Logan would appreciate, or even understand.

And then it comes: the idea.

“Holy shit,” he says, spine straightening, the burst of inspiration setting his mind to whirring. For an instant, he sees it dancing before him, an image of perfection, within his reach if only he can replicate exactly what he envisions. “Remus, you’re a genius!”

Remus gawks. “I am?” he asks, and his face brightens. “I already knew that, but fuck yeah!”

Roman laughs, bright and free, clambering to his feet. “Okay, okay, I know what I’m doing,” he says. “So I need you to get out, but god, thank you so much.”

Remus hops off the bed without protest. “Anytime, bro bro,” he says, sauntering toward the door. “Remember to put in a good word with Tommy-boy for me. And if you end up fucking, put a sock on the door.”

“You’re gross,” Roman says, pushing him out. The words carry no bite, and the last thing he sees before closing the door in his face is Remus grinning at him, an expression of pure delight.

-----

In the end, it takes him a week. A week holed up in his room, only occasionally emerging to grab food, and he knows he’s making everyone else worry, but he can’t stop himself, doesn’t dare stop until what he sees in his mind has been set to paper, exactly how he wants it. It has been so long since an idea has gripped him like this, since he has been so inspired to create, since he has been so sure in his ability to make something beautiful, and he feels as though he could subsist on his exhilaration alone.

When it is done, he steps back, admires his handiwork, and proceeds to sleep for twenty-two hours straight.

On the eighth day, he steps out into the hallway, canvas tucked securely under his arm, and makes his way down the hall to Logan’s room.

He takes a deep breath before knocking, hoping to steady his nerves. He hasn’t had much time, these past few days, to worry about whether or not Logan would like it, but now, he’s wondering if this was a mistake, if this is something that would be better kept to himself. He can wave off the others’ concern by pretending he was working on hypothetical ideas, or that a quest in the Imagination ran over-long. He doesn’t actually have to give this to Logan at all, doesn’t have to bare himself like this, doesn’t have to risk his scorn and judgement.

But what else is love, in the end, if not a risk worth taking?

He knocks, and moments later, hears footsteps from inside. He barely has time to check that there is a smile on his face before Logan opens the door, eyebrows lifting in surprise.

“Roman,” he greets, and though nothing outwardly changes, Roman’s brain insists that a shooting star streaks across his vision. “We haven’t seen much of you these past few days.”

“Ah,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck, “right, sorry. I just got caught up in the creative process, you know how it is.”

“I do not,” Logan says. “Nevertheless, I am glad to see you well.” He pauses. “I was… somewhat concerned after your hasty exit the last time I saw you. I wanted to ensure that I did not do something to offend you.”

Oh, shit. He’s been so busy that he hadn’t bothered to think about how that moment might have been interpreted. And there is an odd note in Logan’s tone that implies that this is actually something that’s been troubling him, and Roman feels like kicking himself for letting him worry about it.

“No, no, not at all!” he says, gesturing with his free hand. “I just got struck with inspiration in that very moment, so of course, I needed to retreat before the idea was lost.” He winces internally as the words leave his mouth. It is a lie, but only just; it certainly wasn’t inspiration that he was struck with. That came later.

“I see,” Logan says, and Roman hopes that he isn’t imagining the way his shoulders relax, if only slightly. “That is good to hear. In that case, was there something you needed from me?”

“I--” He breaks off, swallowing hard. This is the moment of truth, the last second in which he could turn back. He is, essentially, offering up all of his emotions on a silver platter, even if Logan likely won’t recognize that fact. Still, rejection at this point would hurt worse than any failed audition, worse than any mistake he has ever made, and he has made so many.

But he has spent so long on this. He wants it to be seen by its object.

“This is for you,” he blurts out, and shoves the canvas out in front of him like a shield. Logan takes it, startled, and Roman watches as his eyes flicker across the painting, widening ever so slightly. 

After a week’s worth of work, he knows exactly what Logan is seeing. A painting of blacks and dark blues and purples, pinpricks of whites and yellows and reds, a display of the cosmos swirling on a backdrop of the void. Everything that Roman sees when Logan speaks is here: the inky darkness of his calm, the supernova of his anger, the stars that glitter and twirl in his excitement. It is like no view of space that mankind has ever seen, because this universe is Logan, completely and utterly, is comprised of the galaxies that drip from his tongue when he speaks.

This is how Roman sees him. This is how Roman loves him.

The silence stretches on for a long time, so long that Roman is tempted to declare the whole thing a bust, to laugh and play it off like it’s no big deal, like his heart won’t be completely and utterly crushed if Logan hates it.

“You painted this?” Logan finally asks. His voice sounds choked, a star collapsing in on itself. Roman shuffles his feet.

“Uh, yeah,” he says. “I just thought, um, you like space? So I, uh. Do you like it?”

He tries not to sound needy, tries not to sound like his happiness is contingent on the answer he receives. He’s not sure how much he succeeds.

“It’s… adequate,” Logan replies, and Roman could dance, could sing his relief to any and all who would listen, because he knows Logan well enough to know what that means. And if that’s the best he’ll get, he’ll take it and go and be glad, because Logan likes it, and that is more than enough for him. He feels like he’s on top of the world, like he’s floating in space himself, orbiting the moon and staring into the sun and being blinded and loving every minute of it.

“Actually,” Logan says, and for a second, Roman’s heart drops into his shoes, before he continues with, “it’s… it’s far more than adequate. I don’t know much about art, but I know a piece of expert craftsmanship when I see one.” He looks up at Roman, his eyes shining. “You made this for me?”

There is an emotion in his voice that Roman cannot name, but it is speckled with so many stars, more than he thinks he’s ever seen at once. More stars than void, at least, shining and shimmering with light.

And Roman wasn’t planning to do this. Was planning to take this slowly, was planning to give Logan his offering and leave, using his reaction as a gauge for the next step, if he dared to take a next step at all, if he came away with the conclusion that Logan would not hate him for attempting a romance. But the way Logan is staring at him, wide-eyed and open, as if he has been gifted something incredibly precious, makes him want Logan to understand just how much this means, just how much it says. Just how much of his heart and soul he is putting on the line.

Dear sweet Beyonce, he’s actually going to do it, isn’t he?

“I did,” he says. “Um, okay, I’ve never actually explained this to anyone, so bear with me.” Logan tilts his head, confused, but is otherwise silent. “Uh, have you ever heard of the thing where people’s senses get crossed? Like, say, you associate a color with a particular number or letter?”

Logan’s eyebrows furrow. “Are you referring to synesthesia?” he asks.

He can’t stop his smile. Logan’s heard of it. Maybe that will make this easier. “Yeah, that,” he says. “So, uh, Remus and I have that. He hears music when he looks at things, and I, uh. Well. I’ve sort of got the opposite.”

Logan stares at him. “You’re telling me,” he says, “that all these years, you’ve both perceived the world in an entirely different way from the rest of us, and you’ve never said a word about it?”

He winces. “I suppose?” he says. “Are you angry?” 

He doesn’t know what he’ll do if Logan is angry. He didn’t intend for Logan to be angry. He’s going to be angry if Logan is angry, angry with himself for spoiling this moment, for daring to reach for more than he could have. He should have left it alone, should have taken Logan’s enjoyment of the painting for what it was and not pushed for anything more. God, his heart feels as though it’s trying to claw its way out of his throat.

But Logan shakes his head. “No, just… surprised,” he says. “When you say you have the opposite of what Remus does, do you mean that you see images when you listen to music?”

“Sort of?” he says. “Not really images, more just arrangements of colors, if that makes sense. And I don’t actually see it with my eyes, just in my head, even though it feels like I’m seeing it with my eyes, sometimes. Even though I know I’m not really.” He pauses for a breath. He doesn’t think he’s explaining himself very well, but Logan is sill listening, so he has no choice but to push on. “And, um, not just music. Any sound, really.”

Logan nods, seeming to take it in stride. “I think I understand,” he says. “It truly is fascinating how so many of us exhibit traits and quirks that Thomas himself does not.” A measure of excitement bleeds into his voice, flaring up like the sun, and Roman resists the urge to blurt out something incredibly sappy and highly inappropriate for the moment. “So, this painting--” He glances back down at the painting, still gripped in both hands, and then abruptly stops talking.

“It’s, uh, it’s you,” Roman says, attempting to fill up the sudden quiet. “It’s your voice. I mean, it’s what I see when I hear your voice.”

“It’s… me?”

“Yes,” he says. 

“You… you see this when I talk?”

“Uh huh,” he says, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Logan’s head is lowered, his voice too soft to read well, and Roman’s nerves begin to return in full force. “Was this weird? I’m sorry if this was weird. I just, your voice is so gorgeous, and I really wanted to paint it, and I’m probably making this worse, aren’t I? If you don’t like it anymore you don’t have to keep it.”

At last, Logan raises his head. His face is burning bright red, and Roman really, really hopes it’s not in fury, hopes that he hasn’t just ruined everything. Slowly, Logan sets the painting down to rest against the wall and steps forward. Roman, for his part, is rooted in place, tracking every movement, every breath.

“Roman,” Logan says. “Don’t be idiotic.”

And then, he backs Roman against the wall and kisses him.

He doesn’t kiss like Roman would have expected. There is nothing cold about it, nothing clinical; instead, he is hard and demanding, insistent and passionate, and as soon as Roman’s brain reboots, he returns it just as eagerly, deepening it, placing his hands on the sides of Logan’s face to hold him there, hold him where he can taste him, because he has fantasized about this moment but never, ever thought that this dream could come true. And when Logan pulls back, he doesn’t go far, his face lingering bare inches from his own. His breaths puff across his skin, and behind his glasses, his pupils are dilated.

“So I take it you like it,” Roman says. His voice is hoarse.

“I do,” Logan says. His face is flushed, twisted in what is probably embarrassment, but he doesn’t look away. “And lately, I have found myself rather liking you, too. I, ah, didn’t think you returned the sentiment.”

Roman blinks, and then, throws back his head and laughs. “Are you serious?” he asks. “We could have been doing this already?” He tugs Logan’s face closer to his, resting their foreheads together. Logan turns an even more brilliant shade of scarlet. “Just in case I didn’t make it clear,” he says, “I really, really like you, Logan.” He strokes a thumb across his cheek. “My galaxy,” he breathes. “My starlight.”

Logan makes a noise deep in the back of his throat. “Yes,” he says, and it’s almost a squeak. “That is satisfactory.”

And with that, with starlight gleaming behind his eyes and his heart tapping out double-time, Roman laughs, and pulls Logan back in.

-----

A few nights later, he finds a collection of questionably-shaped bones sitting on his dresser. He is less than enthusiastic, but Logan seems interested, so he kisses his boyfriend-- his boyfriend!-- on the top of his head and leaves him to his scientific study. Of bones. Because Logan is a weird nerd, but that’s alright, because he loves him both in spite of it and because of it. 

He just. Loves Logan. All of him. So much. And Logan likes him back, and now they’re together, and really, nothing could be better than this.

He briefly considers the merits of getting Remus a gift basket, but ultimately decides against it. They’ve never needed that sort of thing between them, and if the next time Remus intrudes on his space, he doesn’t protest as much as he usually would? Well, they both understand, and that’s more than enough.

Writing Taglist: @just-perhaps @the-real-comically-insane @jerrysicle-tree @glitchybina 

[does-this-look-logicality-to-you]

The Lawson Brothers' Bakery | Chapter Seven: Brothers Creed

words: 826 characters: Logan, Patton, Janus pairings: platonic/pre-romantic Logicality, brotherly Loceit, brotherly Creativitwins, platonic Intrulogical, platonic Logince, platonic Dukeceit, platonic/pre-romantic Roceit warnings: inappropriate joke, food a/n: would you look at that? this fic is no longer dead! sorry about the unexpected hiatus. i wish i had a good excuse, but in reality i’m just lazy. the creativitwins have joined the battle! i’m really happy with the way i’ve decided to characterize them, especially remus. this is also my first time writing a genderfluid character, so tell me if i’ve gotten anything wrong.

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“Good afternoon, Brothers Lawson!” A clear, musical voice rang out through the bakery as a pair of familiar faces entered through the door. The two of them were similar-looking, except for the fact that one of them had an unruly mustache while the other was clean-shaven.

Logan sighed. “Good afternoon, Brothers Creed.”

“Hi there!” added Patton in their usual cheerful tone. They had been working at the bakery for a month now, and Logan never regretted hiring them even for a moment. They always had a smile on their face, and their positive energy and enthusiasm was contagious, both to the customers and to the brothers themselves.

“Roman, Remus, this is Patton. They use they/them. Patton, these are Remus and Roman Creed,” he introduced them, gesturing to each as he said their names. “Roman uses he/they pronouns, and Remus…” He took a moment to glance at the woven bracelet on Remus’s left wrist and noted that the thread it was made up of was pink. “Today she’s using she/her. It varies from day to day.”

“I’m genderfluid,” she explained.

“Is that a ferret in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?” Patton’s unexpected remark shocked Logan, but Remus didn’t seem to mind. Instead, she just laughed. She did, indeed, have a ferret in the pocket of the sweatshirt she was wearing.

“I like this one!” she exclaimed, pointing at them, and Patton beamed. Remus took the little creature from her pocket. “This is Lust. She’s the friendliest of all of them, so she goes pretty much wherever I go.”

“All of them?” Patton echoed. “How many do you have?”

“Seven.”

“Seven!” they whisper-yelled, evidently attempting to keep their voice down so as not to startle the ferret.

“That’s right. We call ‘em the Seven Deadly Sins. Or just the Sins. There’s Lust, Gluttony, Sloth, Wrath, Envy, Greed, and Pride,” she listed off, counting on her fingers. “The loves of my life.” She laughed.

“Where did you get so many?”

“Some of our family friends had ferrets, and those ferrets had baby ferrets, and I convinced them to let me keep them.” She held Lust out to Patton. “You wanna hold her?”

“Can I?” they squealed excitedly.

“Sure. She’s super friendly. Just hold out your hands.”

They obeyed, and Remus carefully set Lust in Patton’s hands. She sniffed at them and, apparently deciding they meant no harm, showed her approval by darting up their arm and making herself comfortable on their shoulder. “Would you look at that!” Remus exclaimed. “She likes you!”

Patton turned to Logan, their eyes sparkling with joy. “Did you hear that, Logan? She likes me?”

“Who wouldn’t?” The words hadn’t meant to escape his mouth, and an amused look spread across Remus’s face. Logan glared at her harshly, daring her to say a word, and she kept silent. Patton, on the other hand, looked flattered. Logan wasn’t sure if he was imagining it, but he could swear he noticed blooms of red on their cheeks.

“That’s really sweet of you to say,” they told him sincerely. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Not wanting to face any more embarrassment, he turned his attention to his brother, who was talking with Roman. Janus was telling Roman a funny story about a customer that had come into the bakery. Logan could barely contain his amusement. Janus had been in love with his eccentric friend for years now, and Roman was none the wiser. It had always been so obvious, to the point where it seemed that Roman was the only one who didn’t know about it.

“Well, while you guys are here, would you like to order anything?” Patton’s voice interrupted Logan’s thoughts.

“Sure, why not? I’ll take my usual,” Remus told them.

“Same here,” added Roman.

“You bet!” Patton turned to Logan. “What’s their usual?” they asked him under their breath.

“A brownie for Roman, and a piece of banana bread for Remus.”

“Noted. Thanks!” They went back behind the counter and carefully took out their orders, placing them on a pair of plates and handing them to the respective twin. “Here you are!”

Remus grinned at them. “Thanks!”

“No problem!”

“We should be going now,” Roman told them. “I’ve got rehearsal.”

“Oh! Well, break a leg! It was great meeting you guys.”

“It was great meeting you too,” Remus replied with a grin. “We’ll see you around!”

“See you!”

With one last smile, the brothers turned away and left the bakery.

“Well, that was a nice surprise,” Logan remarked. “What did you think of them?” he asked Patton.

“They were really nice!” they replied, beaming cheerfully. “How often do they usually visit?”

“It depends on how busy they are. On average, though, about once a week or so.”

“Great! I can’t wait to see Remus again, she’s really cool!”

Logan felt an unfamiliar feeling pierce his chest. Was that… jealousy? But why would he be jealous of…?

Oh.

Oh.

[notaversetohedonism]

Daisy Chains and Daydreams

Pairings: Mostly Moxiety but with some Logince as well because I love them and couldn't resist

Content : Fluff, Probably a bit long winded but it's the first fic I've ever finished 😅, mentions of food as a potential CW, as well as mentions of anxiety/panic attacks as well as general feelings of mild anxiety

Word count : 1960, jus a little one shot :)

"I'm boredddddd" groaned Roman, leaning his head back so that it rested on Logan's lap. Logan flinched slightly at the gesture, but was able to keep his composure well enough not to let out the squeak playing on his lips.

"I suppose today has been rather slow" he replied, turning a page from his novel without looking up. Virgil and Patton walked into the room quietly, perhaps hoping that the other sides would not have noticed their absence. No such luck, unfortunately.

"Hmm, Winnie the Blue and Patty-Cake," Roman began with a smirk "Couldn't help but notice that the two of you were, should I say, mysteriously absent?" Virgil simply shot him a death glare, where Patton looked sheepishly down at the carpet, a blush forming upon his freckled cheeks. God. His freckles. Typically his face was clear and bright, but on the odd summer where the sun shone a little brighter, they appeared. Virgil, as should surely be apparent, was a fan. Before they had gotten together, he often lay awake at night staring up at the ceiling, imaging tracing every single one beneath his fingers.

Virgil collapsed in an undignified heap on the couch. He, as the most cynical side, was not a fan of weather in general, but he despised these summer months. How was he supposed to maintain his edgy persona without a hoodie to pull over his head when he had had enough with Logan and Roman's nonsensical bickering? The only thing that had convinced him that dying of heatstroke was not the way to go was Patton tentatively offering up one of his many identical blue shirts.

Patton sat down next to his boyfriend, sliding his fingers into Virgil's and tracing his thumb in gentle circles on the top of his hands. The one gesture that was sure to make Virgil melt. As if he wasn't already doing that in this ridiculous heat. He looked up at Patton, the softest of smiles on his face. In return, Patton gave his usual wide, brighter than the sun itself, grin.

"Hey everyone! I had an idea!" he suddenly burst out, as if the thought had just entered his mind and he had to get it out before it left again.

"Yeah Pat?" asked Virgil softly, a light blush emerging just barely visible underneath his foundation when he saw the identical smirks on Roman and Logan's faces. Patton of course, noticed this. He gave Virgil a look the two of them had come up with together, asking with his eyes if Virgil was ok with this or if he needed to stop. Reassured by the slightest nod of Virgil's head, he continued,

"Why don't we go for a picnic? It'll be fun, and with the breeze it'll be cooler out there than it is in here!" Patton giggled, practically clapping his hands in excitement. There it was again. The ache in his face. Virgil, despite his reservations, had absolutely no intention of giving one of his typical cynical remarks that would have no doubt have been rewarded should any of the other sides been the one to suggest the concept. Logan and Roman both at the same time had said

"Sure!" causing them to blush and turn away from one another. Patton had been badgering Virgil for weeks to let him help set them up, but Virgil had gently insisted that this was something for them to discover in their own time.

"Let's do it," Virgil said, his voice starting out very quiet but becoming a little louder as he continued "It could actually be fun" Patton all but squealed with joy as he jumped up to prepare the food. That was another thing Virgil's mind would often wander to.

They could all cook to some degree. But Logan followed the recipes so meticulously and to every minor detail that the food was often a little bland, Roman had a bad gague of how hot was too hot, and Virgil, naturally, was petrified by the idea of burning himself on the hot stove. When Patton stepped up to the stove, however, it was like a whole other world. One could taste the pure love worked into every bite. The sides would typically cook for themselves, but if one was having a particularly rough day, or if they got sick, then Patton's cooking was sure to make them feel better. Virgil often received it after a panic attack, and more often than not it was the thing that grounded him.

"Oi, Panic at the everywhere, go get ready!" Roman's voice cut through Virgil's thoughts. The nickname still bothered him somewhat, but he could tell Roman was making the effort to be a little nicer to him.

"Alright Princey, if you insist." he smirked, sinking out and back into his room. He wasn't the biggest fan of wearing shorts, but he knew wearing jeans probably wasn't his best idea. He pulled on some loosely fitting jean shorts and, of course, Patton's blue shirt stayed on. He sat for a second on his bed, no longer feeling the need to repress his smiles now that he was alone. Patton saw them; when Virgil was with his boyfriend he couldn't keep them in, but he still felt a little wary around Logan and Roman. They had accepted him, but as the anxious side he still had his reservations. As he sat, Patton suddenly appeared at his side.

"Virge, are you ready to go? We're leaving soon!"

"Gah, Pat! What have we said about appearing in here with no warning?" Virgil exclaimed, but with no real bite to his voice Patton knew he was only kidding.

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon! This is gonna be so much fun!" Patton giggled, pulling at Virgil's hands. Virgil would never in a million years admit it, but secretly he found Patton's somewhat childish nature the cutest possible thing.

Before they got to their picnic spot, they had a short walk to complete. Roman and Logan forged ahead, arguing about something Virgil didn't understand, nor did he really care about. He was with Patton, and he felt safe. Their hands were loosely intertwined, their pinky fingers locked but not so tightly that Virgil could not pull away should he feel the need. It had taken a little bit of time and a lot of clear communication, but Patton was now very good and understanding of the way his boyfriend felt about affection. He craved it deeply but it often overwhelmed him. But right now, Virgil was quite possibly the calmest he had ever been. The two didn't exchange many words as they walked side by side, only the occasional comment on the beautifully scenic park, or a stifled giggle between themselves as Roman or Logan would make some loud statement.

Finally, the close-knit group of friends found the place they were seeking. They stood in a little alcove discovered by Patton and Virgil on their first official date (by that point they had actually been on about seven, but Virgil was not exactly good at reading the room and thought Patton was just being friendly. Friends kissed on the forehead goodbye, didn't they?). Tall willow trees encircled them. The space was small, but not so small that it felt uncomfortable for their slightly larger than usual party. But what Patton and Virgil unanimously agreed was the best part was the daisies. They grew here wild and free, mostly white and pure but with some pink and some purple, exciting and joyful.

"Thank goodness! I understand that being fit and healthy is necessary for me to remain the most handsome Prince in all the land," Virgil barely stifled a snicker, "but seriously guys? Now I see why your dates always take such a long time!" Logan said nothing, but gratefully slumped onto the soft grassy ground. All those long hours and late nights working tirelessly on his computer did not leave optimal time for exercise.

"Ok everyone, food time! I know it was a little short notice but I hope you all like what I've prepared for us!" Patton said, grinning. Virgil looked inquisitively into the basket that Patton had carried with them for their whole journey. And just. Wow.

Sandwiches in the flavours each side liked best, as well as at least five different types of cookies, and best of all? A rather respectably sized vanilla cake. Their favourite. Roman clapped his hands, Logan raised his eyebrows with a pleasant surprise, and Virgil once again gave his tiny smile. Just a slightly lifted corner of his mouth, but still one Patton recognised well. His own mouth initially mirrored Virgil's, but his smile only grew from there into the one the sides knew so well.

"Alright everyone, dig in!" Of course, no convincing was needed here.

After having stuffed themselves silly, the group sat on the ground, quiet and content. Even Logan, who at this point during an outing would typically be badgering the sides to get back so that he could finish his next series of extraordinary projects, simply closed his eyes and looked up, barely concealing his satisfied smile. With his closed eyes, he did not notice the barely concealed glances of pure adoration given to him by Roman.

Virgil sat propped against a tall, sturdy willow tree, staring at Patton's back lovingly, quietly pondering what the taller side was doing: his back hunched slightly, humming a tune to himself. Within less than five minutes of wondering, he had his answer.

"Uh, Pat? What's this?" he stared in mild confusion at the interwoven daisies sitting in a loop against his pale wrist as Patton looked at him with soft eyes.

"It's a daisy chain! See, I wove them together like this!" As Virgil sat patiently listening as his boyfriend weaved together the pretty little flowers, a thought wandered to the front of his mind. "How on earth did I get so lucky?" Overcome by emotions and bravery, he dared to utter,

"Pat, is it ok if I kiss you?" As Patton gave him an unreadable look for just a few seconds, he wondered if he had crossed a line. But suddenly, he was rewarded with an enthusiastic

"Of course!" and a pair of lips on his own. As Patton eventually leaned back from the kiss to regain some of his air, he suddenly stared at Virgil intensely.

"Uh, y-yes, Pat, what is it?"

"Your eyeshadow, it's purple!" Patton conjured a mirror, shyly holding it up to a stunned Virgil's face.

"And it is. The credit for this one goes to you, Pat." Patton, clearly thrilled but wanting to make sure his boyfriend was comfortable, opted, instead of saying a word, to lay his head down in Virgil's lap, looking up at him with what could only be described as pure adoration. In that moment, it was just them. Roman and Logan's quiet chatter faded into a barely audible whisper, the bird song silenced. They were together, and they were in love. A realisation that would later strike Virgil, and he would spend many am hour wondering how best to say so to Patton, but for now, they sat happily.

But what was the most exciting thing about the beautiful day they all shared together was that by the end of it, as Patton layed his head on Virgil's legs, Virgil saw Roman and Logan's tentatively intertwined hands, the awkward but hopeful smiles on their lips. Virgil decided not to tell Patton right now. Because at this moment, with his hands gently running through his boyfriends soft hair, a daisy chain around his wrist, he felt calm. He felt happy. Maybe tomorrow things would change, but just this once, Virgil decided it was alright to focus on today.

[callboxkat]

Those Long, Lonely Nights (part 6/6)

Author’s note: This is a retelling of the story These Deep Dark Woods, but from Roman’s perspective. I recommend reading that story first, but this can also stand alone.

Summary: Roman, a knight, insists on accompanying his best friend Logan, a potion maker, when he decides to head into the notoriously dangerous woods bordering their home to find some rare herbs and minerals for his apothecary. They find much more than they bargained for when they encounter Remus, a bloodthirsty giant. Logince. Angst with a happy ending.

Fic Warnings: food mention, blood, injuries, death mention, killing mention, gun mention, mild body horror (it’s Remus), disturbing imagery (it’s Remus), character death, temporary/believed character death, kidnapping, guilt, attempted self sacrifice, talk of giants, vampires and other monsters. Very unsympathetic villain Remus.

Word Count: 2174

Part 1 

Writing Masterpost!

...

Early morning daylight filled the room, and Valerie was back, setting up her supplies on the side table. She glanced over as Roman yawned, blinking sleep from his eyes.

“I did ask you to fetch someone if he woke up,” she scolded gently.

Roman realized he was still sitting on Logan’s bed, leaning against the headboard, Logan’s hand held in both of his.

Logan was asleep, his face turned slightly towards Roman.

Roman felt his face heat up. “...it was late,” he justified, watching as Valerie started to check Logan over. “He seemed a little scared, so I just....”

“It’s okay. I did ask you to keep him calm,” Valerie said. She put the back of her hand on Logan’s cheek, then felt his pulse, giving a little nod to herself. She then moved on to check the bandages on Logan’s head. “How are you feeling this morning?” she asked as she worked.

Roman smiled. “Much improved, thanks to you.”

“That’s good to hear. You didn’t hurt your ankle too much when you decided to migrate over here, did you?”

Roman huffed indignantly, pouting. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t left his bed at all since he’d been here. And he was keeping his worse-off foot elevated, like she’d told him to. He’d put it up on the bed and everything. “I did not.”

Valerie looked amused. “Okay, I believe you. Would you mind moving back over to your own bed? I need to check on those ribs of yours, and there’s not quite enough space here.”

Roman looked reluctantly at Logan, then sighed, and nodded. He very gently placed Logan’s hand on the blanket and allowed Valerie to help him back to his own bed.

She was about halfway through reapplying the salve on his torso when there was a groan from the neighboring bed. Roman’s head snapped up immediately. Valerie also paused, glancing over.

Logan’s eyes were open. He looked drowsy, still, but rather than the bleary, nervous disorientation of the night before, now his eyes were sharp and focused—if still understandably confused. He stared up at the ceiling for a moment, then turned his head, looking around.

Roman gasped, then grinned, trying to hide how worried he’d been. “Does my favorite nerd stir? You’re finally back in the land of the living!”

Logan’s eyes found Roman. He frowned and opened his mouth to speak, only to break off into a coughing fit. Valerie quickly set down the salve she’d been applying and fetched a glass of water. Roman watched as she brought it over to him, trying to ignore the acrobatics his heart was performing.

“Careful now,” she said. “Have some water.”

She helped Logan to drink. Logan seemed to be trying to help hold the glass, but it was obvious that he was still feeling weak and exhausted.

“Better?” Valerie asked once he had drunk a fair amount.

Logan nodded slightly, closing his eyes as he did so. “Thank you,” he said, his voice still rough.

“No problem at all,” the doctor assured him. She glanced him up and down, assessing. “Can you tell me your name?”

“Logan.”

“And where are we, Logan?”

He opened his eyes again and glanced around. “It appears to be a hospital, although… I’m afraid I can’t be more specific.”

“Yes, you are in the hospital,” Valerie confirmed. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Logan swallowed, his gaze growing a bit glassy. “The… the giant,” he whispered.

“Yes, Sir Roman here has told me about that. I’m sorry about what happened, but you’re safe now.” She glanced towards Roman, who looked at her meaningfully. Logan seemed pretty lucid—surely he was well enough to talk?

Valerie seemed to debate for a fraction of a second, but thankfully, she kept her promise. “Alright, everything looks good. I’ll… leave you two alone for a moment, then, unless you need something?”

“No, thank you, doctor,” Logan said. “I will be fine for a moment.”

“Alright, then. I’ll be back to check on you later.”

“Wait,” Logan said suddenly, reaching out as if to stop her. “My apothecary, my clients….”

“There are other apothecaries,” Roman said soothingly. “They’ll be fine until you’re better.”

“Yes, yes, but… some of my clients, they have told me they have difficulty being served elsewhere.”

Valerie hesitated. “Which clients?”

“Vampires,” Logan said.

Oh, Roman thought. He suddenly felt a bit guilty, thinking about his and Logan’s exchange only a few days before. He should have guessed that vampires might have difficulty finding what they needed. And of course Logan would care about that, even while lying in a hospital bed himself.

“Valerie, if you would not mind… I know it is a lot to ask… but there are only seven of them.”

Valerie tapped her fingernails on her clipboard. “I can put a sign on the door,” she said. “I can tell them to come to me. I’ll take care of it.”

Logan relaxed. “Thank you.”

Valerie nodded, gathered up her things, then left the room. Roman waited until she was sure he’d heard her footsteps leave the neighboring room, then carefully got up from his own bed and limped back over to Logan’s. Logan reached towards him, and Roman helped him to sit up, pushing pillows behind him and then letting him lean back against them. Roman sat down on the edge of the bed again, which Logan didn’t seem to mind, if he even noticed.

Logan’s eyes had locked onto his injured leg, splinted and heavily bandaged. A part of Roman wished he had adjusted the covers to hide it, but he supposed it wasn’t as if Logan didn’t know what had happened.

“They say you’ll probably need a cane,” Roman admitted. As if it would somehow make it better, he added, “We’ll get you a nice, stylish one. People will think it’s just part of your whole apothecary vibe.” Logan liked to look professional—surely that would be a plus. Right?

Mercifully, Logan changed the subject. “How long have I been asleep?”

“A couple of days. Ever since the giant….” Roman shuddered at the memory. “Anyway. You’ve got a concussion—twinsies—and you lost a lot of blood. But Valerie says that you shouldn’t have any kind of permanent damage, other than the limp. And for now, you get to take some killer pain meds. I’m almost jealous.”

Logan took a moment to mull that over. He looked Roman over, his gaze lingering on his bruised face, his cracked ribs, and his sprained ankle. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“What? Why are you sorry?”

“You’re hurt because of me,” Logan pointed out. “It was my plan to go into the woods. My plan to fetch those supplies, even knowing the risks—”

“You didn’t know about that giant.”

Logan did not seem reassured. “I knew about the monsters in the woods. I knew that the sentries and the walls and the enchantments were there for a reason. I knew that it was dangerous.”

“Logan.”

“You could have died, because of me—”

Roman held up a hand to stop him. “But I didn’t. I am very much still alive.”

Logan sighed. He picked at the blanket lying across his lap. “And the giant, then, it’s…?”

“Dead,” Roman assured. “As dead as we would have been if you didn’t distract him so we could get out of there. As dead as you would have been if I hadn’t—gods, Logan, why did you want me to leave you behind? Did you really think I’d ever do something like that to you? You’re my—” he cut himself off, the tips of his ears reddening. He wasn’t even sure what he’d been about to say, but… he knew it wasn’t something he could just… say.

Logan watched him for a moment. Then, cautiously, he spoke. “Roman, you asked the doctor for a moment alone with me. May I ask why?”

Roman fell silent, before looking back up at Logan; and he met those wide, earnest, deep blue eyes. His heart was beating very fast. He swallowed.

No more wasted time.

“Because… we need to talk.”

For a long moment, Logan simply stared at him. Roman couldn’t feel his fingers.

Then, the apothecarist looked down, and considered. “Perhaps…” Logan said slowly, “Perhaps we do.”

Okay, maybe Roman was reading into this too much, but that… that sounded like Logan might feel the same way. Was he reading into this too much?

…Roman might faint.

Logan looked a little concerned, now. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine!” Roman quickly assured him, his voice possibly a little higher than normal. He wished there was an inconspicuous way he could fan himself, but there was not.

“Are you sure?”

“Yep! Mm-hm!”

“Okay.” Logan waited. Roman might have imagined it, but he may have also looked a bit nervous.

Finally, Roman determined that he was in fact not going to faint like some kind of romantic disaster—at least, not yet. He took a few deep breaths, to steady himself. He cleared his throat. Still, his voice shook when he began to speak—although it grew firmer as he continued. “So… so, Logan, there’s something that I’ve really wanted to tell you for a… a very long time. And… to be honest, I never really intended to. I suppose I was afraid. But after everything that’s happened, everything we went through, thinking that you had… that I might have lost you… I just need you to know. I hope that’s okay.”

Logan blinked.

He knew that the words were not coming across as coherently or poetically as he had imagined, over and over through the years, but the words were coming. And now he just had to say it. Roman took a shaky breath, and then let out a little helpless laugh. “Logan, I’ve been in love with you for years.”

“Oh,” Logan said softly.

Roman swallowed. “Yeah.”

“If I might ask… how long have you felt this way?”

“…Since I was still in training. To be a knight.”

He could feel Logan doing the math on that. Knew that he knew that that was practically when they had very first met. The apothecarist was silent for a long moment.

“I remember…” Roman said, wanting to fill the silence, “one of the other recruits had cut me during a practice fight, and they had me come to you for a poultice. To—to make sure it didn’t get infected. You’d barely finished your apprenticeship, but everyone said you were the best.”

“You were very clumsy at the start,” Logan remembered. “You kept getting injured, and needing to return. You were very lucky only to receive trivial wounds.”

Roman bit his lip. Logan looked at him funny.

“…I’ve been practicing with a sword pretty much since I could walk,” Roman confessed.

Logan stared at him. “So….”

“I wanted to see you. You were just… I wanted to keep seeing you, but you were always so professional back then, turning me down whenever I asked if you wanted to hang out away from the apothecary.”

“I see.”

Roman knew he was bright red. “So, I, uh, kept having little mishaps. Or just kind of wandering over there. And then… eventually, I guess I wore you down, and you agreed to go to the library with me.”

“I needed a tome on the applications of helenium,” Logan recalled quietly. “I went with you because I was already going there.”

“I know,” Roman said simply. Then he gave Logan a weak smile. “And it worked, didn’t it? We were friends after that.”

Acquaintances, he recalled Logan saying. Close acquaintances, he had eventually allowed. But it was true. They were friends. Logan did not correct him, he noticed.

“I never wanted to pressure you,” Roman continued. “I never wanted to make you do anything that you didn’t want to do, and I never wanted to make you uncomfortable. But… it’s true. I’ve—I’ve loved you for a long time.” He looked down at the blankets, finding it difficult to meet Logan’s eyes. “So—so, I just wanted to know… if you might feel the same way. It’s okay if you don’t! And It’s okay if you don’t—if you don’t love me; but if you’d like to, I don’t know, try this out… I would just really like to give it a chance.”

Logan didn’t answer right away. Roman’s heart was pounding. Long seconds ticked by, each one dragging on like hours.

“I think,” the apothecarist said finally, hesitantly reaching out and taking Roman’s hand, “That I would like that as well.”

Roman’s mouth fell open, and he jerked back, staring at Logan. Logan just looked at him, real and alive. Tears welled in Roman’s eyes, and he took Logan’s hand in both of his own. He blinked the tears away so he could search Logan’s face. A few rolled down his cheeks. He didn’t care. “Really?” he croaked, scarcely believing he might have heard correctly.

Logan nodded, and then he smiled. “Really.”

Now with a post-story illustration 

[villlainarc]

All of These Stars (Will Guide Us Home)

Summary: Logan had a guardian angel. Okay. He could sort of work with that.

Angels were real. He could work with that a bit less, though he supposed it wasn’t entirely unreasonable.

His guardian angel was very pretty and absolutely fascinating—from an objective and scientific standpoint, of course. He knew that those two were indisputable facts, so he didn’t have a problem with that, he could accept that.

The fact that he had a guardian angel meant he needed help.

Oh, absolutely not. Logan couldn’t even pretend to work with that.

In which Logan finds himself stuck with a guardian angel and a strange feeling blossoming between them.

Pairing: Logince

Warnings: brief mention of not eating (though it isn’t intentional), swearing, it gets real sad before it gets happy again

Word Count: 11,504

Taglist (ask to be added!): @max-is-tired @raaindropps @kiribakuandcats @main-chive

Notes: for the sanders sides reverse bang, run by @sanderssidesfanfiction. as per the rules of the reverse bang, the art this is inspired by was done by none other than @2queer2deer and is here

and finally, many thanks to ren for offering to beta this after it got too long for me to catch everything myself and my brain gave up on me fjskskd

ao3

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Logan was a neuroscientist. He knew that a fight or flight response was triggered when the human brain was overwhelmed and stressed. He knew exactly how it dealt with information and that if need be, it would formulate more believable scenarios when the current one couldn’t be processed. He knew that when it came to sleep deprivation, intense hallucinations would only start after a full seventy-two hours of no sleep.

Logan was not overwhelmed. Logan’s mind had always processed things in the way it should have, and he was not prone to coming up with scenarios that had never happened. While it wasn’t as much sleep as would have been ideal—seeing as he had been consistently sleep deprived for the past week—Logan had still slept for a full seven and a half hours last night.

And that’s why, for the life of him, he could not figure out why there appeared to be an angel in the middle of his lab.

“Ah,” the angel said, turning around, completely oblivious to the fact that it (he?) was not supposed to exist. “You must be Logan.”

So. The angel knew his name. Logan found himself nodding blankly in response, trying to think up some sort of explanation for why there would be a fucking angel in his lab.

“Nice to meet you then, Logan. How are you?” the angel asked, still clueless about how utterly impossible its (his?) being here was. He (Logan had decided somewhere in the back of his mind that calling something humanoid “it” felt distinctly wrong) lifted himself onto one of the stainless steel tables littered about the lab, swinging his feet as he continued talking. “I’m Roman,” he added, almost as an afterthought.

Logan blinked. The angel—or Roman, as Logan supposed he should refer to him—was sitting on his lab table, and that’s about all Logan’s mind could process at the moment. Acting on the one thing that made sense to him, Logan took a step forward. “Get off my lab table.” After taking a breath and making a very conscious effort not to scream, he tacked on a clipped, “Please.”

“Oh! Sorry, yes. I’ll do that.” Roman pushed himself smoothly off the lab table, landing on the ground with barely a sound.

“Right,” Logan said under his breath. “Right,” he repeated, this time directed more at Roman than himself. “I’m going to have to wipe that down, and then you’re going to tell me exactly why you’re here, how you know who I am, whether or not you’re actually an angel, how your wings work, and then you’re going to get the fuck out of my lab.” With that, Logan felt perfectly secure in grabbing a clean cloth and a spray bottle of bleach before walking back to the offending lab table and wiping it down thoroughly.

“I think you’re going to have to repeat all those questions for me, one at a time, and at a far slower pace,” Roman said, hovering in the background once Logan had begun cleaning. “I caught exactly none of it.”

“Yes,” Logan agreed. “I apologize, I was rambling a bit. Give me one moment and I’ll be right with you.” With a final swipe of the cloth, Logan put away the cleaning supplies and pulled a notepad out of his lab coat. “Now,” he said, scrawling something across the page as he sat down, “please, have a seat in this chair right across from me and then answer this to start: why are you here?”

“Why, for you, of course! I’m your guardian angel, Logan, and it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

That raised a fair few more questions than it answered, but Logan wasn’t going to think too hard on that just yet. He finished noting what Roman had said and then moved on to his next question. “I had asked you how you knew who I was, but I think that question just answered itself, so I’m going to skip it.” Logan tapped his pen against the notepad for a moment, recalling what he’d said next. “Ah, and then I asked if you were actually an angel, which, again, I feel has been sufficiently explained. Now then, how do your wings work?”

“Like any wings would work, I suppose,” Roman said, ruffling his feathers a bit as he stretched them out to their full width. Logan winced as a few feathers fell to the floor, making a mental note to sweep them up as soon as he could. “I flap them, and they help me fly. What else would you like to know about them?”

“Hm, they do protrude from your back, correct? And you were born with them?”

“Yes, and yes, I— where are you going?” Logan had gotten up from his chair while Roman had been in the middle of speaking, poking about his lab for something.

“Just getting a pair of gloves. Please, don’t mind me. You can continue.”

“Oh, no, that’s alright. I was pretty much done. But may I ask why you’re looking for gloves?”

“Right,” Logan agreed with a quick nod. “I suppose I shouldn’t have assumed before going to get them, but… would you mind if I touched your wings? I’m curious as to how they feel.”

“Absolutely! Be my guest.”

“Thank you. Could I ask you a few more questions while I work?”

“Ask away, darling.”

“In that case—” Logan pulled the gloves over his hands with a snap, walking up behind Roman, “—I hope this isn’t too forward or uncouth, but what exactly does it mean to be an angel? On Earth, we have a multitude of myths and ideas about what they are, how they act, where they come from, what they do, and so on. What’s the truth?”

“Hm, I can’t really answer that. Since you’re a mortal, there are certain things I’m simply not allowed to tell you. But! I can say that every culture got at least a few aspects right. Every story holds a grain of truth, and the stories of angels are no different.” Roman paused, and Logan heard the first few hints of a frown enter his voice. “What are you doing back there, anyway? It tickles.”

“Me? Oh, I’m just looking for muscles or bones, I suppose, though anything interesting would do. I’m not sure. Do you happen to know what your wings are made of?”

“Um. Muscle, probably? And bone and feathers? I’m not sure, honestly. It’s not something that’s of particular importance, you know?”

“I see,” Logan said, still running his hands through Roman’s feathers. “They appear to be almost identical to bird wings, did you know that?”

“…No? Is that a good thing?”

“It means they were specifically designed for flight, likely longer flights as well. They’re more similar in structure to the wings of a bird of prey, though I suppose that would make sense, especially considering that the rest of you is humanoid and we too are a predatory species. So yes,” Logan concluded, clearing his throat awkwardly. “I’d say that is a good thing.”

Roman turned his head slightly, watching Logan pull off his gloves and put them carefully in a waste container with a curious look in his eyes. “Well, I’m glad.”

“Do you mind if I take a few of your feathers to study them?” Upon seeing Roman bristle a little at the thought, Logan added swiftly, “I was only referring to the ones that have fallen to the floor, I wouldn’t take them directly from your wings, not to worry.”

“I don’t see why not, then. You didn’t have to ask, you know.”

Logan shrugged. “It’s always better to ask about everything when working with human—or humanoid, in your case—test subjects.”

“Hm,” Roman replied, cocking his head to the side as Logan lifted a few feathers from the ground with a pair of tweezers before carefully sealing them in a plastic bag.

Once he’d done that though, Logan’s scientific curiosity immediately waned, leaving only a looming sense of panic because, as he’d somehow managed to forget, there was a fucking angel in his science lab and absolutely no protocol for handling such a situation. “I need to sit down,” he decided aloud.

“Good idea,” Roman hummed, getting out of his own chair and making his way around the lab. “This is where you work, huh?”

“Yes. Don’t touch a thing.” Logan’s words were purely instinctual, any rational thought he may have had vanishing rapidly.

“Noted,” Roman replied, making a show of folding his hands behind his back before peering into a microscope. “You’re a neuroscientist, right?”

“Shouldn’t you already know that? Being my ‘guardian angel’ and all,” Logan said, and he would have put finger quotes around the words “guardian angel” if his hands were not currently occupied with holding his head between them. Logically, Logan knew his sarcasm and disbelief stemmed from the fact that he was currently falling into denial but emotionally, Logan was very far from ready to acknowledge the fact that angels just might exist—no, scratch that—that they did exist.

“Oh, of course I knew that. I’m merely trying to make small talk. You seem a bit overwhelmed, that’s all.”

“This ‘small talk’ is only serving to make me more overwhelmed.”

“Ah. Would you prefer if I got straight to the core of your psychological issues and the reason you’ve been deemed worthy of being assigned a guardian angel?”

“…I’m going to have to say no to that. What would really help is you shutting the fuck up so I can think straight.”

“Jeez, I knew you weren’t good at making friends, but I didn’t—”

“So sorry, did you not hear when I asked for complete silence?”

“Right, right. Got it. Shutting up now.”

Logan let out a sigh at that, letting his head drop once more into his hands.

He had a guardian angel. Okay. He could sort of work with that.

Angels were real. He could work with that a bit less, though he supposed it wasn’t entirely unreasonable.

The angel was very pretty and absolutely fascinating—from an objective and scientific standpoint, of course. He knew that those were just indisputable facts, so he didn’t have a problem with that, he could accept that.

The fact that he had a guardian angel meant that he needed help.

Oh, absolutely not. Logan couldn’t even pretend to work with that.

Having come to a decision, he lifted his head from his hands. “You need to get out. Now.”

Roman blinked at him from his place behind a different microscope than the one he’d been near before. “I— what? Why?”

“I don’t need—nor do I want a guardian angel, so I’m asking you to leave. That’s all, I can assure you it’s not personal.”

“Logan, darling, I’m frankly offended that you would imply that I would just abandon you like that! Besides, I’m tied to you until further notice. I couldn’t leave you behind even if I wanted to—which, for the record, I don’t now and won’t ever.”

“Yes, well— figure something out. I am not entertaining this any longer. I apologize for the inconvenience, but you are of no use to me. Thank whoever’s in charge for thinking of me, and goodbye, Roman. It was nice meeting you.”

“…So, what do you not understand about the fact that I cannot physically leave? Because I thought that was pretty clear, but if you need me to, I can explain again.”

“I understood you perfectly fine,” Logan said, standing up and taking an unintentionally menacing step towards Roman. “I simply don’t care. I’d thank you kindly for leaving me alone. I don’t need your help.”

“Was that an invitation for me to list all the ways you do, in fact, need my help?”

“No, it really wasn’t, it was actually a very explicit invitation to leave me alone and get the fu—”

“So! First of all, you’re lonely.”

“That’s just wrong, plain and simple. I have Patton and I have Virgil, not to mention my family and—”

“Very true, but if you try to tell me they truly understand you, you’d be lying, no?”

Logan had nothing to say to that.

“Exactly. Secondly, your ambition and curiosity are the only things you’re living for. You have no proper sense of self and no confidence in who you are as a person.”

“I—”

“No, no, I’m not done yet. Thirdly, you still haven’t moved past the fact that your aspirations and curiosities have always been mocked and still don’t feel that you can speak your mind freely because you fear you’ll be belittled for your interests.”

“I think that’s more than enough, I get the idea—”

“And finally,” Roman said a bit louder, talking over Logan’s objections, “in your drive to prove the people from your past wrong, you’ve lost all trust in those closest to you. Not only are you lonely now, you still insist on keeping everyone at a distance so you will forever be lonely.”

Logan was silent.

“So, how did I do? Was I right?”

“Perhaps a few things you said were somewhat accurate, but that in no way means I need your help. Because I don’t.”

“Mm, my boss begs to differ, and so do I. Besides, you really don’t have a say in this. You’re stuck with me, I’m afraid.” Roman didn’t seem very troubled with this information, sending Logan a sparkling grin followed quickly by a wink.

“Well then. Let’s just say you do end up staying around. What exactly do you plan on doing that any good therapist couldn’t?”

“Well, for starters, I’m an angel, Logan. My angelic nature is a healing force all on its own. Secondly, a therapist couldn’t provide you with love now, could they? They wouldn’t be able to help you feel less lonely by being your friend, huh?”

“I don’t need—”

“You don’t need friends? Everyone needs friends, Logan. It’s human nature, I’m sure you know that.”

Logan sighed, running a hand absently through his hair. “Let’s say I ignore you. Would you eventually leave me alone?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Alright then, let’s just pretend I do accept your existence in my life. How am I supposed to explain who you are?”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, darling. I can handle the explanations, that was all a part of my training.”

“How comforting. Now, what happens if I’m never deemed ‘fixed?’ Do you just have to live with me until I die? Does that mean you’ve failed?”

“Okay, so let’s get one thing straight—”

“I don’t think you can do that. I’m gay.”

“Oh, I know, it’s just a figure of speech, but anyway, that wasn’t even the point. What I was going to say is that you aren’t being ‘fixed.’ You don’t need to be fixed, you need love and support. So I’m not here to fix you, I’m here to help you, and I won’t fail in that, Logan.”

“That’s a sweet sentiment I suppose, but that doesn’t eliminate the possibility of failure by any means.”

“Well then, it seems we have an opportunity here, now don’t we?”

“Do I want to know what that entails?”

“Quite possibly not, but you also don’t have a choice. Either way though, you need to learn how to trust people, right? Here’s your first chance. Trust that I won’t fail you, because that’s all you can really do in this case.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Hm, I don’t think that sounded much like you trusting me, somehow. Let’s try that again: I won’t fail you, Logan. Trust me.”

“I… will ignore the possibility that you might fail.”

Roman snorted. “That’s closer, at least. You’ll get there someday.”

“Well,” Logan said, clearing his throat. “Would you mind getting out of my lab while I work, at least? I’m afraid I won’t be able to concentrate with someone else in the room.”

“Even if that someone’s fabulously charming and winningly handsome?”

“I’m afraid so, and I’m so very sorry about that,” Logan said, not sounding very sorry at all.

“You don’t sound very sorry at all,” Roman pouted.

“Yes, well, I am and I’ve wasted enough time entertaining you. So if you don’t mind, I have work to do now.”

“Ooo, what are you doing toda—”

“No, nope, absolutely not, get out.” He herded Roman out the door, slamming it once he’d made it through. Leaning his head against it with a sigh, Logan made a futile attempt to collect his thoughts, knowing instinctively that no matter how hard he tried, he would be getting absolutely nothing of worth done today.

_________________________

For the next several weeks, Logan was constantly plagued by Roman’s continued existence.

The angel refused to leave him alone for more than fifteen minutes at a time, and Logan was certain he was going absolutely insane because of it. No matter how many locked doors he hid behind, Roman always managed to find a way through. Logan hypothesized that it was magic, but Roman vehemently denied that when asked.

“Me? Use magic? Why, of course not! It’s not allowed when I’m on Earth because I’m supposed to be ‘blending in,’ and I would never break a rule as important as that. I’m shocked and appalled that you’d accuse me of such a thing, my darling Logan.”

Logan didn’t believe that absolute bullshit for a second, but he could never prove anything to the contrary, even though he did spend nearly every waking moment with Roman. Even if he could never get Roman to stop talking. Even if he was overwhelmed with the constant onslaught of Roman Roman Roman—

At that point, Logan couldn’t remember what he had been trying to find out in the first place. As he spent more time around Roman’s constant chatter, he could feel himself physically losing brain cells; it was getting harder to think, harder to move, harder to calm his head, his heart, his breaths.

It was possible that he should have mentioned this to Roman, but Logan didn’t want to tell the angel any more than necessary, even though doing so would mean that he would leave him behind sooner. That wasn’t worth the vulnerability he would be showing, nothing was.

So he just had to… survive.

He could survive; he’d done so all his life, clearly. There was no reason at all for him to stop now.

Besides, he had a few hours of Roman-free time while he was at work, and that was enough to let him breathe properly. Though it was gradually becoming harder for him to concentrate long enough to find the correct train of thought to follow, his time spent at work as a neuroscientist was still far superior to any time spent around Roman.

At least, it had been before today. Because today, everything—everything—was going wrong.

First, it was his alarm being set to the wrong sound. Instead of waking him up with its usual serene tones that gradually increased in volume, it emitted a jarring series of beeps that physically hurt Logan when he heard them.

Then, it was his coffee being too cold, then too sweet, then being spilled over his counter. It hadn’t all been lost, but what was left in the thermos wasn’t enough to placate Logan as the right amount would have on any other day.

After the spilled coffee came the pout Roman gave him after he’d snapped at him for humming too loudly. After the pout came the imploring request to pretty please tell Roman what was wrong, after the request came another bout of waspish remarks, after the waspish remarks came another pout, and after the pout, Logan simply left.

Once he arrived at work, Logan was certain that his day was going to get better. It could only go up from the pit he’d fallen into, right?

Wrong. Logan’s day could—and would—get so much worse.

The first thing to go wrong at work was seeing his messy lab. He’d been tired when he’d left last night, leaving the clean up to his future self. This was proving to have been a terrible idea.

Cringing at the equipment strewn all over, Logan locked his bag away in a locker on the left wall and got to work cleaning.

That, at least, was calming.

What was decidedly not calming was having one of his coworkers burst through the door without so much as a knock. This was the second thing to go wrong after Logan had arrived at work, and the following conversation was the third.

“You aren’t busy, are you?”

“As a matter of fact, I—”

“Doesn’t matter. We need you to check out these scans right about… oh, now, but no pressure of course. I’ll be in room 312 whenever you’re done,” the man—whose name Logan couldn’t seem to remember for the life of him—interrupted with a tight smile. “Thanks,” he added as an afterthought, strolling out of the lab without even having the decency to close the door behind him.

The fourth thing to go wrong was the fact that Logan had to actually concentrate on doing something while there was still clutter all over the room, but he did manage to do so with only mild suffering.

Logan had just begun to grow hungry when the realization of the fifth thing to go wrong dawned on him. He’d forgotten to pack his lunch.

Fuck.

This wasn’t catastrophic, of course. He could always go somewhere to buy lunch, but it was while Logan was searching for his wallet that he remembered leaving it on the counter at home. While Logan would by no means starve without lunch, not having food to sustain him for the rest of the day would not bode well for anyone who needed to speak with him.

That was the sixth thing that went wrong.

The seventh thing to go wrong was Logan’s lightheadedness, a sudden reminder that he hadn’t had breakfast either, so consumed had he been with the spilled coffee and argument with Roman. This left him with two awful options. He could either wait until he got home to eat (which would have countless adverse effects on his physical health) or he could ask to borrow money from someone he worked with (which would have countless adverse effects on his mental health). There really was no winning for him.

But having to deal with the discomfort of asking for money seemed to Logan a lesser evil at that point than having to wait for several more hours before he’d be able to alleviate the gnawing pain in his stomach.

This was the eighth thing to go wrong, the ninth being the fact that the sandwich he’d been lent had been slathered with mayo and gone soggy because of it.

Logan’s day seemed to be looking up after lunch, though, as he had finally managed to finish cleaning up his lab by that point and was able to continue research into a different patient’s condition at a more leisurely pace than he’d had to think at that morning.

There was still so much that could go wrong, though, and it all did.

The tenth thing was a conversation with a coworker that stretched on for a small eternity, the eleventh a series of three brand new things he had to do at “his earliest convenience,” the twelfth a glass beaker that Logan had dropped shattering to pieces on the floor.

Logan left after he’d cleaned up that mess, not wanting to get to the thirteenth bad thing because although he was far from superstitious, the fact that he now knew angels existed was fucking with his mind in that regard.

Once he got home, he restarted the count of things that went wrong solely for his own sanity. Reaching a count of unfortunate incidents that was any higher than twenty things would make him want to scream, so when he saw Roman waiting for him on the couch as soon as he walked through the doorway, he considered that the first terrible thing to happen once he’d gotten home as opposed to the twenty-first terrible thing that had happened in total.

The second thing was the discovery that Roman had raided his refrigerator earlier that day and eaten the lunch he’d made for himself, the third that he found his house to be entirely void of Crofters jam. The fourth was the fact that peanut butter eaten alone made his mouth feel thick and dry, the fifth Roman’s proclamation that he’d told Logan so.

The sixth thing to go wrong once Logan got home was the fact that Roman would simply not stop singing, even after he’d mentioned that he was going to take a nap because it had been a long day so could he please be quiet for just thirty minutes? That was all he wanted, thirty blissful minutes of peace and quiet.

He didn’t even get five.

That was alright though, he decided, because he could read and block out any noise that happened to drift his way, obnoxious singing included.

The seventh tragedy occurred when Logan finished his book and had to return once again to reality and the angel that came with it. It was getting dark, and Logan should have gone to the kitchen to get food at that point. He hadn’t eaten much at all today, but going to the kitchen also meant having to deal with Roman and his loud voice and prying questions and— nope. Logan didn’t have enough mental energy left to handle that.

So instead, he decided to do what he always did when his problems proved to be too much for him. He ran away from them.

Specifically, he ran away to a field of wildflowers in the middle of nowhere with the most perfect view of the stars he’d ever seen.

While that was still running away, Logan tended to ignore that in favor of admiring the night sky.

Now, all he had to do was get out of the house without running into Roman. He would want to know where Logan was going and then he’d have to explain and then Roman would want to come with him and that could only end with Logan becoming even more frustrated with the world, so he opted to leave through his window.

He’d never tried to do that before, so he was pleasantly surprised when he made it out with only a slight stumble. Without the walls of his house closing in on him, Logan noted that he felt more at ease than he had all day. The night air also helped to calm him, and his entire demeanor had relaxed by the time he reached his field of wildflowers.

Letting out a sigh, Logan felt any remaining tension melt away as he sat down beneath the leaves of a willow tree. He leaned his head back against its trunk and allowed himself to simply trace the constellations above him with his eyes.

When he’d been far younger, more naive, and less concerned with making enough money to live comfortably, Logan had seriously considered becoming an astronomer. He’d also toyed with the thought of being an astrophysicist, but the idea of having to work with concepts that weren’t concrete or truly proven made him feel slightly panicked and had turned him off from that completely. Still though, he’d always found anything to do with planets, galaxies, stars, and anything in between to be utterly fascinating. He could have spent hours in the library reading about astronomers and their discoveries from centuries past, and while Logan wouldn’t ever be one to work solely in theoreticals, learning about those theories was almost more fascinating than the facts themselves. No matter what else was going on in his life at the time, he had always been able to turn to the stars in some form or another as a calming presence. They were the one constant that hadn’t managed to fade from his life, and Logan was incredibly grateful for it. He didn’t even want to think about a life lived without the stars for company.

That’s why this field of wildflowers meant so much to him; it wasn’t the place itself as much as it was what it allowed him to see. His surroundings were undoubtedly beautiful, but they paled in comparison to the sky above. And, sitting beneath the willow tree and looking up, up, up, Logan was perfectly content.

He would have stayed that way too were it not for the arrival of one The Blessed Roman, guardian angel.

“Logan? What are you doing all the way out here?”

Sighing, Logan avoided the question. “Did you follow me?”

“No! Well, kind of. That depends on what you mean by following. No, I didn’t see you leave and then decide to leave then as well. But yes, I did notice that you were being awfully quiet and decide to check on you before discovering that you were gone before using the bond between us to guide me here.”

“Wonderful, so I can never escape you.”

“No, you really can’t, I’m afraid.” Roman walked the rest of the way to the trunk of the willow tree, sitting down beside Logan and pressing his back up against it as well. “Now, why are you here?”

“I don’t want to talk about it, and I don’t want to talk to you. In fact, I would much prefer to be left alone.”

“Ah, you’re shutting down again. You don’t want to be vulnerable, so you’re pushing me away when I try to get you to open up. You definitely shouldn’t do that, especially considering that no matter how vulnerable you are, I am physically not able to hurt you in any way, shape, or form. I promise you can trust me.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Oh, that’s fine too! You can talk about anything, but please, Logan, just talk to me.”

“I— why?”

Roman shrugged. “Talking helps, sometimes. Just to have someone who’ll listen to you, you know?”

“I’ll try it, I suppose. But if I ask you to leave me alone again, please do so.”

“Of course, darling.”

“Alright. So.” Logan cleared his throat, not knowing how to continue. He looked up at the stars again, and his eyes lit up with the sudden brilliance of an idea. “Look at the sky, and see that star over there? The really bright one?”

“Yes, I believe so.”

“Its name is Rasalhague, which is derived from the Arabic phrase meaning ‘the head of the serpent collector.’ And since it’s the brightest star in the constellation Ophiuchus—a constellation depicting a man often believed to be the Greek god of medicine, Asclepius, with a serpent in his hands—the name is rather fitting. And the bright star below it? That’s Sabik. Its name also comes from Arabic, meaning ‘the preceding one,’ though this time there’s no fitting explanation as to why. If you connect those two stars with twenty-five others, the brightest ones being there, there, there, here, there, and there—” Logan pointed at a new star in the constellation with each word he spoke, “—then you have the full Ophiuchus constellation. And if you look just to the left of Sabik, you can see Serpens Cauda, which is the tail of the serpent Asclepius is holding. Now, below and slightly to the right of Rasalhague is Serpens Caput, the other half of the full Serpens constellation. If you translate their names from Latin, they mean exactly what they are supposed to depict: ‘snake tail’ and ‘snake head,’ respectively.”

“Oh! I remember those! If I’m not mistaken, I helped to create them.”

At that, Logan’s gaze snapped back down to Earth. “You did what?” he asked, voice breathy with awe.

“I’m an angel, Logan, of course I helped with the creation of the universe! I made quite a few stars, actually. I think you humans call the constellations they make up Corona Borealis and Corona Australis? The northern and southern crowns? There are a few others that don’t remember the names of, but if you look over there—” at this, Roman took Logan’s hand in his and moved it in a circle around a spot in the sky a little bit to the left of Ophiuchus and Serpens, “—that’s where most of my stars are.”

Breathless, Logan went quiet for a few moments, trying to remember which constellation those stars made up, if any. Then, without warning, he gasped. “Oh! Oh, your stars are near Microscopium and Telescopium, two of the six constellations Lacaille discovered and named after scientific instruments and navigational tools, all first documented in 1756. Lacaille was a French astronomer who also christened a fair amount of other modern constellations the same year, but my favorites are those six: Microscopium and Telescopium, of course, and Fornax, which is the chemist’s distillation furnace, Octans, the octant, Pyxis, the compass, and Circinus, the dividing compasses. You can’t see all of them right now since they’re in different places throughout the sky and some of them aren’t as bright nor as recognizable as, say, Ursa Major and Minor or Orion’s Belt, so even then they would be more difficult to see, but—” Logan stopped, seeming to catch himself. “Sorry. You probably didn’t want to hear about all that.”

“No!” The intensity in Roman’s voice caused Logan to turn towards him in confusion, a slight frown on his face. “I mean, of course I want to continue to hear you talk about constellations, so no, please don’t stop talking, please never assume I won’t want to hear what you have to say. It’s interesting, and I like hearing the joy in your voice.”

“Ah,” Logan said, his face coloring lightly. He cleared his throat again before continuing in a softer voice, “Thank you.”

“Of course, Logan. When you talk about stars or space or science or honestly, anything that makes you smile, it’s—no, you—are beautiful.”

“I’m just… lecturing, really, and there’s nothing special about that.” Logan rubbed awkwardly at the back of his neck. “Besides, you were the one who created the stars I was telling you about. Compared to that, I didn’t do anything at all.”

“On the contrary, I think your knowledge is far more than a simple ‘anything.’ When I formed those stars out of light and space dust, I never could have imagined them inspiring a smile—or anything else, for that matter—so gorgeous.”

Logan wanted to ask how Roman could have possibly believed that stars, some of the most beautiful creations in existence, wouldn’t result in something just as pretty.

Logan also wanted to completely ignore the fact that Roman thought the resulting pretty thing was his smile, fearing how flustered he’d become if Roman so much as alluded to that statement again. Eventually though, he settled on a response that didn’t encapsulate even half as much as he was feeling. “Thank you for creating them,” he said.

“If they’ve brought you even a fraction of the amount of happiness as they seem to have, it all will have been worth it.”

Logan felt himself blushing again, but he chose to pretend that his face was not a brilliant shade of red. “Yes, well—” he trailed off, finding himself unable to think of the right words to say.

Roman laughed, lightly setting his hand over Logan’s to pat it in a show of fond affection. “You’re adorable.” He grinned once more, shifting his grip so he was holding Logan’s hand properly before moving on to an entirely new subject. “Anyhow, are you feeling any better?”

“Actually? I think I am,” Logan said, making a valiant attempt to convince himself that his improved mood had nothing to do with the fact that Roman was so casually holding his hand.

“Soo… are you saying that I was right?”

“Oh, absolutely not. I would never.” Roman laughed again, and Logan found himself smiling at the sound. “But thank you.”

“Of course, Logan. That’s why I’m here.”

“I know it is, but… it’s nice to have someone pretend to care anyway.”

“I’m not pretending.”

“Aren’t you?”

“No, I’m not. I promise you, Logan, I will never pretend with you.”

“Oh.” There was an odd sort of warmth in Logan’s chest, and he wanted to hold onto the memory of it for the rest of his life. As he drowned in that wonderful feeling, he felt the rest of his day fade into nothing, completely insignificant in this current moment of peace. “Thank you,” he repeated.

“You’re welcome,” Roman replied, but it sounded like he meant something else too, something hidden just beneath his spoken words that Logan couldn’t quite pick up on.

With a soft sigh, Logan leaned closer and rested his head on Roman’s shoulder. “You know,” he began, “I should apologize for the way I treated you earlier today. It was uncalled for, and you didn’t deserve it. I took out my feelings on you when you didn’t really do anything but sing too loudly—which, to be fair, can be incredibly annoying, but I digress—so I’m sorry.”

“Um,” Roman said in a way that was very nearly a squeak as he looked down at Logan. “Thanks.” He swallowed, and his voice returned to normal when he spoke again. “Now that you mention it though, I should probably do less of that when you’re around. I didn’t realize it bothered you as much as it did, so I too apologize.”

“Thank you,” Logan said, a relieved smile spreading across his face. “And I’ll do my best to remind you in a less snappish way whenever it gets on my nerves.”

“That would be nice, yes,” Roman agreed, returning Logan’s smile with a soft one of his own. “Now, I don’t want to ruin the moment, but I am truly glad I got to talk to you tonight. I know it may not seem like a lot, but it’s a better start than I would have ever hoped for you. Forgive me if this sounds odd, but I’m incredibly proud of you for that.”

“You’re very pushy, it was going to happen eventually.” Logan let out a small laugh at Roman’s answering noise of offense before clarifying, “And it’s nice to talk to you. I like having someone who’ll listen to me.”

“More people should listen to you. You’re fascinating, Logan.”

Logan felt his face heat up and his heart flutter yet again. “I— hngk.” he turned to bury his face in Roman’s shoulder. “You aren’t so bad yourself, I suppose,” he replied eventually, once his face had cooled down just a bit and his heart had slowed to a slightly more normal pace.

Roman hummed his agreement, placing a light kiss on the top of Logan’s head—which, for the record, completely nullified any progress Logan’s face and heart had made in calming themselves—before saying, “It’s getting rather late, and you’ve had a long day. We should go home.”

“Hm, we should,” Logan agreed, making no effort to move.

Roman sighed. “If you want, I could carry you.”

“What?!” Unlike Roman’s almost-squeak, Logan’s was far more obvious. “No, no, that’s alright, there’s no need for you to carry me. It’s fine, it’s all fine,” he said, standing suddenly and brushing nonexistent dirt off his clothes.

“Let us be off then!” Roman declared, kindly ignoring Logan’s flustered state and offering out his arm with a flourish.

Logan placed his hand in the crook of it, a smile that didn’t read at all as love-struck back on his face. “What a perfect gentleman.”

_________________________

After their conversation beneath the willow tree, Logan’s days passed much more peacefully. Roman wasn’t as loud and overbearing, and Logan found that talking to him about anything and everything was just as easy as it had been that night. Their days were full of laughter and happiness, and Logan finally grew comfortable with the idea of living with a—with his—guardian angel.

Logan had also grown painfully aware of the lulls in conversation whenever Roman complimented him and he found himself at a complete loss for words or when he shot Roman an unexpected smile and the angel’s face turned a shade of red almost as bright as the sash he’d had on the day Logan had met him. He was certain it couldn’t have meant much, but those lulls still blinked out at him like a neon sign on a deserted street.

…Alright, so it was possible that he wasn’t so naïve as to think that the constant state of being flustered and the constant blushing and the constant heated eye contact and everything else that had been happening meant nothing. And it was possible that he was aware that this likely meant he harbored feelings for Roman and Roman for him, but that in no way meant that he had to acknowledge these feelings.

He very much did not want to waste a month of perfectly good friendship, so he would also very much pretend these feelings did not exist.

At least, this is what he would have done had he not walked into his room one day while Roman was stretching his wings.

It was only then that Logan had realized that he hadn’t seen Roman’s wings at all since the first day they’d met and in all honesty, had nearly forgotten about him. There were times when Roman seemed so human that Logan couldn’t believe that was not the case. When he saw Roman’s wings though, he was reminded sharply of the fact that Roman was an angel, through and through.

Roman was an angel, and he was falling.

Logan assumed that this was why Roman’s wings were going black at the tips, but he still figured clarifying would be prudent. “Roman?” he asked, knocking lightly on the door frame to alert the angel to his presence.

“Logan!” Roman exclaimed, spinning around and hiding his wings behind him as best he could in one rapid movement. “What— what are you doing here, my darling?”

Giving a sigh that was altogether too fond, Logan said, “This is my room, Roman. I’m in here because I forgot my glasses on the nightstand.”

“Oh,” Roman nodded, still trying to make his wings disappear behind his body. “Yeah, that makes sense. Uh, go ahead and, um. Get your glasses so you can see. Not! That there’s anything interesting to see here.” Roman flashed him a sparkling grin, hiding the layer of panic beneath it.

“Telling me that there isn’t ‘anything interesting to see here’ is only going to convince me of the opposite. Besides, I already saw your wings. Why are they turning black?”

“That? Oh, that’s nothing!”

Logan raised an eyebrow.

“…By ‘nothing,’ I of course mean nothing of importance! I tried dyeing my feathers and was checking to see how they looked. It’s not good, I know,” Roman said with a laugh, that impressively enough, barely sounded forced.

“Are you falling?” Logan asked, ignoring Roman’s explanation entirely.

“Am I— am I falling?” Roman scoffed. “Why on Earth would I be falling? There’s no reason for me to fall, is there?”

“Well, I don’t think I should know. I’m not the one who knows the rules and hierarchy of the angels. So, you tell me. What reason would there be for you—or angels in general, I suppose—to fall?”

“Ah. Angels fall when they do… something bad. You know. Bad things. Evil things.”

Logan raised an eyebrow again. “Such as?”

“Oooh, you know. Pride, sometimes. Or jealousy, sloth, lust, greed, gluttony, wrath, too much disrespect or insubordination, not doing their job, uh, consorting with the enemy, and other such wickedness. Just. General bad things, as I said.”

“So, have you been prideful?”

“Not any more than what’s healthy.”

“Jealous? Lazy? Lustful? Greedy, gluttonous, wrathful?”

“Nope.”

“And I know you haven’t been disrespectful and that you have been doing your job.”

“Mhm. See, Logan? No reason at all for me to fall.”

“What would you define ‘the enemy’ as?”

“What?”

“ ‘The enemy,’ ” Logan repeated. “As in, ‘consorting with the enemy.’ ”

“Oh! Some define it as any non-angelic entity, but most would agree that ‘the enemy’ is more along the lines of a beast from Hell or another demon of sorts. And I clearly haven’t been consorting with any demons, so—”

“Define ‘consorting’ for me in this context, will you?”

“Well, normally it would mean to closely associate yourself with someone, but, seeing as I am a guardian angel, that is sort of my job. I’m not consorting with you if that’s what you’re worried about. The only way I’d be able to properly consort with you would be if I developed some sort of bond with you outside of a normal guardian angel-mortal relationship. Which! I haven’t! I’m just helping you work through your issues, and if I just so happen to become closer to you while doing so, no one could fault me for that!”

“Roman, I hate to break it to you, but that sounds exactly like consorting with the enemy. If you’ll excuse me for pointing this out, I feel we have a relationship that is just a little bit different than a strictly professional one.”

“Okay, so maybe you’re right. But almost all good guardian angels become friends with their humans! I’m hardly the first one, and none of them have fallen.”

“Mm, I suppose that is true. Can you think of any other reason that you could be falling?”

“Well… there is this one thing? That might possibly be happening? But I sincerely doubt it is,” Roman said through blithe laughter.

“Do you admit that you are falling, then?”

“I— uh, no…?”

“That convinced me of precisely nothing, thank you.”

“You’re welcome!” Roman’s demeanor brightened immediately upon saying this, as though pretending that everything was fine would convince Logan that it was.

It didn’t work, clearly, as Logan asked not a moment later, “Now, what’s that thing that might possibly be happening?”

“That? Oh, nothing! Again, nothing at all of importance. I assure you I’m fine, Logan. I can take care of myself.”

“I have no doubt that you could. In theory, at least.” Logan couldn’t help the smile that spread over his face at Roman’s offended gasps, but he managed to continue through barely repressed laughter. “But right now, you are very much not taking care of yourself for whatever reason. Care to inform me what that’s about?”

“I mean, no. Is that an option?”

Logan sighed in fond exasperation. “I’m afraid not.”

“Well. It was worth a shot.”

“No, it really wasn’t.”

“You’re no fun. But! Nice talk, it was great to see you, Lo!”

“…What are you doing.”

“Uh, I’m going to finish getting ready for the day?”

“And are you just assuming that I forgot about the whole ’you’re falling’ thing?”

“…Yes.”

“That would be incorrect, then. Please Roman, just let me know what’s going on. It’s clear you’re hiding something, so what is it?”

Roman winced at the accusation, sitting down on the bed. “Is there anything I could say to convince you to stop prying?”

“No, nothing at all,” Logan replied, sitting down next to him.

“Then… it would be best to just say it, right? Not draw it out for too long?”

“Yes, that is what most people would prefer to do.”

“I fell in love with you, Logan.”

“You did.”

“I did.”

Logan wasn’t sure why he felt so shocked, in all honesty. He’d known that this was very likely to be true. He’d known that Roman was falling from the second he’d walked in the room, and he’d had his suspicions as to why he was a moment later. He was at a loss, then, as to why he would possibly be feeling tears on his cheeks.

“Are you… crying? Did I say something wrong?”

“No, I— no. You’re fine.” Logan turned away to wipe the wetness from his cheeks before looking back up at Roman. “I believe it’s just that you—essentially, you’re falling because of me, aren’t you?”

“Well, not exactly. This is still entirely my own doing, after all.”

“But it is because you fell in love with me that you’re falling, correct?”

“I mean kind of, but I promise you that this isn’t your fault, Logan.”

“Isn’t it?” he asked, wiping away the final traces of his sadness from beneath his eyes. “If I had—”

“What, been less easy to love? You aren’t easy to love, Logan, and that’s one of the infinite reasons I do love you. I had to do so much to be granted even a glimpse of who you are, and after I did… well, I can hardly fault you for being yourself.” Roman gave him a bittersweet smile. “It wasn’t any one thing that caused me to fall in love with you, it was everything that you are and were. I love you—not something that you said or did or anything else—and there’s nothing you could have done to change that. My fall isn’t your fault, Logan. I promise.”

Logan dutifully ignored the blush that began to cover his face. “Is there any way to stop an angel from falling?”

“I’m not sure. But frankly, Logan, I don’t mind falling one bit if it’s for you.”

“That’s incredibly sweet and all, but I am trying to figure out a way to save your soul here, so I’d appreciate any information you may have on hand.”

“Yes, right. I, uh, I’m sorry to say that there isn’t a way to save a fallen angel, darling. You can’t raise angels, so while I do appreciate the fact that you care for me, there’s nothing you can do.”

“You haven’t fallen though, have you?”

“No, the darkening wings just indicate that I’m going to, and I’m going to soon.”

“You haven’t fallen yet,” Logan repeated, giving Roman a pointed look.

“…Yes. That’s what I just said.”

Logan shook his head, deciding to fully explain what he was thinking himself. “So if you stop doing whatever is causing you to fall, halt the progression of black over the rest of your wings… you could still be saved. You are still an angel, so you can be saved. All you have to do is—”

“No. Absolutely not. Logan, I made you a promise, and I won’t break it. I won’t—”

“—leave me behind.”

“—leave you behind.”

“You have to. I want you to be able to remain an angel, to not fall, to be happy because I—”

“I can’t. I don’t care what happens to me as long as it means I still get to see you and spend time with you and as long as you’re happy because I—”

“—love you,” they finished in unison.

“And that’s why you have to leave.”

“And that’s why I can’t leave.”

“I love you,” they said again, perfectly in sync, the words meaning everything and not nearly enough all at once.

“I don’t want to lose you,” Logan whispered.

“So then you won’t,” Roman replied, voice just as quiet.

“But I— I know there’s no other choice.”

“There’s always another choice.”

“Not this time. No matter what you do, I lose you.”

“Logan—”

“You have to leave. You have to go back to— to heaven or whatever sort of paradise it is that you came from. At least this way, I’ll get to say goodbye.”

“Logan—”

“Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me there’s another way, and I’ll stop.” It was a question, a challenge, but most of all, it was a plea.

“I—” Roman took a quivering breath. “You’re right. You’re always right,” he said with a slightly watery laugh. “There’s no other way. You’re right.”

There was a tragic sort of irony in that. The one time he wished more than anything that he was wrong, Logan knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he wasn’t. “I’m sorry,” he said as he leaned forward, resting his head against Roman’s chest. “I’m sorry.”

“I am too.”

Logan looked up and placed a delicate kiss on Roman’s cheek. “Do you— are you alright with leaving now?”

“Now?”

“I know it’s sudden, but I— I don’t want to draw this out any longer than necessary, not while I know that you’ll be leaving soon enough anyway.”

“Yeah. Yeah, that makes sense.”

Both Logan and Roman went silent for a moment, neither moving, neither wanting the world to continue hurtling towards the end of their time together. Finally though, Roman spoke.

“How about one more day?”

“One more day?”

“Mhm. Just… spend one more day together, and then I leave tonight. So we can part with a few more beautiful memories of each other to hold on to.”

“That sounds—” Logan had to pause, clearing his throat to banish the emotion from his voice. “That sounds nice.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Do you have a plan?”

“Oh, absolutely not.”

Logan laughed, happy to ignore the ticking countdown in the back of his head until later. “I figured I’d ask, but somehow, I didn’t think you would.”

“You know me too well, love.” Roman lightly kissed the top of Logan’s head before continuing, “Give me a few minutes, and I’ll be ready. You’re good just wandering around town for a while, right?”

“With you?” Logan smiled. “How could I not be?”

_________________________

Time has a funny way of passing sometimes. When you’re looking forward to something, it seems to crawl. When you’re doing something you enjoy, it can become negligible and easily forgotten. When you have nothing to gauge it by, Mondays become Thursdays and Thursdays become Sundays.

And of course, when you’re dreading something, the time before it passes in a blur.

Roman and Logan’s day passed in a blur.

They’d gone to all three bookshops within walking distance of Logan’s house and the ice cream shop situated beside the final one. There was an odd little museum near the edge of town, and they’d dropped by there too. They had brunch at a charming cafe and made up stories about the people that walked past the window, perused the aisles of several stores just so Roman could try on increasingly eccentric outfits for Logan’s amusement and bought nothing. At the dog park just off of Main Street, they’d stopped to laugh with each other at the antics of the puppies that rushed to and fro before strolling along the road towards a park of their own, lined with the most beautiful flowering trees. They stopped in bakeries and candy stores, coffee shops and out-of-the-way boutiques filled to the brim with various antiques and trinkets. Logan and Roman did all that and still would have sworn they couldn’t have spent any more than four hours together.

It was, of course, closer to eight and a half hours since they’d walked into the first bookshop to the moment the sun had almost fully set and their day was over.

Time can do that to you sometimes.

Similarly to the way time had felt earlier in the day, time after the sun had set passed in flashes, quick as lightning and just as bright. The walk to their willow tree should have taken at least fifteen minutes, but it felt as short as one shallow breath.

When they did reach the willow tree, they stood there for what felt like an eternity, lost in each other’s eyes before Roman broke the silence. “Dance with me,” he said.

And though Logan had never once danced in his life, he replied, “Of course.”

Beneath the moonlight that filtered through the willow tree’s branches, Roman twirled Logan to the beat of the silence around them. Neither pointed out the lack of music, and neither mentioned that Roman had only asked to dance to put off the inevitable.

It was only when their feet grew too tired to keep moving that they stopped and stood still. Logan looked up at Roman and the stars above him, wondering how he’d gotten so lucky as to find someone like his angel, even if it was only for a fraction of his life. Roman looked down at Logan and the silver light that gleamed in his dark eyes, pondering what he had done to deserve having so little time with the love of his life before everything was ripped away.

The whole world paused as they held each other, Logan’s arms twined around Roman’s neck and Roman’s wrapped around Logan’s waist. The air felt fragile, like everything—not just their hearts—would shatter into trillions of pieces once they spoke again.

Still, time continued stubbornly forward on its path towards the end of Roman’s life on Earth—his life with Logan—so the angel spoke despite the fact that he could practically hear how the world shattered around them.

“Logan,” he started, moving his hands from Logan’s waist to brush a lock of hair behind his ear and brush the beginnings of a tear from beneath his left eye. “Logan, there are no words I can say that will truly encapsulate all that I feel for you. There is nothing in this world that could explain all that you mean to me, and there is no way for me to express the euphoria in my heart at having gotten to know and love you. Everything you are and every bit that you’ve grown causes me to fall more in love with you as the seconds tick past, and every moment I find I love you more sets a new precedent for the amount of love I’m able to give. Meeting you is the best thing that has ever happened to me, and no matter what happens, I will never, ever forget you. I love you, Logan, more than all the stars in the sky.”

“Roman,” Logan began, wracking his brain for a way for him to say everything he wanted to. “Did you know that if you were trapped in a black hole and you peeked out, you’d see everything that had ever happened and will ever happen in that tiny patch of sky?” he asked, settling on what he knew how to do best: teach.

“This is because black holes are so dense that they distort time itself. The universe slows down and speeds up on a whim, and the passage of time means nothing at all. You could enter a black hole today, and if by some miracle you managed to escape, you’d emerge thousands of years into the future though to you, it would have felt to be mere minutes. This ‘time dilation,’ as it were, would allow you to look ahead of you and see everything that had fallen into the black hole before you and if you managed to turn around, you’d see everything that would fall in after. So, if by some miracle you had enough presence of mind to observe the world around you as you neared the event horizon, you would be able to see the entirety of what had happened in your small corner of the universe when you did. Everything would be moving so much faster than light itself that you’d be able to watch the whole evolution of the universe happen—from the Big Bang to the end of life as we know it—all at once, over and over again.

“But you know, I think if it were me in that black hole, looking out at the creation and destruction of the universe, the rise and fall, again and again, all I’d be able to think about was being here with you in this moment. I don’t care one bit about seeing the rest of the universe when I have something more precious to me than all the stars in the sky—when I have you.”

Roman’s jaw had dropped at some point while Logan had been speaking, awed by the love and eloquence in his words. “Beautiful,” he whispered as he brushed a hand over Logan’s cheek, unable to say anything else and unwilling to shatter the silence any further.

Then a breeze blew through their hair, and Logan and Roman were reminded abruptly that the rest of the world existed.

“You have to leave,” Logan said, and it was at once an order and a lament. He took one step back, and it was the most painful thing he’d ever done.

“I do,” Roman agreed, and it was at once an acknowledgment and a form of mourning. He unfurled his wings, and it hurt more than anything else he’d done in his immortal life. They opened fully, glowing a brilliant white against the darkness as he flapped them once, lifting off the ground. He flapped them a second time, and he was well into the air, barely close enough to reach out a hand and brush it against Logan’s face. “Goodbye, my darling. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Roman’s hand began to pull away, and before he knew what he was doing, Logan’s own hand shot out and grasped his wrist as he said with sudden intensity, “Wait.”

“Yes?”

“May I kiss you? Just once, just to remember you by.”

“I wish I could give you thousands of kisses, Logan. Of course you may have this one.”

With that, Roman floated down slightly, feet still a few inches off the ground as though he knew that if he landed he’d never leave. Placing a gentle hand on Logan’s cheek, he leaned towards him, preparing for a soft, sweet kiss.

Logan seemed to have other plans though, for he laid his hands on Roman’s face and dragged him closer, standing on his tiptoes to reach Roman’s lips and meet them in a kiss so passionate the flame burning between them could have set the whole world aflame.

Logan didn’t pull back for a long while, refusing to come up for air because he knew—he knew—that when he did, it would mean Roman’s goodbye would be permanent. But he was human and had to breathe eventually, so pull back he did. Even then, though, he still wouldn’t remove his hands from Roman’s face.

“I love you,” Logan said once more, resting his forehead against Roman’s.

“I love you too. Goodb—”

“Don’t say goodbye. Please. I don’t want to think about the fact that I— I won’t— I won’t ever be able to see you again. Just say I love you. Those can be—” Logan swallowed hard, but he continued holding Roman’s face in his hands as though it were a lifeline. “Those can be your last words to me. Better than goodbye, I think.”

“Okay,” Roman whispered, fluttering his wings gently as he gradually lifted himself farther and farther away from Logan. “I love you, Logan. I always will.” Roman didn’t wait for a response, wiping the tears glistening in his eyes away as he fluttered into the sky and vanished in a bright flash of light.

He was gone.

Logan took a breath, willing it to stay calm. It hitched anyway, and his voice came out similarly unsteady as he said to empty air, “I love you too, Roman. Always. Always, and more than all the stars in the sky.” If he really listened, Logan could almost imagine he heard those final words echoing back at him, falling from the sky the same way Roman almost had.

_________________________

Roman was falling.

He was falling, and his wings hadn’t turned black. He was falling, and he wasn’t screaming in pain. He was falling, and he was smiling.

He was falling, and Logan was staring at the sky in disbelief as he did.

Logan was a neuroscientist. He knew that a fight or flight response was triggered when the human brain was overwhelmed and stressed. He knew exactly how it dealt with information and that if need be, it would formulate more believable scenarios when the current one couldn’t be processed. He knew that when it came to sleep deprivation, intense hallucinations would only start after a full seventy-two hours of no sleep.

Logan was not overwhelmed. Logan’s mind had always processed things in the way it should have, and he was not prone to coming up with scenarios that had never happened. While it wasn’t as much sleep as would have been ideal—seeing as he had been consistently sleep deprived for the past week—Logan had still slept for a full seven and a half hours last night.

And that’s why, for the life of him, he could not figure out why Roman appeared to be falling from the sky.

Roman wasn’t supposed to be falling from the sky. Roman was supposed to be in heaven or whatever sort of paradise it was that he lived in because Logan’s heartbreak hadn’t been for nothing, because Roman leaving had meant something, because their dual sacrifice had ensured that he would be safe.

So why the fuck was he falling now?

And where were his wings? If he were falling, shouldn’t they be as dark and black as night?

Something was wrong. Logan didn’t know what, but something was wrong. He had to get to Roman.

Logan wasn’t normally one for running, but he did make sure to keep himself in shape. That, combined with the adrenaline coursing through his veins, caused him to arrive at the field of wildflowers in record time. As long as Logan’s sense of direction was sound, he was sure that Roman had, for whatever reason, appeared to be falling straight for their willow tree.

Panting, Logan slowed down as he scoured the ground for the place Roman had fallen.

“I’m up here, love.”

Logan looked up. “You’re on top of a willow tree.”

“Astute,” Roman agreed.

“Why are you on top of a willow tree?” Logan asked, refusing to ask the question he wanted the answer to most of all.

Roman shrugged. “It’s just where I fell. I didn’t have any control over that.”

“Right,” Logan said, only slightly distracted by the fact that Roman was currently leaping from branch to branch in an attempt to reach the ground. “So then,” he began, figuring that putting this off any longer didn’t make the least bit of sense, “why did you fall? And doesn’t falling usually entail becoming… you know.”

“A demon? Yeah, it normally does. But I’m a special case,” Roman grinned as he made one final jump and landed on solid ground.

“Yes, I’d say you very much are.” Ignoring Roman’s spluttering response as he continued to make his way towards the angel, Logan asked, “But in this particular scenario, how so?”

With an annoyed huff—presumably still directed at Logan’s previous comment—Roman replied, “I didn’t technically fall, not in the way you’d think of it, since I did nothing wrong. So I’m not a demon, but I’m also not an angel anymore.”

“So what are you, then?”

“Human.”

“Wh— How?”

“Easy,” Roman said, tucking a lock of Logan’s hair behind his ear the moment he drew near enough for Roman to do so. “You know how I fell in love with you? And you fell in love with me?”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “You think I could forget? It’s not as though that’s all I’ve been thinking about for the past several weeks.”

“Yes, well, my point is that angels are creatures of love, of course, so once my boss figured out why I came back, She decided that tearing me away from the love of my life went entirely against everything angels stood for.”

“And that… caused you to fall?”

“Not exactly. That caused Her to give me a choice: stay an immortal angel until the end of time, helping people as I always had or fall to Earth and become a human so I could still be with you.”

“And you chose to come back. You chose to be human. You chose—”

“You.”

“Me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of doing anything else, my darling.”

“Roman—” Logan stopped, suddenly finding himself unable to speak.

“Yes, love?”

Still lacking the words he needed, Logan instead took another step forward at the same time Roman did, and their lips met in the space between them for their second-ever kiss.

“I love you,” Roman said, voicing what Logan could have only hoped to.

For once, Logan was more action than words as he kissed Roman again. It was a promise—a promise to them both that their kisses would be just as numerous as the very stars Roman had helped to create, their love just as beautiful.

“More than all the stars in the sky,” Logan replied finally, lips still a hairsbreadth from Roman’s, voice barely a whisper.

“More than all the stars in the sky.”

_________________________

find other stuff i’ve written under #writings from the stars

[sleepless-in-starbucks]

Far Away but Not Apart

Ao3

Summary: Roman loved Logan with all of their heart, even if they had only ever seen him through a computer screen. Content: Nb!Roman, don’t think there’s anything else really Pairing: Romantic logince Notes: This is the amos prize minific for @averykedavra who requested long-distance logince. I’m not certain I stuck properly to the prompt, but I do hope you like it, Avery!

~

    “-I’m just saying, there is no crueler mistress than the one that would place soulmates such as ourselves so far apart!”

    Logan sighed, rolling his eyes in a way that Roman was fully aware was amused, not annoyed. Though he had started the facetime sitting up and back in his fancy office chair, he was now leaning forwards, elbows on the desk, supporting his chin with one of his hands. “If fate were as cruel a mistress as you claim, Roman, then why would she allow us to meet each other at all?”

    “To torture us!” Roman replied dramatically, grinning when Logan chuckled. “It is only in knowing the other exists that we suffer! To be so close in heart but so far in distance-”

    “A pity, yes, but one we will survive.” Logan said, scoffing when Roman pouted at him. “You will only make yourself feel worse about our situation the longer you dwell upon in it.”

    “I have dwelled upon it every day since the one I met you, and suffered it every day since the one you allowed me to call you mine.”

    “We’ve only been dating for four months, Roman.”

    “And friends for two years!” Roman added on for him. “And never once during all of that time have I so much as held your hand! It is a crime, my beloved, a crime, a sin, a defiance against all that is good and pure!”

    “You’re overexaggerating.”

    Roman sighed and collapsed backwards on their bed, hand splayed over their forehead. “No, I’m suffering.”

    Logan laughed, and Roman lifted their head just enough that they could see him as he did so, their faux pout dropping so that they could smile at their muse. People who didn’t really know Logan said he was cold, unfeeling, logical to a fault. That was because people who didn’t really know Logan had never seen him smile brighter than the sun and laugh prettier than any angel could.

    Roman didn’t realize they had gotten lost in their thoughts of loving Logan until the object of their affections coughed and said, “You’re staring.”

    “How could I not?” Roman replied without missing a beat. “You are beauty incarnate, my sweetness, figure carved from smoothest marble and face painted with finest hues. I cannot help but to stare.”

    “You really are too much.” Logan told them, but his cheeks had flushed a dark red that let Roman know their words had had exactly the impact they had hoped for. “I was asking you what you were doing this weekend.”

    “Losing myself within worlds far more interesting than ours for but the fact that they do not have you, my angelic love.”

    “So… binging Netflix?”

    “My way of describing it was better.”

    Logan chuckled. “If you say so, dear.”

    Roman smiled at the petname. They had always loved how it made them sound as if they were an old married couple (which Roman fully intended for them to be one day). “And what are you going to be doing over your break from work-aligned existence?”

    “Not really a break, I’m afraid.” Logan said, prompting Roman’s smile to become a frown. “I’ve got a business meeting on Saturday, leaving Friday night.”

    Roman’s frown deepened. “Does that mean virtual movie night is off?”

    Logan nodded, now frowning himself. “I’m sorry to say, but yes. We’ll have to reschedule for another week.”

    “Well that sucks.” Roman said, trying to keep the majority of their disappointment out of their voice. They knew it wasn’t anything that Logan could change, so they didn’t want to make him feel bad about it. “You better get me a souvenir though. To make it up to me.”

    “If a ten dollar bobble-head will fill the hole in your life that is our Friday night virtual movie marathon, then I am glad to oblige.” Logan returned, briefly looking away from the camera to check a paper on his desk. “Your address is the same, yes?”

    “Don’t know how I could’ve changed it without you knowing.”

    “Just checking.” Logan said, marking something down before he turned back towards the camera. “Now, I hate to once more be the figurative bearer of bad news, but I must take my leave- I have a client call in a few minutes here.”

    “Skip it.”

    “I do have to keep my job, Ro.”

    “Your new job can be loving me, twenty-four seven, benefits are spending all your time with me.”

    “And how much does loving you pay?”

    “Did you not hear about the benefits? They’re better than money!”

    Logan just laughed fondly. “You are cute, I’ll give you that.’

    “So you’ll take up my offer and your new job?”

    “Sadly, to function in the real world, I need a cash-paying job.” Logan told them, smiling at Roman’s following pout. “But if it alleviates your pains, know that I already love you twenty-four seven.”

    At that, Roman allowed their pout to morph into a smile. “Well, look at who’s being cute now.”

    “I’m simply stating the facts.” Logan replied, glancing at his watch. “One of which is, unfortunately, that I really must go now. I’m worried I’ll be too busy tomorrow to chat- I’ll call you on Saturday, alright?”

    “Oh, my star, my sun, my only light through the darkness and troubles that are this world, however will I survive a whole day without any contact with you?”

    “You are strong, my knight, I’m sure you’ll find a way.” Logan told them in return, grinning when Roman blushed. “I love you.”

    “I love you too.” Roman responded, blowing Logan an imaginary kiss. Logan, as always, indulged them by ‘catching it’ before he turned his camera off, Roman’s screen going dark soon after. As soon as it darkened, Roman sighed, falling back against their bed and shutting their laptop as they did so.

    It was going to be a long day and a half.

    ~

    “Roman? Wh- Why are you calling?”

    “Because I miss you!” Roman whined, not bothering with pretending to not be clingy. “Yesterday was long and dull and completely devoid of true joy and true love! I simply could not bear to wait til you called me! Oh, how I have missed you, my world, my stars, my universe-”

    “It’s barely been a day, love.”

    “Love!” Roman said, ignoring the majority of his sentence and latching onto the important part of it. “I haven’t heard you call me that in over a day! Possibly two! Hell, darling, I’ve been in absolute hell without you.”

    Logan laughed at that, and Roman had never before so desperately wished they were on a facetime, just so they could see the absolute glory that would be Logan’s face while he was laughing. It didn’t matter how many times they had seen him laugh- it would never be enough. Before Roman could say something to that extent, however, their doorbell rang, grabbing their attention.

    “Damnit.” They said, annoyed. Did they have packages coming today? They didn’t think so. And they really, really didn’t want to get up.

    “What is it?”

    “The doorbell- it’s fine, probably just a package or some door-to-door salesperson. Just annoying, interrupting the melodic sound of your laughter-”

    “You should probably get that.”

    Roman groaned and threw their head back. “But I don’t want to!”

    “It could be someone important.” Logan told them. “Don’t worry, I’ll still be here when you get back.”

    Roman groaned louder, but they still swung themself off their couch. “Fiiiine. But when it turns out to be nothing, I’m going to… I’m going to…”

    “Yes?” Logan asked, in a much too smug way that suggested he knew perfectly well Roman had no way to end their threat.

    “...I’ll think of something.” Roman said vaguely, ignoring Logan’s following chuckle of disbelief and amusement. Shaking their head, Roman moved the phone from their ear to the side of their neck, muffling the speaker as they opened the door. “Okay, listen, I’ve got some important stuff going on so-”

    Roman cut themself off as soon as they saw who was standing on their porch. Because it wasn’t a salesperson or a dropped-off package- it was a man with a suitcase by his feet, a phone in his hand, and a face Roman would sooner die than forget.

    “Surprise?” Logan said, and that was all he was able to get out before Roman had flung themself at him and wrapped them up in what Roman was sure was the biggest, tightest, most important hug they had ever given.

    “You’re here!” Roman said after a minute of just basking in the magnificence of the moment. They still refused to let go of him, having dropped their phone so that they could hold on solely to Logan, keeping him as close to their chest as possible. “You’re really here!”

    “Well I’m certainly not a hallucination or someone pretending to be your boyfriend.” Logan said, having managed to get his phone into his pocket before returning Roman’s hug. “So I should hope I’m really here, yes.”

    “Yes- but- you’re here! I can see you! I can hug you! I AM hugging you!” Roman exclaimed, knowing they were getting repetitive at that point but not caring at all. They were currently hugging their boyfriend for the first time ever, after all- how could they care about anything else?

    “That you are.” Logan agreed, voice still a professional neutral before he tightened his grasp on Roman and added, “So I am as well.”

    Roman giggled, a mostly involuntary sound that was brought about the sheer joy of the moment. They pulled back from Logan, just a bit, just enough that they could see his face- his beautiful, lovely, gorgeous face, a face that was a million times prettier in real life. “Can I kiss you?”

    “Mhmm- not on the lips. Weird texture.” Logan said, but he was still smiling, unbothered by Roman’s question.

    Happily, Roman pressed a kiss to Logan’s forehead, grinning when they saw Logan’s smile grow. “I can work with that.” They said before moving to pepper the rest of Logan’s face with kisses.

    “If I- if I knew you were going to be this persistent I- I would’ve stayed home.” Logan protested, having broken down himself and begun giggling in between Roman’s kisses, rendering his protests unbelievable.

    “My most beloved, you are a horrible liar.” Roman told him, pressing an extra special kiss to his nose before saying suddenly, “Hey, wait- don’t you have a business meeting you’re supposed to be at?! You can’t be here!”

    Logan laughed. “Roman, my prinx, this is the business meeting. I lied so I could surprise you.”

    Both Roman’s eyes and smile widened as they dived back into scattering kisses across Logan’s entire face, only stopping when Logan pulled far away enough they could no longer reach his face.

    “We are going to get absolutely nothing done if I allow you to kiss me all day.” Logan said, though at Roman’s pout he did lean forwards to kiss Roman’s forehead. “I did take Monday and Tuesday off, but I can’t be here forever, you know.”

    “You say that as if it would be a waste of our time if I used it for little more than showering you in all the affection you deserve.” Roman returned, attempting to resume their attack of Logan’s face.

    Logan pulled back once more, chuckling when Roman immediately began to sulk. “There will be plenty of time for that. But there is also time for other activities, such as one that might have been missed recently…?”

    Roman blinked at Logan, frowning for a moment in confusion before their face lit up in a grin. “Oh! Movie night! We can have a real life movie night!

    “Only if we don’t spend our entire weekend standing on your porch.” Logan pointed out. “So… may I come in?”

    “Of course!” Roman said, finally (albeit regrettably) letting go of Logan so that he could grab his suitcase and come inside. The moment he was within and Roman had closed their door, however, Roman had their arms wrapped around Logan’s waist, smiling as Logan laughed and put a hand backwards so that he could hold Roman’s shoulder.

    “You’re very touchy.” Logan commented, though he didn’t sound annoyed.

    Roman just held him closer. “Two and a half years, my heart and soul and life! So long have I waited for this moment- you wouldn’t hold it against me that I wish to cherish it, would you?”

    “It’s actually been two years, four months, and three days since our first interaction.” Logan corrected them before softening, leaning back and more into Roman’s hold. “But no, I won’t hold it against you.”

    “Good.” Roman said, pressing a kiss to the top of Logan’s head. “Because I have no plans of letting you go anytime soon.”

    Logan tilted his head back so that he could smile at Roman. “Well I should hope you don’t.” He responded, looking fondly at Roman. “Four days aren’t that much time. It would be a shame to waste even a second of them.”

    Roman grinned. “Aw, you do like being cuddled!”

    At the claim, Logan looked down, trying (and failing) to hide the blush Roman could still see blooming in his cheeks. “Maybe just a little bit.”

    Grin widening, Roman shifted as quickly as possible, eliciting a small yelp from Logan as they lifted him up and held him against their chest. “Don’t worry Lo,” Roman began, using their new position to kiss Logan’s forehead, “Four days may not be a lot of time in the grand scheme of things, but it is plenty of cuddle time.”

    Roman expected Logan to protest that, to say that time was the same whether it was in the ‘grand scheme of things’ or in ‘cuddle time’ or any other definiment of time, but he didn’t- instead, Logan just let out a small sigh and rested his head against Roman’s shoulder. “We’re watching Big Hero Six first.”

    “Of course!” Roman agreed enthusiastically, leaving Logan’s luggage behind on the floor as they walked over to their couch before adding (just because he could), “Anything for you, my love.”

    Because Logan was right- four days wasn’t that much time.

    But Roman had plans to make the most of every second.

[subtlereferencetomyinterests]

A Study in the Pains of Romance as a Genre

Ao3,   MasterPost

Wow I can’t believe I haven’t written an actual logince story yet???? who am I, even?? Anyway I love them and their dynamic is perfect. 

Relationships: Logince

Warnings: Self-doubt, insecurity, misunderstandings, flirting (so much flirting oh my god), Emotional Distress, some smooches 0x0. 

Word Count: 4,334

Light, repetitive music hummed from a set of over-sized speakers, which balanced precariously on an elegant end-table across the room. To Logan’s knowledge, the sub-genre of music was colloquially known as ‘lo-fi’. The melodies weren’t very engaging, but it served its purpose as background to the task at hand well enough. Said task would be work. In theory, that is. 

On the other end of the small table/large desk, Roman stared down into a leather journal, his face wrinkled with concentration. He gnawed at the edge of his pen thoughtlessly, drumming his hands against the paper and muttering to himself unintelligibly. His hair fell into his face occasionally, only to be brushed back with a small hum of annoyance. He was clearly immersed in his project, but he wasn’t yet at the point of frustration or burn-out. Such an ideal working state was seldom seen by any other side, but Logan could be as lucky. 

The two dichotomous traits had fairly recently found that ‘two heads were better than one’, in a manner of speaking. Logan’s ideas had so often contradicted the things that Roman had planned for, a difficult issue to solve if both of them were already halfway done with their respective projects, and therefore hesitant to redo any of their hard work. If they worked together from the very beginning of an idea, however, then it was that much easier to find compromises and balance each other out along the way. The two could keep each other on task, as well as stop each other from overworking. The arrangement was purely for efficiency’s sake, of course.

…It did also serve as something of a bonding experience, if Logan was honest.

Regardless, with all that in mind, Logan had every reason to be working. And yet, there he was. Not doing that. 

His and Roman's time together, for all it’s overwhelming pros, had resulted in one glaring con for Logan: what caught his focus had nothing to do with the documents open on his laptop, but rather how his friend tapped those immaculately manicured nails on the desk. The neatly arranged planners laid out before Logan served only as a backdrop to the sight of Roman’s smirk when he thought of something clever. Spreadsheets couldn’t hold a candle to the attention-grabbing power of that smile, repugnantly sappy as it sounded. 

The obvious explanation for this distraction was that Logan, as is the wont of characters in Fan-Fiction, had become infatuated with his artistic counterpart.

The scribbling of Roman's pen stopped briefly, his eyes narrowing at his writing. Logan glanced away from him hastily, realizing just how long he’d been staring, only to hear Roman laugh heartily at his own writing, good God. 

Logan glanced back at him- his face hopefully less flushed than it felt- and quirked a brow. Roman raised his head at the same time, flashing a bright smile. 

“Read this,” he slid his journal across the table to Logan, pride etched across his features. Logan just narrowly stopped the book from careening off the edge of the table, pulling it into his line of sight. His eyes scanned the page, briefly, but he couldn't quiet his overactive mind quite enough to really understand the words. He perceived a vague impression of the humorous interaction between two of Roman’s characters, though, which was explanation enough. 

The smile and nod he offered Roman in return- while mostly uncomprehending- was sincere, and it seemed to appease the creative entity. He slid the journal back across the table, much less forcefully than his friend had, and turned back to his work* (*staring blankly at his laptop screen). 

However, the longer he stared blankly, the more acutely aware he became of the silence in the room. He realized soon enough that this was because the sound of pen and paper had not yet returned from Roman’s side of the workspace.

Still hesitant to be caught staring (it honestly wouldn't have been the first time), Logan glanced up to see what the issue was. He almost startled at the way that Roman was staring right back at him with a fiery intensity, clearly lost in deep thought.

“Roman…?” 

He blinked, startled, though his face immediately broke into a wide grin. Before Logan could ask what exactly had him so exuberant, he slammed a hand down on their shared desk and stood from his chair. 

“Alright, it's break time!”

“You want to have a break? We started only an hour and twenty-seven minutes ago,” Logan tilted his screen closer to him discreetly, not wanting Roman to see that he'd really only done about fifteen minutes’ worth of actual work.

Roman scoffed, circling around their small table and leaning his full weight against Logan's back and shoulders. Despite his stature (very, very short), he was densely muscular, and therefore staggeringly heavy. 

“Yeah, I suppose, but I'm not feeling it right now!”

“That’s ridiculous, you've been remarkably focused all day despite your usual executive dysfunction; in fact, this is quite impressive for you and I’d be loath to disrupt you.”

Logan felt a small swell of pride when he saw, from the corner of his eye, that Roman’s face flushed at the compliment.

“Okay, fine, I’ll admit that I’m killing it today- but!” Roman pushed himself forward, shoving Logan into the desk and slightly to the left in the process, and shifted the logical trait’s laptop up and away from him, “You are clearly out of it, which is also a rarity,” he gestures to the barebones paragraphs displayed on the screen.

Logan felt a rush of embarrassment, but it was quickly overpowered by relief when he realized that his friend hadn't caught onto the reason for his slacking. He twisted in his seat, fighting to push Roman off of him.

“And stopping work altogether is supposed to remedy this how?”

“Shush,” Roman moved along with Logan’s efforts to push him away, taking it one step further by dragging them both into a standing position, “We’re taking a break because I said so, and I already had something planned for us today, so you aren’t getting out of this.” 

Logan tilted his head in bemusement, too caught off-guard by the latter remark to remove Roman’s arm from around him (definitely for that reason, and not because the contact made him dizzily contented). 

“You have something planned? Why didn't you tell me?”

“Well, it was a surprise, obviously,” Roman huffed, using his grip on Logan to steer him over to his canopy bed. At his insistence, Logan sat down, his confusion only growing. 

“You… have a surprise for me?”

Roman rolled his eyes, chuckling.

“Do you need a Q-tip? Yes, as I’ve said thrice now. It’s actually been in the works for a while now, but I think it’s ready for you.”

Rather than trying to form an actual response, Logan fell back on a tried-and-true tactic: Correcting Roman.

“The use of a Q-tip to clean one’s ear can actually be quite dangerous-”

The tactic worked, as Roman’s expression went from teasing fondness to impatience almost instantly. He made quite the show of rolling his eyes, moving his head along with his irises. 

“Yeah, yeah, everybody knows and has already stopped caring about that. Do you wanna see the surprise or not, Teach?” 

Well, Logan supposed he wasn’t going to get any work done, anyway. Not with the idea of Roman making something specifically for him clattering around in his mind. 

“I must admit that you’ve piqued my interest.” 

“Good,” Roman gave him a dazzling grin and, to Logan’s surprise, sat right down beside him on the mattress. Logan nearly questioned the behavior, deciding against it when Roman let his eyes fall closed. He was once more the picture of concentration, his fingers tapping out patterns and rhythms against his knees. After a long, awkward, perfectly silent two minutes and thirty-four seconds, there was an abrupt jolt. Logan struggled to maintain his balance, eventually failing when he felt the bed beneath him move so swiftly that he could no longer make out the room around him. 

A rush of vertigo overcame him, sending him toppling backwards with a yelp. However quickly they seemed to be moving, it felt as though they really weren’t travelling at all- as though they were completely unencumbered by friction. And then, just as quickly as it had begun, the movement halted.

Logan sat up, hair ruffled and feeling distinctly embarrassed at such a reaction to something he really should have expected.

Roman had shifted the appearance of his room, of course. It was something he did constantly- Logan couldn’t count the number of times he’d found the side unconsciously manifesting surfaces just as he was about to place an item on empty space. But that all paled in comparison to this. The entire room had changed, not just a few pieces of furniture.

They weren’t in a room anymore, actually; they were in a garden. A garden that sprawled out in all directions, the ends (if any existed yet) obscured by the various fountains and trees within it. The sky above was a blanket of darkness, even though it was about midday in the real world. Logan could excuse the inaccuracy, aware that it was just for the atmosphere. That, and also because it allowed him view of the stars.

They were so, so bright. The sky was like a pool of ink filled up with glitter, each flake of which a different size. But the most impressive thing was just how… subdued it was. Roman had clearly avoided cramming the sky with bright colors and unrealistic formations, opting instead to paint a believable sky, one that really could exist if given the best possible circumstances. 

Logan stood up from his spot, awestruck. In the back of his mind, he registered that the bed had swayed with his movements upon his standing. But really, it wasn’t a bed at all anymore; it was a heavily cushioned swing, strung up between two short, thin trees. Forcing his eyes to turn from the stars and take in the rest of the picturesque scene, Logan saw similar trees dotted around the little garden; they varied in height, but each was stick-thin with elegant sprawls of branches. They looked almost like the antlers of a deer.

The most prominent pieces of flora, however, were the twisting bushes of flowers all along the sides of the cobblestone paths. They were so diverse, each so perfectly detailed and created. Some had circular, squat petals, growing in little clusters. Others rose singularly from long stems, their petals thin and delicate. There was only one commonality between them. 

Blue. Every shade or hue, from shimmering chrome to cloudy cyan; it. Was all. Blue. 

Come to think of it, everything was, even if it was subtle. The stone paths between the fountains and displays were pale slate, just edging away from gray; the wood of the trees were inky and dark, tinted a harsh indigo; the lanterns hung up on lamp poles lit the scene with turquoise flames. 

Logan’s breath caught in his throat. For a moment, he forgot entirely how he’d come to be here. All he saw was this- this gift. 

“It took forever, honestly,” Roman’s insincere complaint was whisper-quiet, and yet Logan still jumped at the voice. He clearly hadn’t noticed the trait walking up to him until he was right beside him. “I had to get it just right.”

“It’s wonderful, Roman. This is perfect,” Logan didn’t try to play it down. He wasn’t sure he could, stripped of his snark at the beauty before him. A beauty made for him.

“I’m glad that you like it,” there was something painfully honest behind Roman’s words.

“What…” Logan wasn’t sure what he was going to ask. What this all was for, that would’ve been a reasonable question. There were also some ‘Why’s that he could ask: why on earth had Roman made something so amazing for him?

Logan wasn’t a self-deprecating person. When he wasn’t always positive, he at least maintained healthy self-neutrality. He was well aware of the detriments that accompanied negative self-talk and idealization, so he was careful to avoid such at all costs. On good days, he could go as far as to say that he actively enjoyed who he was. Bad days, well, they weren’t nearly as bad as they could be. 

Therefore, it followed that Logan was being entirely objective when he said that he would not be a good enough romantic partner for Roman. 

There he stood, before this gorgeous, romantic setting that Creativity had made for him, and he could do nothing but worry. Not worry that his harbored affection was unrequited, but worry that perhaps it somehow was. It was unbelievable to him, and he feared it. He feared the look that Roman sent him as he inspected the flowers, the statues, the sky, all for him. 

“Roman, this is… I don’t know what to say.”

“Oh? I’ve managed to get you speechless? That’s quite an accomplishment,” his tone was far too intimate for the teasing words. Regardless, Logan forced a scoff.

“Don’t let it go to your head. All it is is that I’m trying to appreciate your attention to detail.”

“Sure.”

There was another lapse of silence, in which Logan found himself caught up in thought.

When he’d first had the unfortunate realization that he was in love with his friend, of course he’d wanted to resolve the issue as simply as possible. It was only sensical that he inform Roman right away, to see if the feelings were reciprocated. If they were, then the better it was for both of them; if not, it was the closure needed for him to move on. 

A plan like that was easier said than done.

Logan couldn’t just say it, not in the way he would’ve preferred. That wouldn’t at all be Roman’s style, and such a confession would likely garner nothing but exasperation. It would be much smarter to try and cater to the trait’s love of all things prosey, elaborate, and romantic, if he wanted any kind of favorable results. So Logan began to do what he did best: Gather information.

Roman liked grand gestures. Roman was weak for cheesy tropes and clichés. Roman swooned over long declarations of love. The list went on and on and on. Logan found himself letting Roman choose shows to watch in their downtime together, for the express purpose of writing down the details of all the romantic plotlines that he cooed at.

It was always something giant, spectacular, and teary. But still, foolishly, Logic held onto the hope that he could replicate something of the like. The hope that he could be copacetic in this area, so far out of his expertise. 

He’d lost it soon after, of course.

“These are my favorite, you know,” Roman muttered, jolting Logan from his introspection. The side was stood by a large bush of flowers, gazing fondly at them.

“Hm?” Logan stepped over to him, still a bit dazed. 

“Blue roses,” Roman held one of the flowers reverently in his hand, “You’d think it’d be red- and those are classics- but no. I’m quite fond of these.”

Logan nodded. It took all of his self-control to keep his eyes off of his friend. 

It was meant to be a family movie night, that evening when he’d given up on this. But somehow everyone had become preoccupied, except Roman. 

They’d laughed together, debating the merits of even having a movie night at that point. In the end, they decided to do it anyway, of course. Roman chose, and all seemed well in the beginning.

Logan quickly determined that the film would have a pretty central romantic subplot, and so he had discreetly summoned his notebook to jot down anything he thought Roman would be interested in. That went perfectly well, with him scribbling down a cutesy gesture in the film every few minutes. He and Roman talked through the whole thing- as usual- and all in all the night was par for the course.

But then came the movie’s climactic end. The lead professed his undying love for the love-interest by starlight, with a speech that Logan could swear dragged on for five minutes. Accompanying this, the character had hired musicians for the occasion, procured several gifts for the object of his affection, and if that weren’t nearly enough- there were fireworks.

Logan had scoffed, rolling his eyes at the absurdity. But Roman…

Roman had stars in his eyes.

Logan had looked at him inquisitively, a bitter taste filling his mouth when Roman looked right back with the widest eyes.

‘That, that’s what I want,’ that look seemed to say. Logan gripped his pen in his hand, his eyes trying to catch on all of the details in the scene before him, but he already knew the truth. 

He could never be that. However unrealistic Roman’s wants were, they were his own, and Logan could not possibly meet them.

He threw away his notebook after that. 

“Do you know why I like them?”

Logan startled, feeling Roman press up against his side. 

“Wh- what?”

“The roses,” he reiterated, twirling the stem between his fingers, “You know why I like them?”

“I can’t say that I do,” Logan mumbled, moving to step back. When he did, he felt his back hit one of the immense marble fountains, leaving him with nowhere to go. Roman followed his movements, effectively caging him. 

“They calm me. They remind me that everything can’t always be so harsh. That sometimes you need to think things through a little more,” he wasn’t looking at the rose at all as he spoke, instead focusing his attention on Logan in front of him, which he thought was probably significant, “But they’re still roses. They’re essentially the same. They’ve still got stems and thorns and spirally petals, even though all you notice at first is the difference in color. It’s apt, I think…”

Roman leaned over him. The creative trait braced his arm on the lip of the fixture, tilting his head back to stare at Logan. Every time one of them shifted, even slightly, they’d have a brush of contact.

“And they do go so well with the red ones, don’t you think?”

Logan knew exactly what Roman was doing and he didn’t understand it one bit. He’d agonized over countless pieces of Roman’s favorite romantic media, and he knew their scene was fit for any of those movies. All except for one aspect: the supposed love interest. 

Logan was in a button-down and jeans, not a navy suit or a flowing sundress. He spoke with stilted ‘dialogue’ and misunderstood all of Roman’s romantic symbolism, hardly able to give his own beautiful soliloquies in response. He could hardly be called the ‘muse’ for this gorgeous garden gift that Roman had given him! If anything, Logan was the best friend. It was a frustrating character type to play- the nerdy and underappreciated accomplice- but Logan had become accustomed to it. Settled into it. It was what Roman’s favorite genre showed him to be, and he’d fit it well.

When Roman inched closer still, Logan found the willpower to put a hand on the trait’s chest and halt him. 

“Lo?” Roman breathed by way of question. His adoring gaze had turned confused and cautious, with a tinge of worry shining through. 

Logan felt like he was burning from the inside out, even though he knew that, physically speaking, he was perfectly fine. He couldn’t stand the contradiction he’d become, but he could stand even less that sickeningly-sweet affection Roman was mistakenly giving him. It didn’t make sense for this to be happening, and Logan needed his sense back. 

“I’m sorry,” he blurted, “Why are you doing this?” it ended up much meeker than he’d wished to say it. 

Roman essentially leapt away from him, his hands flying up with palms faced out. After taking  several strides back, he laughed awkwardly, looking nothing short of ashamed.

“Well, I seem to have misread some things, I guess! I- um- forget it, it was stupid anyways.”

Logan felt a sharp pain between his ribs at that, standing up straighter.

“No, I didn’t mean to seem, well, upset, per se- it’s just- why me? What do you stand to gain from pursuing a romantic relationship with me?” He stepped falteringly forwards after Roman, “ I just don’t… understand,” it was a wonder Logan could keep his voice calm. 

Roman’s face scrunched in an obvious lack of comprehension. He crossed his arms below his chest, words coming out slow as though he was trying to make sense of them.

“You want to know why I have feelings for you? What- what I stand to gain?” A bewildered little chuckle broke up his words on the last clause, making Logan flush embarrassedly.

“Y-es, I am far from an ideal partner for you. I know you well enough to know that.”

“And what makes you so sure, hm?” Roman’s expression was bordering on amusement, frustratingly enough; Logan didn’t see what could possibly be humorous about the situation. Everything seemed strangely painful to him.  

“Oh, please. I’m hardly a- a Prince Charming, or whatever it is you’re after. I wouldn’t be able to provide you with grand, elaborate gestures of affection. I’m not supernaturally beautiful. Face it, I’m not up to your sky-high standards at all,” Logan knew his voice was edging on frantic the longer he talked, as he tried to put an end to whatever was happening. To his surprise, Roman responded by shaking his head wildly, darting forwards and taking Logan’s hands.

“How can someone so smart be so, so dense?” He exclaimed, “You are smart, Lo- I thought that you’d caught on by now, and were just waiting for me to make a move. I mean, I was being so obvious.”

Logan, despite the warmth welling in his chest and the confusion dizzying him, managed to raise an unimpressed eyebrow at Roman. The creative trait seemed to understand what he’d said a second later, laughing in embarrassment.

“Oh, right- sorry,” he muttered, “I thought it was obvious, I suppose, with how much I kept hinting at it.”

“What on earth are you talking about? Every time you spoke about romance, it was a hyper-dramaticized version of a fantasy relationship- rambling about your hypothetical partner’s ‘Athena-like wit and humor’, or ‘innumerable acts of kindness’ you claimed they’d give you daily.”

Roman gave him a long, fond, exasperated look. 

“I guess I must think very highly of you.”

“You- you were talking about me?” 

“Of course I was,” Roman’s expression turned solemn. He lifted a hand to cup Logan’s jaw. 

“I can’t believe you thought that I deserved something better.”

“I didn’t say that,” Logan snapped, stubbornly, “I said I knew you’d want better. I never mentioned that I thought your wants were actually realistic.”

“Well, that’s true; you are quite unreal, Logan.”

“That’s not what I meant!” Logan flushed darkly. He wanted nothing more than to establish at least a little distance between himself and Roman, but his traitorous and sentimental physicality refused to allow it. 

Roman took just a moment to find humor in his embarrassment, letting a deep silence follow it. He seemed expectant. Logan was still reeling. 

“...Well?” The artistic trait prompted after a while, shifting uncomfortably.

“‘Well’ what?”

Roman gestured to himself, an awkward motion considered how he had steadily plastered against Logan. 

“This was going to be, like, my grand declaration of love to you, but we seem to have gotten a little off-track.”

“Oh,” Logan smiled apologetically, “By all means, continue.”

“Well, I can’t now. The moment’s gone!”

“If it’s any consolation, you were off to a very good start.”

Roman grinned, cupping the side of Logan’s face properly.

“Yeah?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“Good enough that you might consider being mine, mi estrella?”

“Uhm- possibly,” Logan found it increasingly hard not to shy away from the loving look directed at him, and even harder to keep his voice above a breathless stutter, “If you’re sure that’s what you want.”

The words were barely out of his mouth before Roman kissed him, chaste and beautiful. Logan had hardly registered the sweet taste of sugared coffee on his lips before it was gone, left with only Roman watching him lovingly. He couldn’t help but return the look, earning him another soft kiss. That was followed by another, and another, and then they were moving to his cheeks and nose and forehead as well, and by that point he was struggling to return the affection, utterly unaware of his surroundings.

Roman let go of Logan’s hand to cup the other side of his face, grinning at the giddy laughs that Logan was failing to suppress as the (entirely invited) assault on his face continued. The barrage concluded with a drawn-out kiss pressed to the tip of Logan’s nose, and Roman finally seemed satisfied with himself.

Logan was aware of how ridiculous he must have looked, face red and giggling quite uncontrollably, but Roman was still looking at him like he was the best thing he’d ever laid eyes upon. 

“This is what I want,” he purred, as if it even needed to be said. Logan rolled his eyes, burying his face in Roman’s hair if only to escape the overwhelming emotion the situation was instilling him with. 

He struggled to catch his breath, unsure if he wanted to keep laughing or possibly cry. He was desperately out of his depth, actually, so he was rather conflicted about most things. Everything he’d thought he’d known had been turned on its head. While Logan didn’t like being wrong, that didn’t really seem like the most pertinent issue. 

But there was at least one point that seemed to have a clear answer.

“Good,” Logan murmured, nearly silent, “I want this, as well.”

Taglist: @shrimp-crockpot @glitter-skeleton-uwu @donnieluvsthings @intruxiety @thefivecalls 

[cesabutterflywrites]

Mama Cesa Writes Masterpost

Fandom

Sanders Sides

Multichapter 

Prince in the Storm (Prinxiety)

Prologue [Audiobook]

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

A Taste of Lonliness (logicality bonus chapter)

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Immune to Change (logicality bonus chapter)

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

The Duke of the Bay (Intruality)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5 ½

Part 5 2/2

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

An Angel’s Smile (Moceit)

When One Meets an Angel

The Biggest and Most Common Lie

Will Bring You to Your Knees

Oneshot

525.600 Minutes (Logicality)

Broken Promises (Exes Princesleep)

A Roman Rose (Logince)

Two Curses; One Brother (Familial Anxceit)

The Sitting Tree (Royality)

Meet Me At Stenvold’s (Roceit)

Not the Best Shade of Red (Familial Anxceit)

Brother, Protector, Friend (Creativitwins)

Voicemails (Prinxiety)

Violet; the Only Thing I See (Moxiety)

Tupperware (Royality)

Game Night [Audiobook] (Intruality)

Just the Two of Us (Prinxiety)

Error: Pain Overload (Analogical)

Paintings Born of a Passive Love (Logince)

The Wrong Rooms (Intruality)

Ask Prompts

“You’re My Favorite” (Prinxiety)

“Is that blood?” (Logince)

“The problem is, if I kissed you, I don’t think I’d be able to stop myself.” (Moceit)

“Shut up.” (Dukeceit)

“It’s freezing. Come here.” (Moceit)

“Bite Me” (Moceit)

“Marry Me” (Intruality)

“You’re Jealous” (Moceit)

A small, fleeting kiss - which is immediately followed by a passionate, hungry kiss. (Moceit)

“You’re basically a marshmallow.” (Intruality)

“Truth or Dare?” (Moceit)

“What are you thinking about?” (Moceit)

Rambles

Roman is a Greek mythology nerd human AU 

Quarantine AU

Twilight Crossover AU idea

Orange Side Theory at 2am

Twilight

Multichapter

Sunrise [Renesmee x Female OC]

Preface

Firsts Aren’t Bad After All

Oneshot 

What’s Left of Her & More 

Maybe-Nevers [platonic jacob x bella]

Moon in the Sky You Know How I Feel 

Supernatural

Poems

Prayers to the Dead

Original 

Original Writing

The Colors of a Rainbow Without a Name

Rambles

I Miss the Bay Area

I Feel Better Today

Best Part of Being Married, You Ask?

Poems

The Hero

Tell Me

A Sign for Leelah & Other Kids

Thoughts After Waking From a Nightmare

Spring Equinox Spell

A Visit to the Shore

[This masterpost is ongoing and will be updated as I publish more work]

[Last Updated March 26, 2022]

[mayflowers07]

While getting very drunk on Valentine’s Day because he is lonely, Deception “Deceit” Sanders drank:

Shots of whiskey

Shots of scotch

Shots of vodka

Numerous beers throughout the day

Numerous beers chugged after walking in on some inappropriate activities he wishes he could unsee

And a cocktail of many dangerous and illegal drugs given to him by Remus

And then retold

The Drunk History of Sanders Sides

Deceit: It’s the winter of 2016...

Roman appears in Virgil’s first video and is like “Yo, I don’t like you”

And Virgil’s like, “Yo, I don’t like you even more!”

“That’s impossible... Do you wanna have an enemies to friends to lovers relationship?”

And Virgil’s like “... yeah... that’s cool.”

And then he’s like “Yo, this is a video about lying to yourself, where’s Deceit?”

And then Logan and Patton have a video together. And Patton’s already adopting Virgil as his and Logan’s kid. Logan is roleplayin’ Sherlock for some fuckin’ reason!

And Virgil keeps showing up in videos for some reason! They start hangin’ out all together. And they're like “Oh, let’s have some fuckin’ name reveals, bitch!” It was like, Logan and fuckin’ Roman and fuckin’ Patton!

Logan said to Virgil, “Yo, we gotta change this shit up! Yo, we’ve already established prinxiety and logicality; let’s get some shit from analogical.”

And so Roman and Patton are like “Yo, that’s dope. But we need Anxiety’s name!” Because Virgil’s still playin’ villain and he needs a redemption arc!

Virgil’s like “Yo! I got character development!”

And they're like “Wait, how do you have character development?”

And he’s like “Yo, watch this: I've always aimed to protect you, but lately... It feels like I've been keeping you from doing anything.”

And they’re like “Oh my god! That sounds like character development!” So they did the arc and Roman confessed his feeling and it was like “You make us...better.”

And then they’re like: “Yo, that's fuckin’ perfect. This is famIlY.” And they made fun group content like, Gryffindor Roman, Ravenclaw Logan, Hufflepuff Patton, and Slytherin Virgil. Everyone is in a Hogwarts house, everybody loves it.

Virgil, correcting Deceit off camera: Dee, I never picked a house. That was the whole point.

Deceit, ignoring Virgil: Virgil the Slytherin! Virgil the Huffleclaw!

Virgil is a motherfuckin’ Divergent, and it's real and it doesn't matter.

And Patton talked to everyone and he was like “Yo, what the FUCK! Yo, my character arc is gonna be fuckin’ DOPE!”

So Patton was real sad and angsty for a while, and it was called: Nostaligia Part One and Two.

They didn’t mention the dark sides! They waited like three or four episodes for a dark side to show up.

The four episodes were like: Purple Isn’t A Hogwarts House, I Wonder If We Should Listen To Logan More, Oh Fuck We Should… The fourth one was like a LAMP Christmas musical or something.

And they were like, “Yo, we need Deceit. Deceit. Pretend to be Patton. Fuckin' do it.” And I did it, and I killed it.

I was like, tell the child their hamster died!

Fucking with Virgil! Revealing myself to Thomas! Silencing Logan! Playing the shit! Killing these bitches! Wrapping it out!

Deceit off camera to Logan: You just ate three fuckin’ jars of Crofters! What the fuck is going on?!

Deceit: “We should get a Roman vs Logan. 'Cause logince is a fuckin’ valid ship.”

And Roman was like “Yo, if you can make Logan more popular then me, which is not fuckin' hard, I will have a breakdown during the musical."

Logan was like ”Yo! Thomas’ got this problem that’s fuckin’ Roman’s fault, dude! It's called emotional repression. Hey wait, it's gonna be called my problem too, and it's gonna be fuckin' huge.”

And then Virgil’s like "I gotta keep it real, I gotta keep it me. Halloween’s gonna be emo as hell”

And they made a song with puppets it was fucking dope and it talked about all of their emotional problems.

Like: one issue, two issues, three! Three, two one! Three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten! TEN TO ONE!

Virgil was like, “I’ve got a secret!”

Patton was like, “I’m losing touch with Virgil!”

Roman and Logan were like, “We’re the functional ones for once!”

And Deceit had nothing to do with the last four episodes. And Virgil was like “That's good!”

I was like “Yo, fuck the wedding! Thomas can do whatever he want!”

Logan was like “Yeah, it's cool man, whatever… I don’t have feelings.”

And then Roman was like “Eh… I agree with Deceit but...!”

And Patton was like "Morality is fuckin’ great. Because it makes you be a good person. Which a lot of times, Thomas is not a good person. And I wanna change that. I wanna make sure everybody thinks that Thomas is a good person.”

Deceit: *starts throwing up in the garbage can beside him*

Deceit: I'm good so far.

Patton: You wanna spit one more time?

Deceit: No, I’m fine

Deceit: *sits back up in his chair and starts giggling as he looks around*

Deceit: ...Shut the fuck!..

Deceit: So Thomas was like “Oh my god, I’m so embarrassed about these intrusive thoughts!”

And then I saw the intrusive thoughts, and I was like “Eh, it's not bad. It's honest. Let’s be real, you wanted to be honest.”

Thomas decides to miss the callback and I am so fuckin’ pissed

I’m like “Yo, fuck you guys!”

And I’m like “Yo! Another video where I get shut down? Yo, fuck these dudes! We're gonna fucking go miles above! We're gonna send in Remus to win the fight!”

But he didn’t! Because he couldn’t fuck with Logan.

Apparently, Remus was like: “Oh, shit you can’t get rid of me.” And they didn’t but Logan taught them to ignore him.

Dude, Remus was like "What the FUCK?”

Oh, you don’t fuckin’ listen to the dark sides. It's like, fuck you!

So intrusive thoughts happen, we fuckin' have a whole video of awesomeness!

Like, Remus is cumming on himself, 'cause it's so big!

Remus was like “Yo, I gotta have a name reveal” meaning, Virgil was like “Yo, I gotta reveal my secret bro”

And Roman’s like, “My brother is the source of my insecurities! Ahhh!”

And Patton’s like “Yo, I need to accept Thomas’ flaws cause he’s a fuckin’ good person.”

And Logan’s like “I’m just gonna solve everyone’s problems and be the fuckin’ coolest.”

And they were like, “Alright, this shits been super angsty. We gotta fuckin’ come back man. We gotta come back domestic and cute af!”

Deceit: *looks around for something*

Deceit: You took my hat away, what the fuck?!

Roman: No, Remus poured beer in it to chug so we left it on the counter!

Logan: Yeah, it’s right next to you

Deceit: Whatever. So the next vid is like, we gotta make this shit legit. We’re gonna have a fuckin’ fanfic movie night and we’re gonna give in to the Mouse Corporation

Deceit: *grabs his hat and puts it on as Patton and Roman scream at him to stop and beer pours out on his head*

Deceit: What the fuck is this on my head, did I puke on myself?

Virgil: No, you poured beer all over yourself.

Deceit: Oh god...

Deceit: So Thomas was like: “Yo, next episode we're gonna have Roman and Patton scrap. It’s a right brain fight night.”

And that’s all. And that’s all that matters. And that is how the fucking story goes.

Deceit: *stands up to take a bow*

Everyone: *starts applauding and whooping off camera*

[iwrestlenow]

Many More To Die, Chapter 6

TITLE: Many More To Die (Chapter 6)

FANDOM: Sanders Sides (Necromancer AU)

SUMMARY: Logan knew, for a long time now, that he had a brother--but now, he remembers who his brother is.

Virgil joined the royal guard to bust Logan out. Logan's a stubborn creature, so instead Virgil tells him about his powers--and accidentally helps Logan realize that someone hasn't been totally honest with him.

SHIPS: Logince (Logan/Roman), Moceit (Patton/Janus) and future Dukexiety (Remus/Virgil)

WARNINGS: Plot is happening, way too much exposition--also, who let me have nice things? I DO MEAN THINGS. >.> But the next chapter will be adorable. And come way faster.

No beta, no problem--I'm sorry I'm so hung up on lore and world building and shit, but I'm just having a lot of fun okay? Okay. >.>

Also, no betas, we die like men.

NOTES: This is based on the gorgeous piece of art by @gretacticdraws that can be found here. I ended up writing a ficlet for it, and then my brain got swallowed up. Breathe at me wrong, and I’ll write more…hell, who am I kidding? I’ll write more anyway because this? Is self indulgent drivel. XD

Also located at AO3 over here.

Logan was running.

Clutching the book against his chest with one arm, clinging to his little brother's hand with the other, he was running for his life as the looming figure pounded down the corridor after them. Everything was dark, too dark...

There. Light. Souls Eternal, what in the Seven Hells was he still doing there?

Stopping dead, Logan faced Virgil. Briefly, he wished he could feel the little hand in his—because if he was here, there was only one way this could end.

Looking around furiously, he realized there was no other choice. Facing Virgil, Logan gripped his shoulder and held his gaze in the dark.

“That open door—go hide behind it.”

“No.”

“The Spider does not question, he spins for his Weaver—just this once, Stormcloud, I'm begging you, do as I say without arguing!”

He gave Virgil no other opportunity to argue—shoving Virgil towards the sliver of light, Logan watched him stumble forward, then look over his shoulder.

“I'm right behind you.”

The little boy scowled, but his figure swiftly moved, and his footsteps pattered against the stone.

It was the first lie he'd ever told his brother.

Turning away, lest he lose his resolve, Logan frantically tried to remember what he'd been told. The corners, the crevices...the hidden secrets of--

--yes. It was perfect.

Bolting down the corridor, Logan frantically shed his jacket and wrapped the book up as tightly as he could, dropping to his knees with enough force to bruise them. Pulling up the grate, he lowered his precious cargo into it...

Two hands grabbed him at the same time—one from the sewer, the other the back of his collar.

Panicked, Logan blindly grabbed the hand in the sewer, the one he knew, fingers gripping his with a desperate force that was painful...

“Hold on.”

He coughed, gagging as his collar cut his throat. His back hummed with the proximity of the larger body behind him, but the hand in the dark...

He strained to see into the shadows, lookin for that glimpse of light—just one look, just one...

“Loganberry!”

There was no other way.

“Do not let go.”

The moon was slow rising in the sky, a sliver of light moving to illuminate the dark for just an instant—and it was enough.

“I never have. I never will.”

The hand at his collar yanked, and Logan's fingers slid free, throbbing—

“Logan?”

Logan  blinked—and the world had changed. Gone was the dim light of the war room, gone was the dark, muffled nightmare he'd been momentarily caught in. He was in a corridor of polished stone walls and pale marble floors. What little light that numerous windows didn't provide, lamps mounted on the walls did, casting soft white light into the space from the magically created luminary globes set in each one.

“Hey, you back?”

He turned towards the sound of his name, disoriented. His movements felt slow, encumbered...

Looking down at himself, Logan realized he was clinging to a blanket wrapped around his shoulders like a cape. It glimmered with a film of energy he couldn't pinpoint—until he realized it was connected to him. He was the one creating it, could feel his magic woven through the fabric. His awareness was caught in the stitches and the heavy beads of glass within...

Glass? No...not glass. Crystal...just under his fingers, clear quartz beads for calm and comfort, drawing away the fear and the panic...

All at once, the heavy haze started to settle over him again, the half sleep he'd been in before—but he knew what to do now. Some part of him had always known, even without a Name to tell him how it worked.

Shutting his eyes, Logan bowed his head and let the haze take him over, dragging him back into the dark until he could feel it, glossy wood biting his fingers as he held on tight, thick warm spider silk touching his fingertips.

“Logan—wait, here.”

He couldn't feel the hand that slipped into his, but his fingers tingled, and pulled him swiftly back into the dark.

“Loganberry!”

The little boy, his voice in the dark, screaming Logan's name...his little brother...

Virgil. That was the name of the fragment, and suddenly it made all the sense in the world. There was something else, something bothering him, something stopping him from finishing the picture but he could fix this. The shoddy weaving, the places where the thread had torn when he was ripped away from his work too soon.

He labored for hours. For seconds.

Logan let the blanket fall and opened his eyes as the glittering film of energy vanished.

Immediately, his eyes locked with the dark ones from his...dream?...even through the dark, he recognized them. The face was older, the fear less intense, hope now sitting where blind panic had once been...

It wasn't a dream. It was a memory.

“Stormcloud.”

He watched the cadet's face crumble just before Virgil launched himself at Logan. He caught the younger man easily, wrapping him up tight and greedily running his hands over his arms, his back, unable to feel his warmth or his presence but relishing the faint hum of proximity, the resistance that wouldn't let his arms close fully—reassuring himself that Virgil wasn't just safe, but that he was really here.

Four years old and terrified, cuddled up to Logan's side to watch the needle and thread. Seven years old, cloaked in fear as his ceremonial garb, every thought clear and sharp as the razor's edge. Eight years old, spinning silk for Logan's loom, bound to his side as Logan reaches for the Tome...screaming his name in the dark as Logan is dragged away by the man with the sword...

“It worked.” Virgil gasped, drawing back to grin at him with fresh tear tracks on his face. “It worked, it really worked, Souls and holy shit it worked--”

“Not completely, but enough to know that I'm going to kill you myself if you're not executed for engineering a jailbreak.” Logan snapped, clutching Virgil's face between his hands. His own cheeks felt wet, his vision blurry with a stream of tears he couldn't stop, and he had to stop because his powers had to stay in check...

Virgil. Virgil, Virgil, a cadet of the royal guard, a criminal, his baby brother, his Spider.

Logan pulled Virgil close again, pressing his nose to Virgil's temple. His hair still smelled like damp stone from sleeping on the floor all the time. The shoulders Logan had his arms around were lean, but powerful—how old was he now? Nine years old when Logan was imprisoned...

“You're nineteen.” he realized aloud, finally letting Virgil go so he could look into his face again. “I didn't know, I knew I had a brother but I didn't know...I didn't know you...”

“Shut up, you can pretend you aren't all emotional and shit later.” Virgil soothed, stepping back to grab the blanket off the floor. Logan couldn't quite remember making it, but he knew he had. He could see Virgil with his thumb in his mouth, feel the tug on the half finished blanket as Virgil pulled one end to rub the soft fabric against his nose and cheek, feel the sting of the needle as he pricked himself...

“OW!”

“Wha' happen?”

“I stuck my finger with the needle—there's blood on the blanket now.”

“We can wash it.”

“No, we most certainly cannot.”

“Loganberry! Tha's so gross!”

“Falsehood. This is advantageous—we must let the blood dry first. See where it fell? It will soak through and charge the crystal pocket with my personal magic. That way, when you need it? You can wrap up in the blanket, and you'll feel me there with you.”

“...promise?”

“I swear it.”

“Lo...you gotta do it.”

“Souls—how is a few drops of blood more inherently disgusting than a spit handshake? Fine...”

“The crystals that made this a healing charm—my blood charged them with my personal magic.” he realized aloud, staring at Virgil in shock. “You snuck this in here hoping to restore my Name with it.”

“At least some of your power, but looks like I didn't have to go to the trouble.” Virgil shot back.

“You could have been killed! If the nature of the power had been discovered—oh, I am going to murder you myself once I—“

“Souls, Lo, do you have to go full bloodlust all the time?” Virgil laughed, grinning as he grabbed Logan's arm to pull him along while he started walking down the corridor. “Even after ten years, nothing changes.”

“I will take your word for it, as my memory has not been restored.” Logan replied, planting his feet as he gave his surroundings more serious consideration. The opulence of this area, the magical lighting instead of standard torches...

“All I have back is you, Storm—that said, where are we? How did we get here?”

“The residential wing of the castle—you brought us here.” Virgil explained, gesturing to the end of the corridor he was still trying to pull Logan away from. “You were channeling in the war room, but Mori tried to kill you by taking the blanket off...I thought he was gonna strangle you. Then you woke up, but your eyes were...weird. You just...stood up and bolted.”

Logan started to move towards the door, pulling Virgil with him. “Where is the king? And...the others? I was in and out of consciousness...Emile and Remy?”

“The heart-healer and the prison mage, yeah—couple members of the royal council spotted you heading this way, and word's out that Colonel Mori's been arrested. Roman's doing damage control with Prince Remus, I don't know where the others are. Doesn't matter, though, Logan will you stop and let me get you out of here?”

“No.”

“Loganberry, what the actual fuck?!”

“I'm not leaving. I have to resurrect the king.” Logan reminded him, head twisting around to regard Virgil with genuine confusion. Did Virgil really not understand this? He was Logan's Spider, he...

...didn't know where that came from. Didn't know what it meant.

The Spider does not question, he spins for his Weaver.

“Okay, one? You couldn't even if you wanted to, his Barrier is still open—you try to raise him now, the wrong soul could end up in his body. For another? He's the king and you're a necromancer. This is a jailbreak, remember? We're getting you out of here.”

Virgil emphasized his point by tugging on Logan's arm again, but Logan didn't move.

There was something else, something he wasn't seeing. Something about this...it felt off.

“Logan, we don't have time to fight about the life of a royal, okay? You don't remember why they can't be trusted--”

“Yet you trust him.” Logan pointed out. “You call him Roman, not 'His Majesty' or 'King Thomas Roman.' He...said something in the war room...”

Virgil finally let go of Logan's arm to start pacing back and forth in front of him. With a practiced flick, he draped the blanket around his shoulders—a petulant gesture Logan recognized. He recognized it, remembered it...the feeling was so alien to him.

“Yeah, I do—Souls help me, I trust him.” Virgil replied. “He swore on the Spider's Thread.”

“And?...”

“And...you're a Weaver.”

“You realize I do not know what that is.”

Virgil stopped pacing, then sighed and removed the blanket to drape it over his arm.

“Can we get out of here first so I can at least pretend I'm taking you to your quarters?”

Quarters?...their rooms. Patton.

“That is acceptable.” Logan relented, relieving Virgil of the blanket so he could walk unencumbered, as a guard ought to with a prisoner in tow.

“The Necromata aren't necromancers—they're a tribe.” Virgil explained as they walked, keeping his voice low as his gaze darted furtively around. “We're a tribe. Not every necromancer can raise the dead, some can foresee it or forestall it. The seers are the Black Dogs, the healers are the Reapers, and the resurrectionists are the Weavers. That's what you are.”

Logan thought of the magic he'd worked on instinct, the strange trancelike state that brought him the image of the shuttle, wound with spider's silk.

“The shuttle and thread...” he murmured.

Logan's stride faltered as Virgil crowded closer unexpectedly.

“Yes. So it worked, then?” he hissed excitedly. “We're connected?”

“I...believe?” Logan hedged uncertainly, the phrase echoing in his head again. “'The Spider does not question, he spins for his Weaver.' Are you...”

“Your Spider, yeah. I'm your familiar.”

“My what? Familiars--”

“--aren't stupid animals, idiot stick, that's for outsiders. Familiars are Sensitives that are connected to other necromancers, a perfect match to the power they wield. A Sensitive that's bonded to a necromancer as a familiar can actually do a little magic in tandem with their partner. You're pretty powerful on your own, you always have been, but when we realized we were matched? You got scary good.”

“So...Weavers raise the dead. And Spiders help them do it.”

“More or less. We were bonded when you got your True Name—it means you can draw focus and some small amount of magic from me, and I can communicate with ghosts. The souls you restore to life.”

“My...True Name?”

“Yeah—Loganberry. Every one of the Necromata has one.” Virgil replied, his features softening with a strange mixture of grief and gratitude. “Necromancy is rooted in memory, that's why being stripped of your Name wipes it out—makes you powerless. Your True Name, though, is rooted in identity. There are stories that say a True Name has the power to undo the Cleansing...I guess it's kind of true, since you have your powers.”

Logan fell silent, despite lacking certain answers. That feeling that something was off, it was only growing stronger. Something about names...

“So, the Spider's Thread?...”

“The oath Roman swore? Yeah—it's a reference to the Animata. Outsiders say they kept the Necromata in check? It's total bullshit. The Animata weren't life manipulators, they were a tribe of twin spirits—a being born with two souls. The Spider's Thread is the bond that exists between Animata and Necromata...necromancers don't have souls, but one that finds their Animata lays claim to their second soul, and...well, it's basically immortality. For both of them. That's why the familiars of the Weavers are called Spiders, 'cause we provide the thread that lets Weavers return souls to the Living Tapestry.”

Immortality...an immortal necromancer.

...like the Animator, the First of their kind. The necromancer so powerful, he still marked the passage of time.

A.A.--After Animator.

“How does he know about that, anyway?” Virgil asked. “That's not common knowledge outside the tribe—Logan? Logan, talk to me. What's wrong?”

Virgil's voice was fading. The world was going dark around the edges of Logan's vision again.

In the dark, pulled in two directions. Choking at the hands of one, latching onto another for dear life.

Grabbing blindly. Fingers gripping his, fingers he knew...

“Loganberry?...Logan!”

Gripping with a desperate force that was painful.

“...stay here, okay? I'm gonna get someone--”

Logan grabbed Virgil's hand as hard as he could. He looked down at their joined hands, watched Virgil's knuckles turn white with the force he was using to hold on in return.

Logan couldn't feel it. He wouldn't even feel it if Virgil broke his fingers.

The hand in his memory hurt, burned, seared...

He could feel the hand in his memory.

“Hold on.”

Logan strained to see into the shadows of the sewer, prayed for one final look.

The moonlight shifted.

Green eyes glittered in the momentary illumination.

“Loganberry!”

“He knew.” Logan breathed, releasing Virgil's hand. “He didn't come out of kindness, he came because he knew.”

“Knew what? Logan, who are you talking about?”

His voice was strangled, barely audible, but the words echoed in Logan's ears and cut out the heart he wished to the Souls that he did not have.

“Do not let go.” he demanded, begged through clenched teeth.

If he pulled Logan down, the man behind him might follow. Then they would both die.

There was no other way.

“Maybe he thought I'd remember, maybe...maybe he thought I'd escape...”

“Logan, who?”

Logan squeezed Prince Roman's hand as tightly as he could. He burned those green eyes into his brain, hoping he could carry them with him into the Void when he was gone.

“I never have. I never will.”

He never did—he hung on until the grip on his collar finally yanked him out of the fourteen year old prince's grasp.

“Roman—Virgil, I knew him. Before. I...I think he might be the reason I was arrested.”

[theatresweetheart]

Of Stars and Royal Gardens

Summary: When the king of the Eastern Kingdom falls ill suddenly, the wedding that was supposed to unite the Eastern and Northern Kingdoms via the princes suddenly gets moved immediately. 

Warnings: Talk of sickness, arranged marriages, anxious thoughts, feelings of worthlessness, mentioned death due to childbirth. 

Pairings: Romantic Prinxiety, Familial Analogical, Platonic Logince.

Characters: Roman, Virgil, Logan, Emile, Remy, Deceit (not mentioned by name), Patton (mentioned in passing/flashback.)

Word Count: 6647 words.

A/n: I absolutely love writing fantasy and royalty. (Not to mention how putting the two together makes me swoon.) I’ve had this idea in my head for awhile and I wanted to flesh it out as best as I could, and I’m actually pretty happy with the outcome! I’ve been trying not to rush through scenes and actually write them and feel them out. Enjoy! I have moved the taglist to the bottom of the fic, this is how it will be from here on.

                                           ——————————

One could only handle travelling in a carriage for so long before they started to go mad.

Emerald green hills outside the window rose and fell like unceasing waves. The sky was once again fading into a dark red. Purple, dark blue and black began smearing the edges of the world and doused it in a warm pinkish hue. The skyline was breathtakingly stunning, he would admit that but he was more than ready to get out of this carriage and stretch his legs again.

The prince let his head rest against the cool glass, a gentle sigh escaping him as his eyes lazily traced the ups and downs of the landscape outside.

When rolling hills slowly turned into flatter farmlands, Virgil’s dwindling hope of never getting out of this carriage faded. It changed to something more tentative.

The Kingdom they were visiting was closer now, even as darkness fell over the lands and gave the waking world a clear view of the stars shining brightly above them. Looking like crushed diamonds smattered against a black canvas sky, twinkling without a care in the world and unknowingly giving the prince something far more relaxing to look at.

There were small cottages that dotted the farmland, their lanterns like fireflies. Some people were still out in their rows upon rows of crops, their lantern bobbing and swaying to their gait.

Seemed like being escorted to your future spouse had a few pros. The night sky and stunning scenery was it so far.

It was also a rather large relief when he realized that this tantalizing journey would be over soon. Travelling for three days in a confined space with his father could be painful. However, the idea that they were almost there also brought the fact that his wedding was just a day away now.

It set an uneasy feeling in his chest and his breath came a little more laboured. Not enough to be noticed by an outsider, but just enough to be uncomfortable for the prince himself.

“How are you faring?”‌ His father’s voice cut into his thoughts and Virgil turned to see sharp blue eyes meeting his own.

Virgil had a few options; he could lie and say that he was perfectly fine. Of course, that would not be taken at face value in the least. He had already told his father just how unhappy he was about this marriage, not to mention how unready he felt about the whole ordeal. Nor the fact that he didn’t even know the man he was being wedded to.

He knew his betrothed’s name.

That was literally it.

“It might be love at first sight, Your Highness,” a friend of his had said, the tailor stitching up the last seam on the prince’s outfit, pulling it taut enough that it showed his assets modestly. “And besides, he might not be as awful as you think he is. I’ve heard only good things about the prince of the Eastern Kingdom.”

Virgil had shaken his head, a fond look on his face. “Patton, please, enough with the formalities, we’re alone. You don’t have to call me “You’re Highness” or “My Prince” or whatever, it’s kinda weird. Besides, we’ve known each other since we were kids.”

“That was before I‌ was the royal tailor,” Patton had said, grabbing a pair of scissors to his left before snipping the dark purple thread. Pointedly ignoring Virgil’s unimpressed looks. “But my point still stands. You never know what could come of this. You two could end up happy in your marriage! A happily ever after and all that.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.”

Virgil didn’t have much hope that he would end up falling for his soon-to-be-husband. He was going to be a king and that was shaking him to the core.

It was odd, being betrothed to a man he had never met. Nor did he know what he looked like. What if he wasn’t even all that attractive? Virgil didn’t like basing his interest on another’s looks, but it was hard not to.

Could he truly live the rest of his life content if he was married to a man he wasn’t physically attracted to?

Patton had always told him that finding someone handsome was part of the attraction. It was one of those whispered talks they had at night, after sneaking out of the castle and going to their secret spot up by the waterfall near the edge of the kingdom. They would sit there under the stars together, talking about their future.

Patton had always dreamed of a fairy tale ending. Meeting a handsome stranger and being swept off of his feet. The cliche of the white knight swooping in on a horse.

Virgil had been the opposite, not caring much for the romance of life. Much more content to live his life on his own, reading or painting. As the crowned prince however, he didn’t have much time for his own little personal activities and was more often than not found in self defense classes, or reading something necessary to understand how to take over and run the kingdom after his father passed the crown on.

Virgil’s father had never been too thrilled with the idea of him sneaking out at night once he figured it out, but the king had also never forbade it nor stopped him when he had been caught one night. Logan had always told him to be safe and to be back before morning.

It wasn’t that Virgil didn’t respect this father, he did! But this was a decision that he wished hadn’t been set in stone. A decision that could have been swayed for at least a few years further into the future.

Though, when the Eastern Kingdom’s king fell ill, there was a messenger sent to their kingdom.

A letter had been delivered that spoke to joining forces by having their sons marry and conjoin the kingdom. Giving his son, Prince Roman, someone to rule beside and keep in check. Pleading with them to rearrange the timing of the marriage and to come to the Eastern Kingdom as soon as humanly possible.

And Virgil, being Logan’s only heir, had had no choice in the matter. He still remembered the chat as though it was yesterday, and he could still the same emotions twitching under his fingertips. Itching at his throat.

“You must understand that uniting the kingdoms was always the plan, Virgil. Though, the marriage was not supposed to happen until you and his son were older.”

“I get that, but this isn’t fair. That I‌ get no choice in what happens to my life!”

“I will not tolerate this childish behaviour, this is for the better of your kingdom and your people.”

“I just want to make my own choices, is that a sin?”

“You will be able to make your own choices after you’re joined in marriage.”

Logan had told him from a very young age that he had been betrothed to the crowned prince of the Eastern Kingdom, but as a child Virgil hadn’t understood the weight of those words.

Now that it was happening, it was the only thing he could focus on.

The horses continued their trot along the stone path, unknowingly carrying the prince to what was soon to be his demise. Ruling a kingdom with a man he didn’t know was stressful enough in theory, but to actually have to put that into action? He was surely going to either lose his mind or his dignity. If he was lucky, perhaps both.

Virgil mumbled something incoherent. It made him feel just the slightest bit better to know that his father hadn’t caught what he’d said. “I could be better,” he said louder, turning his attention to stare achingly out the window again.

Logan let out a terse sigh. “I‌ understand that you are upset with this,” he said after a moment, and Virgil turned his head just enough to show that he was, indeed, actively listening. “But this is for the better of our people. The wedding was not supposed to be this soon, and I apologize that it came so suddenly.”

Virgil shrugged his shoulders. “It is what is is.”

There was a tense silence between the two royals and Logan soon realized he wouldn’t be getting anywhere with Virgil. So, he instead settled on a different topic of importance.

“I did meet Prince Roman once,” he said while rummaging through the bag to his side, before pulling out his book and flipping it open. If he said it nonchalantly, Virgil would be more intent to listen. It was a quirk of his son’s that Logan had picked up on very quickly. He fingered through the pages idly. “He was only seven, merely a child, mind you, but he was kind and respectful. A bit exuberant, but well meaning.”

Virgil snorted. “Why are you telling me this now?‌ I’m about to meet the guy.”

“True,” Logan replied, pushing his glasses up so they sat further up on the bridge of his nose. “Though, there is no harm in knowing. It will be easier to prepare yourself if you’re armed with knowledge.”

“Yeah, yeah, knowledge is power and all that.”

“You mock now, Virgil, but in time you will understand that yes, knowledge truly is power,” the king looked up briefly, meeting the prince’s eyes for half a second before Virgil quickly glanced away again. “Ruling a kingdom is not something you just do. It’s something that will take years of learning. And you will make mistakes, as all kings do. Especially young ones.”

Virgil scrunched his nose, pushing off of the window and crossing his arms. Staring pointedly down at the floor of the carriage. “If you’re trying to be reassuring, it’s not working.”

“I’m not trying to be reassuring,” Logan said, turning his attention back down to the book in his lap, “I’m trying to tell you that things will go wrong in your reign and you mustn’t panic. If you do, do not let your people see it. They will see it as a sign of weakness.”

Virgil’s nails tightened in his sleeves, and he worried his lower lip.

“Though, have peace. You will not be doing this alone.”

“Yeah, because ruling a kingdom that is not mine with a total stranger is better.”

“It is very possible that you two will get along.”

Logan did understand the frustration of being married to someone he didn’t know. That’s how he, himself, had been wedded to Virgil’s late mother, Evangeline, and how they had given Logan an heir.

Virgil’s mother had unfortunately died in childbirth.

The queen had been beloved, but both her and Logan had shared something that the rest of the kingdom needn’t know. They had both been attracted to men and women respectfully. They had done what was necessary, but neither had truly felt attracted to one another.

Evangeline and himself had been close friends, but never anything more.

Virgil rolled his eyes and sunk further down into the leather seats, when he suddenly felt the change between gravel roads to paved stone.

His eyes were drawn outside instantly. His heart both fluttered and sunk. He was granted with the view of huge stone walls rising high above the carriage, guarded with knights and archers. Torches lit up the wooden gate as it was lifted. The carriage rode through it with hardly a qualm, the crest on the side of it recognized. Not to mention the thing had golden crested accents and looked as if it would carry important people.

The city streets were lined with people, all standing in large chattering groups. Pointing, smiling, cheering. It made Virgil pull slightly away from the window. The shops were all still open and lights glittered and shone. Lanterns, lamps, torches.

Virgil nearly jumped when he felt a hand on his knee and he turned his attention back to his father, who was looking at him with a soft gaze. “You will be alright,” he told him, an affirming tone behind his voice, “you are more than capable of doing this.”

That set something in Virgil’s chest. Hard, immovable and a lump formed in his throat. He tried to swallow it down, but it stayed stuck where it was.

Oh god, I‌ hope you’re right.

They didn’t say anything to each other for the rest of the trip up to the castle gates. Which were coated in gold and silver. Two armed knights stood outside the gates, their swords by their sides. There was some muffled talking between the coachman and the guard on the other side of the carriage. Then there was a shouted command and the huge gate doors began to open.

Peering out the window only gave him so much of a glance at the glory that awaited inside. The courtyard was filled with life. Trees and plants and flowerbeds, lanterns hung and lights from inside the castle glittered like starlight. There were ponds filled with crystal clear water and the carriage circled around a stunning white marble fountain.

Virgil was positive that the moment he found out where the royal garden was, that was where he was going to spend a bit of his night. He needed to unwind and spend some time with just himself and the night sky and the stars hanging so far above them.

The carriage finally stopped moving after what had seemed like ages and the coachman was hopping down from his perch. Before anything happened, Logan picked up his crown and settled it comfortably once more, checking himself once, making sure his appearance was more than presentable. He sent a pointed glance toward the prince.

Virgil sighed, but knowing that it was better to make a good first impression, he reached into his crown box and pulled his own out. His thumb ran over the ruby that sat in the stock middle before turning it around in his hands and putting it on.

Logan had stood up, hearing the coachman preparing to open the door and he quickly bent down to fix Virgil’s crown so it sat straight on his brow, before adjusting the clasps that connected his cape to his jacket. It seemed he was satisfied with that and just in time. The coachman opened the door and Logan led out, Virgil was quick to follow, making sure not to step on his father’s cape.

It was a brief thought and he had to bite his lip to keep the smirk from spreading.

“Your majesties,” a man dressed in a crisp suit came down the large flight of perfect stairs, his arms open and a smile on his features. “The Eastern Kingdom greets you with the humblest of welcomes.”

“It’s our pleasure,”‌ his father said to the side of him and Virgil straightened his shoulders, matching Logan’s perfect posture.

It was all for the public eye.

Such was the life of royalty.

Always watched by their people, almost as if they were waiting for their leaders to mess up and find a reason to revolt against them. Though, Virgil knew his father was well liked by much of the kingdom, there was always the worry of something happening, no matter how wonderful the ruler.

“Prince Virgil, your betrothed eagerly awaits you,” the man said, turning to Virgil with that same bright charismatic grin. It almost set something uneasier in his chest, though he let it pass for the moment. “Come, follow me.”

Virgil clenched his hands, attempting to still the nervous shaking and letting his father lead once more. He was quick to keep pace though. Up the marble stairs and leading through the winding hallways. He would have to memorize this new layout as it was almost completely different from their own castle. There were red tapestries on the walls, decorated with gold and silver, shining in the lamp light and the moonlight seeping in through the large windows.

They dipped around a few corners before the two large mahogany doors were being swung open and a brightly lit ballroom was revealed. There were tables, chairs and benches set up to the side. The room was staggeringly big. A huge glittering crystal chandelier hung above their heads and he was admittedly taken by it. Everything about this kingdom just seemed to be breathtakingly gorgeous.

His attention shifted as soon as he heard the same man’s voice from before beginning to introduce his father and himself.

“Your Majesty, Your Highness, I introduce to you King Logan and Prince Virgil of the Northern Kingdom.”

Virgil’s attention shifted toward the head of the room, seeing two thrones sitting dauntingly large compared to their occupants. In the middle throne, he saw a sickly looking man. Pale skin, dulling brown eyes behind glasses sitting perched on his thin nose, but his shoulders back and his head up as far as it could go. The king, Virgil had no doubt about that. He knew he had fallen ill, but to see the king in this state yet trying to hold his head high?‌ Well, he gave the man even more respect.

Then, sitting to the king’s right was the crowned prince. His husband-to-be.

Virgil’s heart jumped right into his throat, upon seeing chocolate brown eyes meeting his own. They were soft, full of warmth. He felt short of breath, watching as the candlelight glinted off the crown perched delicately upon styled brown hair, tucked behind his ears. All worries about being attracted to his betrothed immediately disappeared.

Prince Roman Amir was certainly something to look at. And he made Virgil’s poor heart flutter.

However, he retained a neutral stance as Roman was granted permission from his father to step forward. Virgil heard Logan clear his throat quietly, a pointed nudge without truly touching the prince.

Taking the hint, he stepped forward, heart hammering in his chest with every step he took closer to his betrothed. The closer they got, the more details he could see on him, not to mention just how much taller Roman was than himself. He carried himself with true pride and confidence and Virgil was just faking it.

The two met in the middle of the ballroom, meeting each other’s eyes for the first time up close and Virgil found himself watching Roman’s eyes. The gentle hazels seeming to flicker over his person. A part of him felt self conscious, but the other part of him just was so mesmerized by the golden brown swirls in the prince’s eyes.

Roman dipped into a respectful bow, dropping his gaze. “Prince Roman, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Virgil quickly mimicked the same action, knowing it was required of him. “Prince Virgil, the pleasure’s mine.”

Standing straight up, Virgil tucked his hands behind his back and he felt Logan come up behind him, laying a reassuring hand on his lower back before continuing his way past the two princes. The king on the throne rose to his feet, struggling slightly as he reached for his cane and hefted himself up.

Roman turned on his heel, after sending Virgil a gentle look before returning to his father’s side. “Father,” he chided, hooking a hand under the king’s arm and helping him stand further. “You know what the healer said, stay seated unless absolutely necessary.”

“Yes, yes, I‌ know,” the king smiled, patting Roman’s hand to show that he appreciated the sentiment. His smile grew wider upon seeing Logan closer to him, greeting him with a look that almost said it all. “Logan Sanders.”

“Emile Amir,” Logan greeted back, a smile that one could only spot if they knew what they were looking for appeared. “It has been a long time, my friend.”

“I‌ do believe the last time you were here, Roman couldn’t have been older than seven,” King Emile reached out a hand and Logan took it, the both sharing a grasp that said they were old friends. “How have these years been treating you?”

Logan chuckled. His laugh was rumbling, like a comforting thunderstorm. Virgil could remember falling asleep to that sound, or finding comfort in it when he would get spooked as a child and run to his father for protection. ��As they say, it could be going worse.”

Emile laughed at that, though it quickly turned into a round of coughs. Roman’s features dropped slightly, though it was gone within a flash and was replaced with a look that was more concerned than sad.

Virgil stepped closer to the throne and Emile turned to face him, that soft smile returning after recovering from his fit. “And, if my eyes don’t deceive me. Virgil, the last time I‌ saw you, you were just a babe. Now look at you, a dashing young man.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” he dipped his head into a respectful nod. He could feel Roman’s eyes on him, but he didn’t acknowledge it. Or, tried not to.

“Now,”‌ Emile said, his smile dropped slightly, turning into something a bit more serious as he eased himself back down into his throne. “I‌ know this situation is not exactly ideal.”‌ The king did not hide his glances toward his son and Virgil in turn, obviously talking about the wedding being moved so much sooner than originally planned. “But I appreciate your cooperation and valiance more than anything, Virgil. It is truly remarkable.”

Virgil offered a tight smile, though it was not unkind.

“We have done everything in our power to make sure that this transition is comfortable and painless,” the king continued. “As you know, tomorrow is the wedding and the coronation to follow the day after. I‌ will do everything to make sure that both days go flawlessly to ease the stress of the both of you.”

“Father, you mustn’t worry yourself so much,” Roman told him, taking Emile’s hand and holding it tightly. “I’m sure Prince Virgil and I‌ will be alright. And so what if some hiccups occur? No matter what, it will be fine. We will be fine.”

Emile smiled at his son, patting his hand in turn. “You will be a good king, Roman. Now, enough of such dreary talk. Come, you two must be exhausted. I‌ will have Remy show you both to your quarters.”

Seemingly at the mention of his name, a man with slick black hair appeared in the grand doorway, dressed in a sleek black jacket and dress pants, hands tucked behind his back.

“Ah, what impeccable timing. Remy, please escort our guests to their quarters.”

“Actually, Emile, if you wouldn’t mind,” Logan stepped in, “I‌ would like to spend a little while catching up with you before I turn in for the night.”

“Oh.” Emile’s entire demeanor seemed to change at that. It brightened somehow, more than before. “Why of course I‌ wouldn’t mind. Let us talk in the library. I‌ know how much you loved it when we were younger.”

“I‌ can assure you that that aspect of me has not changed.” Logan stepped forward, offering his arm as Emile reached for his cane.

Emile accepted Logan’s offered assistance and lifted himself up, leaning most of his weight on his cane. “Roman, you are released for the night. Get some rest, the both of you.” It was obvious Emile was talking to both Roman and Virgil. “It is a big day for you and you will want to be well rested.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Of course, father.”

Logan shared a look with Virgil, both saying something entirely silently but communicating it perfectly. His father wished him the best, since they might not see each other until just before the ceremony.

Virgil excused himself and turned to follow Remy out of the ballroom, the taller man taking swift steps. They walked in silence for a couple minutes, but he could tell Remy was glancing at him from time to time. Virgil instead let his attention linger on the walls and the stained glass windows high above them, trying to memorize the path as best as possible. The sooner he knew these halls, the better. That way he wouldn’t have to rely on someone else for assistance in his own castle.

However, he supposed soon enough that the bedchamber he was in now would no longer be his own. As a married pair, the princes—or perhaps kings would be the proper term? No, until after the coronation, don’t get ahead of yourself—would be sharing a bed.

The thought was staggering and he took in a shaky breath.

Virgil had never had to share a bed with anyone before. At least, no one that was supposed to be his romantic interest. He had shared a bed with his father when he was a child, after having a particularly bad dream maybe. But nothing of this magnitude.

“So,” Remy finally said, turning another corner and leading Virgil down yet another well lit hallway that looked exactly like the others, save this carpet had turned from a royal crimson to a darker red. “You’re the bride-to-be.”

Virgil laughed unexpectedly. He couldn’t help it. Of the first words he had thought Remy would say to him, that was very much not it. “I‌’m sorry, that was unprofessional.”

Remy had a smirk on his face, knowing he had gotten the nervous royal to crack that anxious facade to reveal something more childish and human-like. He was pleased with himself, that much Virgil could tell. “No reason to be apologetic babes, getting a laugh like that makes you seem more human.”

Virgil snorted, bringing his arms up to wrap around himself instead of staying tucked behind his back, it was a more natural position for him and he felt more comfortable this way. At least he felt more protected.

They stopped walking after they reached a large set of dark oak doors. “This here is your bedchamber for the night,” the adviser said, pushing the door open.

Virgil was welcomed with the sight of a lavish four poster bed. The room was decorated, but dimly lit. It was comfortable and felt rather homey. It was something that he had seen in his own castle, yet it felt so different. Virgil felt somewhat homesick looking at it. The tapestries on the walls depicting waterfalls and battlefields, flowerbeds on some and a mix of a crown and a sword.

Remy turned to leave once Virgil stepped inside, but the prince was quick to stop him. “Is it possible to know where the royal garden is, and how to actually get there?”

Remy turned on his heel, looking the prince up and down before tucking his hands into the front pockets of his black jacket. “Head a little further down this hallway and take the first door on your right. It’ll lead you to the outside balcony with a set of stairs that leads into the garden,” he then swiveled back around and moved to leave before pausing again, “but, gurl, you didn’t hear that from me.”

The adviser left with a wink and shut the doors. Virgil let out a half laugh, almost unbelieving of what had happened.

He then turned to face the rest of the room, noticing a large window and a comfortable seat just underneath it. To the other side of the bed, there was a large bookshelf with countless books of all colours.

Virgil un-clipped the cape from his shoulders before folding it and placing it on the chest just in front of the bed. He removed the jacket and vest underneath as well, setting those away in a neat pile and leaving him in just his white button up shirt. He rolled the sleeves up and let out a breath.

Passing the mirror on the boudoir he realized his crown was still there. He’d been wearing it so long he had forgotten it was even there.

Virgil reached up and lifted it off, taking a single glance at it before setting it down onto the dresser. He didn’t need to be so formal if his only company for the rest of the night was himself.

Glancing through the books on the shelf, Virgil came across one about myths and mythical creatures. As a child, his father would read him books like this. However, that shifted soon enough and Logan began to read him non-fiction books, scrolls about how to rule a kingdom, how to be a proper prince. It was a leisure to read something that didn’t focus too much in the real world.

Taking the book off the shelf, he fingered through a few of the opening pages before deeming it worthy enough of a late night read.‌ At least to hold his attention until everyone went to bed so he could take his time to wander through the royal garden without the fear of being caught or seen. Or interrupted.

He grabbed the candle sitting on the dresser before bringing it over to the window seat and settling it down on the ledge. He propped the window open just enough to taste the fresh night air outside, but not enough to let it snuff the candle. He pulled his legs up onto the cushion and leaned his back against the wall, propping the book up on his knees.

Out of this entire situation, this had to be the most peaceful and relaxed he had felt after this whole endeavor had begun.

Even with the wedding looming over his shoulder, Virgil could take these last few chances to be by himself.

A few hours had passed by the time he had nearly finished the book and he heard servants outside his door beginning to snuff out most of the lights, save for leaving one or two. It was a routine he was used to back home, and would normally wait until everyone else retired for the night before sneaking out and grabbing Patton, before they ran off to the waterfall in the dead of the evening.

After waiting an extra ten or so minutes, Virgil closed the book and placed it back onto the shelf where it belonged.

He opened one of the doors and peered out into the hallway. Just as he had suspected, most of the lights had been snuffed and only a few remained flickering. Most of the hallway was illuminated with a warm moonlit glow.

Slipping out into the hallway, he shut the door as silently as he possibly could before making his way down the hallway. The same way Remy had told him earlier that evening.

First door on your right.

When he turned to the right a little ways down, there was another corridor, but at the very end of it were two more large mahogany doors with inscriptions and pictures engraved into it. Virgil made sure to walk on the carpet and not the stone, not wanting his shoes to make any noise against the polished flooring.

His hands roved over the inscriptions, his fingertips finding the small detailed divots. He tugged on the metal handle before the door opened. He slid through the opening he had created and shut it silently behind him.

When Virgil turned, he was welcomed with the sight of a garden beyond compare. He was currently standing on a balcony made of polished white marble, but when he leaned over the railing, he could see emerald green that went on for what seemed like ages. Stone walls with flowering vines crawling up the sides, matching ponds on both sides of the stairs that descended. Statues that spouted water into the fountains surrounded by flowerbeds and bushes with roses. Trees, arches, a gazebo in the centre of the magnificence.

The stars glittering so high above brought it altogether. If this was how dazzling it looked at night, then the daylight it must be even more breathtaking. Or, hell, during twilight.

Virgil was so taken by the view in front of him, he had failed to hear the sounds of the door opening behind him before it was too late.

“You sneak out into the garden at night too?”

The sudden voice from behind the prince made him jolt, snapped out of his trance and flinching away to turn and see Roman standing almost directly to the side of him. He was missing practically everything Virgil was. The crown, the cape, the over decorated jacket.

He looked just like an average boy.

“Uh, yeah,” he admitted after a moment, turning back to lean against the railing after calming his poor heart from the scare, “couldn’t resist really. I‌ needed some fresh air to clear my head about everything.”

Roman chuckled. The sound was warm and comforting and it made Virgil’s heart skip a beat, as cheese-y and sappy as that was. The other prince came to stand beside him, their shoulders nearly touching as they both watched the peaceful garden in its most natural form. The soft rush of water, the chirping of crickets, the gentle sound of the pond water lapping from the gentle breeze overhead.

“I‌ don’t blame you,” Roman told him in a soft voice, side glancing Virgil from his leaned position. “I’ve found a safe place in the garden. The sounds, the sights. Night is when everything is at its most peaceful.”

It had an air of absolute serenity.

Hearing that his fiance felt the same way about such a place was almost like a weight off of his chest. One that he didn’t even know had been there in the first place. Virgil let the ghost of a smile appear on his lips, feeling content in this moment. Even with the chaos that was about to ensue tomorrow, he felt at ease with his partner.

Though, when Roman’s words registered, Virgil realized he had said his safe place, so did that mean he was encroaching on something that almost felt sacred?

“I‌ don’t want to intrude if you want to be alone–”‌ Virgil said, moving to push away from the banister when his hand was grabbed, stopping him immediately in his tracks. Brown eyes flickering up to meet Roman’s.

“Please don’t go.” It was a soft plead and Virgil let out a breath, seeing the vulnerability behind that gaze. Roman was completely genuine in not wanting him to leave. “I really would like your company. Besides, you were here before me. Truly, it is I that is intruding on you.”

Virgil broke out of his thoughts again, his face flushing when he realized Roman hadn’t let go his hand. It was so soft, and warm to the touch. He really didn’t want Roman to let his hand go. But right at this moment, Virgil didn’t have the confidence to interlace their fingers either, so he just stood there.

He smiled a little more sincerely, relaxing the slightest bit. “Nonsense,”‌ he said after another moment of collecting his scattered thoughts, “it’s your garden after all.”

The two stood there for another moment more, just drinking the other in. Memorizing what they could of each other in the moonlight. Virgil could see the way the moonlight shone off Roman’s eyes, making them glitter in the most cliche way. But it was something so…so real.

Maybe Patton was right, maybe there really was such a thing as true love.

“Come on,” Roman broke the silence, “I want to show you something.”

With a gentle tug on his hand, Virgil was following Roman down the marble stairs and onto the stone path of the garden.‌‌

And they hadn’t let each other go.

“You’re not leading me all the way out here to kill me, just so you can get out of the marriage are you?” Virgil teased.

This time Roman’s laugh was louder, more boisterous, more unabashed and unashamed. That beaming smile was turned back on Virgil and he swore his heart nearly stopped. It filled him with warmth and butterflies and everything that Patton had always told him love would make him feel. It was cliche and sappy and disgusting.

And he liked it.

“No, no,” Roman’s laugh tapered off, showing something still amused but serious. “I swear to you it’s nothing like that.”

Roman led him through a few arches covered in vines and greenery and the sweet fragrance of flowers surrounded the both of them.‌ Soon enough, though, Virgil could hear the rushing of water and before he knew it, Roman was pushing some dangling vines and long grass out of the way and they were ducking down into a cavern.

The cave itself was short, Virgil could see a faint light over Roman’s shoulder and the rushing water got louder. They were pressed rather close together as there wasn’t enough space for the both of them to be side by side.

After another minute, Virgil was able to stand up straight and he saw a waterfall, stretching high above them. When he looked all the way up, the moon hung just over the top of it, giving it an angelic glow and he stepped forward on instinct, mouth agape.

“This technically isn’t apart of the royal garden,”‌ Roman told him quietly off to the side, not wanting to ruin the moment, “but I‌ found it when I‌ was a teenager. It’s one of my favourite spots in the entire kingdom, really.”

“I‌ can see why.” Virgil’s hand unconsciously tightened on Roman’s, just wanting to drink in the moment. He could feel emotions budding in the back of his throat. “I‌ have a waterfall like this back home, but it’s nothing compared to this.” 

As much as Virgil loved his and Patton’s secret spot back home, it paled in comparison to what he was looking at now.

Roman finally intertwined their fingers and Virgil looked up to him. “You’re the first person I’ve ever showed this place,” he told him, moving to stand directly in front of him, reaching down and taking Virgil’s other hand in his own.

That information shocked him. He was the first person this wonderland had been shown to? Ever?‌ Virgil was at a loss for words. What was he supposed to say?‌ He was honoured?‌ Touched? “I– I‌ don’t know what to say.”

“Then don’t say anything,” Roman’s voice had dropped significantly and Virgil’s face went scarlet. He could feel the tips of his ears getting warmer and heat creeping up the back of his neck. He could only thank the lord is was too dark for Roman to see just how flustered he was making him.

(However, it was such a cliche line that if Virgil had heard it out of context, he would have laughed and moved on.)

“I‌ know this whole situation is really strange for the both of us, Virgil,” Roman continued, softer. “And I‌ completely understand that. But I honestly think we can do this.”

Virgil’s mouth went dry and he licked his lips to try and went them again. He had just an urge to just surge up and press his mouth against Roman’s. It would be wildly inappropriate (ignoring the fact that they were going to literally be married tomorrow) and Virgil was pretty sure he would combust if he actually did it.

His eyes dropped from Roman’s, and glanced down to their interlaced hands. It was such an intimate moment and they had barely known each other three hours. Had barely interacted more than twice.‌

And yet, it felt real.

He knew what he was about to say was something he truly felt. It was weird and strange and the last thing he had expected, nevertheless speak such a cliche and romantic sentence without cringing.

Virgil looked back up, meeting his betrothed’s once again. Roman looked so hopeful, a delicate light flashing behind those breathtakingly brown eyes. He smiled and squeezed Roman’s hands. “I think so too.”

Maybe there truly was a silly thing known as love at first sight.

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