#yes I did copy and paste that lyric shush

[miliamin1]

A Marriage That's Unlike Her Parents'

Enid taps a melody on the driving wheel on their way to a grocery store. Despite the late evening the werewolf kept her joyful energy. Even when technically doing a chore. Wednesday doesn’t know if it’s because of the music playing or because they’re doing it together. 

It could go both ways really. 

Wednesday tries her damndest to not pay attention to the inane lyrics but them being in English for once and Enid singing them interrupts that. 

“Don't you go fallin' in love. 'Cause I'ma break that shit up. I won't let her. Love you like I do. Touch you like I do. Nothing like I do~”

Wednesday stopped questioning why sometimes Enid randomly plays songs in English or Spanish amidst the drowning of Korean years ago. Fully knowing that Wednesday only tolerates her song choices when she’s spared understanding of the copy pasted lyrics. At first the she-wolf wouldn’t comprehend that she was doing it, not realizing the language switch since somehow it was still Korean pop. 

Somehow.

It is better not to ponder over it much.

She can dredge an occasional mishap. Smidgen of English during the chorus is technically part of the Korean pop staple so even when singing English it can be a forgiven mistake.

“Wens, can you check what’s the title? I swear it’s on the back of my tongue but I can’t get it and it’s so irritating.”

Wednesday picks up the pink cased phone and turns the screen on. “By brackets capital G end of brackets, capital I, hyphen, D L E capitalized too and the song title is ‘I Do’-”

When Enid hits the manual brakes and swerves the car, performing a drift to a stop on the side of the road, Wednesday realizes the trap that ensnared her. She sighs deeply. 

Enid doesn’t react to the exasperated look and takes off her ring, then Wednesday’s, and then holds them between their joined hands. “By the power vested in me by the State of New Jersey-” she cheerfully starts.

“Enid, our latest divorce papers did not even go through.”

“-shush, I pronounce us wife and wife.” Enid puts a ring on Wednesday’s finger.

“You didn’t even propose this time.” Wednesday rolls her eyes and does the same.

“You were adorable and asleep and sleep talked a yes. You may kiss the bride.” 

Wednesday kisses the smiling lips. “Did you even really crave your favorite ice cream we can only get in one store?”

Enid giggles as she backs up the car.

“Of course amorcita, how else would I celebrate my seventeenth wedding?”

[indestinatus]

Yellow Brick Road

TIVATOBER 2020 // DAY 17

↳ prompt: Scarecrow - rated T (1,726 words)

summary: Alone in the hideout from Sahar, Ziva finds herself doing something she didn’t expect, which brings back memories from the past. 

A/N: also known as - if you chose to read one story of this whole series, please let this be the one.

read it on AO3 🌾

Heavy rain poured down on the gray tiles of the sidewalk. There was enough water on the street to reflect the blurry traffic lights and undefined skylines, at least until a car passed by and splashed it all over the closed stores. Umbrellas piled up in front of a popular restaurant and some moved across the street, but Ziva’s vision was out of focus enough to only distinguish them as blurs of color, disappearing quickly.

It had been hours since she had passed the point of tiredness, now breathing only out of instinct. Her eyelids burned but she kept them open, watching the skies fall. 

It was rare for her to need a break like this, though it was turning even more frequent these days. She could only track Sahar down for so long - with just a name, the mysterious woman quickly vanished only to reappear again in another city a few weeks later - and after so many failed attempts of getting to her, Ziva decided to wait until they came to her instead. 

That usually didn’t take long. 

A taxi stopped just in front of her and a man rushed to open the door, motioning for a woman just behind him to enter ahead. She did so hurriedly, holding what looked like the man’s suit over her head as she disappeared into the backseat of the car. 

A second later, the man did the same, hastily running a hand through his wet hair before disappearing. Ziva thought she saw him smile to himself, but the car sped up and she lost track of them before she could confirm. 

Two strangers she would never see again, nor hear the end of their story. 

She didn’t really process how or why, but suddenly she found her reflection staring back at her, heavy bags under her eyes and hair dripping wet. Ziva blinked, realizing she had crossed the street and now stood in front of the glass door she’d been watching from the opposite side all evening.

Before she could change her mind, Ziva’s hands moved on their own accord and pulled the door open. Blaming the tiredness for her poor choices, she stepped into the movie theater, searching for the ticket booth.

The air conditioning of the room made her soaked clothes feel cold. She picked a spot near the exit, blending into the shadows. In a second she had memorized all viable routes of escape, but it had been more out of habit than from a real necessity. 

Her heart was in her throat when the main title started to play. It was this loud melody with a classic tune to it, the high notes revealing the passage of time. As the title appeared, nostalgia burned in her chest. It had been too long since she’d last seen it, way too long.

“I thought this was a colored one.”

“Do you really want me to spoil it to you, woman?”

“I’ve read the book, you know.”

“Then how come you always manage to quote it wrong?”

“How do you know they’re the right lines? Perhaps they’re different in the book.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“Yes. Exactly. You would not know.”

“Don’t brag now. You’re the one who hasn't seen a movie that’s seventy years old.”

“I had other things to do.”

“That’s older than Gibbs.”

“That’s older than you.”

“Miss David. You hurt me this way.”

“Shush. It’s about to start.”

“You… Wicked Witch of the West.”

“Hm… Doesn’t she die?”

“You’ll have to watch and see.”

It knocked the breath out of her. She already knew it was coming, but the sudden change from sepia to technicolor was still a marvelous thing to see. Bright colors invited the viewer to enter this brand new world, and Ziva let herself get lost in the songs and the details. 

The room was almost empty, some people scattered across the rows ahead. She wondered if they had seen this movie before. Probably, considering how old it was. Though she knew the story by heart, it was because she’d read the book a dozen times while growing up, it being a classic in her mother’s personal library. 

He had teased her the whole day when he discovered she’d never watched it. She remembered it clearly—quoting lines and singing lyrics, he’d succeeded in driving her crazy enough for her to give in, which led to them renting a DVD copy on a free Friday night. She brought the beers and he led the place, the one between them who had a television at home. 

Tony’s selective memory always surprised her, though his insistence in getting under her skin was a force on its own. He would bug her until he got what he wanted, and she was used to it—most times great at fighting back—but some days she just wanted to give in and see that typical smile of his, the one that stretched over his face until the corners of his eyes got wrinkled. 

She could picture it so clearly, the image still imprinted under her eyelids.

It was a memory she visited often, that day. It had been one of those moments no one could know it would become a memory until it did. Their laughter, the sureness of safety and the genuine feeling of happiness were things that still warmed her heart, whenever she thought of it. They were so young and worry-free, she always felt a sting of regret for not cherishing the moment more when it was happening. 

Dorothy reached a crossroad, unsure of which path to go next. When the Scarecrow changed the arm that pointed where to go, some people chuckled, and Ziva smiled weakly. He had always been her favorite one of the group. There was something really endearing about his clumsiness and care. He was smarter than he would ever know, and it was a charming quality she rarely saw in people.

“How can you talk if you haven’t got a brain?” quizzed Dorothy, tilting her head.  

“I don’t know,” replied the Scarecrow. “But some people without brains do an awful lot of talking, don't you think?”

“Yes!”

“And what do you mean by that?”

“Nothing.”

“Yeah… Right.”

“What? It’s true. Plus, he’s cute.”

“He’s a scarecrow.”

“So…?”

“Don’t tell me you’re turned on by a scarecrow.”

“I did not say I was ‘turned on’. You are wiggling my words.”

“Twisting.”

“I thought it had been a twister.”

“Just… Watch. See? Now your scarecrow is also part of the narrative.”

“I like him.”

“Sometimes I just can’t respect you.”

“He talks a lot.”

“You say that to me all the time!”

“Well, you do talk a lot.”

“Are you admitting to like me, David?”

“I will call Ducky right away. We finally solved it - your brain is there, only it is made out of straw.”

“Ha-ha. Very funny.”

“Hm.”

Ziva felt her heart clench when the thought of Tony showing it to Tali crossed her mind. Had he done the same? Was he excited over little details and quoted its famous lines just like he did with her? Or did it remind him of them? Did they ever get the chance to watch it together or he avoided it? She certainly stared at the movie theater marquise for hours before she gave in, the tiredness making her too vulnerable. 

She missed him so much her bones ached from it. 

Ziva wondered if she would ever feel the same again. That flickering in her chest whenever they spoke in riddles, both of them catching each other’s stolen glances more frequently than not. They had always been good in sharing non-verbal cues, and even if they bickered until one of them got tired, the silence was the one thing she missed the most. 

To be able to be understood like that by someone else, it was the closest she had ever been to love.

“Oh,” confided Dorothy to the Scarecrow, “I think I’ll miss you most of all.”

She pressed a kiss to his cheek, saying goodbye. Both of them were too emotional to say anything else, Dorothy wiping the tears with her hand and him giving her a sad smile. There was something incredibly bittersweet to have known it would have come to this all along. 

Ziva struggled to breathe. She didn’t recall when exactly she had started crying, but she couldn’t see a thing now. There were only blurs. 

She tried to remember the last time she did cry. Her chest ached from keeping it silent, the loud beating of her heart the only thing she could hear. She knew it would happen as soon as she bought that ticket, but there was something quite soothing about being in a dark room where no one else knew her. 

She could finally be free, even if for a brief moment.

Ziva stood up before the credits started rolling. Hastily wiping the tears from her face, she exited to the street, hoping for once that she was really invisible, and no one would approach her now. 

The rain had stopped. It was much darker now, though the street lights seemed brighter. The line of people outside of the restaurant had disappeared, probably already inside. Some taxis were available at the other side of the street, but she preferred walking. She couldn’t take any risks now, knowing she could quickly become the prey. 

Ziva looked up to the sky, clenching her jaw. Letting the cold air inundate her lungs, she tried to ease her breathing. Tony and Tali were somewhere safe, far away from there, but at least they were under the very same sky. She wondered if it was raining there. She wondered if they were okay. 

Closing her eyes, she pictured them again. Happy. She needed them happy, even if it meant they had found happiness without her. There was no other way to keep her going, other than to imagine them alive. Even if it looked like nothing more than a dream, she needed them there, safe, tucked away in her heart.

When Ziva opened her eyes again, the sadness had already been buried. 

With Dorothy’s words still ringing in her mind, she ducked her head, following the gray brick road into an adjacent alleyway. 

There is no place like home, she had said. 

And wishing for nothing more than a pair of ruby slippers, Ziva David disappeared into the shadows. 

[khadij-al-kubra]

Worst Impressions are the First (ch 6)

Main Characters: Logan, Patton, Roman, Virgil (Human AU)

Pairings: Romantic LAMP

Words: 5518

Author’s Note: *Shuffles in, hijab haphazardly wrapped, wearing a fleece hoodie over rumpled pajamas, carrying a mug that reads “I write, what’s your superpower” and wearing one slipper.* Hey folks. So um. Yeah. I know it’s been, well, a LONG while. Apologies. I have no excuse other than this last semester of grad school and my part time gig kicked my ass, stole most of my free time, and possibly my left shoe. But I haven’t forgotten this fic or all of you incredibly wonderful and patient readers. And trust me when I say that I have made the wait worth it. Plus I’m on break now and already plotting out the next chapter, and I know exactly how I plan to progress with it, right down to the number of chapters left. Can I get a wahoo? *Yawns and takes a long drink of strongly brewed black tea* Once again, thank you SO much for your patience and love, and enjoy the lovelorn chaos from our favorite gays. ^_^ (also, if for some reason the tag link isn’t working for you, please let me know)

AO3

<=PREV

Chapter 6 - (POV Patton)

The fire in your eyes

Like a grave digger’s lantern

Your passion revives…me

“Gosh dang it, one syllable too many,” Patton muttered to himself over the notepad.

He felt a staccato of taps on his arm; a signal for when the world was silenced by Patton’s big headphones and Roman wanted to talk to him. He took them off, giving his soulmate his full attention. That was still so nice to say and put an actual face to. My soulmate.

“Problem, dear heart?” Roman asked from the seat next to him. The new term of endearment made Patton blush, but he loved it.

“Nah, just tweaking a new haiku,” he said. “I want it to be perfect for my muse.”

Now Roman was the one blushing. “Well I’m sure when it’s done it will be as wonderful as everything else that’s made by your hands.”

It had been barely two days since he and Roman discovered they were each other’s soulmates (or at least one of them), but since then they had spent every spare moment getting to know each other. From walking to classes together to spending free periods together, and Patton’s mother had even insisted on inviting Roman over for dinner just last night. When Roman had complimented the pasta Patton helped cook, saying he could taste the love poured into each noodle, his heart felt near to bursting. It was such a short amount of time getting to know each other, yet Patton felt as though he’d known Roman for eons all throughout past lives.

Who knew being with your soulmate could make you feel so alight inside?  

“Thank you for sneaking me your Tupperware of leftovers, Patton,” said Roman, covertly twirling his plastic fork into the spaghetti under their table.

“No problem, kiddo,” said Patton.

Technically they weren’t allowed food in the library during study hall except for water. Unless you had a blood sugar problem or something. Still, Patton was willing to break a tiny rule if it was for his soulmate’s well being. And maybe myself, he thought, sneaking bites from the napkin cookies on his lap.What? He’d had an Algebra test that morning. He earned a treat or two.

“Mom’s right, I do need to pack fuller lunches. I don’t know what’s up with my appetite lately. Least I’ve still got my figure.

“Maybe it s a puberty thiiiiiohmygosh it’s him.”

“Him who?”

“Look, but don’t look, over your shoulder.”

Roman sneakily looked over his shoulder and saw what Patton meant. It was Logan Berry, in all his brilliant glory, pulling out a book from the chemistry section. He looked lovely as always in a cream colored blouse, mint green skirt, and cherry blossom patterned neckerchief. The yellow gems of his bumblebee hair clip glittered under the ceiling light as it kept the ebony bangs out of his eyes.

Yet there was something off about Logan today. His face was neutral as always, but Patton noticed there was something slightly somber in his posture.

“Isn’t that supposed to be the school genius or something?” Roman asked.

“Debate club president,” Patton said wistfully.

“I’ve heard about his through tech club. He is really pretty! In a nerdy way.”

“Yeah, he sure is a lovely creature of nature.” Patton said with a sigh.

They must have been whispering louder than he realized, because suddenly Logan’s head was turned, and he was looking curiously at Patton. Oohhh gosh golly. He half hid behind his copy of Wuthering Heights.

“Patton my dear, you sound positively smitten.” Roman said, turning back around. “Not that I blame you really.”

Patton chuckled, unable to stop staring at his crush. “Guilty. Have been for awhile.”

“Say, you don’t suppose Logan could be one of our mysterious shared soulmates, maybe the one from yesterday, do you?”

“Maybe, but I don’t think we have the same lunch time as—Ohhh Lemony Snickett, he’s coming this way!”

“What? Here? Now? Does my hair look good?”

Patton considered himself to be pretty good at reading people on an emotional level, but Logan was usually like a tightly bound journal, difficult to look into. Except this time it was clear he did not look too happy with them. Before he could gage deeper as to why, Logan was at their table. Patton had never been this close to Logan before, never had the chance to make real mutual eye contact.

Logan’s stoic gaze went back and forth between them. His brave little Prince was mumbling Disney lyrics under his breath and clearly trying so hard not to clam up. Guess it’s up to me. Patton grasped for some sort of ice-breaker good enough for Logan. Something friendly, intelligent and totally not off-putting like he normally was.

“Umm…cookie?” Patton asked, holding up his cookie napkin in peacemaker offering.

“I don’t appreciate being stared at and spoken about behind my back.” Logan said sharply, staring pointedly at him.

“So that’s a no on the cookie.” Patton said, shrinking back.

“If you have something to say, you can express your mockeries to my face, because frankly I am in no mood for ignoring judgmental comments today.”

Ouch! Logan had never come across as the friendliest person ever, but Patton was definitely not expecting him to speak so coldly upon their fist meeting. And it hurt. Or it would have more so if Patton couldn’t tell from the look in Logan’s eyes that he was actually upset about something more than just people whispering.

“H-hey, don’t talk to my soulmate like that!” Roman said, voice cracking. He was loud enough to be shushed from another table. Yet for once, Roman didn’t duck his head down in shyness. “I-in fact, you shouldn’t talk to anymore like that, or make such harsh assumptions yourself, Mister Sub-Astute-Teacher.”

Logan turned to Roman. “I beg your pardon?”

“We weren’t gossiping about you, or whatever it is you think we were doing. If anything we were complimenting you. I mean- well yeah-yes! We were. But that was before you came at us so rudely with your negative assumptions. Just because you’re the debate club president or whatever doesn’t give you the right to talk to people like that.”

Wow. Patton had never had someone stand up for him like that before. And he’d never seen Roman be so, well, unabashedly vocal, even when people were watching. I am so proud!

Logan looked taken aback, ashamed even. “I-I apologize.”

“Yeah, you should, Blaise Pastel. And another...thing?” Roman cut himself off suddenly.

Patton was about to ask Roman what was wrong when he felt the tell tale tingle on his arm. He pulled up his sleeve and sure enough, another new soulthought was there, tattooed in navy blue ink: ‘Hm. Brontë. Excellent taste.’

“Patton,” Romans said, tapping him excitedly. “Look!”

On Roman’s arm in the same navy blue read: ‘Interesting sweater choice.’ They beamed at each other. There was no doubt about it.

Then Logan coughed, and when they turned to look at him, he too was holding out his arm on display. Beneath two purple and sky blue soulmarks, the latter of which Patton recognized as his own, were letters in bright red: ‘Nerd—Pretty—Pretty nerd.’

“Well. It would appear that we have much to discuss. May I?” Logan asked, gesturing to an empty chair at their table.

Patton checked wordlessly with Roman if he was okay with it. The drama techie nodded. “Please.”

Logan pulled out the chair across from them and smoothed out his skirt as he sat. “So. It seems that we are all ineffably bonded to one another, judging from the matching color palettes in our soul thoughts. And you both are...”

“We’re together,” said Roman, reaching for Patton’s hand on the table and lacing their fingers. “We found each other just two days ago.”

Something flashes across Logan’s face, but it was gone before Patton could read more into it. “That is...quite fortuitous.”

“And we’d love for you to be apart of this too.” Patton said. “That is, if you’d be comfortable with that. We wouldn’t dare bind your heart to ours, regardless of being soulmates, if it wasn’t something you also wanted.”

“Or if you ended up being a jerk.”

“Roman!”

“Well he—

“It’s quite alright, um, Patton was it?” Logan asked. Patton nodded yes. “Roman is within his right to feel how he does. I did not exactly make the best first impression.”

“You can say that again.” Roman muttered.

“Now Roman, you and I didn’t exactly get off on the right foot either. In fact it left a lot to be desired.” Pattona said.

“But he—

“Deserves just as much a chance as we did. He is our soulmate after all. Alright?”

“Yes, dear.”

A low chuckle from Logan caught them both off guard. The beautiful brainy boy was covering his mouth demurely. The sight of Logan, who’d always been so sharp and alabaster cold, so softened by just his laughter alone was breathtaking. It set moths fluttering about in Patton’s tummy.

“What’s so funny?” Roman asked, brows furrowed.

Logan cleared his throat and adjusted his Warby Parkers. Hey, we have the same glasses!

“Apologizes, I am not laughing at you,” Logan said. “It is merely that, well, for a moment there your bickering reminded me of my mothers. Which is quite remarkable given how, as you’ve said, you two have only known each other for two days.”

“Aw gee, it’s sweet of you to say that we remind you of your moms, Logan.” Patton said.

To think he and Roman already sounded like an old married couple. Sure it was all fast and new to him still, but he couldn’t help delighting at it. Would he get to share this same sort of bond with Logan? With his fourth unknown soulmate? He sure hoped so.

Still, he was so different from Roman. Even though Patton had been crushing on Logan fort ages, he seemed to have a much thicker wall. Could Patton ever be good enough to be invited in?

“So I take it from your reaction that you are not among the school’s percentage of ignoramuses that take offense to LGBT folk, such as myself and my mothers?” Logan asked.

“Pshh, puh-lease! I’m about as straight as this spaghetti,” said Roman, holding up a limp noodle hanging off his fork.

“You do know food is prohibited in the library.”

“And my brother Remus is a regular Ace of spades.” Roman continued, ignoring Logan. “Not that you’d ever guess it, with all the crude jokes he makes on his podcast.”

“Brother?” Patton and Logan asked.

“Trust me, the less you know about that internet troll the better.”

“As for me, said Patton, “well, just fry an egg on my head and call me pan.”

Roman nearly choked on his bite of food, cough laughing. Patton offered his bottle of water to him. Logan tilted his head to the side.

“Fry an—what? That isn’t—pan?” If there was a lightbulb over Logan’s head, it would have just clicked. “Oh good lord, was a that a pun comparing pansexuality to cookware?”

“Heh, guilty,” said Patton. “I’ve got ‘em by the dozens.”

Roman seemed to like Patton’s jokes, but Logan not so much. Patton had been trying real hard to make his jokes less dry and dark. Did Logan just not like puns, or did he not like him? Patton so wanted Logan to like him.

“Tawdry wordplay aside, I’m please to find that at least some of my soulmates are not ashamed to be themselves, unlike...”

Patton turns to Logan concerned, but he merely opened his book to a random page and pretended to read it. He was clearly holding something back, but Patton didn’t want to push him into talking. He already felt like on thin ice.

“Unlike who?” Roman asked. “Does it have to do with your soulmate?”

“You’ll have to be more specific,” said Logan, not looking up.

Roman rolled his eyes. “The one with the purple writing. Don’t think I didn’t notice that. Patton and I both have thought tattoos in the same color, and if you know who are third soulmate is, then don’t you think we have a right to know who they are as well?”

Logan closed the book. He looked at them for a moment, then sighed. “That is more than fair. Alright. It’s...”

He leaned in close to them, and in a low voice whispered a name that Patton was surprised to hear.

“VIRGIL!?” Roman shouted. Logan palmed his forehead.

A neighboring table shushed them and at least two students milling about the stacks gave them odd looks. Patton tugged his hat down and Roman slunk down bashfully. Baby steps, Roman. Baby steps. They probably would’ve gotten more than odd looks if not for Logan giving the more nosy students a steely glare.

“Would you kindly think before you open your infinitesimally loud mouth next time?” Logan asked.

He knows that word actually means really small, right? Patton thought.

“Well excuse me for being shocked that the Stormcloud of South Bay High is our mysterious soulmate.” Roman said, using his backstage voice. “I mean, look at us and look at him.”

“I have,” Logan said.

“And you’re still in one piece? After being alone with an unnerving ruffian like him?”

“FALSEHOOD!”

The sudden outburst startled Patton nearly out of his skin, and Roman actually fell out of his seat, spaghetti almost flying. The school librarian shushed Logan pointedly, and he apologized to her profusely, being luck enough to to get off with just a warning as her model library goer.

“He is not like that.”  Logan said. “Yes, he is among the athletic clique but he is by no means a brute. He is intelligent and sweet and...gentle.”

“It’s true Roman,” said Patton. “I haven’t talked to him much myself, but I sit behind him in English Lit., and he’s never been mean to anyone in class.”

Patton pictured the anxious kiddo in his mind. How fidgety he got, the way his back tensed when being called on even if he knew the answer, and especially the lost lonely look in his eyes.

“Actually, when he’s not huddled in with his buddies, Virgil’s even more awkward than you can be.”

“Augh!” Roman gasped offendedly. “Patton, you wound my pride. Wait, was that a compliment or?”

“Does that mean you’ve talked with Virgil then?” Patton asked Logan.

“Indeed. We officially met—coincidentally—on Wednesday, realized we are soulmates, and spent Study Hall yesterday getting to know one another. It was quite...enjoyable.”

Then something happened that Patton would’ve gone so far as to call a little miracle: he saw Logan smiling. It was small but softened his angular face oh so nicely. Seeing Logan’s smile was like watching a sunrise. If Patton hadn’t been in puppy love with Logan before he definitely was now.

Then the overcast came, and stone faced Logan was back. “That is until some of his neanderthal brethren in lettermen’s happened upon us, and Virgil revealed the coward he truly is; ashamed of himself and ashamed of me.”

The three of them went quiet, their snacks and studies long forgotten. The library clock ticked away, turning pages crinkled like autumn leaves, and somewhere somebody was not so sneakily smoking a joint. Of course his brave little Prince would be the first to break the silence.

“Sooo I take it that Virgil is deeper in the closet than Narnia,” said Roman.

“Precisely. And I refuse to belittle my self-worth by wasting my time on anyone who does not have the courage to be themselves, let alone be associated with me simply because I am not of the same socially constructed  high school status. I told him as much before leaving with my dignity intact.”

Patton tried to process this new information. It hurt his heart to hear the bitterness in Logan’s words, especially when he was so obviously trying to hide how hurt he really was. Yet even so...

“I understand where you’re coming from Logan, and I’m sorry that happened to you. But,” Patton bit his bottom lip, “Don’t you think you’re being a little harsh on Virgil?”

Logan raise a sharp eyebrow at him. “In what way am I being harsh?”

“Because, well, it’s not really your place to say when or how ‘out’ somebody should be. Even if he is your—our—soulmate.” Patton sat up straighter, blowing the curly bangs out of his eyes. “I mean, you probably came to this school already out of the closet, right? You’re used to to knowing how to handle yourself and others when they might talk bad about you. So it’s probably easier to feel like you’ve got the Pride high ground.”

“I...suppose I hadn’t considered it in that light.” said Logan. “Astute.”

“Yeah, top notch analysis there, Patton-cake,” said Roman.

“And yeah, we’ve got a modest little LGBT club and a small portion of the school has not so nice views of queer people,” Patton continued. “Which makes sense, I mean, this isn’t exactly New York. But you’ve gotta understand that Virgil is smack dab in the middle of that crowd. He probably feels like it might not be as safe for him to be out as it would be for someone like you; the debate club champ and smartest kid in school who’s also in good standing with the teachers. ...Or someone like me; the creepy emo kid that everyone treats like a ghost or is too scared of to bother with anyways.”

Lonely as it was, being invisible did have its advantages. Patton felt Roman wrap a deceptively strong arm around him, nothing but tenderness in his eyes. Well, not so invisible anymore. Patton smiled and leaned his head on Roman’s broad shoulder.

“Honestly, I see Patton’s point. Sure, I get teased by those guys all the time for being perceived as gay—not that they’re wrong—but people have picked on me for plenty of other reasons over the years.”

Roman paused for moment, using one hand to wipe his large glasses on his swirly patterned sweater vest.

“Look at me. I’m a scrawny, shy, Disney obsessed theater nerd, and not even one of the leading actor elites. I knew going in that I was bound for the bottom of the social food chain no matter what I did, so I figured, why not at least allow myself to be my full rainbow self, albeit quietly? Sure, I haven’t officially come out yet, but it’s not like I’d have much more to lose when I do. But Virgil? He has everything to lose.”

Logan sat back in his chair, mulling over their imput. Pattons was worried that he might have offended Logan somehow. He wasn’t storming away from their table, so that was a good sign. Maybe Patton should apologize anyways.

BRIIIING

Study hall was officially at an end. Students packed up their bags, and returned or checked out books. Meanwhile the librarian ushered any stragglers out so she could prepare the space for any Friday electives that would be taking place there.

“I have to get to class,” said Logan, gathering his things. “It was good meeting you both. You’ve given me much to think about. Perhaps we might converse again sometime?”

“No problem Specs. Where are you off to next?” Roman asked, closing up the Tupperware and hanging it back to Patton.

“Um, U.S. History,” said Logan, adjusting his glasses.

“With Mr. Terrence? Me too.” Roman grabbed his classic Mickey backpack. “Maybe we can, um, walk over there together? I mean, since we’re headed the same direction.”

“I have no objections with that.”

“Onward then. Farewell, Patton dear.”

“Bye Roman. Uh, Logan, I—“

Before Patton could say anything more, his two soulmates were on their way out. With a sigh he grabbed his writing journal, book, and backpack before heading out himself in the opposite direction for his last two classes of the day. He had English Lit with Miss Valerie next. And Virgil, he thought, pulling his headphones over his ears. It was high time he and Virgil spoke for real.

* * * * *

Patton watched the clock on the wall tick tock away the last few minutes of class He gripped his stretched sleeve end into a black and grey paw with one hand, and doodled furiously in his notebook margins with the other. Did I overstep my boundaries? Patton wondered for the hundredth time since the middle of class. In front of him, Virgil nervously bounced his knee and kept chewing on his cuticles, sending a twinge of guilt through Patton’s chest.

Halfway through class while Miss Valerie was writing out notes on the board, he had carefully tossed a folded note onto Virgil’s desk. Luckily he’d always been more of a thrower than a catcher. The anxious athlete saw the slip of paper, unfolded its contents, and went rigid. He’d cast a quick wide eyed glance over his shoulder at Patton before turning back to the front. Virgil hadn’t looked at him again since.

BRIIIING

“Alright class, that’s it for today. Don’t forget, your essays about the symbolic significance of the Moores in Brontë‘s novel are due next week,” said Miss Valerie.

While the rest of the class rushed to leave, he and Virgil lingered behind, packing their backpacks slower till the coast was clear. They stood up at the same time, Patton clutching his journal to his chest, and Virgil hunched awkwardly.

“Hey, is there some place we can’t talk? Privately?” Vigil asked, his voice gravelly.

“Mhm. Just uh, follow me.” Patton said.

They walked out the classroom and through the crowded hallways, Patton in the lead and Virgil following a foot behind. Murmurings of between bells chatter and tinny locker taps filled his ears. Two hallways later, Patton pulled Virgil round a courier and into the Nurses Office.

Flickering fluorescent ceiling lights cast shadows around the off-white walls. The only decorations were an anatomy poster, a poster of a cute bat dressed in a nurse’s cap, and the skeleton onesie clad teddy bear Nurse Talyn kept for students in emotional distress. Patton called him Mr Fluffybones. There were chairs, a sickbed, and a filing cabinet next to the supply closet. The office always smelled of rubbing alcohol, but it was clean, quiet, and most of all private. Talyn was a colleague of Emile’s so they let him stay in here on his bad days for as long as he needed to.

“Patton, it’s ten minutes till classtime.” Nurse Talyn said from their desk, their horn-rimmed glasses sliding down their nose. “Do you have a pass for another breather? Or is there something your friend needs help with?”

“No, nothing like that Talyn,” Patton said, smiling at the word ‘friend.’ “Virgil and I just needed someplace private to talk for a bit.”

“You know I’m not supposed to let students be in here unless they’re feeling unwell.”

“Pleeeese? We’ll head right to class afterwards. Cross my heart and hope to die.”

Then, Patton unleashed his most secret of secret weapons, used for emergencies only and rarer than a red moon: the puppy Pat pout. When Talyn saw his pouty bottom lip and big eyes, their mouth went lemon tight. They only resisted for a few seconds before an audible groan told Patton he’d one this round.

“Ugh, fine! You get five minutes while I go restock my bandaid jar.” Talyn took a not even half empty jar with them as they went to the supply closet. “I blame Emile for teaching you that puppy dog pout. It should be illegal.”

“Thanks Nurse Talyn!” Works every time.

Patton turned around to where Virgil stood behind him, hands in the oversized letterman jacket and a crooked smirk on his face. If Patton didn’t know better, he would think Virgil looked almost impressed.

“We can talk privately now, don’t worry.” Patton said.

“Worry’s my middle name but, okay. So uh, about this.”

Virgil took a deep breath and pulled from one pocket a crumpled note. He unfurled is, words facing up: ‘I know you’re my soulmate. We all do. Can we talk?’

Standing in front of him now, seeing the dark bags under his wide eyes, Patton thought that Virgil looked so small and vulnerable. All shelled up in his too big jacked, clutching that paper between his shaking skinny fingers. He just wanted to hold the poor thing close and protect him from every nasty thing in this world. Instead he settled for smiling as warmly as possible, hoping to help Virgil feel more at ease.

“Just tell me first,” Virgil’s hands fidgeted. “By ‘we’ you mean my other soulmates and not, y’know, the whole school? I hope? Not that I think you’d out me or anything; you’re not like that. Not that I’d assume what you’re like, I jus—

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, kiddo.” Patton said, making his voice gentle. “I do mean our soulmates, and of course your secret is still safe with us.”

Upon hearing this though, Virgil’s whole body relaxed. “Heh, you really do say ‘kiddo.’ So how’d you find out?”

“Logan ran into Roman and me in the library earlier. We got to chatting and figured out the four of us are all soulmates.”

Virgil gave a low whistle. “I knew you guys were my soulmates but geez. All four of us? Fate must have a weird sense of humor.”

“Our gossamer spider-silk threads of fate are interwoven into one intricate home for our four hearts to feast upon entangled love.”

Patton mentally winced. Way to get weird and dark again Patton. Wait, he’s...smiling. Oh gosh, I really have a thing for nice smiles, don’t I?

“Wow Pat, that was...really lovely. And just the right amount of creepy. I dig it.”

Lovely? Me? Patton smiled, his freckled cheeks feeling warm all of a sudden. I knew you would be kind.

“I meant what I thought, by the way,” said Virgil. “You really do have gorgeous eyes.”

“And you really need to stop calling yourself an idiot,” said Patton.

Virgil chuckled, then looked down at his purple sneakers. “Did um...did Logan tell you about what happened?”

Patton rubbed his arm. “Yeah, he did.”

“So then you probably hate me, right? Argh, stupid question. Of course you do. Or at least Logan does. He probably thinks I’m just another stupid jerk athlete. Roman too. Not that I blame him after the number of times I’ve just stood by like an idiot and—

“I will physically fight you if you keep talking bad about yourself, Mister!”

The sharp outburst startled Virgil into shutting up. Patton didn’t often use his papa bear voice (as him mom called it) outside of the house or with anyone besides his younger cousin Elliot. But he couldn’t stand hearing Virgil talk that way about himself for another second. There was only room for one self deprecating soulmate in their group, and that was him.

“Logan doesn’t hate you Virgil. None of us do.” Patton said. “He’s upset still, sure, but never hate. And I told him that what he said to you was probably a little too harsh.”

Virgil’s head shot up. “You did?”

“Mhm. Of course his feelings were valid, but that couldn’t have been an easy situation for you either. Being in the closet is a pretty scary time, and the anxiety probably doesn’t help with it either.”

“H-how did you?”

“My godfather’s a therapist. Got pretty good at picking up on the signs from talking with him. Besides, you’re not the only one with a monster living between their ears.”

Patton rolled up his left sleeve, showing the tally marks of all the times he’d managed to come back out of the darkness and stand in the sunlight again. Virgil gave a quiet gasp, but Patton refused to turn away in shame from his soulmate, even if he did look at him with pity. When he met Virgil’s eyes however, they were filled with understanding.

In a bittersweet sort of way, it made Patton feel happy.

“I’m not saying you have to come out for us. Or go public, or do anything you’re not ready for yet. I just want you to know that we’re here for you when you are ready. And,” Patton held out his hand in offering, “you don’t have to go through this alone.”

He expected Virgil to take his handshake, maybe say thanks and offer to talk outside of school sometime. Maybe.

He did not expect Virgil to take his wrist in a gentle calloused grasp, turn his arm upward, bend down, and place a soft kiss on his scars.

It was sudden. It was impulsive. It was an act of pure reverence that set Patton’s pulse point thrumming faster than a hummingbirds heartbeat.

And judging from the look on his face, it shocked the hell out of Virgil just as much. He snatched his hand back as though his touch might burn Patton.

“I’m sorry! That was���I should’ve asked—-out of line. I—NGK!”

“Virgil, wait!”

Too late. Just as someone else was coming in, Virgil was running out the door, nearly knocking the other person over.

“WOah! Where’s the fire babe?” they asked.

Virgil paid him no mind. Didn’t even seem to hear him. Once again, Patton’s soulmate was gone before he could even try to make things right.

“Guess he’s got the runs or something. Ngh-ow. Forget it. Head hurts too much to care right now.”

The student who’d just come in was also wearing a letterman jacket, and their fingers hovered over a mean looking bruise near their temple. It took a second for Patton to recognize from the sunglasses who he was.

“You’re one of Virgil’s friends, Remy, right?” Patton asked.

Remy jumped, not realizing Patton was there. “His best friend, thank you very much. And who wants to knoOOHhhh I see. You’re one of his secret soulmates he won’t tell me about!”

Patton followed Remy’s eye line leading to his still uncovered arm. He quickly pulled his sleeve back down, blushing scarlet hot and hid behind his bangs. Remy chuckled.

“You know I gotta say, not at all what I pictured, but you are a cute little black kitten,” Remy said with a grin.

“Do you know where Virgil might’ve run off to? I want to go after him, but I need to get to class soon. Oh, it was all going so well, but maybe he thought he crossed a line and I’d be upset, but I’m not! He looked just short of a panic attack and I just...is he going to be okay?” Patton could’ve cried he was so worried.

Remy gave him a long unreadable once over, then sighed. “Look, if I know Virgil—and I do—then he’s either gone to the gym to blow off some steam, or holed himself up somewhere private where he can calm down. He doesn’t like people seeing his anxiety get the better of him if he can help it. Say it makes people uncomfortable.”

“Mental health isn’t anything to be embarrassed by, or of.”

Patton must have passed some sort of test, because Remy finally gave him a genuine smile of approval and lifted his sunglasses atop his head.

“Totes babe. Look, right now I gotta see a nurse about this goose egg hatching on my head, but I’ll try to look for him after. Kay? Ow!”

Patton signed. “Thank you Remy.”

“You still here, Patton?” Nurse Talyn called, coming out from the supply closet with an armload of bandaid boxes, a bad of cotton swabs, and a now full jar. “The second bell is about to ring. You need to get—“

They looked around the room, spotted Remy, and dropped their arms. Their face fell flat, along with the rest of the things they’d been carrying. Good thing that jar was plastic.

“Remy Dormier, did you fall asleep and hit your head in the hallway again?” Nurse Talyn asked, looking just about done with everything.

“Nope. Track field. Bottom bleacher,” said Remy, wincing and he touched the spot.

“That is the FOURTH time this week! That’s it.” They pulled out a crushable ice pack from their desk drawer and handed it to Remy. “You, on the bed while I call your parents. We have GOT to get a script from your Doctor for this obvious narcolepsy problem of yours. Patton, get to class. Go on, shoo!”

Not wanting to endure the tiny wrath of Talyn in full nurse mode, Patton left. Not before getting a wink from Remy that did little to lift his spirits. He speed walked to his last class of the day, but home economics was the last thing on his mind. He could still feel the kiss from before like a memory on his skin.

I hope he’ll be okay.

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[sky-girls]

If I wake up with you, there's nothing else I can ask for