#age 9

Well, entirely new was a stretch. 

When Logan got overwhelmed, he’d rock himself backwards and forth, just like Daddy did. Virgil chose to curl up like a hedgehog, even putting on a sharp attitude that he definitely picked up from Papa. 

But there were things his brothers did that Roman hadn’t seen in his parents, like right now.

“What are you doing?”

“Playing.” Logan’s face was fixed in its usual frown, which Roman had come to realize wasn’t actually an I’m-Feeling-Bad frown and instead just the way his face seemed to rest.

“Well, what are you playing?” Roman asked, tilting his head.

It wasn’t any game he’d seen before. There were no toys, or dramatic yelling, or other people. It was just Logan in the backyard, taking big steps before turning himself around and moving again.

Logan didn’t seem to know what game it was either. If it was anyone else, they might have shrugged, but he just kept moving as if he hadn’t heard.

“I asked what you were playing, four eyes.” Roman growled, crossing his arms.

“Dad said to play outside,” Logan finally replied, taking five big steps before spinning himself around on one foot, “Virgil is napping. I do not like the Outside Toys.”

Logan always gave weird answers, like he thought that if he explained his thought process, everyone would have the same conclusion he came to. Unfortunately for him, most people didn’t. The only people who seemed to get him were their dads, and that was mostly because of how similar he was to Remus. Not even Virgil seemed to understand how his brain worked, and twins were supposed to have freaky mind reading powers.

“What the hell are outside toys? Stuff we can only play with outside, like water guns or footballs?” Roman had already moved on from trying to figure out what he was playing, because it didn’t look fun at all, and instead focused on this new topic.

“Yes.” Logan nodded, before pausing and shaking his head. “No.”

Roman waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t.

Roman wondered what went on in Logan’s brain. He wanted to know how everyone's brain worked, which adventures they pictured when they closed their eyes, or what thoughts got stuck and which ones flew away, but he wanted to dig into Logan’s the most.

“Explain outside toys to me,” Roman asked sweetly, because ever since he’d turned thirteen, he’d decided he wanted to be a bit nicer, “So I can understand you. Just try. Please.” He added the last word on as an afterthought, even though he knew politeness didn’t matter to Logan.

“Outside Toys are in the green bucket. They are unhygienic because of rain and dirt.” His brother explained, still moving. Five big steps, a turn on one foot, then repeat.

“Okay. I get it now.” Roman grinned, because he really did.

Logan was the cleanest person he’d ever met. He didn’t like kisses because of germs, and he’d learnt how to clean his clothes by hand so he didn’t have to wait for the laundry basket to fill up. They all had to wipe their shoes on the welcome mat extra well if Logan was watching, and he wouldn’t eat food with his hands, not even pizza!

Roman felt a little dumb for not figuring it out by himself, honestly. He knew if his dads could hear him thinking that, they’d get mad and tell him that being slow wasn’t as bad as everyone said it was. He was working on being nicer to other people, and it took a lot of work, so lately Roman wasn’t very kind to himself.

“I’m sorry for calling you four eyes, by the way.”

Logan paused his game to squint up at Roman and replied,

“That is incorrect. I only have two eyes.”

My child wrote the best intro on their essay on Wolves. I'll transcribe it below, spelling errors and all:

Wolves

My internet journey began on Neopets, and I transplanted into deviantArt in 2004, so these drawings all predate when I started posting work publicly.