#aspec sides

It had been a few months since Roman had fallen for Virgil, caught up in their snark and smirks and secret sweetness (and also a little bit in their iced-coffee-making skills). He'd come home that first day singing the praises of the cutest barista he'd ever seen and since then Roman had become a regular, always returning to their apartment after his classes with a lovesick smile and a pastry for Patton.

Roman sighed, the sound like the epitome of a daydream. "They had this lovely blouse on today, all black and sheer and delicate, like a spiderweb but infinitely more goth."

"More goth than a spiderweb, hmm?" Pat hummed, not really questioning Roman's words so much as prompting him to go on.

"Oh, and their eyes! How they lit up when their coworker made them laugh, I swear I have never beheld that level of beauty!" He paused for a moment, considering. "Except for you, of course, my dear."

In response, Patton just laughed, smacking Roman on the arm before turning back to the shopping list they'd been writing out.

"And the way they blush! Every time their cheeks darken I am overtaken."

Patton rolled her eyes fondly. "Overtaken, huh?"

Roman grinned at them, bright like jewels and other things nowhere near as precious. "Entirely, my love."

Things were quiet for a moment—but quiet in that way you can only be when you know each other so wholly and love each other just as much. Patton swung her way around the kitchen, pulling items from the cupboard as she checked what needed to be restocked while Roman watched with a look of utter adoration. Occasionally, Roman would grab their hand, pulling them into a spin before letting them carry on their way and each time Patton would laugh like it was the happiest day of their life.

Eventually, the list was completed and the two had wound down, taking up entwined positions on the couch. The TV was on in the background but neither were paying it much attention, focused instead on the way they fit together and the slow set of their breathing.

"Have you ever thought about asking them out?"

Roman spluttered for a moment, seemingly trying to come up with a reason for why he hadn't already that didn't simply boil down to "I'm excruciatingly afraid of rejection".

"You're not supposed to flirt with service workers while they're on the clock, Patton!" Roman declared loudly, "I wouldn't dream of putting them in the position of being unable to turn me down."

Patton rolled her eyes. "Love, that's a weak excuse and you know it. Logan has been trying to give you their number since the second you started going by the shop. Something about being sick of the pining, I think."

Roman mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like, "Oh, as if he can talk," but Pat decided to ignore it.

"I know you're worried about being turned down but you know you're not gonna be alone. I'm never gonna stop loving you. Not as long as there are stars in the sky, darling." Roman flushed at the words, ducking his head, and Patton grinned teasingly. "Every day the sun rises is another day I get a chance to love you with all that I am and I could never be more grateful for that."

Roman made a sort of high pitched squealing noise before ducking his head to hide in Patton's lap. "You're being mean."

Pat giggled. "Maybe I am but that doesn't mean I'm not also right."

Roman lifted his head, gazing up at his partner with a look that spoke of years of trust and emotional vulnerability—another gift Patton would spend the rest of her life cherishing.

"I know that I don't technically have anything to lose except access to some really good iced coffee but I just... I don't know. I keep thinking of all the ways it could go wrong."

Pat hummed, brushing a hand through Roman's hair. The action seemed to soften Roman, the corners of his lips quirking up into a soft smile.

"Okay, let's think about it this way. You like Virgil, yeah?"

Roman gave a decisive nod, his cheeks tinged a faint pink.

"So, you think they're a good person?"

He nodded again.

"Therefore, if they're a good person, they won't react negatively to you asking them out, even if they don't feel the same, right?"

There was another nod, this one marginally more hesitant than the last.

"And," Patton continued, "if they do react negatively, then they probably aren't actually a good person and their opinion doesn't matter anyway."

Roman screwed up his face a bit, seemingly thinking about that. Finally, he smiled—the expression more of a mask of confidence than a real expression of it.

"Ten out of ten logicing there. Logan would be proud."

Patton huffed a laugh. "Look, I'm not gonna pressure you but I think you should go for it. You deserve to be happy."

"I am happy," Roman protested instantly, "You make me-"

"I know, I know," they replied fondly. She cupped his face in her palm, smiling so sweet she could almost taste caramel in her mouth. "Even happier then—happier than any human being thought they could be. That's what you deserve."

"You too," Roman whispered back. His eyes had fallen shut with the sound and Patton's smile turned to an outright grin as their chest warmed. 

"Oh, don't worry, honey. I'm already there."

He’d had so many fantasies of one day having a meet-cute—bumping into a guy at a coffee shop or on the street, locking gazes or brushing hands and falling in love on the spot–but the reality of his first crush was much plainer than that.

Sitting on the floor in front of the couch, Roman was playing Mario Kart with his best friend, Virgil.

They’d met in uni—English lit, paired up for a group project and reluctantly working together until they’d managed to bond over Disney and their shared love of being a little shit. Over time, hanging out for the sake of the project had melded into hanging out simply because they wanted to, which had subsequently melded into sleepovers and late nights texts and a friendship Roman wouldn’t give up for anything.

There was banter as they played because of course there was—they were both competitive and liked to talk shit. They’d been gaming for what felt like hours but in the end, Virge pulled ahead, snatching victory right out from under Roman’s feet. 

He jumped up from the floor, fist-pumping and breathless with excitement and beaming and instead of pouting about how he lost, Roman couldn’t help but think about how much he wanted to kiss him and never let him go. It was terrifying and so, so exciting and Roman didn’t know what to do.

He’d learnt about demiromanticism in the time since his high school years—it was hard to be friends with Virgil, who was about as gay as they come, and not have at least a basic knowledge of the LGBT+ community. He’d thought for a long time, however, that he was simply aromantic. It seemed, though, that he was wrong.

And Roman found very quickly that just because knew what was happening did not mean it was any easier.

There was, of course, the obligatory, “oh god, I’ve just been making it all up, I’m just gay, I’m not aromantic, what have I done, I’ve lied to everyone” phase, made even worse by not being able to confide in his best friend about the identity crisis he was going through because he was the cause of said identity crisis.

Eventually, he got to a point of realising that sometimes things aren’t absolute. Sometimes you learn new things about yourself and you’re proven wrong but that doesn’t mean that you were lying. Understanding yourself is one of the most difficult things for a human being to do, especially when that human being is LGBT+, and he’d only been doing his best with the tools he’d been given.

Roman could not possibly have known he was going to fall in love with Virgil but he was so, so pleased that he had.

In the end, Virgil confessed first. It was stumbling and full of apologies because, “I know you’re aromantic or at least aro-spec and I didn’t really mean for any of this to happen and I promise things can stay exactly the way they are, I mean, unless you don’t want to be friends anymore, I’d totally understand-” and he really had to get him to shut up somehow, and, because Roman in every universe is a romantic idiot, he kissed him.

Maybe Virgil had kissed back and maybe they’d continued to kiss, moving to the couch only to be interrupted by Roman’s parents arriving home half an hour later. Flushing bright red, they’d have stuttered their way through some sort of justification before rushing upstairs to hide in Roman’s room, Roman’s father calling up to remind them to keep the door open.

Or maybe Virgil had kissed back and they’d stopped kissing, and they’d talked and talked and Roman had explained that moment that changed everything, brushing Virgil’s hair back and placing a kiss on his forehead. And neither of them would have been able to hide their grins for the rest of the evening.

Or maybe Virgil hadn’t kissed back, shock kicking in as he’d stood stiff as a board and Roman had panicked because, shit, had that been too fast? Had it not been okay? Had it all been a joke? And it would be harder but still, they’d talk. Roman would explain his identity crisis and the nights he’d spent alone trying to figure out his feelings for Virgil, and Virgil would respond by telling him about all the nights he’d stayed up late, fretting over his feelings for Roman. And they’d laugh and they’d kiss again and they’d all be okay.

The details didn’t matter, because either way at the end of the evening Roman was smiling, curled around his boyfriend, drenched in the moonlight pouring in through the bedroom window. And they were whispering and they were laughing and Roman was thinking that though all the kisses and cuddles were nice, some of the best parts of Virgil Roman got simply by being his best friend. 

And, as they grew, they collected more best friends–and then boyfriends and queerplatonic partners–along the way. Until, Roman, never thinking he’d get to have that happy relationship that he’d longed for growing up, was surrounded by 4 brilliant partners and all the love he’d ever dreamed of.

Platonic love and queerplatonic love and romantic love pushed at him from every side until he was drowning in the adoration his partners knew he deserved, never again having to second guess his worth or his importance or how much he was loved.

“Oh, shut up.” Logan glared at him, but it was more amused and fond than annoyed. “It was not an unreasonable request, Roman.”

He grabbed the jar out of Roman’s hands before he could reply, unscrewing the top easily before handing it back. Roman grinned.

“I know, my dear,” he replied, his eyes crinkling at the corners and Logan thought he would never get sick of seeing him happy—even if it was at his own expense, “I just like messing with you. Dinner should be ready in 10.”

With Logan’s affirming hum, Roman lent down to where Logan was curled up on the couch, pulling his face closer with the hand that wasn’t holding the now open jar and pressing a kiss to his cheek. Soft, breathy laughter echoed in Logan’s ears and for a moment Roman just let his forehead rest against him—seeming completely content despite how uncomfortable Logan imagined the position must be. After a moment, he pulled away, placing one last kiss onto Logan’s cheek before he did so.

Logan blinked a few times, processing what had just happened as a blush rose to his cheeks. He was definitely not used to gestures such as that but, even though it was unusual, Logan had found he was decidedly not opposed.

Despite his orientation, Roman was just as passionate in a relationship as you would expect him to be. He adored spoiling Logan and reducing him to a blushing, incoherent mess—it was virtually his favourite past-time, and Logan was embarrassed at just how easy it was.

He barely caught the fond look on his partner’s face before Roman spun around—nearly spilling tomato sauce on the carpet, Logan noted—and started his way back towards the kitchen.

“Thanks, hon! Love you!” Roman called over his shoulder, words fleeting but sentiment worth more than anything he had ever received before.

Despite everything he thought he knew about himself—that the logical side was supposed to be cold and unfeeling, that he wasn’t supposed to have all of this emotion welling up inside him all the time, that he wasn’t allowed to long for casual affection and care and love—Roman… loved him regardless. Roman, who defied a million stereotypes all on his own—the aromantic, romantic side—showed him he was allowed to just be.

Though he may not experience romantic love, Roman most definitely experienced all other types of love—strongly and deeply. The love Roman gave him was precious and irreplaceable and Logan was… honoured to receive it.

He sighed contentedly, one hand raised to his cheek, feeling just how hot his skin had become.

“I... love you too.” The words were whispered and Logan knew that Roman was now much too far away to recognise what had been said, but—perhaps illogically—he hoped that the feeling reached him just the same.

Pulling away from Patton's hug, Logan looked him up and down. Patton was wearing a shirt he'd likely designed himself, considering the myriad of what he felt in his bones must be puns covering it, a short, fluffy skirt and had a flag of some kind wrapped around his shoulders like a cape. Although Patton's usual attire was certainly... eccentric, this was even more so than that.

A quick glance at the room's other two occupants revealed that they were also wearing slightly unusual clothing. Roman was wearing a self-designed shirt similar to Patton's, though slightly more simple and organised, grey sweatpants and a different coloured flag wrapped around his shoulders; Virgil was wearing an oversized t-shirt with the words, "I'm too ace for this" on it, paired with a yellow beanie and a purple knee-length skirt.

Quite honestly, the fact that Virgil was wearing colour was perhaps the most alarming part of the situation.

"Help you with what?" he finally asked, having given up trying to guess what in the world they were doing.

Patton giggled. "With making stuff for Pride tomorrow, silly!"

He tugged Logan's hand until they were seated opposite the other two, a big poster board in between them with "I'm punsexual" written on it and subsequently also covered in glitter. He hated to admit it, but Logan was completely and utterly lost.

He squinted slightly. "Pride?"

The three of them stared at him in shock.

"Yeah, Logan..." Roman replied, tone indicating that Logan had missed something fairly obvious and important. He hated that tone. "Pride. You know? Happens once a year? All us gays get together and throw a big party-"

Patton cut in, "-And remember all the struggles it took us to get to this point-"

"-And spend far too much money on gay merch, cause capitalism," Virgil finished.

They all looked at him searchingly. Logan was aware that his friends weren't exactly straight—I mean, Roman and Patton were dating, so clearly they couldn't be straight—but he didn't realise quite how out of his depth he was surrounding the topic of being gay until this exact moment.

Logan had grown up in a fairly conservative town, and though he wouldn't say they were necessarily against people being gay, he certainly wouldn't have imagined anyone would feel safe enough to come out if they were. So, all in all, his upbringing was pretty straight (in more ways than one).

He cleared his throat. "Right, yes, well that does sound... vaguely familiar I suppose," he lied, "What would you want me to-"

"Logan?" Patton interrupted. He was looking at Logan with confused yet amused interest. It was a very uncharacteristic look for Patton, and it made Logan feel slightly uncomfortable. "Are you straight?"

The question caught Logan off guard and he answered before he could really think it through.

"I mean... yes?"

Patton screwed up his face slightly. "You don't sound sure."

That's ridiculous, of course he was sure. Wasn't he? Really, growing up the way he did, he never thought there was any kind of other option, and by the time he’d realised there was, he was already sure enough that he was straight that he didn't consider it. And anyway, he didn't like boys like that. He didn't really like girls like that either, but that was neither here nor there. He just hadn't found the right one yet, he was sure.

"I suppose I never really thought about it," he replied slowly, "I just kind of... assumed I was."

The other three exchanged looks. There seemed to be some sort of silent conversation going on between them that Logan couldn't quite understand. He was about to ask them to just talk to him already when Virgil turned to look at him.

"So how do you feel about boys?"

Logan blinked. "Uh, boys are... fine, I suppose."

"How do you feel about girls?"

Virgil was leaning towards him, the look on his face slightly more intense than Logan would have preferred. His brain felt like it was running 100 miles a minute and yet it wasn't going anywhere at all, stuck in a loop of quick-fire questions and feelings he didn't understand. This conversation was overwhelming at best and quite honestly, he wished they weren't having it.

"They're also fine, look-"

"Okay, but 'fine' like, 'oooh, damn, you're looking fine' or 'fine' as in the waiter just gave you Pepsi instead of Coke and you're trying to be polite?"

Logan stared at Roman, trying to comprehend the words that had just come out of his mouth.

"I- um," Logan stuttered, "The... uhh-"

Logan quite honestly felt ready to defenestrate himself to escape this conversation, and Patton clearly decided to take pity on him, as he turned to Logan and put a hand lightly on his upper arm. Though Logan wasn’t normally one to appreciate physical contact, Patton's hand was at least giving him something to focus on besides his swirling thoughts.

"Logan, you like researching stuff, right?" Patton asked, smiling softly, "Learning new things?"

Logan nodded, confident in an answer for the first time since this conversation began.

"Okay, so how about instead of bombarding you with questions—" Patton sent a semi-stern glare at the other two, who had the decency to look a little bit sheepish—"We give you a list of some terms and stuff and you can look it up yourself, yeah?"

Logan exhaled, letting out a breath he hadn't even realised he'd been holding. "I think that would be preferable, Patton, yes."

He stood up quickly, attempting to brush away the glitter that had stuck to every inch of his jeans the moment he sat down, before turning to grab his bag from by the door where he’d dropped it. He needed some space to think. As much as he appreciated his friends’ company, their emotions could certainly be… overpowering at times, and he needed a bit of distance from that.

“I’m going to the library,” he said, addressing his friends, their faces displaying their disappointment, “I have a paper I need to finish.”

That was a lie, of course. He’d finished all his coursework for the next 2 weeks and they all probably knew that, having been subjected to his insistent studying habits for the past couple of months. Roman especially—a surprisingly light sleeper, he’d been woken up several times by Logan muttering something or other about how bullshit magnetic fields were or how the reclassification of Pluto was one of the biggest mistakes of the scientific community (that one actually wasn’t class-related, Logan just had strong feelings about Pluto). To their credit though, none of them called him out on it, just nodding their heads and wishing him good luck with his study.

Just before pulling the door closed behind him, Logan turned around and said, “Text me that list. I’m sure I can make some time to check things out.”

He barely caught the wide grins of his friends before he shut the door and started his way over to the library.

//////////////////

Logan fell into a seat at his usual table, taking off his glasses for a moment before rubbing his hand over his face, sighing.

He liked the library. Libraries were one of the few places left in the world where you could truly just exist without anything being expected of you. You didn’t have to pay to stay, you weren’t forced into unwanted conversation, you could read or work or simply breathe without having to worry about being yelled at or infringing upon anybody else. Truly, it was one of the best places you could be.

Plus, it was quiet—a fact that Logan normally appreciated, but right now was proving to be more of a hindrance, as quite honestly, he was on the verge of screaming.

Self-reflection was not Logan’s style. He preferred not having to think too hard about his preferences, generally they proved to be less than important anyway and the effort that it took to try and untangle his emotions really wasn’t worth the payout. Clearly, though, this was something he’d been putting off for a long time, even if he hadn’t necessarily realised he had been. It was about time he thought about it.

Patton’s text had come through sometime on Logan’s walk over, so he grabbed out his phone to take a look.

Patton: Here’s the list, Lo! We added our own labels in there as a little coming out to you, since we realised we never did it officially!! 💖🧡💛💚💙💜

Sexuality stuff:

LGBTQIA+

Gay/Lesbian — you probably already know this one, but just in case :) (gay is also what Ro goes by! just cause it’s easier ~ Patton)

Bisexual/pansexual (this one’s mine!! I prefer pansexual over bisexual!!! ~ Patton)

Asexual (me ~ V)

(you should also look into the difference between a romantic orientation and a sexual orientation ~ V)

(oh and asexuality is a spectrum, so probably look into some of the other a-spec identities too, demisexuality, gray-asexuality, etc. ~ V)

(and probably look into sex repulsion too and all that. there’s a lot to this, sry. ~ V)

Aromantic (all the previous stuff applies to this too, aromanticism is a spectrum, romance-repulsion, all that ~ V)

Gender stuff:

Binary transgender (which I am! ~ Roman)

Cisgender

Nonbinary (which me and Virgil are!! ~ Patton) and gender neutral/nontraditional pronouns

(there are more specific nonbinary identities though ~ V)

Agender

Genderqueer

Genderfluid (Patton. she mostly uses he/him or she/her pronouns, depending on the day. me and Roman usually feel it out, or if we’re unsure, just ask. ~ V)

Bigender

Pangender

Demiboy/girl (me. usually he/him is fine. ill let you know when it’s not. ~ V)

We know this is a lot, so if you have any questions, we’re here!!!

Logan read through the list a couple of times, before pulling out his laptop and opening up google. This was going to take a while.

He started out with ‘gay/lesbian’. He was already fairly certain he knew what it meant, however, he figured going in sequential order would result in the least amount of confusion from skipping over things he should have known. He found a website fairly quickly which outlined the definitions of gay/lesbian and bisexual, even including a description of transgender and gender identity. He glared slightly at an unfamiliar word, before shooting a text over to Roman.

Logan: Roman, do you identify with the words, ‘transsexual’ or ‘transvestite’?

He continued reading through the website as he waited for a reply. It was only a couple of minutes before his phone buzzed on the table next to him.

Roman: uhh, no 😂 those terms are all pretty outdated. there might be some trans people who still use the word transsexual, but transvestite is generally seen as a,,, negative term. at least, if someone called me a transvestite I wouldn’t take it in a positive way.

Logan frowned before closing his tab. Clearly, the website wasn’t up to date.

In his search to find a description of pansexuality, Logan stumbled on another website with a list of terms, this one seeming considerably more reliable. He skimmed over the definition of pansexuality, getting a general grip on the term before he decided to text Patton.

Logan: Patton, why do you prefer the label pansexual over bisexual? I am to understand they are largely the same thing.

Patton: They are!! Really, it’s a matter of just what you /like/ to use more than anything I think! Some people say bisexuality is transphobic, cause it doesn’t clearly include nonbinary genders in its definition, but I don’t think that's fair! I have tons of bisexual, nonbinary friends! Well, okay, I have two, but still!!!

Logan nodded to himself absentmindedly. He’d heard of homophobia, so he assumed transphobia was a similar concept, but against transgender, or trans, people as opposed to gay ones. He’d yet to reach a definition of nonbinary but based on context clues he could take a guess at what it meant.

Another text came through from Patton.

Patton: Plus, there’s way more fun puns with pun-sexuality 😜

Logan put his phone away.

After finishing reading the pansexuality description, he opened up the tab of definitions and scrolled through, quickly coming upon asexuality, the next on the list.

“Asexual: A person who generally does not feel sexual attraction or desire to any group of people. Asexuality is not the same as celibacy. Click here for dedicated page.”

Logan blinked. Not… having sexual feelings towards anyone? That was an option?

He considered sending a text to Virgil, but he wasn’t really sure what he wanted to ask. Instead, he opened up the ‘dedicated page’ and began to read.

“Some asexual people are happier on their own, others are happiest with a group of close friends… free of sexual expectations we can form relationships in ways that are grounded in our individual needs and desires… Many asexual people experience attraction, but feel no need to act out that attraction sexually. Instead they feel a desire to get to know someone, to get close to them in whatever way works best for them.”

Oh.

Logan shut the lid of his laptop, trying to breathe as steadily as possible. He grabbed out his phone and texted Virgil a very uneloquent:

Logan: Asexuality is an option? That’s something you can be?

He realised that his text was quite ambiguous and likely very confusing, but luckily enough, Virgil seemed to understand what he meant.

Virgil: yeah, dude, i know. look at aromanticism next, yeah? Virgil: and, uh,,, maybe look into queerplatonic relationships? idk, that might be something that youd want to know about,,,,

Logan was about to turn back to his laptop and do exactly that when his phone buzzed again in his hand. He unlocked it to find another text from Virgil.

Virgil: oh and um, sorry abt earlier. got a lil intense there.

He smiled before sending back a reply.

Logan: It’s already forgiven.

The website Logan was on didn’t seem to have a definition of aromanticism, so after briefly reading over the other descriptions, Logan turned back to google. After scrolling through some links relating to an album of sorts, Logan opened up a website called aromantics wiki and began to read.

“An aromantic is someone who does not experience romantic attraction.”

Logan felt slightly like someone had just punched him in the stomach. He read over the definition again, and then again, his brain not quite comprehending how this one sentence held as much importance as it did.

Aromantic.

He wasn’t waiting for the right one. He wasn’t strange to not feel romantic attraction. He was aromantic.

Romance had always been pushed on him by his family. It was something he understood—he was the youngest of 3 siblings, both his older brothers having already found wives by the time they were in their late 20’s; his parents expected the same of him—but it certainly wasn’t something he had ever enjoyed.

When he was young he had a best friend called Kara, who was a girl. They’d met on the playground and had bonded over their mutual love of solitude. They both appreciated being able to spend time together without having to worry about socialising. Occasionally they’d talk about school or debate how likely it was that there was life on other planets because they were things they enjoyed discussing, but mostly they swung together or made sandcastles, movements synchronised without even trying. Their relationship had been close, but it had been simple.

And then everyone else ruined it.

When Logan came home from spending time at Kara’s house, his Dad would ask him if he had a good time with his girlfriend. Logan would frown and tell him Kara wasn’t his girlfriend. His Dad would ruffle his hair and laugh, saying, “Sure, buddy”. Logan would be confused as to why he didn’t believe him.

Logan’s brothers would seek the two of them out during lunch at school, taunting them and laughing about how “Logan has a crush! Logan has a crush!” until Kara would grab his hand to pull him away, his brothers’ oooh’s echoing in his ears. He’d hold hands with his mom too, he wouldn’t understand why it was a big deal.

Logan would lay awake at night, questioning his feelings. Did he like Kara? He liked spending time with her. He wanted to make her happy and he liked seeing her smile. He didn’t think he got butterflies around her (and really, he didn’t understand that term anyway; how would butterflies end up in your stomach?) but his parents said it was different for everyone, so maybe he just didn’t realise. He must like her, everyone said he did.

So Logan told her he liked her. And that was the last playdate they ever had together.

He hadn’t realised he was crying until he looked down to see tears splashed on his computer keys. One of the librarians, Ms Miles, had made her way over to Logan’s table and was watching him with a worried expression.

“Logan, sweetheart, are you alright?” she said, dropping the stack of books she was holding onto the other side of the table. She looked kind of shocked to see such a display of emotion from someone usually so stoic.

Logan knew the librarians, Ms Miles, Mrs Carroll and Cathy, quite well. He often volunteered to help shelve books or issue items on days where he wasn’t busy, but still wanted something to do. He’d even collaborated on some displays and events with them when they were asking for help from students, and Cathy had a running list of books she was recommending Logan every time he came in, leading to some truly excellent finds.

Logan wiped at his eyes hastily before sliding his laptop into his bag and standing up from the table.

“Yes, Ms Miles, I’m fine,” Logan lied—his entire world view had just shifted, he was far from fine—“I just remembered something upsetting, but it’s a long time past, really. I’m just going to go back to my dorm now.”

Ms Miles nodded cautiously.

“If you’re sure, Logan,” she said, sweeping up the books she’d put on the table and turning around to begin shelving.

Logan took a shaky breath before grabbing his phone out of his pocket and sending Virgil another text.

Logan: Meet me at the greenhouse. ASAP.

Logan felt his phone buzz almost immediately but didn’t check the reply, instead replacing his cell phone back in his pocket and heading off in the direction of the drama rooms.

Virgil and Logan had an unspoken agreement of sorts. The two of them understood each other very well, having similar natures—usually quiet and more in need of solitude than their two extroverted friends. Time spent with Virgil was generally peaceful and free of societal expectations. They were able to exist near each other without fear of having to socialise, and so they often sought each other out when spoons were low or when they simply needed a bit of quiet company.

Yes, often Virgil needed to be calmed due to his excessive worrying, but Logan was more than happy to do so, providing him with facts and whole truths until Virgil felt slightly more in control. Logan had never been good at comforting people—mindless platitudes and social niceties escaped his realm of understanding—but Virgil didn’t need that. He knew it was bullshit as much as Logan did.

In return, Virgil would keep an eye on Logan. It was subtle at first, but over time grew to Virgil outright ordering him to take care of himself, showing up at his room at all hours of the night, virtually forcing him into bed. Logan would complain as it was happening, but he’d wake up in the morning feeling warmer, ready to tackle whatever had kept him up so late with a more relaxed perspective. Truly, Virgil was an excellent friend.

If Logan thought too hard about it, which he tried his best not to, he reminded him of Kara.

Logan arrived at the greenhouse. It was abandoned, as it always seemed to be. The inside of the glass was coated in dirt, though not enough that you couldn’t see the knocked over plant pots and bags of dirt piled in the corners. Logan had hypothesised to Virgil that the greenhouse must have been used by the botany students once, though it had been in disuse for the entire time Logan and Virgil had known of it.

He took a seat on the ground, leaning against the warm glass. He expected it to be a couple more minutes before Virgil arrived—when comparing the distance between the library and his dorm—so Logan tried to take deep steadying breaths as he waited.

The first time Logan and Virgil had seen the greenhouse was within the first few months of knowing each other. They’d been lightly discussing the merits of social media as they wandered towards their next classes, both giving opposing arguments to what the other said, but always to prompt more discussion rather than as a result of their own beliefs. At least, they’d thought they were wandering towards their next classes. Unfortunately, however, they’d fallen prey to that trope of each of them thinking the other was leading the way, and so instead they ended up somewhere entirely different.

That somewhere different had been the greenhouse.

It had piqued Virgil’s interest almost immediately, always looking for more private places within the school grounds. Having an anxiety disorder in a place so public as a university campus could prove to be a bit difficult sometimes, Virgil had mentioned, and having somewhere he could go when he was feeling overwhelmed and needed to be alone was extremely important to him.

Upon closer inspection, Logan had concluded that the greenhouse hadn’t been used in quite some time. Not only was the area generally overgrown and unkempt—as opposed to the rest of the school, which had the grass cut regularly—but the padlock that hung on the door was rusted shut. Logan didn’t think that anyone could get in if they wanted to.

They’d scoped it out for a time, coming back every so often to check that no one was hanging around there during their breaks or anything, but it remained empty.

Weeks later Logan had witnessed Virgil have a panic attack for the first time. He’d texted Logan while he was studying at the library, telling him to come to the greenhouse. Logan hadn’t really thought anything of it—Virgil likely just wanted a bit of company—so when he arrived to one of his best friends crying and hyperventilating, he’d been a bit taken aback.

It hadn’t gone excellently for either of them. Logan had never seen anyone have a panic attack before so the first 5 or so minutes had been filled with a rather concerned Logan trying to get Virgil to tell him what he was supposed to be doing. In the end, Logan had realised he needed to get Virgil to breathe and had guided him through it a few times, Virgil eventually reaching a point where he was okay enough to explain.

Logan had learnt a lot about anxiety disorders since then. He’d gone back to the empty dorm almost immediately after Virgil had returned to class and researched into it as much as he could. He knew which breathing patterns to implement and he knew which grounding exercises to use, but that didn’t make it all that much easier to do when he, himself, was spiralling into a state of alarm.

He was going to end up living the rest of his life by himself without anyone to be there for him. All his friends were going to pair up, were going to fall in love and move away and he would remain—the leftovers nobody wanted.

He was never going to fall in love. He was never going to have that perfect life his family expected of him. He was going to end up alone forever and he didn’t want to be alone.

He wondered absently if maybe Virgil wasn’t going to come at all. Maybe Logan would die here, unable to breathe as a crushing weight sat on top of his chest.

Luckily, Virgil decided now was a good time to show up. Logan didn’t notice Virgil first arrive—his head pressed against his knees, arms braced on either side—but he did notice as Virgil took a seat next to him, his calming voice floating through Logan’s panicked haze.

“Come on, Lo, you know the breathing techniques, right?” Logan heard him say, “You just gotta breathe with me.”

Logan listened as he began to count, trying his best to breathe in time and focus on Virgil, only Virgil, nothing else. It was actually easier than he thought it would be to block everything out, just listening to Virgil’s counting and slow, steady breaths. It almost made him feel like he was floating, his body left behind as his mind latched on to Virgil’s words, wrapping itself up in them like they were a blanket on a cold winter’s day.

By the time Logan had calmed down, he was exhausted.

His body was sore; tense muscles unclenching, shoulders dropping and chest expanding as he breathed. He tried to focus on staying calm and not on the lingering panic buried in the back of his mind.

“Well, that was absolutely awful,” Logan said, voice much more hoarse than he’d expected it to be, “How do you do that all the time?”

Virgil chuckled, though Logan could tell he was worried. “Well, yeah. It’s not like I choose to.”

Logan hummed noncommittally.

Virgil carefully kept his distance, knowing Logan’s general distaste for physical contact, but right now all Logan wanted to do is crawl into Virgil’s lap and take a nap, maybe have Virgil run his hand through Logan’s hair. Fuck, he must be tired if he’s thinking like that.

Virgil must have been able to sense Logan’s wish for a hug somehow though, because he opened his arms in an offer and Logan barely hesitated before diving in and wrapping his arms around him. Virgil was warm and soft and safe. His grip was offering the perfect amount of pressure where he felt secure, but not trapped. Distantly, Logan realised he was crying again. Not sobbing, more like tears leaking out without his permission and damn, he was going to get dehydrated at this rate.

“I’m sorry,” Logan mumbled into the fabric of Virgil’s hoodie, “I don’t mean to be so emotional, I just-”

“You have nothing to apologise for,” Virgil interrupted, “Figuring things out about yourself is overwhelming. God knows I was a mess when I realised I was ace, or when I realised I was nonbinary, or, heck, even just realising I liked boys was a whole lot to deal with.”

“Overwhelming is definitely a word for it, yes.” Logan laughed wetly. “It just feels like suddenly I have so much more to worry about than I did yesterday.”

Virgil unwrapped his arms from around Logan to tilt his chin up. His expression was affectionate and kind.

“But you have a community now, yeah?” he said, voice soft, “You don’t have to do this alone.”

Logan barely gave himself a second to think before he was leaning up and pressing a kiss to Virgil’s cheek. Virgil spluttered for about a full five seconds, his face going bright red. Logan pulled away, unable to contain his laughter.

“What…” Virgil trailed off, expression completely baffled, “What was that?”

Logan, amusement dying down, pulled away to instead take position with his head on Virgil’s lap. It wasn’t nearly as comfortable as he had hoped it was going to be, but he was too tired to move now.

“It just felt like the right thing to do.”

“Acting on instinct? Who are you and what have you done with Logan?” Virgil joked, but his face was bright.

Virgil moved his legs slightly and Logan shifted with him and, yes, this was much better. They lay there for a moment, enjoying the stillness. Virgil’s hand had drifted to his hair and after some hesitance from Virgil and a small whine from Logan as he tried to pull away, he had taken to playing with it absentmindedly, his hand stroking through Logan’s dark curls. Another point to Logan for getting what he wanted without having to explicitly ask for it.

Logan had just about drifted off, warm sun beating down on him, when Virgil’s voice cut through the silence.

“Did you, uh, manage to look into queerplatonic relationships… by any chance?"

Logan opened his eyes. Virgil had gone tense underneath him and he frowned. He didn’t understand why this topic was distressing to Virgil, but he tried to assuage his fear nonetheless.

“Virgil I assure you, there’s no need to be anxious about this.” Virgil gave him a small smile, half self-deprecating and half soft and appreciative. “But as it stands, no, I did not get a chance to look into it. Would you like to tell me about it? I promise I will try my best not to fall asleep.”

Logan let his eyes fall shut again as Virgil laughed.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” he said lamely, “Basically it’s like a regular friendship, but more? Like, uh, you might do things with your queerplatonic partner that you might not with just a friend, like cuddle or uh, I don’t know, emotional intimacy stuff, talking about your hopes and dreams or whatever. And it has the same commitment level as a romantic relationship, like, you might stay together for the rest of your lives kind of thing, but it’s all platonic. You love each other but, like… platonically.”

Logan opened his eyes again to see Virgil staring off into the distance, biting his lip. Absently, Logan thought that he should get Virgil one of those chewy necklaces he’d seen online—the bat one seemed like a good choice; matched his dark aesthetic. On a more concrete level, Logan suddenly understood why Virgil had been so tense.

“Oh,” Logan blinked a few times. “Is that what this is?”

Virgil’s gaze flicked over to Logan immediately, eyes widening.

“I mean, it doesn’t have to be! We can just be friends, there’s seriously no pressure to-”

“Virgil?” Logan interrupted, watching as Virgil winced slightly.

“Yeah?”

Logan examined the face above him for a moment. Virgil was the person he trusted more than anyone else he knew. Virgil was the person who was always there when he needed someone to talk him down from whatever frenzy he had managed to get into. Virgil was an intelligent debate partner, an ever-calming presence and his best friend.

Really, how could there have been any question?

Logan gave a soft smile, “I’d like that.”

Virgil’s answering grin was blinding. Logan couldn’t help but smile brighter in return, his chest warm.

He felt protected here with Virgil. Protected from all the worries he’d previously had, protected from the harshness of the outside world that may not understand them, protected from his own insecurities. He knew Virgil loved him—really he thinks he always knew—and Logan loved him in return.

Virgil was there for him; he didn’t need to be alone.

So, of course, he could not let this moment last.

Logan put on a fake innocent look, channelling all the acting skills he must have gained by proxy from living with Roman.

“Does this mean I get to kiss you on the cheek more frequently?”

Virgil snorted, his face scrunching up as he pushed Logan off of his lap and onto the ground. Logan laughed as Virgil stood up, brushing the dirt off of the back of his skirt.

“I’m gonna get you back for that one day, you know that, right?” Virgil was scowling but Logan could tell he didn’t really mean anything by it.

Logan smiled up at him.