12. “I feel sick…so anxious and sick and like my heart is trying to beat its way out of my chest.” intwuwogical 👀 🥺
(Hi, sorry for the delay! Thanks to @subtlereferencetomyinterests for the pun!)
Words: 2951
Logan didn’t expect any visitors.
It was always easy to slip through the cracks after an argument. Everyone was always preoccupied--with grudges, with apologies, with their own accelerated heartrates. It often took days for the situation to resolve itself, and it always went quicker when Logan was there to help.
Maybe Logan should help. But instead, he was in his room, lying on his bed and staring at the ceiling.
He’d taken off his tie--he couldn’t stand the feeling of it around his neck--and loosened his collar. The room was a mess of half-finished papers and crumbling corkboards. His hair was unwashed and his glasses were covered in crud.
Logan didn’t want any visitors. But when something banged loudly on the door, he took a second to answer, and the door burst open.
"Hey-hey, Isaac Ass-imov!” Remus grinned at him. He was brandishing a staff, probably the source of the banging. It seemed to be built of several bones, topped with teeth. Fascinating. Had Remus created it himself? “It’s time for dinner.”
What? Logan could have sworn it was only morning.
“Pop-Tart says you gotta come on down!” Remus shimmied his hips. “So get your booty out of bed and eat out with us!”
Logan decided against parsing every innuendo from Remus’ sentence. “And he sent you?”
“Yeah!” Remus slapped his staff cheerily. “I’m persuasive.”
Logan had no doubt of that. He rubbed his arm. He didn’t feel hungry--quite the contrary, his stomach felt rather like the ancient monster Charybdis, as if it would spit out whatever it ingested. However, he knew Patton would be upset at a refusal. More pressingly, Remus would be upset. Logan did not want to find out what Remus did when turned down.
“Who else will be there?” Logan decided to ask.
“Everyone Paternity Test and I can drag out of their rooms!” Remus’ smile, and staff, fell a bit. “Not Ro-Bro, though. Or the emo, if Jay is gonna be there.”
“Jay--” It took a second for Logan to comprehend. “Oh. Janus.”
Remus looked between Logan and the door, then closed the door.
“He--he feels really bad about what happened,” Remus finally said. “They all do. It was a whole big garbage-pile mess, I couldn’t have done it better.”
“You would have improved the situation,” Logan said with a chuckle. “You could have knocked us all out, thus forestalling any crises of morality.”
“That’s what I said!” Remus flopped bonelessly to the ground. His head lolled on the foot of Logan’s bed, his feet pushed at the carpet and the papers drifting by, and he began to fidget with the teeth on his staff. They clinked when he moved them. “Anyway, are you coming to dinner?”
“It doesn’t seem as though either of us are going anywhere,” Logan pointed out, “as you’ve just made yourself comfortable on my rug.”
“Oh.” Remus looked down. “Do you--mind?”
“No,” Logan said, surprising himself. “I don’t, as long as you don’t make a mess.”
“I don’t need to,” Remus said, waving a hand at the papers marooned on the floor. “But yeah, we are going somewhere, ‘cause our Patreon tier gives us free meals now. Nice of him.”
“You’re allowed?” Logan asked.
“Yeah! If I don’t ‘make a nuisance of myself.’” Remus leaned forward confidentially. “Think Patton just wants to have one creative Side around, to make himself feel better.”
Logan traced the edges of the ceiling with his eyes. “He seems to be warming to you.”
“Yeah!” Remus beamed. “Well, Janny likes me, and they’re two peas in a Juul pod now, so he lets me do stuff! Like banging on doors!”
Remus banged on the floor with his staff. The teeth shook.
“Where did you get that?” Logan asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. “Is it made of human bones?”
Remus’ eyes lit up. “Yeah! Femur here, and then some wrist bones here, and a rib, and then a bundle of molars!”
“Where did you get them?”
“Imagination.” Remus’ voice slid into a rambling tone, as if he was gearing up for a long monologue. Logan found it rather endearing. “My side of the imagination is filled with bones. So I made this one last year! It’s a bonk stick.”
“A--” Logan blinked. “A what?”
“It bonks!” Remus raised the stick and twisted around to Logan. Logan barely had time to move before the staff came down on his head. A light tap. “Bonk!”
“Bonk,” Logan repeated, watching the staff. “What does it do?”
“It bonks people into doing stuff!” Remus pulled the staff away from Logan. “I bonk on doors and I bonk on faces and I bonk on walls! Gets people’s attention. When people are stuck in bed and being gloomy, I bonk them into doing stuff! I--used to do that for Jay, sometimes. I’m the one who gets everyone out of bed.” Remus laughed. “Perks of being a bother.”
“You’re not a bother,” Logan said, out of habit. He’d said similar things to Virgil many times.
“If you think that, I’m not trying hard enough.” Remus flipped, knees over his head, and landed on his back on the carpet. His feet kicked up on the bed and l left smears on the quilt. His hair pooled in snarls around his face. “It’s my job, right? I’m the one who bangs pans in your brain until you do something.”
“I suppose that’s one way to put it.”
“But yeah, I know, I’m not usually the ‘helpful’ one.” Remus sighed, though it sounded more like a blown raspberry. “Jay winds me up and points me fun-wards, though! And now I’ve been tugged all the way over to you!”
“Wonderful,” Logan said.
“It is, isn’t it?” Remus tugged at his mustache. “So, you coming to dinner or not?”
Logan let out a breath.
“Come on,” Remus said after a moment of silence. “You can’t just sulk in bed forever. Get moving! Go-go-go! You’ve got no excuse to stay in bed.”
Something angry twisted in Logan’s chest. “Maybe I do,” he snapped.
“Oh!” Remus blinked up at him. “What is it?”
“Um.” Logan hadn’t thought that far ahead. “I’m working right now.”
“You’re lying in bed.”
“I’m brainstorming,” Logan lied. “I often do my best work in silence.”
Remus scoffed. “No one works well in silence.”
“I do!”
“Your room says otherwise.” Remus gestured with his staff at the piles of paper and the dusty desk. “You haven’t been working, Specs and the City, don’t try to bluff.”
Logan bit back a pout. “Then--I’m tired.”
“You’re tired?”
“Yes.”
“But it’s not sleep-time,” Remus said. “You can sleep later! Aren’t you all about those cicada rhythms?”
“It’s circadian rhythms,” Logan said. “And you remember that? You weren’t even there!”
“I’m always there,” Remus said. His grin would have been threatening, if he wasn’t sprawled on the rug with curls flopping over his forehead. “I hear everything. Whether you see me or--” He covered his face and splayed his hands. “You don’t!”
“Interesting,” Logan said. “So...you were there during the argument? About the wedding?”
Remus cringed. “Yeah.”
“Oh." Logan felt a bit embarrassed, which was ridiculous, because Remus was the last person who would judge him. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Eh, not my jam.” Remus tossed his staff in the air and caught it. The teeth jingled. “Yadda yadda morality bogus, no fun. I don’t mind callbacks, and I don’t mind weddings if they end in orgies, so I really didn’t care. I’m not really about reflecting. You do what you do, no use getting your panties twisted after it’s over.”
“Huh,” Logan said. “So...that’s how you feel about it?”
“What?”
“How do you feel about it?” Logan asked. He didn’t know why--maybe to deflect Remus’ own questioning, maybe because he was curious, curious to see this unknown variable in action. “How do you feel? Has anyone asked you?”
“I--” Remus looked at him open-mouthed for a moment. Then his mouth slammed shut like a nutcracker’s. “I don’t care about it. Like I said. And--no, nobody has. I’m just the voice in the back of your mind, nothing to worry about.”
Remus was in the back of the mind. What did it mean, then, that he was here? Was this the back--was this the shadows? Was this where voices went when nobody listened to them?
“But you’re getting me off-track!” With a nod, Remus was back to full energy. “No getting off-track. No pileups today. I need to hear why you can’t go to dinner.”
“I don’t want to,” Logan said.
Simple. Sickeningly, achingly simple. The scabs stung around his neck.
Remus actually seemed to be considering it. “Why not?”
“I want to stay in bed,” Logan said. Simple. Truthful. No lies to summon anyone, anything. To just keep the two of them there.
Logan stared at the ceiling instead of Remus. Don’t check to see if he’s gone. That wasn’t how you dealt with intrusive thoughts--they always came back. And he wanted Remus gone.
Didn’t he?
“Yeah, okay,” Remus said. “But should you?”
“I’m done worrying about shoulds.”
“Do the others want you to?”
“I’ve spent too much time thinking about them already.”
“Is it good for you?”
Logan huffed. “You tell me. Morality is hardly my area of expertise.”
“Mine either,” Remus said, “but I’m good at being where I’m not wanted. And doing what I gotta do.”
Logan continued to look at the ceiling. Maybe Remus would leave. Maybe he wouldn’t. Schrodinger’s cat, he thought idly--dead or alive, an enigma, an unknown. Anything was possible until you checked to make sure.
“How do you feel?”
“What?” Logan jerked his head over to Remus. “What do you mean?”
“How do you feel about everything that happened?” Remus shrugged. “You just look kinda icky. And you asked me. Fair’s fair.”
“You don’t believe in fair,” Logan said.
“You do.”
Did he? If he allowed himself the possibility, something red-hot choked his chest. Fair meant everyone was listened to. Fair meant everyone’s input was valued. Fair meant he wasn’t pulled away before he got a chance to fix things--
He’d already failed, though. Wasn’t it fair that he didn’t deserve a seat at the table?
“I don’t believe in fairness,” Logan said. “And I don’t feel anything.”
Remus snickered. “Sure.”
“I don’t!”
“Look, I won’t tell anyone.” Remus winked at him and tapped his nose. “I already know, anyway. I know all your dirty little secrets.”
Logan blinked. “You do?”
“Yeah, Jay might hide the secrets, but he needs somewhere to put them.” Remus spread his arms. Sprawled on the carpet, his arms outstretched, he looked like he was being pinned to a cross. “I’m where all the secrets go! All the dirty things you’d never say out loud, I hear them. I’m like your footprints! Or oil sludge--or radiation!”
Logan touched his collar. “Fascinating.”
“I think so too!” Remus bonked the staff on the floor. “Point is, my pointy Poin-dexter, is that I’m not gonna judge. You probably don’t even measure up to the freaky shit I’ve heard some of them think. Glass houses. Say whatever you want, I don’t care, brains are weird and gross sometimes.”
Logan didn’t have a brain, technically. Or he was the brain. Either way, he wasn’t supposed to be weird or gross. Or--fallible. Yet here he was, sprawled on his bed and immovable, a pile of feelings he could barely understand.
“I feel...sick,” Logan said.
Remus was quiet. Maybe he wasn’t there--Logan could monologue to himself, and no one would be the wiser, and Remus wouldn’t be there until Logan looked for him. Remus wasn’t helpful unless someone looked.
“I feel sick,” Logan repeated. “So--anxious, and sick, and like my heart is trying to beat its way out of my chest.”
He could feel his pulse, pounding in his neck. Why did he need it? How was this fair? How was it fair to give him a heart to race, breath to steal, a voice to silence? Why did he have to be this?
Things he should be. Things others wanted. Things that were good.
Things he wanted.
Always tangled, always at odds, always disastrously intertwined.
“I tried to help,” Logan pleaded with no one. “I tried to help--I knew it wasn’t my place to interfere, I couldn’t help with their personal issues, but I could still--give information. Help. I needed to help, I’m--I’m the one who helps. And I failed, and it hurt--and he dragged me off and I couldn’t breathe--”
Breathe. His windpipe was closing. Logan closed his eyes and breathed in and out. Four, seven, eight. He’d taught Virgil that rhythm. Why could he fix everyone else’s problems, but not his own?
“I tried to help,” Logan said, weakly. “It wasn’t fair.”
“No,” Remus agreed. “It wasn’t.”
Logan rubbed at the scabs around his neck. Remus’ throwing stars hadn’t hurt him, so everyone assumed he couldn’t feel pain--that he was unflappable, powerful, untouchable Logic. But it was only because Remus didn’t try to hurt him. Everyone could hurt Logan if they tried. Or if they didn’t bother to stop it from happening.
“I feel sick,” Logan said, quietly, like the crook was still around his neck. “And that’s why I’m not going. That’s my excuse.”
Silence. Logan didn’t want to check if Remus had left. He wouldn’t blame him if he did.
“Chicken noodle soup,” Remus said.
“What?”
“That’s what people eat when they’re sick,” Remus continued, springing to his feet. “And, like, toast. And mushed bananas.”
“The b-r-a-t diet,” Logan agreed, still confused. “Bananas, rice, applesauce, and toast.”
“Okay!” Remus nodded. “Yeah, I thought so. I’m more practiced at the make people sick side of things, but this is cool too.”
“What?” Logan asked, hoping that for once, Remus would explain. “What are you doing?”
“Uh, you’re sick?” Remus asked. “So I’m helping?”
“I’m not that kind of sick,” Logan started to say, but he realized that wasn’t entirely true. He did feel flushed. And his stomach churned menacingly. “Why?”
“There is no rhyme or reason to what I do, I just do!” Remus bonked him on the leg. “You gotta eat something, so I’ll grab stuff for you.”
“But you’re eating with Patton.”
Another bonk on the leg. “I can do it another night! Plus, it’s no fun if I can’t be a nuisance.”
Logan smiled a bit, despite himself. “You can’t be a nuisance here, either.”
“Aww!” Remus pouted, sticking out his lip. “Pwease?”
“I’m not hungry,” Logan said, instead of confronting the fact that Remus’ puppy eyes were working. “Thank you, though.”
“Still gonna get you some food, I think it’s kinda necessary for survival.” Remus looked him over. “Yeah, I’ll grab you a plate, so you can eat in here!”
“You’re...” Logan still didn’t fully understand this. “Letting me stay in bed?”
“You said it yourself, you wanna be here.” Remus shrugged. “Sometimes the bonk stick doesn’t work! And sometimes you just gotta work with what you got. So you stay in bed, and I get you stuff you need, and you take a nap!”
“A nap,” Logan repeated.
“You said you were tired!”
“You said it wasn’t time to sleep yet!”
“Sick rules are different!” Remus crossed his arms. “Look, it’s me, or I sic Pat and Jay on you. And they’re gonna baby you something fierce.”
Logan knew that was true enough. “And you're...okay with this? I don’t wish to interrupt any schedules you may have--”
“I’m Intrusive Thoughts, I don’t have schedules.” Remus shimmied. “I do-do-do what I wanna do-do-do! And what I wanna do is help you out here.”
“Help me,” Logan repeated.
“I can be helpful!” Remus protested. “I have a stick!”
The staff jingled in his hand. He looked utterly convinced. And Logan knew it well enough--there was no way to force the Duke to retire a subject of conversation. Or to get rid of him. Or to stop him from trying something out.
And oddly, Logan found he didn’t mind a bit.
“Okay,” he said. “If you’d like to, you can help.”
Remus’ grin stretched almost the full way around his cheeks. “Oh! Really? Oh, this is so cool, usually I only help Jay--I’ll get you some food! Toast and brats and whatever you were saying. And like a temperature thing, stuff to help you out. You should get into some PJs while I’m gone.”
“Okay,” Logan said, after a few seconds. It was often hard to tell when Remus was finished talking. “Sounds like a good plan.”
“Yes!” Remus whooped and tossed open Logan’s door. “Be right back, nerd, and I’d better see some pajamas! Or your birthday suit, if that’s what you’re into!”
The door slammed shut behind him.
Logan stared after him for a second. He wasn’t quite sure how the conversation had progressed as it did. He definitely wasn’t sure if this was a good idea. Or something he should be doing. Or what the others would want.
It was what he wanted, though. Didn’t he get that? Wasn’t that fair?
Two Sides at the back of the mind, two sides of the same coin, leaving each other’s footsteps behind.
Logan touched his collar.
He only wore his onesie when he didn’t expect visitors. But he changed into it now, curling up on the bed, waiting for Remus to come back. For some reason, despite Remus’ unpredictability, he was sure that Remus would. Intrusive Thoughts never truly went away. Like a grease stain, or a mole in a game of Whack-a-Mole. Or radiation.
Logan smiled to himself. Remus was already rubbing off on him.
And for the first time in several days, his heart rate steadied, and Logan could breathe again.
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okay ive just been watching a lot of jennas videos and i watched the video from when they got their hamster and i just started thinking about these and im so in love oh my god okay anYwAyS
this is the first thing im writing for a while and the first deh related thing ive written so ??? sorry if its trash
CONNOR
-Has a weird relationship with animals
-theyre just not his thing so he was really confused when you asked him to get one
-“Babe can we get like a pet”
“A fucking wha t”
“A pet”
“What why”
-Would be reluctant at first but would eventually cave
-he was much more excited than you, despite his disinterest earlier
-eventually Connor would get lost and youd find him crying holding a cat
-“Babe whats wrong”
“I love him can we get him plEasE”
“of course”
-you get a small orange kitty and name him a weird name thats not really a name like fielding or some shit
-but its okay because he makes Connor smile
-also he sleeps in your bed and gets much more cuddles than you do
-Connor often takes Fielding to the park and he weirdly lives it and he rolls around in the grass with Connor
-Fielding gets so much attention and love from you Connor and anyone who comes to visit and he claws at you when he wants attention
-You get a tortoise and Fielding just stares and sniffs her and Connor cant stop laughing
-You love your boys
EVAN
-Is sort of uncomfortable with getting a pet because of his anxiety
-“Okay but what if we go out of town we cant take them with us what are we gonna do theyll die”
“Babe Alana and Zoe have three dogs im sure they wont mind watching another pet”
-Before leaving to get a pet you do lots of research on what kinds of animals help calm anxiety
-you end up getting a baby boxer (if you get a baby of a bigger dog it will help people with anxiety bond with them before they get big and theyll trust them more)
-you name her aspen after Evans favorite type of tree
-Evan is distant from her at first and never even goes near her
-One day you convince him yo pet her and he has the biggest smile on his face its so cute
-occasionally youll come home from work or the store and theyll be cuddled on the couch or the bed alseep or watching tv
-Evan makes the bold decision to buy two canaries just out of te blue and you come home like what the fuck ???
-“Babe why are there birds”
“I didnt buy them”
“Wait then who did ???”
“Connor he talked me into it their names are Cornelius and Poppy and i love them very much”
-You also end up getting a Bernese Mountain dog and name him Bernie
JARED
-jumps at the idea of getting a pet
-seriously he doesnt even wait for you he just leaves and starts driving away
-“dude are you serious”
“dude lets just get a fucking dog”
-is more excited than you
-the pet store has so many animals its like overflowing and Jared just wants them all
-he points out a gorgeous french bulldog and you instantly melt
-you decide to name her Annie
-“but the question is are we just getting one dog”
“ummmm no wtf”
-you pick out a small Yorkshire terrier
-“oh my god she looks like a fucking brownie Jared”
“oh my gOd”
-Brownie always has a little bow on her head and you try to put bandanas around Annies neck but she just eats them so you found it best to just not put them on her anymore
-whenever you have people over Jared introduces them as your daughters an even include them in family pictures
-Annie and Brownie stay with Jareds parents when you guys go camping for two weeks (it seems long but oh my god you both need the break)
-you come back and Annie is considerably lazier and starts eating way more (she starts eating from Brownies bowl too)
-“damn babe Annies acting like shes fucking pregnant”
“Jared istg if your moms dog got my baby pregnant”
-You take Annie to the vet while Jared is working one day and turns out yup Annies pregnant
-you two being super extra have a fucking maternity shoot for her
-Zoe and Alana take three of the puppies and you give the other to your parents
(okay so Jareds is really extra but i love him okay fcking fite me)
“don’t overthink it” stfu and watch me: an analysis
this card, in the beginning of the episode, sets the tone for this episode. and it makes sense! such an unofficial video, which was very last-minute, doesn’t necessarily need a ton of context. “wherever it would hypothetically make sense” is the place of this episode in the timeline.
thomas told us that, so if we take that at face value, this could possibly take place at any time in the timeline. he also told us not to overthink this. but uh. shut your fuck.
now, of course, this episode couldn’t possibly take place before the crofters episode. and since logan is shown still eating his jam, most people have reasonably assumed that this episode is chronologically right after crofters the musical. it may have been months in real life, but the tss timeline is separate, so it’s reasonable that this could be a post-crofters video.
and what would that mean? crofters the musical was released in april of 2018. deceit had been revealed two episodes prior, but lntao and the svs debacle was far yet to come. at first, this matches the video. it’s just the core four being friends! and they seem to get along a bit better than they would after pof.
but. “whenever it would make sense for this to happen,” as thomas said. does immediately post-crofters the musical really make sense? the more i looked, the more i found that it could be more complicated than that. in fact, i found some evidence that didn’t match up at all.
it’s likely that this all anecdotal evidence that doesn’t matter, and that i’m overanalyzing this and incorrect, but fuck it. it’s not that deep, but i can convince myself it is. here’s why i think this episode wasn’t that early on in the timeline, and my theory on what really happened.
my first hint was the whiteboard. patton doodles on the whiteboard while logan is talking, and it’s adorable, and i made a post listing all the things he draws. lots of puppies, hearts, and cute little smiley faces. and janus, peeking out from the side and saying “boo.”
which does make sense, technically? deceit did exist by crofters the musical. and he’s shown in a very sneaky, negative way, at least to some extent. he’s definitely not holding hands with the others. so that seems to line up. but then:
in one corner is remus, labeled “smelly.”
and that doesn’t add up. because remus hadn’t been introduced yet. remus was not canonically part of tss at this point. so how did patton know about him?
obvious answer is obvious, of course, and it’s that patton could easily know about remus before dwit. all the sides recognize him when he shows up for the first time.
logan: ah. it’s the duke.
of course, it does the beg the question why patton would include two dark sides but not the third, if there is a third, but that’s a realm of pure speculation. things still kinda seem to add up.
but they’re off just enough for me to dig deeper. why would patton, who barely knows janus canonically and long before dwit, include them on the board?
and then i saw this:
that’s a video game controller, drawn in green.
and again. could be a coincidence. but to me, it felt like a nod to the events of pof, with the video game theme and the green marker, a la his frog transformation. add that to remus and janus’ presence on the board? it’s beginning to look a bit more possible that patton knows more than he’s supposed to.
“whenever it would make sense for this to happen.” but it’s making less and less sense for this to happen when i thought it did.
could this video reasonably be after pof? it seems ridiculous, because the sides get along way better than they should after pof. shouldn’t roman and patton be feuding? shouldn’t virgil and patton be more snappish?
except this video, despite the lack of arguing, is extremely confrontational in other ways. they end up yelling by the end! all four of them! and their ideas, while not outright hostile, are still in contrast. more so than it appears at first.
virgil jokingly includes roman in his ad, while roman chooses logan, and logan chooses patton, and patton chooses virgil. virgil isn’t hostile to roman, besides calling him a nerd, and roman genuinely seems interested in talking to logan. but virgil is extremely on edge with patton, especially at the “kid” comparison, and bristles during the whole scene.
and that lines up with their current dynamic! virgil and patton are currently super tense, which started in embarrassing phases after virgil became uncomfortable with patton babying him. patton stopped calling him kiddo after that. embarrassing phases is after crofters the musical.
return of the jam? no use of the word kiddo, and tension when patton treats virgil like his son.
and! and yes, roman and patton don’t argue, but they don’t talk, either. roman doesn’t put patton in his ad. he chooses logan instead. virgil--who is on good terms with roman after pof--talks with roman, and logan works with patton but barely acknowledges him, acting like he wants to impress patton. these dynamics fit easily into the post-pof situation, or at least, a reasonable imagined consequence.
and.
roman: how does it feel to want?
a joke, maybe, a throwaway line. but it makes me think.
janus: everything has a purpose. and you're denying yours. you want that callback so bad, and it will crush you if we miss it.
selfishness versus selflessness.
thomas: i want to go to the callback... and now i want to lie to my friends, so they don't hate me for not supporting them. i’m a liar.
selfishness versus selflessness again.
thomas: i don’t know when i’m going to know what i want again.
flirting with social anxiety.
roman: i so, so badly want this. i’m desperate for it.
flirting with social anxiety.
roman: you wanted to go to that callback more than you wanted to support your friends. the blame falls to me. if you are missing that do-gooder drive, i think it's because i'm in the driver's seat. and i'm an awful driver.
putting others first.
and, uh, i’m pretty sure i see a common thread. roman mentioning “wanting” like that? roman being so focused, in the jam episode, on “giving the people what they want?” roman consumed by this narrative of give and take? roman in a car?
okay, the last one’s a stretch, but my point still stands! this fits into roman’s characterization! this episode could have been after putting others first!
and then that begs the question: where’s janus? if him and patton are friends in-timeline, why isn’t he here? well, i made a post awhile back about the sunflowers and quote in patton’s house, which i chose to believe meant it was janus’ house.
and yeah, it’s a ridiculous theory, but also? if this is post-pof, it would actually make sense for patton to be in janus’ room. or to subconsciously put reminders of janus around him. the ads are about what they want, right? what they’re comfortable with? if patton and janus are friends now, or at least on better terms, it makes sense that patton would include a hint or two of janus in his ideal scenario.
oh, and there’s one more drawing on the whiteboard i want to point out. as patton is rushing to scribble down logan’s words, more doodles are added to the whiteboard. including this:
of course, it’s hard to tell, but to me that looks like a face with swirling eyes. drawn in yellow. and maybe it’s just representing patton’s overwhelmed feelings--but maybe it references something else entirely.
my first thought? it reminds me of hypnosis or mind control. and if it’s referring to janus controlling patton, why would patton draw that? except: this is the imagination. maybe patton doesn’t control everything. maybe roman does.
roman, who after the events of pof, could reasonably believe that janus manipulated or controlled patton.
and the yellow eyes aren’t the only hint at janus! an interesting thing throughout the whole video? everyone’s extremely blunt. i can’t name a single time someone blatantly lied in the whole video. and yes, it’s super short and fluffy, but that’s still notable! the closest thing to a lie? logan’s line near the end.
patton: we have to say the thing!
thomas: oh! yes, we do! Logan?
logan: i don’t even know what you’re talking--crofters. the only jelly i will put in my belly.
cute moment, right? but logan starts to lie, then cuts himself off before he finishes the lie. like he doesn’t want someone to hear, or he isn’t allowed to lie. throughout the whole video, no one ever completes a lie.
“but,” i hear you cry, “isn’t the whole thing technically a lie? since they’re creating false realities?” well, yes, and also no. to use the series’ definition, acting is not lying, because everyone involved knows that it is a false story. this episode mirrored the am i original episode, in which creating scenarios fell under the realm of “brainstorming.”
which, again, was canonically roman’s idea. and roman’s power to do.
roman: i ask you this, thomas: allow me the chance to really prove myself! grant me full creative control!
thomas: you're my creativity. you have all the creative control.
virgil: no, he’s talking about full-on daydream mode.
the crofters episode is extremely similar to daydream mode. @limitededitionsanderssidesblog even pointed out that roman is the only side who has no animated transition between his ad and the others, showing that he is in more control of the imagination than the others are.
except logan begins the daydream sequence, not roman.
roman even acts upset about this later on, when he takes control of the brainstorm to try his own advertisement. “i’ll show you how it’s done,” he tells virgil, “like i was meant to from the start.” why was he meant to create an advertisement from the start? and then, why didn’t he? why didn’t roman start the imagination sequence?
or maybe he did, and we just didn’t realize.
every conversation the sides have with thomas is, in actuality, imaginary. thomas is sitting on his couch with his eyes closed, like janus pointed out. so there’s a certain level of suspension of disbelief that every episode starts out with. they conjure stuff, create scenarios, interject in the shape of text boxes--you just have to get used to it.
but there are these small details, if you look closely and discount the imagination factor, that don’t add up.
logan starts out the episode eating a jar of crofters jam. (disgustingly, i might add. my man cannot eat jam correctly.) he eats almost the whole thing, then shows up in the next frame with another jar of jam, uneaten.
as logan talks, patton scribbles on the board and tries to write things down. the whiteboard, like i said earlier, gains a few doodles as he continues. we don’t see him pause to doodle at all. we barely see most of the colored markers that he’s used. and he starts with a doodle-covered whiteboard, despite the ad only just starting, but seems to write everything by hand.
nobody is driving roman’s car. it backs up when roman wants it to, and accelerates when he wants it to, but he isn’t the driver.
virgil is relaxed, but he has deep, deep eyeshadow.
logan is excited when there will be more logansberry, but he just finished eating some, and he can summon more. it’s reasonable for him to be excited, but the chronology falls apart if this is close to crofters the musical.
everyone knows what everyone else did in their ad. thomas is aware of everything, but is able to call crofters and negotiate with them while not paying attention. all the sides change the scene at will. in am i original, they all participated at once, and only roman could change it back.
thomas calls crofters in like three minutes and confirms the offer. he doesn’t show up in the imaginary ads. he doesn’t try to stop them from arguing. it almost feels like he doesn’t exist at all.
and on their own, each of these can be easily explained. together, well, they probably can still be explained. but. these little inconsistencies fueled my growing theory.
this episode takes place “whenever it would make sense for it to happen.” it’s after crofters the musical, except it might not be. it’s an am-i-original-style brainstorm, except it doesn’t work the same. all the sides are friends, except they aren’t.
“whenever it would make sense for it to happen”? well, what if it didn’t happen at all?
there are so many little inconsistencies in the timeline. there are so many odd background details. there are so many questions, because if we don’t take this fluffy unimportant video at face value, it becomes harder and harder to understand it. it’s a short ad for jam. and in-universe, it makes no sense.
except it’s an exploration of imagination. it’s roman’s world. and roman, the brainstormer, the creative side, can make anything look like it really happened.
patton: you try to come up with a perfect commercial when you’ve got an extreme teen to deal with.
virgil: pat, none of that was real.
what if roman made the scenario up from the start? what if roman never had to start or end the imaginary segments because all of it was imaginary? because he was in control the whole time?
this episode makes the most sense after pof. roman may have placed swirly eyes on patton’s whiteboard. roman wanted his own jam. roman wanted a comforting, happy scenario, where all his friends got along and liked him. roman has control over the imagination.
but why would roman drag the other sides into it? they aren’t all fake, since they interact without roman there--right?
characterization is a tricky, tricky thing. and to me, none of the sides acted extremely out of character. but patton disagrees vocally with logan, logan is dorky and excited, and virgil is so confident that he reminds me of roman in points. none of those are ooc necessarily. but they’re interesting.
and this entire episode is wish fulfillment for roman, in a way. it’s all about putting up appearances. it’s about doing what the people want and making them like you. it’s about an almost too perfect video where everything ends up fine even when things slip out of control in the middle.
don’t you think that would be roman’s perfect refuge? his own jam, his own ad, and even when the sides irritate him, it all comes back to him in the end. no consequences. just roman, on his own.
because fuck it. what if roman imagined the whole fucking thing?
“whenever it would hypothetically make sense for what’s about to happen, to happen.” the episode itself comes with a justification. it isn’t really canon compliant. it doesn’t fit with the timeline. but it has echoes, echoes of the world and the universe it’s trying to forget about.
roman gets so frustrated when the other sides mess things up. he was meant to take control from the start, he says. the episode ends suddenly. the episode is short and sweet and, in a way, too good to be true.
it’s not hard to imagine roman retreating to a fake scenario after pof. going full brainstorm mode with imitations of his friends and giving himself everything he’s wanted. and i think it’s sweet and sad that he didn’t just give himself a jam. he gave all of them a jam. he made a world where all his friends were happy.
a world where all his friends were happy with him.
and i know this is basically the plot of all i want is serenity. but shut your fuck. i make canon and canon is mine for the taking.
it’s a wild theory. it’s probably not true. but given all the strange contradictions and deeper implications of this episode, it’s at least a theory i can back up with evidence. i can convince myself of it, and that’s good enough for me.
the return of the jam doesn’t take place in canon, in or out of the tss universe. it’s a fluffy side adventure in roman’s head, where he keeps everyone from lying and tones down the fighting and makes up a video where he gets what he wants. roman doesn’t need to start or end each scene. he’s directing the whole fucking play.
and where does he end up at the end of the episode? unconscious on the floor, smiling to himself, saying that he’s got his own jam.
it’s almost an identical position to dwit, when remus knocked him out. and based on roman’s sleep-talking, we know while he was unconscious, he dreamed. he can make things up in his own head. he can indulge in a fantasy or two. he can create detailed, personal brainstorms that nonetheless fall flat in important, logical ways.
i’m not saying that roman did make this whole episode as a comfort after pof. i’m not saying that he did imagine a scenario where he finally got his own jam. i’m not saying that he did imagine his friends happy, joking, and supportive. and i’m not saying that he did fail to fully imagine that, because he lost control, because he couldn’t convince himself.
Hi, yes, the Roman skirt pics watered my crops and healed my soul, so I wrote a quick drabble in their honor! This was entirely unplanned. But. Hi. Yes. The Roman skirt picks watered my crops and healed my soul, so--
(Title is from Ready to Go by Panic! at the Disco. This fic is on Ao3 here!)
Pairings: platonic DLAMP
Words: 1742
Warnings: a bit of insecurity and anxiety
“I’ve gathered you here,” Roman said, “for an important consultation. Thank you all for coming.”
Patton grinned back. Logan looked confused. Virgil blinked blearily, having been just dragged from his bed and plopped on the living room couch with the other Sides. Janus stifled a yawn with one gloved hand, another drumming on his knee.
“Do we...” Logan paused. “Am I alone in being confused?”
“Oh, no, you’re the only one who doesn’t get it,” Janus drawled. He examined his nails. “I had important things to do. This had better be worth it.”
“You owe me,” Roman said. He squared his shoulders and prepared his speech. “And this is extremely important. Life-threatening! A dilemma for the ages!”
“Yay!” Patton said, clapping.
“Wait, wait.” Virgil squinted suspiciously across the couch. “Deceit is here?”
“I don’t have a name.”
“Janus is here because, as I said, he owes me.” Roman paused and braced himself. “Also, although I’m loathe to admit it, he is skilled in the dramatic arts. Such as--fashion.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Virgil leaned back into the pillows. “He wears gardening gloves from the nineteen-fifties.”
Janus looked offended. “You threw random squares of flannel onto your hoodie, and you call me lacking fashion sense--”
“Kiddos,” Patton said firmly. “This is about Roman right now. Shush.”
Virgil grumbled but went silent. Janus gave Logan a knowing, annoyed look. Logan didn’t return it.
“It is about me,” Roman said, beaming. He was jumping up and down on the balls of his feet. “Now, as you know, we’ve been having some lovely photoshoots. Patton looked adorable--”
“Aw, kiddo!”
“Logan looked like a librarian who would tell me to shut up--”
“How dare you.”
“And Virgil somehow managed to be more edgy than ever.” Roman talked loudly over Virgil’s hiss. “And now, it’s my turn.”
“Oh, are you finally doing your photoshoot?” Janus sighed in relief. “You’ve taken forever. I can’t go until you do.”
“I’ve taken my sweet time, as a sweet prince should.” Roman gestured dramatically at them. “However, I must admit that I’ve hit a--roadblock of sorts. Namely, I can’t decide on a skirt.”
“Oh!” Patton nodded. “I’m sure you could search up one on Ebay--”
“One, Padre,” Roman said, raising a finger, “no one uses Ebay anymore.” Virgil nodded in agreement. “Two, the problem does not lie in finding possible skirts. I have found plenty. I simply cannot decide on one.”
Everyone on the couch suddenly winced. “I know where this is going,” Virgil muttered. “Don’t say it.”
“So,” Roman said, bravely muscling on. “I’ve enlisted you to help me choose the perfect skirt.”
Virgil groaned and buried his head in his hands. “Come on, Princey. I trusted you.”
“That sounds like fun!” Patton said. He looked around for support. “Aren’t you guys excited?”
“Ecstatic,” Janus said, pulling his bowler hat over his face. “I’m going to sleep.”
“Hey, no!” Roman pouted. “I need your help on this! It won’t be so bad!”
“Much as I hate to admit it,” Logan said slowly, “this is hardly my area of expertise. Surely you can make the choice yourself?”
“No!” Roman threw up his hands. “No, I can’t! I’ve tried for days, and I’ve narrowed it down to a few dozen, but there are just too many! I don’t know what shade of red I’d like, or what accents, or whether it should be a skirt or a dress--I haven’t decided on frills, or trimming, or lace, or layers, or anything!”
“Just wing it!” Virgil shrugged. “I grabbed the first skirt that looked cool. I know it sounds weird coming from me, but dude, don’t overthink it.”
“How can I not overthink it?” Roman raised an arm into the air. “I am posing for an audience of thousands! I have the single spotlight! I don’t wish for blemishes to be burned into view!”
“I have skin cream, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Janus blinked at everyone’s surprised look. “Self-care includes skin care!”
“Figurative blemishes,” Roman corrected, and Logan huffed smugly. “I want to look perfect. I need to look perfect. Except I don’t know what skirt to pick!”
“I dunno, kiddo.” Patton looked hesitant to contradict him. “I hear what you’re saying, but maybe Virgil’s right? This isn’t such a big deal. Have fun with it! Pick whatever skirt makes you smile!”
“I’ll smile with whatever makes me look like a prince.” Roman sighed. “It’s hard to focus on that when everything else is happening. It is a big deal. I know it is.”
“You don’t have to post your picture right away,” Logan said. “If you’d like, you can take your time, or not post one at all.”
“Janus is waiting for me to finish!” Roman gestured almost violently at Janus. “And I can’t just quit, that’s worse!”
Logan raised a hand in surrender. “Fine. You simply seem...agitated about the prospect. I don’t wish for you to feel undue stress.”
“Easy for you to say,” Roman snapped. “You looked great.”
“I--” Logan blinked. “I did?”
“Yeah! All of you did!” Roman waved his arms. “And I--I have to be at least as good as you guys, or better, because princes are extremely photogenic! They have the best outfits! They look good, and so must I!”
Virgil frowned and gave Patton a look. Patton shifted back and forth on the edge of the couch. Janus fingered his gloves again, pulling the edges across his skin, like he was considering whether to take them off.
“You’ll look good no matter what.” Logan coughed. “You are...nearly identical to us, so if we do, so will you. Objectively.”
“I know,” Roman said, and there was a weight to his words. As if Virgil hadn’t actually reassured him.
Janus’ fingers tightened around his gloves.
“It’s okay.” Patton’s voice came out as a whisper. He was staring at his knees. “I--I know you want something good right now, Roman. I get that. Just--this doesn’t need to be your...redemption, or whatever you’re trying to make it. It’s just a skirt. It really just should be fun.”
Logan’s mouth formed a small o. Virgil nodded.
“Patton’s right,” Janus said, his voice clipped. He was avoiding Roman’s eyes. “In my honest opinion, all pictures look better when the subject is enjoying themselves. Haven’t you seen those dull Victorian pictures? If you’re happy--smiling, even--I don’t think anyone will care about the minutia of your outfit. I certainly wouldn’t.”
Roman was quiet.
“Yeah,” Virgil said. “What--what Janus said. We’re rooting for you, no matter what.”
“If this upsets you, I highly encourage you to take a pause.” Logan drummed his fingers on his tie. “Or...find a way to make the process more enjoyable.”
Roman shifted from foot to foot, pulling at his sash. "I--I tried. I wanted to.”
“You did?” Patton frowned. “When?”
“With...you guys.” Roman’s voice faltered. “I thought it would be--fun. If you helped. We could just--have fun. It was stupid.”
Logan’s eyebrows raised. Virgil sucked in a breath.
“That’s not stupid,” Janus said.
Roman sunk into himself, just a bit.
A clap of hands startled them all. Patton had sat up, looking determined. “So. What do we do? Do you have anything narrowed down?”
“Oh, I--” Roman stepped back. “You...you don’t have to, Padre. It’s okay.”
“We want to.” Virgil looked around. “Right?”
“Right,” Janus said. “It would be a shame to let you look like a complete fashion disaster.”
“I would be...amenable to helping.” Logan shot Roman a small smile. “It is not my area of expertise. However, I do know much about the process of creating fabric, and I--would appreciate the experience.”
“We want to do this for you, kiddo.” Patton looked up at Roman. “If it’s this much of a big deal for you, we’re gonna help.”
For a second, Roman’s eyes shone with tears. Then he blinked, and they shone with excitement. “You’re sure?”
Four thumbs up.
“Alright,” Roman said, beaming. “Let’s do this! Research time! Grab your stuff!”
Patton jumped up and ran to the kitchen, probably to make a batch of dress-up cookies. Logan pulled out his notebook and pen. Virgil started tapping at his phone. Roman stood and watched them, still smiling, smiling brighter than he had in days.
“That,” Janus said, pointing at him. “That’s what you do. Perfect.”
“What?” Roman laughed. “What do I do?”
“Smile like that for the picture.” Janus shrugged. “It’ll work spectacularly, in my humble opinion.”
“Oh.” Roman looked around and waved at Patton, who waved back. “I--I might not smile that wide. I’m not sure if--you know, it’s not exactly regal and princely. Besides, I’m not sure if I want--” He glanced at Virgil, who saluted him. “To be so...open. Not just yet.”
Janus watched him with an unreadable expression. Then he nodded, his lips lifting in a smile of his own. “That’s more than fine.”
“Really?” Roman asked.
“Of course.” Janus gestured at Logan, who was knee-deep in paper, and Patton and Virgil. “It will look great regardless. You have yourself a skilled design crew--with a talented fashionista at the reins, also known as myself.”
“Thanks,” Roman said. “For all the help. And for--yeah.”
Janus looked taken aback at the sincerity. His smile softened. “It really will look great, Roman. It’s you, after all.”
“It is,” Patton agreed, with a nod from Logan. “Any picture of our kiddo is a great one.”
“Amen.” Virgil smirked. “Pictures are crap. We know how cool you really look, no matter what you do.”
“Besides, we’re here to help.” Logan looked up and held out a pen. “Would you like to show us some of your ideas for the skirt? We could use those to find a good match.”
Roman paused. Then he took the pen.
“This is gonna be fun,” he said, "and it’s going to look so good.”
And it was. And it did.
And Roman loved the dress they chose, but he knew he wouldn’t remember the photo in the end. He’d remember the hours spent sprawled on the couch with his friends, sketching ribbons and lace, laughing and planning and eating Patton’s cookies. The photo came out great. The memories came out better.
The photo looked good. Roman looked good.
He felt good. That was more important. That was the part that made him smile afterwards, off-camera and off-stage, out of the spotlight.
Maybe the photo wasn’t the big deal, after all. Maybe Roman was.
Good evening, I am exhausted and here is a fic for my friend @rain-bound because Rain asked for prinxiety and I decided to deliver, three weeks later, at ten at night. Enjoy this self-indulgent hurt/comfort, because I’m about to collapse into bed and sleep for seventy years. You’re the best, Rain <3
(Title from End of the Earth by MARINA. This fic is on Ao3 here!)
Words: 8463
Pairing: Romantic Prinxiety
Warnings: lots of angst for both Virgil and Roman, mentions of the other Sides but they don’t appear, self-deprecation, anxiety and borderline panic attacks, self-hatred, identity issues, crying, and kissing
Three days.
That’s how long it took for Virgil to mess it all up. Three freaking days.
Honestly, he wasn’t even that surprised--if there was one thing he was good at, it was messing stuff up. Thomas had the chance of a lifetime. The person of a lifetime. Virgil had done something good, something brave, and now Thomas had a date.
It was too good to be true.
So he’d messed it up.
They’d been texting, and Thomas had sent a text where the tone was way off--like, way off, like Nico-probably-hated-them-off, and yeah, it was a bit hasty to say that after one text but--but then Thomas tried to apologize and hit send before he was done--and then Nico called them--and Thomas couldn’t talk on the phone, he’d sound stupid and what would he say and no--
Virgil made Thomas deny the call.
The call from Nico. Who knew they had their phone with them. Who knew they weren’t busy.
When Thomas stopped the ringing, a deafening silence filled the room.
He hadn’t even called Nico back--Logan said something about calming down, which was fair, because Virgil was hyperventilating in the corner. Logan counted with him. Logan steadied him.
Logan said it was okay. That one mistake, especially one so small, wouldn’t jeopardize everything. Logan said that things wouldn’t always be so fragile. They’d fall into a rhythm. And for now, they’d fix things.
Virgil tried to breathe. Tried to believe him.
And still knew he’d come so terrifying close to losing everything.
It was so easy. That’s what they’d all learned that day. If Virgil messed up, just a bit, their relationship went down the drain. It wasn’t the point that things got fixed, that Thomas apologized and everyone moved on--that didn’t replace how delicate things were, how everyone was newly aware that this whole thing could shatter if Virgil stepped wrong.
If any of them stepped wrong. But Virgil, it was obvious, was the weak link.
Virgil was going to ruin this.
Of course you’re not, Patton said. Patton said it wasn’t his fault, that they’d all panicked. Patton said he was doing great.
That’s illogical, Logan said. Logan said anyone could have made the same mistake. Logan said Virgil had helped so much already.
Janus hadn’t said anything--Janus had been hanging around a bunch recently, which Virgil wasn’t really on board with, though he hadn’t given Virgil an excuse to yell at him yet--but he’d given Virgil a slow nod.
Thanks, Thomas said when everything was said and done that afternoon. Always keeping me on my toes, Virgil. I appreciate it.
And that would have been enough. It would have been way more than enough.
But there was Roman.
Roman, who was already infatuated with Nico. Roman, who grabbed Virgil’s hands and spun him around that first day, laughing, smiling so much that Virgil’s heart could have burst. Roman, who’d said this is it, called it their newest chance at happiness, and told Virgil he was brave.
Roman cared so deeply about this. He’d been so quiet recently, so hesitant, and it made Virgil burn with a worry he didn’t recognize. The kind of worry, the kind of care, that made Virgil warm and energized and terrified for someone other than himself.
He didn’t really know what that meant. He’d probably be able to figure it out if he thought about it. He decided not to think about it.
Roman. That was all he needed to know. Roman.
Roman, who had ignored him all day, who had picked at his food and not spoken to anyone, who had flinched when Virgil said his name before mumbling something and excusing himself.
Roman, who was upset with him.
That realization made Virgil feel like he was breathing in shards of glass. He’d retreated to his room, done some breathing exercises, and tried to think through it. Roman was mad about what had happened, Virgil knew it--maybe he thought Virgil didn’t care as much as he did. Which was so wrong. Virgil cared just as much as Roman did, because Roman did.
Maybe he thought Virgil did it on purpose. Maybe he was just angry that another chance could be wasted because Virgil couldn’t stop messing everything up.
Virgil was terrified.
Virgil was worried.
Virgil was worried that Roman was not okay. Against all his better judgment, he wanted to ask Roman how Roman felt.
And Virgil was terrified to confirm that Roman hated him--terrified he might make things worse--terrified to see Roman would turn him away--because anyone’s scorn would hurt him but Roman--Roman. Virgil couldn’t think of anything worse than Roman being upset with him.
Well, actually, he could.
Roman being upset.
Roman was upset. And even though Virgil was scared, that didn’t matter right now, because Virgil needed to do something.
That something was apologize. Virgil needed to apologize. And Roman could do whatever afterwards. Virgil’d be fine with Roman hating him afterwards as long as Roman knew he was sorry.
Maybe that’d help. Maybe that wouldn’t. Maybe Virgil didn’t care, because he was done standing by.
Roman had called him brave.
He was going to be brave.
That night, after everyone was asleep or doing a good enough job of pretending to be, Virgil crept down the hall to Roman’s room.
He should have come earlier. Roman was probably asleep, too. But Virgil was nocturnal by this point, and he’d only just managed to work up the courage, and he’d lose it again if he waited a second longer.
Okay, he was already losing his courage. He could feel it slipping away, replaced by panic-anxiety-fear-worry that made him dig his hands deeper into his pockets and take a few strangled breaths. This was fine. This was fine! He would check up on Roman, apologize, and hopefully not be told that he was a terrible friend. Yeah. Yeah!
“Yeah,” Virgil told himself, his voice sounding off in the darkened hallway. “Knock. Come on.”
Slowly, he forced one hand out of his hoodie and balled it in a fist. He took another deep breath. It made his head spin.
This was a terrible idea.
But he was going to be brave right now, and he was going to check on Roman, and--and whatever was going to happen would happen. Nothing he could do about it.
Virgil held his breath and knocked once.
He tried to keep it to a gentle tap--’cause maybe he’d have plausible deniability, say he bumped the door while going to bed, and maybe Roman wouldn’t hear it at all and Virgil could just go back to his room and pretend everything was fine--but Virgil swore the sound echoed three times around the hallway. He pressed himself into the shadows and waited for someone’s door to open. Nobody came to check on him. They were all asleep.
Like Roman probably was. And now Virgil was going to disturb him, wake him up, and Roman always complained about losing beauty sleep--what was Virgil doing--
Helping a friend.
Virgil knocked again, louder, and resisted the strong impulse to curl into a ball and hide.
There was a long, dark, silence.
Virgil could run. He could just--he could just run, bolt for his room, and say it was a prank from Remus if anyone asked--
“Who is it?”
Virgil’s breath caught. Roman’s voice was sleepy but sharp, and he heard Roman walk towards the door. The knob turned.
Run.
This was Roman. Roman was fine. Roman was safe--Virgil knew he was safe. Roman wouldn’t hurt him.
Virgil stayed still.
The door cracked open. “Hello?”
“Hi,” Virgil forced out.
Roman’s head peeked around the door. He had a severe case of bedhead, with hair flopping over his eyes and pushed up at the back like he’d run his fingers through it. Virgil found that ridiculously adorable.
“Virgil!” Roman said, and for a second, he seemed about to smile. Then it faded. Then it was just Roman, blinking tiredly at Virgil with bags under his eyes, his mouth drawn in a thin line. “What do you need?”
“I, um--” Virgil had prepared a quick speech for this. He couldn’t remember a word of it. It--it included the word ‘and,’ right? Definitely ‘and.’ Maybe ‘but,’ too. “I--I know it’s really late, and I’m sorry, but--” There! Nailed it. “But I need to talk to you.”
“Hmm?” Roman seemed to shake himself all the way awake. His mouth drew tighter. “Talk about what?’
Virgil hesitated. “Nico.”
“Nico,” Roman repeated. “Nico?”
“Nico,” Virgil agreed. He probably sounded so stupid, just parroting Roman, but he couldn’t think of what else to say. “So can I--is this a good time--of course it’s not, you’re asleep, but--”
“I--actually, I was awake, it’s alright.” Roman pulled the door a little wider. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”
Virgil nodded, swallowed, and let Roman lead the way into his room.
The only lights were a string of fairy lights and a lamp by the desk. They cast a dim golden glow over the room, leaving the red as ashy shadows and the white as creamy dust. Virgil stumbled over something on the floor, and when he looked down, he saw several piles of clothes and bits of paper strewn across the floorboards. The carpet was kicked to the side. Virgil straightened it automatically, and saw a stain in one corner, and a worn patch that dragged over the boards in a way that suggested it was a few days from falling apart.
Outside the window, Roman had chosen a city skyline--dots of white and red filling the sky, lights strung along the buildings like square beads, airplanes blinking their way from place to place. If Virgil breathed in deep, he could smell Roman in this room, like always. Roman smelled like fresh paper. Like rose petals. Like cinnamon. Like something warm and cozy, and Virgil could never get enough of it.
Roman gave Virgil a strange look, and Virgil frantically tried to look like he hadn’t just been smelling Roman’s room like a total creep.
“Sit down, if you’d like,” Roman said, collapsing onto the bed and kicking his legs onto the pillows. Virgil hesitantly perched on the desk chair. Several notebooks spilled across the desk itself, and Virgil quickly looked away. It felt weird to see Roman’s stuff like this--it always did.
Virgil loved Roman’s room, but it wasn’t where he belonged. It was Roman’s space. Virgil was just a visitor--an intruder--an unwelcome guest who ruined the smell of parchment and clashed with the red on the walls.
Virgil loved Roman’s room, but Roman’s room didn’t love him back.
“So,” Roman said, and Virgil realized Roman had been watching him. In the shadows, Virgil couldn’t pick out Roman’s expression--and that set him on edge in a way he didn’t expect, because he knew Roman, and he’d at least banked on being able to read him. Now? Roman could be angry. Roman could be tired. Roman could be any number of things, and Virgil couldn’t tell.
Virgil took a deep breath for like the twentieth time that night and tried really, really hard not to panic.
Roman’s room did make it easier. It was relaxing that way. Maybe it was a thing like Virgil’s room making people more anxious, a side effect of Roman’s power. Maybe it was just because it was Roman’s. Either way, Virgil found that if he tried--if he really tried, and didn’t think about anything except, like, cupcakes--he could avoid entirely breaking down.
Great. Now he had to actually talk.
“So,” Virgil said, an embarrassingly long time after Roman had spoken, but too late to worry about that now. “Um--Nico?”
“Yep, we’ve...we’ve established that one, stormcloud,” Roman said, a touch of fondness in his voice. “We’ve made that clear. Next we go into details.”
“Details. Yeah.” Virgil nodded way too fast. “Cool. So--um.”
“Are you going to talk, or…” Roman laughed a bit. It was a short, sharp laugh, but it was soft enough to make Virgil relax a bit. “It’s okay if you don’t, but I did figure you called this little meeting for a reason, emo.”
“I did,” Virgil protested. “I just--ugh, I don’t know where to start, I--” He looked around. “Um--how are you?”
“What?” Roman was quiet for a second. “I’m...quite princely and glittery, as usual, why do you ask?”
“You--you sure?” Virgil scuffed his toe into the carpet. If Roman wasn’t okay, that was something to talk about--that was maybe a reason he’d avoided Virgil that wasn’t anger--and Virgil was such a coward. Why’d Roman ever call him brave? “Your, um--your room’s a bit of a mess.”
“I suppose I must admit that,” Roman agreed, sitting up and giving the floor a betrayed look. “I’ve been so wrapped up in projects that I’ve hardly had time to clean up.”
“You could have asked one of us,” Virgil said. “I could have, y’know, swept the place a bit. Cleaning’s, like, relaxing for me. I know you don’t really like people in your room, though.”
Roman’s eyebrows came together. “Who told you that?”
“No one?” Virgil blinked. “I just--I mean, I guess I just assumed--”
A sinking feeling in his stomach told him that of course Roman liked other people in his room. He just didn’t like Virgil.
“Forget it,” Virgil mumbled. “Just--yeah.”
He could feel that Roman was watching him. He curled into his hoodie and wondered if he tried hard enough, he could get swallowed up by the shadows.
This was a disaster.
And it could have been better--he’d know what to say if this was Logan, or Patton, or even Janus--but this was Roman. Roman. Roman, who was--he was--
Ugh.
“We need to talk,” Virgil blurted out. Maybe if he said it enough, he’d believe it. They needed to talk. To get this over with. Even if it hurt. “I--I’m really nervous about this, ‘cause obviously, but--” Why’d he say that? To get pity points? Now Roman would be forced to feel bad for him. “--but it’s not a big deal--I mean, it is, but--”
“Virgil.”
Virgil jerked his head up. Roman had turned on another lamp. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, expression achingly soft.
“What?” Virgil asked, all his haunches raised, all his guards up.
“If you’re not ready, we don’t have to do this.” Roman swallowed. “I know it’s--it’s an emotional conversation, and if you would rather Patton or Logan be here--or if you’d like to wait?”
Virgil could wait.
But Virgil needed to--
“We need to talk now,” Virgil said. “I--I won’t have the guts to do it otherwise, I’m sorry--”
“Alright,” Roman said. Virgil thought he saw Roman sink a bit, though. “That works. Take your time, okay? Keep breathing.”
“Okay,” Virgil said. He tried not to feel optimistic about the fact that Roman cared enough to keep him from panicking. Roman could care about him and still be mad--or Roman could just want Virgil to be calm enough for the conversation to happen all at once. Which didn’t really make sense, but Virgil wasn’t about to hope, wasn’t about to try and erase the past days of Roman being upset with him.
With Roman being upset.
If this made Roman feel better, it was worth it.
“So,” Virgil said. And told himself this time--finally--he’d get it right. “We want to talk about Nico?”
“Nico,” Roman agreed, something soft and sad crossing his face.
“He’s--” Virgil fought for words. “He’s--he’s so good, yeah? He’s great. Thomas really likes him, and so do I--I really like him, Roman.”
“I know,” Roman said. Softly. Too softly, and Virgil was waiting for the other shoe to drop. “He’s wonderful.”
“Yeah!” Virgil said. Loudly. Too loudly. His voice echoed through Roman’s room--and he noticed that, unlike all the other times he’d been here, there wasn’t any music playing.
Okay, yeah, it was late. But--it made Virgil’s heart clench a bit, it made his hands jam further into his pockets, and it made him kick at the floor with more vehemence. It was another thing that was wrong--piled onto everything else, onto the shadows and the crumpled papers and everything from the door to the windows. Everything was wrong. Was it wrong because Virgil was there, messing it up? Or had something been wrong from the start?
Patches of light, gold and white and red, skidded over Virgil’s jacket. From the window, from the lamps, from the fairy lights high above. They bled through the purple patches and turned them an ugly shade of brown.
“Nico’s great,” said Virgil, slowly, quietly. Like he didn’t want to disrupt something. “And--and Thomas messed up a bit, the other day.”
I messed up, he didn’t finish with. Roman would know.
“He did,” Roman said, voice tight.
“And that’s--I think that’s maybe a sign that--” Virgil waved a hand, felt self-conscious about said hand existing, and shoved it back into his hoodie. “Look, I like Nico. So much. And I really think we can do this if we try--I mean, I hope so, I really hope so--”
“We can,” Roman interrupted. “We have to make this work.”
“Right. Yeah.” Virgil took a breath. “So--”
“So we’ll work harder.” Roman waved a hand at Virgil. “We’re--we can do this, we’re ready, if Thomas is ready than we’re ready! All of us!”
“I’m not saying we’re not ready,” Virgil said. “I’m saying we need to be careful.”
The brief passion in Roman’s eyes faded again. “I know.”
“So--so--” Virgil tried to force himself to stick words together. He should apologize. He should say sorry and let Roman figure out what to do next, but it was shadowy and cold and smelling of red paint and parchment and Virgil was lost.
“I know,” Roman said again. He sounded tired. It was late--and he’d been awake--and he sounded exhausted--and he hadn’t been planning to sleep, he’d said he had trouble sleeping--and Virgil felt like he was grasping at puzzle pieces, trying to pull the shadows and lights into something coherent. He felt vaguely dizzy. His stomach churned. Maybe it was Roman’s room making him see all these dots to connect, filling him with the worst kind of imagination.
“It’ll be okay,” Virgil said. To Roman? To himself? To someone, anyway.
Roman curled into himself, just a bit. “I don’t know.”
Virgil swallowed the lump in his throat. “Yeah, actually. I--me neither.”
A long silence. Imaginary airplanes skidded over the skyline, and Virgil wished he could go on one of them, fly far away from here. And take Roman, if he was willing--take Roman and steal him away from all this and keep him happy and safe--they could both be safe. And they could see the world.
“So,” Virgil said, slowly, for the seventh or eighth time, like that’d drag the conversation to its conclusion. “I know you’ve been avoiding us--”
“I haven’t been avoiding you,” Roman interrupted. Too fast. Too vehement. Roman was definitely lying, and Virgil hated how bad that made him feel.
“I know you have,” Virgil said, hating even more the defensive edge his voice gained. “I know you’ve been avoiding me, and--and if you’re cool with that, I’m cool with that, but--”
“It wasn’t on purpose,” Roman lied again. Barely trying this time, like he didn’t care if Virgil saw through it. “I’ve just been a bit wrapped up in projects, Stormy Knight, I promise it wasn’t--”
“Princey, c’mon.” Something about the familiar nickname gave Virgil courage. “I don’t mind. I get it! It’s...it’s justified, it was all a mess a few days ago, it’s--if I’m being honest, it’s been a mess this whole time, and--and you can take as much time as you need to figure stuff out on your end. Or--or maybe there’s nothing to figure out, maybe it’s not like that, but--” Virgil was rambling again. He knotted his hands together and focused on the texture of his jacket. “Maybe you--maybe you’ve already made up your mind, maybe this can’t really be fixed, but--”
Everything was a mess. Everything was coming out all wrong and Virgil needed to say something that made sense. His head was spinning with lights and shadows and the smell of roses. He was sure he was tilting forward in the chair. It was late at night. He was running on adrenaline and guilt. He was trying and he didn’t know if Roman got it--if Roman understood that Virgil was sorry, that Virgil would try to be better, and that Roman could be angry as long as he liked, but Virgil was here for him and didn’t want him to be upset--
There! There was what to say! So why couldn’t Virgil say it out loud?
“I’m--this is coming out wrong,” Virgil blurted out. “I’m really not making any sense, am I?”
“I think I’ve put the bigger pieces together,” Roman said.
“Which pieces?”
Roman gave Virgil a sharp look and Virgil wilted. The look softened.
“I can tell you what I’ve got so far,” Roman suggested. “How about that? And then, if I’ve got it wrong, you can correct me. I can ask questions if I’m confused. Does that work?”
Virgil almost collapsed with relief. Yeah. He could do that.
“Sure,” he said. “Shoot, Princey.”
“You’re talking about what happened a few days ago,” Roman said. “When Thomas made a bit of a mistake with Nico. And--and in general, all the bumps we’ve had in the road here, you know? It hasn’t exactly been the smoothest of rides.”
“It hasn’t,” Virgil admitted. “And yeah, that’s--what I was talking about.”
“Good!” Roman looked almost pleased with himself, and Virgil suppressed a smile. “So--we have to work from here, right? We have to figure out--you know, who’s helping and who’s not, and how we can work together. And make sure we’re all clear about--” Something passed over his face. “Who’s not necessarily meant to play a huge role, if we want this to work.”
Virgil balled his fists. “Yeah.”
“We both care about Thomas,” Roman said, a sad smile crossing his face. “I’m sorry that I’ve been avoiding you. I’ve merely been thinking things through a bit. Nico’s so wonderful, and Thomas deserves him, and it’ll take work for this to become something real.”
“Yeah,” Virgil said numbly.
“So we need to start figuring stuff out on our own ends, and finding out who’s helpful with that and who’s detrimental.” The lights played off Roman’s face as he leaned onto his knees and stared at the floor. “What mistakes can be worked with, and what mistakes are a symptom of something else--and Virgil, I’m so sorry.”
“You--” Virgil felt a strange cold streak pass through his chest, like a comet, an airplane sliding through the sky. “You’re sorry? You don’t--Princey, you don’t have to be--”
“Of course I do!” Roman burst out. “I--you tried so hard to make this happen, you put yourself out there and risked everything for him! I--I gave up, and you kept fighting, and for what? For me to--to ruin everything we’ve built? I’m sorry, I’m trying, and--and I’m really not meant for this, Virgil, I don’t think I am--”
“Meant for--” The cold feeling had spread to Virgil’s whole body now, numbing his fingers. “You’re--Roman, what--”
“I’m sorry,” Roman said again. Like that was an explanation. And his voice cracked in the middle, and it made Virgil want to cry, and he didn’t know what was happening--
“Roman,” Virgil forced out. His voice was raspy. “Roman, what are you talking about? Why are you sorry?”
“I--what?” Roman blinked at him. “Pardon? Why--why wouldn’t I be sorry?”
“Because you didn’t do anything?” Virgil’s voice pitched upwards incredulously. “What are you even saying--I came in here ‘cause you’re mad at me, I’m trying to--”
“Mad at you?” Roman repeated, and apparently it was Roman’s turn to look completely flabbergasted. “Why would I be mad at you?”
“‘Cause I messed up!” Virgil burst out. “I messed up, I almost ruined everything, I’m just so scared I’m gonna take this away from you--and you need it, you deserve it, and I’m trying to get it for you--but I’m not good at this, I’m not good--I’m really sorry, Princey--I promise I’m gonna try--”
“Virgil,” Roman said quietly, and for some reason that made Virgil stop talking immediately. “You--what?”
“I came in here to say sorry,” Virgil said, probably sounding pathetic, but he was confused and tired and three seconds from crying. “I--I’m sorry. There. I don’t know why--why it took me so long to say it.”
“You’re sorry--” Roman looked completely bewildered, but there was concern in there--aching concern that made the lump in Virgil’s throat grow bigger. “You’re sorry--Virgil, I promise you’ve done nothing wrong! I’m not mad at you!”
“You--” Virgil repeated the words in his head. No way he’d just heard that. “You--aren’t?”
“No!” And now Roman looked seriously upset. “You thought I was--Virgil, you’ve done wonderfully during all this, you’re an absolute star, I still can’t believe you made this happen--except I can, quite honestly, I always knew you had it in you--”
Virgil stared at him, mouth open.
“I’m not mad at you,” Roman finished, his voice almost pleading. “I promise. You don’t have to apologize to me.”
“Oh,” Virgil forced out. It didn’t cover anything. It didn’t cover the way he wanted to cry, or laugh, or hug Roman tight and bury his face in Roman’s shoulder and--
“Oh,” Virgil said again.
“You’re doing so good,” Roman whispered. “I’m proud of you.”
“Oh,” Virgil said. A third time. Because he was going to cry.
Roman gave him a soft smile. “You’re my hero.”
And okay--okay, Roman couldn’t just--he couldn’t just--
Before Virgil could stop himself, he raced over to Roman and tackled him in a hug.
Roman made a surprised noise that turned into a coo as he reached up and steadied Virgil’s shoulders. Virgil tightened his grip around Roman and considered burying his head in Roman’s shoulder, like he’d dreamed of--Roman was so solid, and smelled really nice, and maybe Virgil could just fall asleep here, spend the night in Roman’s room and not worry about anything else--
“You alright over there, emo nightmare?” Roman asked, his voice rumbling in Virgil’s chest. “Anything you need?”
And, oh yeah, this was Roman. Virgil had just tackle-hugged Roman.
Virgil quickly pushed himself out of Roman’s arms, falling into a heap on the bed next to him.
“Whoa, hey, where’s the fire?” Roman laughed, but his eyes were still wide with concern. “Are you sure everything’s alright?”
Yes. No. More than ever. It’s never been and Virgil wouldn’t know how to handle it if it was.
“You--” Virgil had something he wanted to say. Besides the sorry. Because--because Roman--
“Me,” Roman agreed, giving Virgil a dorky little smile.
And, okay, not fair, now Virgil was distracted by cute. Virgil swatted at him and hissed, and Roman laughed a bit. It was great. It was normal. It was--
It was too normal.
It was the kind of normal Virgil didn’t trust. ‘Cause a minute ago, they’d been staring at each other and Roman had been--
Apologizing.
Hold on.
“Roman,” Virgil said slowly. “What was all that about?”
“What?” Roman blinked at him. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean, lightning bug.”
Virgil fought a flush at the nickname. He swore Roman was doing that on purpose--trying to distract him, turn this on Virgil, but Virgil wasn’t going to lose track of things again. Virgil was going to actually, like, talk about things.
Virgil was such a mess.
Especially late at night, especially while upset, and this was just a cocktail of terrible ideas. And who knew what was going on with Roman? Who knew if Roman was really not okay or if he was fine and Virgil was reading too much into things or--
Only one to find out, though, right?
Bravery.
Virgil looked at Roman. “I’m worried about you.”
There. There it really was. And honestly--under all the guilt, the panic, the self-doubt--this was what Virgil had wanted to say, all along.
Roman, for his part, looked like Virgil had struck him in the face. It took him a few tries to speak. “And may I ask why?”
“You were, like, apologizing earlier,” Virgil said. “You were saying--like, like you thought I was here to yell at you, to say you did something wrong--and I don’t even get that, like what the heck have you done--”
“What haven’t I done?” Roman fired back, and Virgil would mistake it for teasing if it weren’t for the tightness in his mouth and the way he inched away from Virgil on the bed.
“You’ve--you’re Thomas’ romantic side,” Virgil said. “You’re the reason he likes Nico, you’re the one who’s making this work, it’s all you--”
“Don’t you think I know that?” Roman snapped.
Virgil hated the way he flinched.
“I--” Roman looked instantly regretful. “I didn’t mean to yell, I just--”
“It’s fine,” Virgil said. And he took a deep breath. And it was. “I’m saying you’re important. You’re valuable.”
“I know,” Roman said.
“You’re the reason this is happening!”
“I know.”
“Without you, it doesn’t work--”
“I know.”
“We can’t do this without you!”
“Well, maybe you should!”
Virgil flinched again. But not because Roman was too loud--and it was so much better with Roman, it wasn’t perfect and maybe not even that great but it was better, Virgil could take a breath and move forward--but because of Roman’s face. Twisted. Tight. Eyes sparkling in the lights, fists balled on his pajamas, and the way he tried to smile when Virgil looked. He tried to--to smile.
Virgil hated that. So much.
“Roman,” Virgil said, as softly as he could. “We...we need you, we--”
“Yeah, and I’ve been doing a swell job of helping you guys,” Roman said, and that was bitterness, that was a shade of bitter that Virgil had never heard in his life. He hated that, too. “I appreciate the sentiment, Virgil, but I also have to recognize that I’ve hardly been the best at helping Thomas recently--”
“I need you, then.” Virgil didn’t know where the words were coming from. “You know what? Screw Thomas. I’m not talking about him. I need you. I can’t--I’m doing all this for you, Roman. You get that, right? I--you want this, you want this so badly, and so I’m trying to make this happen.” Virgil let out a little laugh that could have been a sob. “And I’m failing. And I’m getting stuck. ‘Cause it’s me. But Roman--Roman, if you need me to, I will keep trying. I will do as much as you need me to.” Virgil choked on something that was definitely a sob. “Because you deserve something good right now. You deserve to be happy.”
Roman was staring at Virgil. Roman was staring and something in him was trembling. Shaking. Coming apart in the shadows and slipping away in the lights.
“And I’m sorry,” Virgil finished. “I’m sorry I’m not doing great at it--and I’m sorry I never told you all this, ‘cause you didn’t know--ugh, I’m sorry I didn’t realize you didn’t know, I didn’t see that you--”
“Virgil,” Roman said, voice choked. “Virgil, you--you don’t have to do any of this. You know that, right? You don’t have to make this work for me--to try and be nice--to be here, right now--”
“But I want to.” Virgil shook his head. “Ro, I want to, so much--this is what I want. I want to help. And you...you need help right now.”
Roman flinched a bit, just enough for Virgil to notice. “I don’t--can’t we wait until morning? I’m always incoherent at night, this is all a bit of a melodramatic moment--”
“Nope,” Virgil said firmly. “We’re not gonna dance around this one, okay? I’ve done enough of that. You’re not--you’re so not okay, and I get the feeling I’m only seeing, like, one quarter of it. And you don’t have to hide that.”
Roman was quiet. His eyes followed the seams of the quilt.
“Hey. Look at me.” Virgil hesitantly placed a hand on Roman’s. “It’s okay. I promise. Talk to me--cry, scream, whatever. But do something. We can’t have any kind of true lo--any kind of...anything. If the relationship isn’t built on truth.”
Roman looked up, slowly, and Virgil saw that his eyes were watering.
Virgil couldn’t help the little noise he made. ‘Cause Roman wasn’t meant to look like that. Like he expected Virgil to turn on him and yell. Like he was trying to disappear into the shadows before anyone could know he was there.
“I don’t--” Roman wiped at his eyes. “Virgil, I don’t know--I can’t--I’m not--”
“What aren’t you?” Virgil asked.
“I’m not what I’m supposed to be!” Roman burst out, and then he was rambling, hands flying. “I’m not productive, I’m not able to focus on anything, I never get stuff done on time--Zeus knows I’m not organized, I’m not serious enough--I’m not creative--and I’m not--I’m not good, I’m not the hero, I’m not the perfect prince and you all need me to be that but I’m not--I’m not anything!”
“Oh,” Virgil breathed, and he shook his head, over and over. “Roman, no, I promise that’s so, so wrong--”
“Then what am I?” Roman challenged, eyes sparkling and voice so brittle. He was seconds from breaking. Virgil was watching his best friend--his everything--break apart, and Virgil should have been frantic. Virgil should have been trying to put the pieces back together before everything comes crashing down.
Virgil took a deep breath.
“Roman,” he said slowly, “do you want a hug?”
“I--” Roman looked like nobody had ever asked that question in his life. “I--if you’re okay with--”
Virgil opened his arms and gave Roman a little nod.
Roman’s hug was stiff. Roman’s hug was cold. Roman’s hug would have lasted about three seconds if Virgil hadn’t wrapped an arm around Roman’s shoulders to keep him there.
“I’m okay with it,” Virgil told him, quietly. “And jeez, Princey, you’re acting like I’m holding a gun to your head. Relax.”
Roman did not relax.
“It’s okay,” Virgil said. Even softer. “It’s okay, I promise it’s okay, it’s so messed up right now but we’re gonna figure this out, I promise--”
Roman trembled, just a bit, in Virgil’s grasp. Virgil shifted slightly until he was leaned against the headboard, and Roman was crumpled in his arms.
“Stop trying to hug me,” Virgil said gently. “It’s messing everything up. I’m hugging you right now--you can hug me later, you dork.”
Roman didn’t move. Virgil carefully slipped him off Virgil’s shoulder and pulled him to his chest instead. Roman--Roman was so small, and it made Virgil wonder how Roman could be so firm and solid and still so small in his arms.
Roman’s head was tucked under Virgil’s now. Virgil had the urge to press a kiss on top of it. He settled for running a hand through Roman’s hair, enjoying the fluffy texture and detangling some of the knots. Bedhead. When was the last time Roman slept?
“I don’t know,” Roman said, when Virgil asked him. “I--I don’t know much, Virge.”
“What do you know?” Virgil asked.
“I--” Roman hesitated. “You guys. Logan likes cinnamon buns, and Patton’s favorite dog breed is a retriever, and you--you bite your nails, but you paint them on weekends sometimes, and you pretend they’re all black but there’s a bit of purple on there, it’s adorable--and you hate strawberries--and once you gave me a gift and pretended it was from Logan but I know it was you because you write your R’s all pointy--and your hair always flops over your eyes, and--”
Virgil fought back a wave of emotion. “Um--that’s great, Ro. I appreciate that. Can you--can you tell me what you know about yourself?”
Roman was silent for way too long. “Why ruin the moment?”
“Disagree,” Virgil said. “Anything? It’s okay if not, but--basic stuff. What do you like? What do you think about?”
“I dunno,” Roman mumbled. “I like Disney. But Disney’s pretty stupid.”
“Hey,” Virgil complained. “Disney’s the best. Don’t crap on your favorite company.”
“Disney’s really capitalist.”
“That’s fair,” Virgil admitted. “But--you’re allowed to like stuff, Ro.”
Roman curled up a bit in his arms.
“What do you know?” Virgil decided to say. “About you. It can be anything.”
Roman was pressed tight against Virgil’s chest. Virgil ran a hand down his side and felt Roman shudder a bit. His hands were moving, running up and down the patches on Virgil’s jacket, fingering the bumps of the seams.
“I’m Roman,” Roman finally said. He laughed a bit. Virgil didn’t.
“Good, that’s true.” Virgil nodded. “What else?”
“I’m a Side of Thomas,” Roman continued. His voice was quiet. “I’m his...his Creativity. And Passion, and all that.”
“Yep.”
“I...I work with you guys. I work on stuff. I write. It’s not good, but I write.”
“Yep!”
“I sing, I act, I--” Roman huffed. “Pretty terrible at it.”
“Gonna beg to differ on that one, Princey.” Virgil smirked. “Your singing voice is really loud, but I like it.”
Roman curled, somehow, even tighter. “I--I don’t have anything else.”
“That’s okay,” Virgil said. “Do you want me to take a turn?”
“Okay.”
“Great.” Virgil leaned back against the headboard and watched the lights flicker. “You’re Roman, like you said. You’re--you’re my best friend, dude.”
Roman shuddered, just a bit.
“You’re my best friend,” Virgil repeated. “You--at first, I never liked you, ‘cause you were just...so extra, you know? So big and grand and huge. And that--that scared me. I was so scared of you back then. And I was so envious--I wanted to be like you. To not care what anyone thought. You just...put it all out there, and you were everyone’s hero, and I’d stare at you and wonder how you managed to do it.”
Virgil laughed. “And then everything changed. And then you were my friend--or at least, I hoped so. We--got along, we got to know each other, and all the stuff I didn’t get about you? All the stuff I hated, I was afraid of? It all turned out to be the best stuff. ‘Cause it’s what made you, you. It wouldn’t really work with anyone else--but since it’s all part of you, I never minded. I don’t mind.” Virgil swallowed. “You want me to tell you some stuff about that? Some stuff I’ve noticed?”
“Sure,” Roman whispered.
“Great.” Virgil looked down at Roman. “You stick out your tongue when you’re thinking, did you know that? You stick it out and you’re staring at whatever you’re working on and it’s just stupidly adorable--and! And you do this little happy dance when you’re excited, you kinda bounce from foot to foot and do a little squeal and I wish I could get excited like you do--when you’re happy, you just make everyone around you happier, you’re--” Virgil struggled for words. “You’re radiant. You’re, like--I see you, and I know--I know it’s gonna be okay. It’s gonna work out.”
Roman was shaking now. Virgil tugged him even closer and--because why not--pressed a quick kiss to the top of his head.
“And yeah, we’ve had our rough spots. Everyone has.” Virgil sighed. “And you’re--you’re gonna mess up. Maybe you’re not everything you think you’re supposed to be. Maybe you’re not gonna end up--the prince, the dreamer, or whatever. Maybe not--maybe not even the hero. And that’s okay. ‘Cause you’re still gonna be you.”
Roman’s breath hitched.
“You’re gonna be you,” Virgil continued, “and I’m gonna help you, and I’m gonna fight for you, and--and I’m gonna be brave for you, I promise--and you could be anything and that’d be true. You could be a Dark Side tomorrow. You could completely change functions. You could--you could be anything, but you’d still be Roman, and I--I’ll be here. No matter what.”
The lights skidded over the ceiling. Roman had stopped rubbing his hands on Virgil’s jacket. He was just still, still and silent and trembling like a plucked string.
“You’re Roman,” Virgil said. “And I don’t even have words for how--how freaking fantastic you are, every day--you’re--you’re my friend. You’re--so much more than that.” Virgil closed his eyes. “I love you, Ro. So much. And you might not really have everything figured out, and I definitely don’t, but--if it means anything, I know who you are, because you’re always going to be the person I love.”
And Virgil was crying. Virgil sniffed and wiped his eyes, but the choked noises didn’t stop--and he realized Roman was crying too, sobbing quietly into Virgil’s jacket. It was small cries. Quiet--too quiet, the cry of someone who’d been used to keeping it hidden.
“Oh,” Virgil said, gathering Roman in his arms and pressing his forehead to Roman’s. Tears dripped down Roman’s cheeks, and he clung to Virgil’s jacket for dear life, breath hitching. “Roman, Princey, love, it’s going to be okay, I promise--”
Roman pressed himself closer, crying, and Virgil let him stay.
“It’s going to be okay,” Virgil whispered into his hair, “you’ll figure it out. I’m here. I’ve got it covered. I promise it’s okay--you can let it out, keep crying, it’s okay--we’ll figure it out--I’m not gonna stop loving you, I’m not gonna stop looking out for you--”
Roman’s sobs grew louder and Virgil kept talking. “It’s okay,” he said, over and over again. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”
Maybe if he said it enough, Roman would believe it.
Maybe if he said it enough, Virgil would, too.
“It’s okay,” Virgil said, and meant it.
“You’re doing amazing,” Virgil said, and meant it.
“I love you,” Virgil said, and couldn’t imagine not meaning it, not being so entirely in love with Roman that it ached with it and dripped with it and filled every word. He heard it. He heard it and he heard it and he finally couldn’t hide from it--because maybe Roman could hear too, and maybe Roman would listen.
“I love you,” Virgil said, and for once he wasn’t afraid of it. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too,” was the first thing Roman said when his tears slowed. “I love you, Virgil, I love you--”
“I know,” Virgil said. And meant it. “I know, Ro, it’s okay--”
“I’m sorry,” Roman whispered.
“Don’t be.”
“I’m sorry--”
“Fine, then, I’m sorry too.” Virgil pressed his forehead to Roman’s and wiped away his tears with a hand. And he left it there, resting on Roman’s cheek, because he didn’t want to let go. “I’m sorry. And look at that--that’s okay. We can get better from here. I swear.”
Roman laughed wetly. “The Nico thing is a disaster.”
“The Nico thing is something we’ll figure out,” Virgil said. “We’ve got this. It’ll work.”
“We’re not--” Roman sighed. “We’re not ready for it, are we?”
“I’m not, and you’re not.” Virgil laughed a bit. “But, um, maybe two not-readies makes a ready?”
“Doubt it,” Roman whispered, and Virgil suddenly realized how close they were, foreheads pressed together. He could--he could move forward, just a bit, and--
“We’ll try,” Roman said, lips parting. “We’ll try, can’t we? Can’t we try? Do we--do we get that?”
“Yes,” Virgil said. “Yes, we get that, you get that--we’ll try, we’ll try and we’ll make it work somehow, I promise--”
“And if it doesn’t?” Roman’s voice was so quiet, so thin, the trail of an airplane across the stars. “What if we make things worse?”
Virgil couldn’t say he hadn’t thought of that. Obviously. Worrying was his job, and he saw the possible ramifications to everything, of course he’d thought through every possible outcome of this. And--and still.
Whatever made Roman happy, Virgil would do.
Because that always made Virgil happy, too.
“We’ll figure it out,” Virgil said. “You--you know what taking a chance is? You know what it is, to do something you want, even though it could hurt?”
“What?” Roman murmured, just a breath from Virgil’s lips.
Virgil smiled. “Bravery.”
Roman’s eyes flickered open.
They were so, so close. Lights spun around them, shadows crept away, and Virgil could--Virgil could--
“Hey,” Virgil said, barely above a whisper. “Can I--”
Roman’s eyes flickered down to Virgil’s lips and back up.
And Virgil didn’t know who moved. Maybe it was him. Maybe Roman. Maybe it didn’t matter, because they moved, and then Virgil was kissing Roman for the first time.
Okay.
Cool.
Wow.
Virgil didn’t know what he was doing--it didn’t matter, though, since he was kissing Roman--and all he could think of was how much he’d wanted this, how much he’d told himself he didn’t want this, how much he’d never wanted to cradle Roman’s face in his hands and tangle his hand in Roman’s hair and--
Virgil tangled a hand in Roman’s hair. It was exactly as good as he’d hoped.
And Roman pushed him back, against the headboard, and Roman was kissing him, and Virgil was breathless and weightless and absolutely okay with it.
Virgil could have been floating. Virgil could have been drifting in the cold night hair, among the stars, because the world was dark and filled with pinpricks of light and all he knew was warm skin under his fingers and a hand around his waist and the way Roman held him like this was all Roman had ever wanted, too--
And of course, they had to break apart, because Virgil couldn’t stay breathless--although gosh did he want to, to just lose time in Roman’s arms--
They separated.
Virgil was sure he could count every fleck of light in Roman’s eyes. A blush had settled across his cheeks, his hair was even messier than usual, and he was staring at Virgil like Virgil had hung the moon.
“Huh,” Roman said.
“Yeah,” Virgil agreed.
Roman snickered. Virgil snorted. And then they were laughing, inches apart, giggling on the bed at maybe two or three in the morning, still entangled in each other and neither moving to separate their hands.
“So,” Roman finally said, his laughing settling into a smile. “That was...okay.”
“I was okay with it,” Virgil blurted out. “Um. More than okay. And--I don’t know what it means, what you want it to mean, but--”
“It meant I like you,” Roman said. As if it was obvious. Maybe it was. “A lot. And--”
“And we want to try this,” Virgil said. “For real?”
“We can’t exactly try it for fake, can we?” Roman teased.
“We’re trying,” Virgil said. “We’re trying?”
“Yes,” Roman said. “I--I mean, we might fail, I might--”
“And then we’ll figure it out.” Virgil reached for a bit of courage, deep inside him, and found it came more naturally when Roman was pressed into him. “We’ll try it out, okay?”
Roman laughed a bit. “We’re not ready.”
“Nah, but life does that sometimes, right?” Virgil sighed. “We’re--we’ll be ready, soon enough. One day. And right now, we’ll just kind of...wing it?”
“Wing it,” Roman repeated. “A daring battle plan, emo.”
“Hey, you’re the hero here.” Virgil, despite himself, felt his lips curl in a smile. “We’ll figure it out, Princey. And--and maybe we won’t really know who we are, what we want--any of that--for a while. Maybe never again, who knows. But if I don’t take this chance, I’ll regret it.”
“So will I,” Roman said. “And--quite honestly, I’m a bit tired of regrets.”
“So let’s give it our all,” Virgil said. “We’ll never know until we try.”
“We’ll try,” Roman agreed, and placed a kiss on Virgil’s lips that tasted of salt and cinnamon. Virgil melted into it, and when they pulled away, let Roman curl up next to him. It was late. Virgil could happily fall asleep right here--and really, that wasn’t such a bad idea.
“When’s the last time you slept?” he mumbled, watching the lights dance over Roman’s face.
“Dunno,” Roman slurred, watching Virgil with soft eyes.
“Well, it’s gonna be now.” Virgil threw an arm over Roman. “Get some sleep, Princey.”
“You first.”
“What, you think I’m leaving?” Virgil snuggled closer, and Roman wrapped an arm around his waist. “Nope. You’re stuck with me.”
“Hmm.” Roman hummed to himself. “Okay with that.”
“Good, so am I.” Virgil kissed Roman’s forehead. “Come on. No talk, only sleep.”
“I love you,” Roman said, immediately breaking the rule. But Virgil couldn’t get mad. “And--I--thank you, I--”
“You’re welcome,” Virgil said. “I’d do it anytime.”
Roman smiled and closed his eyes. “You’re my hero, emo.”
And Virgil would never admit the way his heart softened.
“Thanks,” Virgil whispered. “You’re my hero, too.”
Roman was already drifting off. The floor was crowded, the door swung open, the desk was messy--and eh, whatever. They’d figure it out tomorrow. Right now, they both needed sleep, and the windows were wide to the starry sky.
“And I don’t even care,” Virgil said, “if you’re not my hero. You don’t have to be.”
He looked over at Roman, and he smiled.
“As long as you’re mine, we’re good.”
“We’re good,” Roman echoed, eyes still closed.
“We’ll be good,” Virgil agreed.
And he tried to believe it--he told himself he would believe it, he could, he deserved to--and he found, in the end, it wasn’t as hard as he thought it’d be.
They’d be good.
They’d be okay.
And they’d find their way forward.
Virgil fell asleep next to Roman, surrounded by drifting lights and warm shadows, and there was nowhere else he’d rather be.
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For the prompts, #5 with intruality if you're comfortable?
(Hi! Intruality is the cutest, thanks for the prompt, and sorry for the delay!)
Words: 1706
“Sometimes,” Remus says, “I wonder if you even like me.”
“What?” Patton almost drops the bag of groceries. Miraculously, he manages to hold onto it. “Remus, what are you talking about? Of course I like you!”
“I dunno.” Remus’ feet skim the ground, and his fingers are blurring into each other, like they always do when he’s upset. “It sure feels like you hate me sometimes.”
Patton gapes at him and tries desperately to remember when he said something like that. But he can’t think of anything. They just went to the grocery store, bought some food for the apartment, and left. And sure, there was that little skirmish when Remus toppled over the cans of tomato soup, but Patton knew he didn’t mean it! And they didn’t even get kicked out again.
“What are you talking about?” Patton decides to ask again, in the hopes that Remus will answer. Remus hardly ever talks when he doesn’t want to, but it’s worth a shot.
“Today,” Remus finally says. He’s trying hard to seem unbothered, but it isn’t working. “I almost got you in trouble again.”
“You did no such thing.” Patton fixes Remus with his determined dad friend look. “Sometimes cans of tomato soup happen to fall over. Nobody could even see you!”
“Yeah, so they blamed you again.” Remus gestures at the groceries in Patton’s hands. “‘S always you. Don’t you ever get tired of it?”
“No!” Patton exclaims. “You’re my best friend!”
“I’m dead, Patton.”
Patton’s stomach does a little somersault, and not the fun kind. “Yeah, but that doesn’t change anything.”
Remus folds his arms as they cross the street. To anyone else, Patton is talking to himself. Remus only shows himself to people he likes. And he likes Patton, he always has, and Patton likes him.
Why would Remus ever think otherwise?
And yes, they didn’t start off on the best foot, but things are good now! Super and duper and all-around fun. Remus is just like a regular roommate, except for the occasional showers of blood.
“Look, I’m sorry or whatever,” Remus says, as if Patton’s been pushing for an apology. “I don’t mean to keep messing things up.”
“You haven’t messed anything up.”
Remus huffs, and the sign near them clangs, like pebbles have hit it.
“I’m not mad at you,” Patton says. “I don’t see why I would be. Nothing bad happened, we’ve got our groceries, including your deodorant--”
That does draw a smile out of Remus.
“--so it’s no big deal!” Patton smiles back at him. “Everything’s a-okay. Always has been, always will be.”
Remus smiles a bit more, and then it drops, like a cloud passing over the sun.
“Don’t act like that,” Remus finally says, reluctantly.
“Like what?”
“Like everything’s fine.” Remus waved an arm through a trash can. “Like everything’s hunky-dory and peachy and there isn’t a single thing we gotta work on.”
“I’m not saying there isn’t,” Patton says. “I’m just saying there isn’t right now!”
“There always is!” Remus snaps back, and Patton wonders just how long he’s held himself back from saying this. It’s a scary thought--Remus never holds anything back. “There’s always something wrong, and you’re always trying to brush right past it.”
“Well, excuse me for not dwelling on the bad stuff!” Patton hoists the groceries further in his arms. Remus hasn’t offered to help carry them, but if they drop, Remus will catch them. At least, he hopes so. “I’m just trying to look on the bright side!”
“Look in a butthole, it’ll give you a better view.”
Patton winces.
“See?” Remus waves his arms at Patton. “I gross you out! You can’t stand me sometimes!”
“You’re my friend!”
“And friends can still gross each other out!” Remus shrugs. “I dunno where you got this idea that friends can never ever fight each other.”
“I don’t know where you got the idea that I hate you!” Patton tries to walk faster and burn off his frustration, but it makes his grocery bag teeter, so he slows down. “You may be a bit--eccentric--”
“Freaky-deaky!”
“But you’re still my bestie!” Patton smiles at him. “Dynamic duo over here!”
Remus rolls his eyes all the way around. “Most people aren’t best friends with ghosts.”
Patton grips the grocery bag tighter. He’s not sure if he can feel it slipping, or if he’s just worrying over nothing. “Well, I’m not most people, then.”
“People think you’re weird.”
“People can deal.”
“I get you in trouble.”
“You don’t much,” Patton says, which is truer than it used to be. Remus tries harder now. “And it’s worth it to have you around!”
“You didn’t ask for me!” Remus bursts out. “You didn’t ask for this!”
Patton opens his mouth and closes it again. Remus seems to be finally done, because he drifts silently along the sidewalk, like a cloud of dust in the sunlight. The cars rumble past. Someone’s sitting on the stoop of their apartment, drinking a coffee, and Patton knows it looks like he’s all alone. Holding his groceries, struggling over the cracks in the concrete, talking to no one at all.
“You’re a real friend,” Patton says. “Even if you’re not, like--there.”
“I don’t have a heartbeat,” Remus supplies. “And I can do this!”
Patton doesn’t close his eyes fast enough, but Remus only tugs his tongue around his face. It’s not half as bad as sometimes. Patton almost finds himself smiling.
“See?” Patton teases. “Why get an alive friend when dead ones can wrap their tongues around their skulls?”
“True,” Remus says.
“And I like you,” Patton says, gripping the groceries tightly. “No matter what.”
Remus is quiet for a bit. “You didn’t use to.”
“Well, you didn’t use to be dead,” Patton points out. Snapping a bit, but he can’t help himself. “Things change.”
“True.”
Patton didn’t use to like Remus. And it took a lot of getting used to, having a roommate who didn’t sleep, a roommate who ate deodorant and banged pots in midair and whispered things in Patton’s ear while he was talking. Remus didn’t want to be there--he made that clear enough.
Or maybe he did want to be there. Maybe he wanted to be there, to be as real as he could, as loud and as obnoxious and as there as possible.
Patton got used to him. Patton managed.
And at first it was for Roman. It was so Remus wouldn’t have to bother Roman while he was studying, and Remus wouldn’t have to get upset as much. And then it was for Patton’s pride--because gosh darn it, he would make friends with this ghost. He was Patton. He could make friends with anyone.
Then he did.
And now--he did so much more than manage.
Now he did it for Remus. Because they were friends, and they got along, and Remus deserved someone who could see him.
Patton didn’t know how to explain that, though. Remus still had a point--things did get tense, sometimes, and maybe Patton brushed that under the rug a bit too much. But it evened out. You had to crack eggs to make an omelet. Friends fought, and it was okay.
“You’re my friend,” was the version of all those thoughts that Patton managed to say. “I care about you. I’m not mad at you, and I’m not stuck with you. I like you a lot.”
“I like you too,” Remus said, “but--”
“No buts!” Patton giggled and Remus giggled, too. “Ha, butts--anyway, no objections. We are friends. You get on my nerves sometimes, but you’re still super fun, so it evens out!”
“But--”
“Not a single butt, mister!” Patton shifts the groceries in his arms. “If I like you and you like me, doesn’t seem like there’s much more to talk about.”
“But...” Remus waits for Patton to interrupt him. Patton gives him a nod. “You--you could probably find, like, another friend if you really wanted. Send me to hang out somewhere else.”
Patton looks at him. Remus looks away. His face is blurry, but Patton thinks he can see a frown.
“Yeah, I could find another friend,” Patton says. “But they wouldn’t be you!”
“That’s the point.”
“Then it’s a bad point!” Patton adjusts the groceries so he can extract one arm and point at Remus. “See, this is a good point. My good point. Which is that I like you just the way you are, and if you keep talking bad about yourself, I’m going to physically fight you!”
Remus snickers a bit. “You’re sure?”
“Of course! One thousand percent!” Patton nods determinedly. “What other friend would get that jerk to leave us alone at the farmer’s market?”
“He was asking for it,” Remus says.
“He was!” Patton agrees. “Or what about the time you found my wallet? In, like, ten seconds? Sure, the tables and plates got a bit scuffed, but it was super efficient!”
Remus smiles a bit wider. “I did do that. That was cool.”
“The coolest!” Patton’s getting into his stride now. “And you watch movies with me, and you’re great for moving boxes, and you’re so creative with your facial expressions, and you make me laugh--”
“And I look out for you,” Remus says suddenly, like he didn’t put the pieces together. “Without me, you’d be--”
“Fine,” Patton says, because he’s not used to relying on people. “But sad,” he adds, because he relies on them anyway.
“Huh.” Remus nods to himself. “Oh yeah, this whole thing goes both ways. Can’t believe I didn’t think of that part.”
Patton smiles at him. “Do you feel better?”
“Yeah, I think so!” Remus grins. “You’re a real firework, Pat-Pat!”
“A firework?”
“Yeah, ‘cause you’re all bright and cheery and fun!” Remus laughs. “And because you set the table on fire that one time--”
Patton flushes. “I didn’t--”
“I saw you--”
Remus is laughing, and despite himself, Patton starts laughing, too. He almost doesn’t notice when the groceries slip from under his arm.
He drops the groceries. And Remus catches them, easily, before they hit the ground.
“I need my deodorant,” Remus says as a defense, when Patton gives him a thankful smile. “Be careful.”
Patton picks up the floating groceries. “Don’t worry, I will be.”
Okay, today we’re talking about that scene in LNTAO. You know. That scene.
Yeah.
The thing about Logan (which I’ve noticed during a super-secret project I’m working on that involved reading all the scripts for TSS) is that he apologizes easily—for small stuff. He probably apologizes more than most characters, and it’s pretty instinctive. He hits Patton accidentally? He apologizes.
LOGAN: I am so sorry. I popped up too close there.
His phone interrupts a question? He apologizes.
LOGAN: I'm sorry, that is my text tone.
He doesn't need Virgil right now but Virgil showed up anyway? He apologizes.
LOGAN: Oh, I'm--I'm sorry, no.
This makes sense. Apologizing is logical. When you've made a small mistake or hurt someone, apologize. So far, Logan's acting in accordance with his logic and being even a little more empathetic than necessary.
Things get more interesting, however, when we cross the line from small nuisances to larger mistakes. It's hard to define the difference but in this case, it's usually when Logan has made a severe error in judgment that has consequences beyond himself. Especially when Thomas is directly or indirectly affected--Thomas is Logan's center and Logan cares deeply about helping and supporting Thomas. So when Logan messes up and accidentally jeopardizes Thomas or leads him astray, he treats this as a serious mistake.
What kind of mistake am I talking about? This kind:
He always apologizes for these, too. It's just not the same way he apologized for the smaller stuff. Instead of a simple 'sorry,' he barely ever uses that word at all. Instead, he says it in a usually circituous way that implies he may have made a mistake. And he focuses on what he can do to fix it and what the next steps may be.
In Mind vs. Heart, his constant arguing with Patton leaves Thomas indecisive and feeling pressured over every little decision. Although Patton immediately starts gushing apologies when he finds out, Logan is more composed.
LOGAN: What can we do to fix this?
In Losing My Motivation, he tries to find the root of Thomas' procrastination and ends up being said root. When he realizes, he almost panics, and Thomas has to calm him down before he spirals. He doesn't fully apologize until the next video, the Q & A.
LOGAN: Maybe we can help you with something in order to make up for mistakes one might have made prior?
In Growing Up, he and Roman talk over Patton and try to convince Thomas to live an entirely different life for the sake of "growing up." It's Logan who realizes something is wrong, and it's Logan who goes to ask someone about it.
LOGAN: I don't think...we have this quite right. Morality? What are we doing wrong?
And this is despite his admission later this same episode:
LOGAN: I do not like being wrong.
In Learning New Things About Ourselves, Logan champions that Thomas needs to change his life around and get a "real" job because nobody takes him seriously. It's maybe his biggest mistake so far in the series. It angers Roman, alienates Virgil, and contributes to Thomas' harmful mindset about his own value as a content creator. When Logan finally realizes that a more silly and joking medium doesn't mean the ideas aren't important and meaningful, he actually apologizes to Roman. In his own roundabout way.
LOGAN: All right, maybe there's some knowledge out there that I wasn't privy to before. Not that I was wrong! But...I should be open to more sources...I-I don't suppose there's anything that I could do to make it up to you?
In Moving On, Logan suggests they go to Patton's room without realizing that as Thomas is a chronic worrier, nostalgia could have adverse effects on his mental health and his anxiety.
LOGAN: Ugh, such a foolish oversight on my part.
(Logan uses the word 'foolish' a lot when insulting himself or someone else. He uses it to describe Thomas' new hair that makes him feel silly, them turning into puppets, and here, himself. He also uses the term 'ridiculous' multiple times, as well as 'silly,' 'preposterous,' and 'stupid.' Stupid especially is something he apparently hates to be called. But we'll get back to that.)
In Moving On Pt. 2, after Logan leaves in frustration when no one heeds his warnings, he says this line when the other Sides apologize for not listening:
LOGAN: All that matters is how we proceed.
And that basically sums it up. Despite his self-proclaimed "fondness for being told that [he's] right," Logan always owns up to his mistakes and looks to better himself. (Eventually. And it does sometimes require him being called out on it, or he might not realize it is a mistake.)
One of my personal beliefs is that Logan's love language is "acts of service." He struggles with verbal affirmations, as shown in Alone on Valentine's Day when he attempts to say a verbal "I love you." Instead, he expresses care by helping others with their issues and adding knowledge to their discussions. Logan's way of showing appreciation is to be helpful. (Which adds another layer to his frustration when he's ignored--it's literally the people he loves not understanding or outright rejecting his way of showing connection and compassion.)
But yeah. What we've seen is that Logan struggles with verbal apologies for more serious grievances, especially when it includes him admitting he's wrong. But he still attempts them and always says "How do I fix this?" He works to right his wrongs and make things better. As I said above, so much of Logan's drive is to be helpful and to support Thomas. If he fails at this, he tries harder the next time. Sometimes this works, sometimes this doesn't, but being helpful is his end goal and what he defaults to when he feels he's made a mistake.
With all this in mind, let's return to that scene in Learning New Things About Ourselves.
Logan has just made probably his biggest mistake toward another Side. Him and Roman argue a lot, and sometimes Logan strikes at vulnerabilities intentionally or unintentionally, but he has never outright tried to hurt Roman. Until now. Roman calls his love of clarity in communication "stupid." And Logan crumples up his flashcard and throws it at Roman's face.
That itself is an expression of anger that's pretty uncharacteristic for Logan. He usually fights with words, not actual violence. Everyone's shocked. And none more so than Logan himself.
He's made a mistake. He hasn't directly harmed Thomas, but he's hurt one of his friends, and there's no justification for the way he lashed out. And he apologizes easily. But this apology is different from all his others. Let's break it down.
LOGAN: I'm sorry, I don't know what that was. Maybe I should go.
The first part. 'I'm sorry.' A simple, quick apology.
Except we've seen that he struggles with this. He never directly apologizes for anything major in the series, especially not right away. This is something instinctive. It's the same instinct as when he says 'sorry' for popping up too close and hitting Patton in the nose. He's seen a friend get hurt, so he apologizes. It's interesting that he has this same instinct with Patton and Roman, despite the fact that Roman just insulted him and they have a famously strained relationship. He sees he's hurt Roman physically and he apologizes.
(It's also notable that if Logan saw such outward signs of hurt emotionally, he might go a little easier on Roman, but Roman has always been good at hiding his emotions. Logan can't pick up as easily on the subtle things. He needs outward pain, and Roman is practiced in not showing that.)
The second part. 'I don't know what that was.'
This is even more worrying. Logan is admitting he doesn't know something. Logan is saying he doesn't understand why he did something, when he's usually a very rational person. He just acted on emotion. He lashed out in anger. And he doesn't understand that. So he can't even admit his mistake fully, because he doesn't know why it happened--he can't pin it on a lack of information, or an oversight, or not listening to every source. There's no logical way to explain what happened, at least to him. Because he denies that he has emotions and is influenced by them.
Therefore, he's already floundering in this apology. How is he supposed to apologize when he doesn't understand why he did what he did, and how is he supposed to correct a mistake when he doesn't understand why it happened?
This brings us to part three. 'Maybe I should go.'
Take a good look at that. Logan, Logic Sanders, whose whole existence revolves around helping Thomas, is offering to leave an important discussion.
He's committed an error. He's apologized. This is usually when he offers to make things better, to say he won't do this again and that he's learned from his mistakes and asks what he can do to make it up to them. Here, he's found a solution like that: he offers to leave. He says "I have made a mistake, I don't understand what happened, and I'm going to leave so I don't repeat that mistake."
In a horrible way, it's almost logical. If he doesn't understand why he did something, the easiest way to prevent such a thing from reoccurring is to change the situation and prevent himself from physically doing it again. But this is also extremely harmful. Logan has essentially given up on helping Thomas because he hurt his friend and doesn't know how to keep himself from doing it again.
He doesn't know, and that terrifies him.
So he immediately offers to leave. As if that's the most helpful thing he can do to make up for his actions: spare everyone his company. Stop contributing to the discussion, stop helping the person he cares about most, stop expressing his affection and love through helpful facts and encouraging discussions.
This isn't the first or last time that he leaves a discussion. He's done so in anger in both Moving On and Putting Others First, both times motivated by frustration at not being listened to or cared about. But it can be clearly seen that this comes from an entirely different motivation. He's hesitant and afraid of himself and what just happened. Patton yells "No!" right after Logan suggests this, and Logan visibly flinches. And when Patton continues, Logan still looks surprised, as if Patton isn't making any sense.
And after this, Logan is still a little hesitant. He pauses before clarifying "Like Maria?" and after talking about how the Snuffleupagusses (pardon the spelling if it’s incorrect) aren't imaginary, mutters to himself "Clarity" as if he's trying to convince himself of something. That's the same 'clarity' that Roman called him stupid for before. It's as if Logan's asserting his own belief that clarity is important after Roman made him doubt that.
Logan ruffles his hair, takes a deep breath, and that's the end of the scene. But the vulnerability in that moment, right after he hurt someone close to him, is still a rare moment of a Logan who has completely let his guard down. He's almost helpless, because he has no idea what to do. So he defaults to trying to help, and in this moment of uncertainty, he can only picture himself "helping" by leaving.
LOGAN: I'm sorry, I don't know what that was. Maybe I should go.
It's perhaps Logan's most sincere apology to date. However, the baggage it comes with and the situation itself make it less than a perfect moment. Instead, it reveals how unequipped Logan feels to handle his own emotional outbursts, how much he values helping others, and how he's beginning to start feeling like when he messes up, the best thing for everyone is to stay out of the way.
30. “I can’t talk to cute people, okay? I don’t know how to flirt!” with analogical if ur still doing the prompts?
Logan was used to the other sides coming to him for advice. Patton often asked for recipes, Roman liked to bounce ideas off him, Janus enjoyed irritating him into debates, and Remus often needed knowledge on the particulars of human anatomy.
The only side who never came seeking advice was Virgil--Virgil told him it was because he didn’t need anything, he just liked talking to Logan. Logan wished he fully believed that, but he appreciated the sentiment nonetheless.
That was why Logan was a bit alarmed when Virgil tapped on his door and asked for some help.
“So there’s this guy,” Virgil burst out when Logan had seated him on the bed. “And he’s--he’s really cute, and nice, and smart, and--I really, really like him. What do I do?”
“Um--” Logan bit his lip. “Virgil, as much as I’d like to assist, I think this isn’t really my area of expertise? Perhaps Roman, or--”
“Roman’d be all weird about it,” Virgil complained. “He’d be trying to get me to serenade him from the rooftops.”
“Fair enough.” Logan shifted in his chair. “Patton?”
“Eh, he’s sweet but not the practical type.”
“Janus?”
“No.”
“Remus--”
“Don’t finish that sentence.”
“Fine.” Logan swallowed his apprehension at coaching Virgil through feelings--and worse, Virgil’s feelings for someone else. “I suppose I can try to help. Are you interested in telling him?”
“Yeah, I guess,” Virgil said. “I dunno if he likes me back.”
“He’d be foolish not to,” Logan said. “And either way, you’ll never know until you ask, right?”
“Right.” Virgil paused and shuddered. “Still. It’s like--the idea of asking him outright is really--intimidating. No offense. Is there any way to ask, like, without asking?”
“Ask without asking,” Logan repeated, staring at him. “Are you sure you don’t want Roman’s help?”
“Positive.” Virgil looked up at him, and Logan was surprised by the amount of vulnerability in his eyes. He must have been quite nervous to come here. Logan, despite himself, softened.
“Okay,” Logan said slowly. “We’ll take this slowly. How are you hoping to ask-without-asking, as it were? Are you trying to figure out whether he has feelings for you without sharing your own? Because that’s a bit counterproductive--”
“I just want to--” Virgil waved a hand. “I wanna, like, tell him I’m maybe interested but like in a way that I can easily deny if it makes him uncomfortable? Like I could say I was joking or we were just having fun but also if he returns it then maybe he likes me--”
“Flirting,” Logan said. “You’re talking about flirting.”
“What?” Virgil flushed. “No, I’m not! I can’t flirt!”
“You literally defined flirting, at least to my knowledge.” Logan tilted his head. “What do you mean, you ‘can’t’ flirt?”
“I can’t talk to cute people, okay?” Virgil waved his hands frantically. “I don’t know how to flirt!”
“It’s simple,” Logan said. “You telegraph interest in someone, typically through horrible puns and comments about their appearance, and await reciprocation. If it comes, you talk-talk until eventual marriage.”
“Marriage?” Virgil repeated.
“Or an emotionally-charged breakup, one of the two.”
“Reassuring.” Virgil flopped back on Logan’s bed and stared at the ceiling. “Ugh. This is all ugh. He doesn’t even like me back.”
“You don’t know that.” Logan sighed and attempted, once again, to reason with Virgil. “Quite honestly, I still think you should just tell them.”
“I’ll practice flirting.”
“What?”
“Help me practice.” Virgil sat up, eyes determined. “Like--show me how.”
“You think I know?” Logan gestured at himself. “I’m not equipped in matters of the romantic area.”
“Do you like people that way?”
“I--er--” Logan coughed and hoped it hid his blush. “Yes, but that is irrelevant. I do not flirt any more than you do.”
“Huh.” Virgil blinked, and then the determination came back. Logan almost scooted back from the intensity of Virgil’s eye contact. “C’mon. Dude. We can practice together, and you can, like, woo someone in the future.”
“I do not ‘woo.’”
“Well, you will now.” Virgil paused. “So--how do people flirt?”
“As I said, horrendous puns.” Logan shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Um--” Virgil looked like he was thinking. “Um, are you from Tennessee?”
“What?” Logan blinked. “No, we’re all from Florida.”
“‘Cause you’re the only...” Virgil trailed off. “Yeah. That one’s--not good.”
“I don’t get it.”
“You wouldn’t.” Virgil sighed. “Um...are you copper and tellurium?”
“What?” Logan looked down at himself. “No?”
“‘Cause you’re--forget it.” Virgil sighed. “Um, did it hurt--never mind.”
“Did what hurt?”
“My terrible flirting, apparently.” Virgil fell back onto the bed again with a groan. “This is hopeless.”
“Be more direct about it,” Logan said. Again. “Just--say how you feel.”
“I feel like a piece of dirt who can’t communicate to save his life.”
“Oh. Yeah. Um, I guess--” Virgil sat up and stared at his feet, running a hand along his hoodie seams. “I...yeah. I guess it’s pointless to psych myself out over cheap tactics, not to mention you don’t, like, get it--so. Um.”
Logan stared at him as he curled into himself. “What did you--”
“Nothing!” Virgil almost yelped. “Nothing. Forget it.” He jumped up. “I’m gonna be--going now? Yeah. Going--places. Places that are very much not here.”
Virgil almost ran out the door. Logan stared after him in utter confusion and not a small bit of guilt. Had he done something wrong? Virgil had seemed comfortable, until--
Until--
Logan shot to his feet. “Wait--”
The door banged open as he threw it to the side and ran out into the hallway. The noise had surely woken everyone else in the area, but Logan found he didn’t care--since he’d finally caught on, and wasn’t about to waste another moment.
