#background roceit

Logan has been locked away in his lab for the past few days. He is always secretive about his projects, especially when it has to do with me. Tomorrow will be our fifth wedding anniversary.

I walk past Logan’s lab for the ninth time today, hoping the door would be open. There is still a sign up that reads ‘Please do not bother me while I am working unless there is an emergency. An emergency only counts as one of the following: A fire has broken out in our house, you are seriously injured beyond needing a band-aid, or one of our close family members or friends has died or is in the hospital. If none of the above apply, please wait until I am finished to speak with me.’ It might not seem lovable at first glance, but Logan’s attention to rules has always been one of the reasons I fell for him. He has always been my stability in a world of chaos.

I let out a sigh when I see his door closed with the sign still up. I understand Logan’s work is important but I wanted to spend the evening watching a movie with him. It’s been a tradition of ours; Every year the night before our anniversary we would choose a historical movie to watch.

I’m letting the movie tradition slide for now, because I know he is currently working on a present for me.

As I’m aimlessly pacing around the halls, the door opens and Logan steps out. He looks disheveled, chemicals stain his lab coat. “Sorry I took so long. Were you waiting?” Logan asks before pulling me in for a quick kiss.

“I’m just a bit impatient,” I laugh as I answer.

“We’ll start movie night in just a few minutes. Let me shower and change out of my work clothes before we start.” Logan says before he disappears into our bedroom.

I know I shouldn’t, but curiosity gets the better of me. I look up and down the hall, making sure the coast is clear before I slip into Logan’s lab. The door gently shuts behind me.

On his work table, there are two identical bottles, both light purple in color, sitting next to each other. Near the top of the table is a label, in the same handwriting as the sign on the door, that reads ‘anniversary present for Virgil: Test number 67- perfume that smells like lavender while having a chemical compound that creates a calming effect to soothe nerves and anxiety.’ I smile to myself. I couldn’t have possibly picked a better person to spend the rest of my life with. Logan is the most thoughtful person I have ever met.

In the hallway, I hear our bedroom door open and then close. Logan’s voice blends into the background. I vaguely hear him calling my name. Before I sneak out of his lab one sniff of this perfume won’t hurt. Tomorrow I’ll pretend as if I have never smelled it before.

The door to the lab opens as I take a sniff of the bottle to the right. I quickly put down the bottle as he walks in.

“Virgil, what are you-” Logan stops short when he sees me holding the bottle. His face looks very worried, “Which bottle did you just smell?”

Oh shit. I didn’t want Logan to know I knew about his surprise. The room starts to shake, most likely from the anxiety of being caught.

“The right one. Why?” Some of my vision goes dark for a second. The room is spinning now.

“No. No. No. No.” Tears start rolling down Logan’s face as he rushes towards me. “This can’t be happening.”

I don’t understand what’s going on. The floor slips out from under my feet. I black out. A second later I woke up in Logan’s arms. His face is blurry as is everything in the room.

“L-Logan? What happened? Why are you crying? How did I end up on the floor? Why won’t the room stop spinning?” Red spots coat my vision. I take a deep breath only to feel a burning sensation in my lungs. I start to cough to try to get rid of the pain but it only makes it worse.

“I’m so sorry. This wasn’t meant to happen. Why did the bottles have to look so similar? I knew it was stupid to keep this failed experiment lying around.” Logan sobbed as he held onto me.

Every breath was excruciating. It felt like there was a hole burning through my lungs.

“I love you, Virgil.” My vision blacked out again as Logan repeated ‘I love you. I love you’ over and over again.

I tried to say it back but my vocal cords felt like someone lit them on fire.

“I lo-” After two syllables my voice cut out. Everything went dark for the last time.

………………….

The day before our fifth wedding anniversary was the worst day of my entire life.

I walked into my lab to find Virgil staggering after he sniffed a bottle of deadly poison. His death was completely my fault. Next to the poison was a bottle of anxiety-calming perfume. I was the idiot who put them side by side.

I ran over to Virgil. Tears already streamed down my face. Right as I reached him, he collapsed in my arms. Words tumbled out of my mouth. Streams of apologies. But no apology will ever make up for this. The love of my life is dead, and I have to live with the memory that I killed him.

I held him for 15 minutes before he died. His breath sounded like someone was strangling him. His face turned bright red and tears ran down his cheeks. His body convulsed as the poison took effect. His lungs breathed in a pattern that should not have been possible for a living being. Even during Virgil’s panic attacks, his breathing had never sounded this haggard.

15 minutes after smelling the poison, Virgil went limp in my arms. I pull his body closer, crying over his corpse. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. It wasn’t supposed to end like this. We had our entire lives to spend with each other. I’m never going to hear you laugh again. I’m never going to hear you make a snarky comment again. I’m never going to hear your dry humor or your sarcasm again. Please let this be a bad dream. I’m going to wake up and you’ll be there next to me alive and well, right?”

The funeral was small. It was only Roman, Remus, Janus, Patton, and myself. Virgil was never close to his family. We didn’t bother telling them he had died. I don’t remember much of the ceremony. I sobbed through the entire thing. Everyone held me tight and cried with me.

After a week I couldn’t stand the quietness anymore. At 3 am on a Tuesday, I rang Janus and Roman’s doorbell, then hysterically cried on their doorstep until they answered. Worried faces greeted me as they pulled me inside. Everything has been duller since you left. Roman wrapped me in a blanket. I sat sandwiched between the two of them for hours crying until I finally fell asleep. It was the first time in a week I slept more than 5 minutes.

The next morning when I was half asleep I heard Janus whispering on the phone. Two hours later, Patton and Remus arrived with a few boxes. Roman sat with me, running his fingers through my hair as they unloaded my stuff into the guest bedroom.

“We all think it would be best if you weren’t alone for a while,” Roman whispered to me.

My voice was hoarse from all the crying and screaming. The first real sentence I spoke in a week came out broken. “T-this isn’t re-real, r-right?”

Janus took my hand and gave me a look of pity, “I’m sorry, honey, but it’s real.”

"Of course you can," Roman whispers in his ear, transparent in the scene. "It will be hard, but you can rebuild bigger and better than ever. You have so many people who love and support you. You can do it." One of Thomas's friends approaches, holding a mildly singed item in one hand.

The scene flickers. Thomas crumples to the sofa, his phone clutched in one hand, dinging with a constant barrage of notifications. "It's all lies, though!" Thomas exclaims. "I didn't- I didn't do anything, what am I supposed to do-"

Roman tucks a strand of Thomas's hair behind his ear, his fingers just substantial enough to do it.

"Your real friends will listen," he murmurs. "They'll support you. Your friends love you, Thomas. You can get through this. I believe in you. We all do." Thomas's phone rings again, but this time, it is the ringtone of a cherished friend.

Another flicker. This time, Thomas is standing in an alleyway, knees shaking, as a mugger who bears a suspicious resemblance to his brother threatens him.

"I don't have any money," Thomas blurts out, raising both hands in a conciliatory gesture. "I didn't bring my wallet with me when I went on a walk, I'm sorry-"

"Breathe," Roman softly instructs, when it seems like Thomas is about to have a panic attack. The mugger looks similarly stressed out, jabbing a knife in the air with short swipes. "You can get through this. You will live. It will be okay." The mugger turns and bolts, leaving Thomas shaking, unharmed, alive.

"A story's not over without a happy ending," Roman says, as the nightmare winds to a close. Thomas's brows smooth out in the real world, his body finally stilling in a loose squiggle on the bed.

As Roman, exhausted, slogs his way back to his own bed, he is stopped by a familiar face. Janus steps out of the shadow, looking less than brooding in yellow snake printed pajamas.

"I thought I was the liar," Janus softly snarks. Roman just sighs and shakes his head.

"Sometimes you need lies to keep going," Roman says. "I know that now. And you know..." He pauses thoughtfully. "Maybe they won't be lies."

“How are you and Virgil?” Father asked, as he always did. Patton laughed a little.

“We’re good,” Patton signed. “I told you that we’re doing therapy together, right?” Logan nodded. Patton nodded as well. “Yeah, it’s cheaper. And we’re learning a lot.”

“And no fights between the roommates?”

“We . . . we did just move in yesterday.”

Logan raised his eyebrows. “Well, there are four of you,” he signed. “Who knows?”

“Since it’s only two bedrooms, Remus and Roman have decided to share too,” Patton told him, “but Virgil and I are pretty sure that won’t last long. They have a deal to trade between the bed and the air mattress every other week, but Virgil thinks it won’t even be one week before one of them drags the air mattress into the living room.”

The room shook a bit and Patton looked up to see Virgil closing the front door behind him. He kicked off his shoes and propped his white cane up in the corner behind the door, before turning his head from this way to that, listening.

“I’m on the couch,” Patton called out. Father jumped at the sound of his voice, but tried to play it off as straightening his collar.

Virgil waved in the direction of the couch, then promptly tripped over Roman’s dress shoes. Patton giggled when he signed a curse as well as saying it out loud.

Virgil paused by the couch, well in view of the laptop that Patton was video chatting on. Father began talking (probably a greeting) as Patton hopped up to kiss his boyfriend. Virgil smiled, said something in response to Father, then headed toward the kitchen.

Patton checked to make sure his phone was on. Remus had been the one to do the shopping, and who knew how he had thrown everything into the cupboards and fridge. It was a little after noon, so Roman would probably be home soon to help Virgil find food, but if he didn’t want to wait Virgil would take a picture of the contents of the fridge and text it to Patton so that he could tell him the locations of each thing.

“How is everything for you? Remus says he won’t hesitate to drive down there if you don’t take care of yourself.”

Logan smiled softly. “I assure you, I am quite all right,” he waved. “I am even attending therapy.”

“That’s—” Patton dropped his hands as he glanced back at his phone, which had just buzzed. The notification wasn’t a text message, though. It was from the app that all of them had, the one that called for help. The notification was from Virgil. His heart dropped, just as it always did.

“I’ve got to go, goodbye,” Patton signed quickly. He’d closed the laptop before Father even finished his farewell. Then he was up and off to the kitchen, which luckily was only a few steps away from the living room.

Virgil was crouched on the floor, a container of food open in front of him. His hands covered his face and his whole body was trembling, tension in every line.

Patton froze for a moment, scared. What could he do? He had no idea what had triggered Virgil, or if they had any ice cubes to use to snap him out of it, or if he would even be able to bring him back by himself. But the moment of uncertainty passed, and Patton dropped to his knees beside the shaking man.

It was easy to kick the leftovers away, less easy to maneuver Virgil into his arms. Once they were sort of comfortable on the floor, Patton began tracing soothing words into Virgil’s arm. It wasn’t instant, but soon enough Virgil began to calm down, eventually breathing in a steady rhythm.

“You okay?” Patton asked quietly. Virgil shrugged, gripping his jeans as his legs continued to shake. Patton held him closer, a hand rubbing his back soothingly.

Don’t let go, Virgil wrote tremulously onto Patton’s arm.

I never will.

When Roman arrived home, slinging his backpack onto the card table that made up their dining room, he found them still that way, curled up in each other on the tiled kitchen floor. He made a mental note to later ask what had happened, quietly picked up the container of food, then retreated to his and Remus’s bedroom.

-

Remus pushed open their bedroom door, ready to just flop onto whichever bed was Roman’s. Lucky him, Roman was already stretched out there, a container of leftover pasta and a plastic fork beside him. He looked up from the food and smiled cautiously.

“Hey,” he said. “How was therapy?”

Remus shrugged.

Roman winced. “Is that . . . not something I’m supposed to ask about? Virgil’s usually okay with talking about it a bit, but—”

“Nah, it’s . . . whatever.” Remus dropped to the mattress on the floor, toeing off his socks. “Didn’t really say anything, but that’s group therapy for ya. Not talking doesn’t waste anybody’s time.”

Roman was quiet for a moment, and Remus glanced at him. He looked like he was thinking—always a first time for everything, Remus supposed. As soon as Remus had pulled his phone out of his pocket, Roman spoke.

“Do you think that, possibly, I could come with you? Next time?”

Okay, apparently there was a first time for everything. Remus frowned and dropped his phone, looking at the wall.

Roman was quick to backtrack. “I mean, I know that I didn’t go through all that . . . stuff . . . that you did, but . . . I don’t know. Maybe as support for you?”

“Is this still about you punching me?” Remus asked, eyes narrowed. “Because I told you, we’re cool.”

Roman shrugged awkwardly, his face turning red. “Yeah, I just want to help you in any way that I can. Also, Virgil thinks that I might be developing secondhand trauma?” he added, grimacing. “So I thought that perhaps I could benefit from it. And learn more ways to help all of you.”

“Roman, that’s. . . .” He wanted to say ‘very thoughtful’ or ‘selfless’ or ‘good thinking’. What came out of his mouth, though, was “expensive.”

Roman looked away, and now it was Remus’s turn to backtrack. “I mean, I did just get that job,” he said quickly, “and I’d love to help ya out in any way that I can. I even wouldn’t mind giving up therapy, if you think you wanna try it out. I don’t need it that bad.”

Roman laughed, and Remus relaxed fractionally. “Don’t worry,” he said, turning back to his pasta. “Mom and Dad are willing to pay for half of it, and I can cover the rest if I cut down my meal plan. After all, we’re buying plenty of food. I don’t need twenty-one meals a week.”

“You sure? After all, you’re walking an extra two blocks to campus,” Remus reminded. “You need all the strength you can get, for such a journey!”

Roman threw a pillow at him. “Shut up,” he chuckled, then frowned. “And give that back.”

Remus shoved the pillow under himself and smirked. “Too late.”

Instead of fighting for it back, Roman just smiled softly and twirled his fork in the pasta. “Yeah. That’s okay, though.”

-

Virgil breathed in as he woke, feeling the warmth of the sun on his arm that rested above the blankets. It wasn’t quite time to get up, then. If it was, the sunlight that filtered through the gap in their blinds would have reached his face.

He lay there for as long as he could, burrowing deeper under the blankets and into Patton’s arms. The softness of his nightshirt rubbed against his nose and cheek, and Virgil sighed contentedly. This was everything.

Yesterday’s flashback had been bad (who even gets triggered by the sound of a container opening?), but Patton had been there. Moving had been hard, but Patton had been there. Therapy was hard, but Patton was there.

It wasn’t just Patton, either. Roman was taking many of the same classes that he was, despite not needing all of them. Remus was willing to drive him just about anywhere, even to a park just to sit in silence for hours. Patton’s dad, for some reason, regularly called him to check up on him. Roman’s parents cared for him like he was another son. Even Roman’s on-and-off boyfriend, Janus, dropped by to hang out sometimes.

So, Virgil had a pretty good support group. On the days when he felt like just giving up, there was always someone to help him up. Just like he was there for the others. They all loved and supported each other, in their own ways.

Patton’s breathing shifted with a snuffle, followed by him nestling his face into Virgil’s hair. A moment later, he was tracing on Virgil’s arm.

Hey you.

Virgil didn’t even try to muffle the giggle that escaped. The ray of sun had reached his head, warming his dark hair. The alarm would be going off at any minute, but for now, he was happy to be in his boyfriend’s arms.

Date tonight? he asked, his fingers moving slowly on Patton’s arm. At the smoothie place, with Roman and Janus?

Sounds good!

Virgil placed his hands on Patton’s chest, meeting his lips for a slow kiss. When they parted, he relaxed back into his love’s arms, unabashedly snuggling. The alarm clock would have to grow arms and pry them apart to get him out of bed.

Old Virgil would have scoffed, unimpressed at his thirst for human contact. Old Virgil wanted to be alone.

As long as it was Roman, and Remus, and Mr. and Mrs. Allred, and Logan, and Janus, and Patton—wonderful, beautiful Patton—Virgil didn’t think he would mind it if he was never alone again.

So, Remus had decided to get drastic, and take a leaf out of his brother’s book (and yes, copying his brother was definitely drastic, maybe he should check if pigs were flying, or hell had frozen over). The monthly open mic night was approaching again, and he’d decided to give it a go. He wasn’t quite as musically gifted as the rest of them, but he could carry a tune, and that was what he was going to do tonight. He’d been practising with Virgil on the sly, late nights after the bar had closed, sometimes staying till four or five in the morning.

It was the last practice, right before the bar opened, his friends and brother were meeting there later. Patton and Virgil were the only ones who knew Remus was going to sing tonight, and he wanted to keep it that way. His nerves were already through the roof. He fumbled on the words of the bridge and swore.

“It’s alright, Rem.” Virgil said, as Remus groaned in frustration. “From the top?”

Remus sighed. “Nah, if I keep practising, I’ll just overthink it when I actually sing it. Thanks though.” He said, grabbing his scotch from on top of the upright piano and downing the rest of it.

Virgil nods. “If you say so. You’re on third tonight, that okay with you?”

“Sure sure, as long as Logan’s here in time.” Remus replied, heading over to the bar. “Same again, please.”

Patton chuckled. “Really going full Dean Martin, aren’t you?” He said, pouring Remus another scotch all the same.

“You know it. Plus, liquid courage and all that.” Remus replied with a chuckle of his own as he started to roll a cigarette. “Can I hop out the fire exit with this?” He asked as he nodded at the drink.

“Sure.” Patton replied, though he frowned at the cigarette. “I suppose that’s for nerves too? You don’t need to be nervous, you sounded great to me.”

“Yeah, well...” Remus shrugged as he finished rolling and picked up the glass. He nudged the fire exit door open, and tried to stop his brain moving so fast. It was just a goddamn song. To be honest, Logan hadn’t picked up his hints thus far, so why he’d get it from a song, he wasn’t sure. But hey, it had worked for Roman, so there was always a chance.

***

“Okay, we have another newcomer to the Open Mic Tonight!” Patton called out after the second act had soaked up her well deserved applause. “Please, guys, gals and non-binary pals, give it up for Remus Prince!”

Logan’s eyes flicked up to the stage quickly, turning to Janus and Roman, sat next to him. “Did you know he was singing tonight?”

The pair shook their heads. “He never said a word to me.” Roman replied, just as Virgil started playing the introduction. Recognition dawned on him, and he beamed, just as Remus started singing.

I’ve no proof, when people say, you’re more or less aloof,

But you’re sensational.

I don’t care, if you are called, “Mister Frigidaire”, cause you’re sensational.

Remus’s eyes found Logan as he made it to the bridge.

Making love is quite an art,

What you require is the proper squire to fire your heart.

And if you’ll say, that one fine day you’ll let me come to call....

We’ll have a ball-

Cause you’re sensational... Sensational.

That’s all, that’s all.

That’s all...

***

Remus was sitting on the railings outside the fire exit when Logan found him.

“Hey.” He figured that was the best place to start.

“Hi.” Remus said, saluting with his cigarette.

“So. Your performance tonight. That was really good.” Logan started with, leaning against the railing next to Remus.

“You really think so? I was flat half way through.”

Logan made a small sound of amusement at that. “And here I thought Roman was the perfectionist of the two of you.”

Remus shrugged. “Why do something if you aren’t gonna get it right, am I right?”

Logan smiled. “Well, you got the song very right.”

“Not right enough, if you still haven’t cottoned on.” Remus mumbled.

“What?”

“Jesus, Logan, do you- are you deliberately pretending, or do you honestly not know that I’ve been crushing on you for the last 2 months? I’ve been flirting with you non-stop, I fucking invited you to dinner. What about that suggests platonic to you?” Remus babbled, before his hand slapped over his mouth as he realised just how much he’d said.

Logan raised an eyebrow, before coughing uncomfortably. “Would you- would you come inside for a moment?”

“What?” Remus stared at Logan as if he’d just grown an extra head. Which to be honest would have been way cooler than what was currently happening.

“Would you mind please coming inside for a moment?” Logan asked again.

“Are you just- We’re ignoring the- ooookay?” Remus replied, tossing the rest of his cigarette into the designated ciggie bin because he was a trash panda, but he was a trash panda that cared about the environment. “Lead the way, nerd.”

Logan rolled his eyes, heading almost immediately towards the stage.

“What a great time we’re having tonight, right guys?” Patton called out to the crowd, grinning ear to ear as they replied with a loud cheer. “Well, we have another newcomer tonight, please welcome Logan Sanders to the stage!”

Remus’s jaw dropped as Logan took a seat next to Virgil at the piano and started to play the melody.

When an irresistible force

Such as you,

Meets an old immovable object like me.

You can bet as sure as you live.

Something's gotta give

Something's gotta give

Something's gotta give

Logan. Fucking. Sanders. Was. Singing?? Remus was entirely caught off guard as the nerd let Virgil take over the full piano, moving with the mic to stand at the front of the stage as he came to the bridge.

So on guard.

Who knows what the fates have in store

From their vast mysterious sky?

I'll try hard ignoring those lips I adore.

But how long can anyone try?

Fight, fight, fight, fight.

Fight it with all of our might.

Chances are some heavenly star-spangled night - Logan took the chance to gesture up towards the lights over the stage.

You'll find out

As sure as we live

Something's really got to give

He looked directly at Remus, and Remus could feel his soul leaving his body and then he was joining it, on his feet in moments and rushing towards the stage as Virgil played out the last chords. He leapt up onto the stage and grabbed Logan, pulling him in for a searing kiss, ignoring the whoops (and one ridiculously loud “EWWWW” from Roman) before pulling back, leaving Logan breathless.

Remus smirked. “Try ignoring these lips now.” He said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Logan rolled his eyes, pushing him towards the stage exit.

***

“So you weren’t clueless?” Remus asked, hours later while they were on their way to the bus shelter.

“I thought you were. It seemed to me like you flirted with everyone, and that dinner you invited me to was with your brother and our mutual friends. What was I supposed to think?” Logan replied.

“Fair point. It was supposed to be just you and me,” Remus explained, “But then my idiot of a brother invited himself along at the last minute.

Logan chuckled. “Don’t be mean, it was his idea that got our heads out of our asses, after all.”

“YOU WERE COPYING HIM TOO?!” Remus nearly screeched. The world had clearly gone absolutely bonkers.

***

Neither of them thought about the fact that Janus had paid for all the drinks for the rest of the night, or that Virgil and Patton had final say over the running order.

I glance up at the sound of wings, not fully turning towards it as I’d know my brother and best friend's wings anywhere. Roman has those huge angel wings that everyone swoons over because of their power and fluffiness; while Jan-Jan has awesome looking yellow-green scaled ones that he’s still self-conscious over since they’re often stereotyped to be with ‘evil’ people. 

So now I’m surrounded by winged-ones. Patton’s Puffin wings press tightly against his back as the sound of shattering glass, that’s been happening every five minutes on the dot, while Virgil’s huge Wedge-Tail Eagle wings fluff up despite knowing that it was going to happen again. At least Roman and Janus didn’t react as much, despite it being a shock to them

“You two are being fucking pussies.”

“Language, Em! And the shattering sound is scary… I can’t help it.” Patton should have brought his life-partner with him as it’d be more fun with more people. I guess after the last haunted house that we took Emile to, he wanted to be able to actually sleep this October.

“We’ll go inside soon, Pat. Is Logan here yet?” Oh yeah, that guy that I’m supposed to be meeting. Forgot about him. Virgil and Roman made him sound so boring, but they also made Remy sound boring before I met the guy while he was dealing with caffeine withdrawal. 

My foot sends a small stone flying as Virgil checks his phone; tsk-ing quietly as he starts typing. “He’s inside already. In the upstairs piano room.”

“I thought we were gonna meet him out here?” Oh my god; I’m going to die from boredom and haunt this place for real if I stand out here any longer. So I grab my jacket from the ground, throw it on and quickly slip between the fence bars instead of grabbing a ticket. No one’s watching anyway.

“I don’t care! I’m going in- Bye!”

“Remus! Wait up!”

Happily ignoring Roman, I slip in through an unlocked side door and fight the distant sound of doors slamming by letting my stomping echo through the house as I head upstairs. This place sucks at scares if they’re resulting in slamming doors, but I can probably piss off some employees if I can find one of their hidey holes. And finding this ‘Logan’ and messing with him would be a nice bonus.

Taking a glance into each room -and ignoring the bad jump scares of fake ghosts played by underpaid, teenage actors- I finally find the piano room Virgil mentioned with someone standing at the far end, by the window. Despite the poor lighting, I can tell that he’s wearing a dark blue polo shirt and that his dark hair has been attempted to be slicked back. Perfect posture, hands held behind his back, shoulders tense; I may even be seeing a pair of those fancy black shoes that a lot of the richer kids in the area have. 

I shake my head as I step into the room, followed by an eerie creak in the floorboards. The guy spins around and I manage to see dark eyes behind some glasses before my legs suddenly give way.

One second I see those dark eyes, then the next I’m on the floor with sore arms and a heaviness on my back. A muffled voice, sounding close but layered beneath some kind of fog, gives me the energy to push myself off my stomach and onto my knees before I’m suddenly feeling exhausted.

Those eyes are in front of me again, but this time are a whole lot closer and also no longer as difficult to see that they’re a dark blue; as if the lighting has changed. With a quick glance around, I realise that it has. Because now there’s a broken piano, some splintered wooden pillars, a floodlight that looks like it’s been forgotten about, the walls showing their insides, and a giant fucking hole in the ceiling.

“What the hell...” This guy better have some answers- there’s no way that I should have fallen through the floor. But he looks just as roughed up as me, with some sawdust and a black feather in his now unkempt hair and his tie -who wears a tie to a haunted house?- is hanging around his neck. His huge, ruffled, pitch-black wings of some corvid don’t look injured at least. 

He… didn’t have wings a moment ago.

The guy must have noticed me staring at them, as he motions behind me wordlessly as he stands and brushes himself off. Something twinges in my gut as I turn slightly, only to find myself looking at the dusty wings of a hummingbird. They’re small and rather thin looking, but covered in blues and greens and a few hints of red. They flutter as I try out the new limbs, tearing another part of my shirt in the process. But who cares? I just grew two new limbs.

I’m pulled to my feet, my vision spinning slightly and a tightness in my chest makes it a little harder to breathe. My eyes drift back to the guy in front of me who seems like he’s not as stupefied as I am at what the hell just happened. “Uh… There’s a feather in your hair.”

His eyes widen as he reaches up and runs his fingers through his hair, catching the feather along the way and taking a second to pocket it before nodding slightly. “Thank you.” I hear him taking in a sharp inhale as his wings twitch as they try to stay off the dirty floor. There’s no point as they’re covered in dust and dirt already, but he seems stubborn enough to keep trying. “As unexpected and strange as this encounter was, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Logan Crow.”

“Oh! You’re that guy I’m supposed to be meeting- Wait, your last name is ‘Crow’?” I point at the black masses on his back. “And you have those wings?” His brows dip in slightly; just enough that he looks kind of cute. I wonder what all of his other expressions look like...

“Purely coincidental. And you must be Remus Aurelian-”

Something grinds together, echoing the sounds of wood against metal and of a highly taught string snapping from the pressure. Logan’s wings move so that the joint sits higher than his head, ready to fly him away from danger; if only he actually knew how to fly.

I swallow with a dry mouth as I finally realise how small of a room that we find ourselves in. Not that the small amount of space is an issue. Nor that the room seems to be also empty, besides the useless, broken piano. “We should probably leave.”

“Agreed.” The door to the room is just a maintenance one; small enough to not draw attention to it the other side, while large enough to push through wood or something to fix these pillars. They obviously haven’t done so in a while...

It’s rusted hinges squeak with resistance until one of the screws pops out of place as I manage to push it open. But as I attempt to crawl through, a stab of pain flows up my back and shoulders as my new limbs hit the top of the door frame. I try again, wincing this time as I attempt to squeeze through until I’m dragged back inside by the leg.

“I can’t fit through that! Are you fucking kidding me?”

“If you can’t, I surely can’t either.” Even with my tiny-ass wings that may or may not be able to carry me in the future -something to worry about another time- we’re stuck in here unless we suddenly figure out how to fly. In this small room, with not even a window in it. Just four walls that seem to have gotten closer than the last time I had paid attention to them. “I’ll text message the others, see if they can get the operators of the house to help us.”

Standing up doesn’t help the irregular waves of nausea that continue to hit me, but it’s better than how hard it is to breathe when I’m sitting. “But that’s going to take ages!” Except now it’s both hard to breathe, and I feel like I’m going to throw up. And I feel light headed. And my legs don’t want to hold me up anymore. A deep growl escapes my throat as I kick the stump of the closest broken pillar, making a few extra chunks fly off of it. “Why the hell did they make half of these rooms so damn tiny!?”

I kick it again until a hand sits firmly on my shoulder. It’s weird that I already feel so much for this guy, as anyone else would get an elbow to the ribs for touching me while this nausea keeps attacking me. I move away instead, huffing a bit while also taking in a few deeper breaths. “Are… Remus, do you happen to be claustrophobic?”

“What? Fuck no.” I can almost see Janus raising his eyebrow at me; always somehow knowing when I’m lying. It’s just some stupid fear that everyone thinks that I got over years ago. I can last until someone comes to grab us. Maybe sitting down will help...

“I know that we have only just met, but I will ask if you need comforting right now. And before you say that you don’t need it; you are shaking.” The nausea fades into chills and a heavy stone in my gut as I look at my hands as the ground gets a little closer. I close my eyes, hoping that I can just imagine that I’m outside or in a huge cathedral with furniture and lots of room to run around. My hands aren’t shaking; they can’t be shaking. If Roman or Patton or Virgil- anyone knew that I would turn into this wreck just because I’m in a tiny space, I’d never hear the end of it. Being afraid isn’t… It’s not me.

A comforting warmth makes me jump, sliding me off of my pins-and-needles-filled legs. Something slides in behind me, with one hand on my waist and the other helping my wings fold before I’m pulled into a chest. Logan’s chest. When the hell did he wrap his wings around me? 

“I’m not great at this…”

“It’s cool.” I go to say ‘me either’, but instead decide to relax into him. My chest still hurts and it's still harder to breathe then what I’d like.

“You were crying.” 

“I didn’t notice.” Well fuck. What a great first impression this has been. He doesn’t sound judgemental, and he has his wings around me, so he mustn’t think too badly of me. Probably...

“Are you alright?”

I shake my head, sighing as he adjusts the both of us for a few seconds before he finally seems comfortable. “Don’t tell anyone that this happened. They uh, don’t know.” All of my usual drivel and weird flirts are weirdly vacant from my head. It’s weird since that’s the usual, but it’s not bad. I don’t think I’ve felt this comfortable since I was a kid. “The claustrophobia thing, I mean.” 

“Ah. Of course. Your secret’s safe with me.”

Logan seems shy; that’ll be fun to fuck with later. A distant scream from the haunted house brings his arm further around me, and I definitely get a smug smirk because I know that Roman didn’t get cuddles for weeks after meeting Janus. Logan may be a little awkward but holy shit, I already love this.

It's too quiet though; I can hear how bad my breathing is and it’s making me way too self conscious. “I’m gonna eat a full squid in front of Roman to cheer myself up after this.” He stifles his laugh too. Oh, he really is a shy one! And he doesn’t get grossed out easily from the sounds of it.

“They do have three hearts that could be used to help you scare him, but I’m unsure if they are also edible. It may depend on the species.” He hesitates for a moment, moving his head to look down at me, judging by how he’s moving. Roman did say that he was a nerd, but not about stuff that’s actually cool. “I do know that they use two for their gills while the third sends blood to the rest of the body.”

He stops again, this time tensing up the shoulder that I’m using as a pillow. With a huff, I reach up to pat his face before closing my eyes; getting comfortable enough to try and forget where we are. “Keep goin’, you’re nice to listen to. Got that sexy teacher voice thing going on.”

I’m exhausted, but manage a chuckle after his sputters for a moment. He starts talking once more as the hand that’s wrapped around me lightly tapping a rhythm against my side.