#jksf

Sure, he knew what it stood for. But he realized he had never actually looked into what it meant. He had impressions, but he suspected that ADHD ran much deeper than that. Most diagnoses did. 

Virgil wanted to do the best for his students, he wanted to support him, he wanted to understand them. He thought it was absolutely necessary to learn more about ADHD, so he began his research.

He was quickly- well not disappointed- but perhaps confused? Yes, that was a better word. Because the main symptoms of ADHD, well didn’t most people deal with those?

Virgil often fidgeted, was easily distracted, sometimes had difficulty focusing on singular things, and more. Virgil himself fit a lot of the criteria for ADHD symptoms and he quickly realized his spouses did as well. So why would this be a separate diagnosis?

Overlap, Virgil quickly realized. ADHD symptoms were officially symptoms of ADHD if they couldn’t be explained by other things. Virgil’s own traits of being easily distracted, fidgeting, trouble holding attention were all symptoms tied to PTSD and anxiety.

Logan fidgeted- stimmed- as well. Logan could talk excessively, intensely focus, and lose focus easily. Which made sense when Virgil learned that autism and ADHD were sibling diagnoses.

Patton was forgetful. But there was a difference between ADHD forgetful and having memory loss. Patton was sometimes disorganized, which could once again be attributed to memory loss.

As Virgi read more about ADHD he quickly realized how each of his spouses had symptoms of it, but all had other root causes for their behavior.

Except Roman.

Roman was easily distracted. He seemed completely blind to the passage of time and fidgeted a lot with bouncing his leg or tapping. He rambled and never seemed to run out of energy. Whenever he perceived failure he took it extremely harshly, feeling as if he himself was a failure- which fit perfectly into an ADHD thing called ‘Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria.’ Roman could get extremely passionate about certain topics, but often lost focus with anything else. He had trouble sitting through long events. He occasionally interrupted others without realizing. He was often disorganized, and coffee seemed to calm him down more than wake him up. He forgot lengthy instructions and took longer to start tasks. He couldn’t go shopping without a grocery list and would forget events if they weren’t put on a calendar.

Roman fit almost every symptom for ADHD and it sent Virgil reeling. Because of course Virgil had noticed these traits in his spouse- how could he not, they were a part of Roman- but he had never once considered that these traits could be the result of something more.

Could Roman have ADHD?

Which led to his current predicament of considering that question and in result, thinking about absolutely nothing else.

“What’s up?” Roman asked, when Virgil was trying to grade papers and failing miserably, mind returning to this new question.

Virgil jumped a bit at the noise as Roman took a seat next to him.

“Oh,” Virgil said, “I just…” 

Virgil’s mind was racing? Did Roman have ADHD? Should he comment about the ADHD thing to Roman? Would Roman be upset with him if he said anything? Would Roman be upset if he didn’t say anything? And what if Virgil was wrong?

Virgil shrugged, brain too overwhelmed into actually making a decision of what to say. Roman frowned and tapped at the table. Fidgeting, Virgil noticed. Or maybe stimming? He was still trying to figure out if fidgeting due to ADHD was considered stimming.

“Virge?” Roman pressed gently.

Virgil sighed, because he still didn't know what to say, and didn't know what to expect from Roman’s response.

“I’m anxious,” he admitted, because that was a good middle ground. Virgil was communicating even if he wasn’t yet ready to talk.

“Okay,” Roman said, “Anything I can do to help? I may or may not be intentionally avoiding my own work.”

Procrastinating due to struggles with executive functioning. Long or unclear tasks could be hard to manage and complete. All symptoms of ADHD.

Should Virgil say something?

He didn’t know what would happen if he did say anything. He had no idea of Roman’s response and that was terrifying and if Roman was mad, Virgil could get hurt and-

“Just leave me alone,” Virgil snapped. Which was not what he had planned to do. Though Virgil wasn’t really sure what he had planned to do.

“Virgil?” Roman asked. His eyebrows scrunched together and he frowned a bit. His hands settled in front of him.

Virgil instantly felt bad but he was also scared and that was currently winning.

“Leave me alone Roman,” he insisted again, voice low and firm.

Roman continued to frown, but after a minute gave a quick nod.

“Okay,” he said, “If you want, you can come talk to me when you’re ready, okay?”

Virgil said nothing and looked down at the table.

Roman nodded once more and stood up. He was tall, and he was close to Virgil and suddenly he was looming and he was so close and Virgil had just snapped at him and what if he hurt him Roman could so easily hurt him it would be so easy for him to-

Virgil was across the room before he realized what he was doing, back pressed against the wall as he struggled to take a breath, maximum distance between him and Roman.

Roman stared back at him.

“Shit,” Virgil whispered after a moment.

Roman carefully sat on the floor. He was lower than Virgil now, not looming, not a threat.

“Shit,” Virgil said again, brain catching up with him. Kit nudged his hand and Virgil looked down at his dog. Kit pawed at his leg.

Virgil sat on the floor and allowed his dog to cover him. He breathed deeply and ran a hand through his hair.

Roman wasn’t going to hurt him- he was safe. Roman would never hurt him. He was safe. 

Roman was still sitting across the room, patiently waiting.

Virgil sighed, sat with his dog, petting his soft fur for a moment. Eventually he had Kit get off and he stood, making his way back to his seat at the table. He gestured at the seat across from him.

“Sit?” he asked Roman.

Roman nodded and carefully stood. With each action he took over to the chair, he narrated it to Virgil and kept in his line of sight. Virgil appreciated that greatly. He knew Roman would never hurt him- of course he wouldn’t- but his mind didn’t always understand that. PTSD sucked like that- it attempted to keep Virgil safe even when there was no threat around. Not anymore.

“Virgil?” Roman asked.

Virgil hesitated for just a moment, and then he blurted out his thoughts.

“I think you might have ADHD,” he admitted.

“What?” Roman asked, frown on his face.

“I think you might have ADHD,” he said slower this time.

Roman blinked at him.

“I’m- you think I have ADHD?” he repeated back, somewhat baffled.

“Yeah,” Virgil said, “Maybe? Attention Deficit Hyper-”

“-activity Disorder,” Roman finished, “Yeah I know what it is. Just- why would you think that? I don’t- I’m not that hyperactive? Sports suck. And I’m not rude or disruptive and stuff. I just- don’t see it,” Roman explained, “but I’m not mad at you and I am willing to listen,” he quickly confirmed.

Roman’s final words came as a relief- stopping short the anxiety that had begun to build as he talked.

“I just- I have a student with ADHD?” Virgil explained, “Well, I’ve had several students with ADHD? And I realized I didn’t actually know much about it, just what I had sorta heard. Like you said- being super active, not sitting still, not listening, disruptive. But I didn’t really know what it was? And I mean- I want to support my students as best as possible so I started to do some research…” Virgil trailed off.

“And?” Roman prompted.

“And to me, it seemed like you fit the diagnostic criteria? You show almost all the symptoms? That I’ve seen,” Virgil hastily added. Then quick because he had to be sure, “You’re not mad at me?”

Roman had said he wasn’t but maybe he just said that and Virgil need to be 100% positive.

“I’m not mad,” Roman promised, “I’m a bit…” he seemed to search for the right word, “I’m a bit… surprised. I don’t think I have ADHD. Don’t most people get diagnosed as kids anyways? I’m an adult this- I dunno Virgil it just doesn’t seem to make a lot of sense.”

“Okay,” Virgil agreed, because he certainly wasn’t going to argue this point with Roman. “Okay. I- okay. Well even if you don’t have it maybe look up RSD? Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria? It just- well it reminded me of a few things you said our freshman year in college? And I mean since that too- but especially then.”

Roman watched Virgil.

“Okay,” he eventually agreed, “Sure, why not?”

Virgil breathed a sigh of relief and the conversation came to an end.

-

Roman did research RSD. He didn’t think he had ADHD which meant he probably didn’t have this thing either. But he told Virgil he’d look it up and he wasn’t about to lie to him, so he did.

He was shocked with what he found because well, didn’t everyone feel that way? Didn’t everyone take criticism personally? Didn’t everyone feel worthless when they perceived rejection? Did other people not feel like a failure when they didn’t do something right or when they let someone down?

Other people had to feel this way. There was no way that Roman had felt like this his entire life and most other people didn’t. It just- it wasn’t possible. Somebody would have noticed. He would have noticed.

“Patton?” Roman asked.

“Hmm?” Pat said, looking up from his computer.

Roman hesitated. Was he really going to-

“Have you ever heard of RSD?” 

Apparently he was going to ask. Thanks brain for considering that fully.

“No,” Patton said, “Why?”

Roman hesitated for less than he did before, and began to explain. Patton listened and asked for a few repeats and clarifiers along the way.

“Okay so- my other question is… Do you do that?”

“Do I have RSD?” Patton asked.

“Yeah,” Roman said. Because everyone- everyone did. They had to.

Patton frowned and then softly shook his head.

“I don’t think so,” he said, “I mean, I can feel bad when I do things wrong. And if it’s a big thing I’m going to feel worse. But I guess- I mean I don’t feel like I’ve been rejected or that I’m a failure or that people don’t like me. I just think I made a mistake. Which can suck but it doesn’t mean that I’m a bad person or anything.”

“Oh,” Roman said. This was- this was- well what Patton said made sense. What Patton thought made sense. The thing was- the thing was that Roman didn’t do that.

“Why are you asking, love?” Patton asked.

Roman shook his head.

“No reason,” he insisted quickly, as he already turned back to his phone. He could feel Patton stare at him for a moment, slight frown on his face. But eventually, he shrugged and turned back to his computer. Roman just took a breath and started his newest google search.

Roman didn’t have ADHD.

But well- it wouldn’t hurt to look it up.

-

“Hey Dad,” Roman greeted, the minute his dad had picked up the phone.

“Roman,” he greeted cheerfully. Roman smiled at his voice. “What’s going on?”

Roman’s smile slowly dropped. He drummed his fingers nervously on his pants leg.

“I had a question,” he acknowledged.

“Alright. Shoot.”

Roman hesitated.

“Roman?”

“It’s kind of a weird question?” Roman hedged.

“Roman I raised you for most of your life, I’m pretty sure I'm used to your questions by now,” he said wryly.

Roman gave a short half-hearted chuckle.

“Okay,” he relented, “I was just wondering… Was I ever tested for ADHD as a kid?”

His dad went quiet. Roman started to regret calling. Really, why was he even doing this? He didn’t- he wasn’t- a google search of symptoms didn’t prove anything. Sure, maybe they had all fit but that didn’t mean-

“No. You weren't.” A pause. “Can I ask why?”

He had to know why Roman would be asking that.

“I-” Roman hesitated, “I just-”

“Do you want to get tested?” his dad asked.

“No,” Roman responded immediately, without even thinking about it. Impulsive, his brain whispered at him, a symptom of ADHD, “No. I just- I…” he trailed off.

“Okay. Well, if you did ever want to get tested. I mean, there’s nothing wrong with that. You know that, right?”

“Right,” Roman responded automatically, not really hearing his words. “I uh- I actually have to go. I’ll call some other time.”

Logan walked into the room at that moment, giving a smile when he saw Roman. Roman attempted to return it. Logan made his way to the bookshelf, looking for something.

“Okay,” his dad agreed, “Okay.”

“Okay, bye,” Roman rushed to say.

“Roman?” his dad's voice interrupted.

“Yeah?”

Logan pulled a book out of the shelf. He held it in one hand, the other hand coming up to quickly brush all the pages, flicking through them quickly. He continued to stim that way repetitively.

“I love you..”

“Yeah Dad, yeah I know.”

“I love you. For you. Okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I love you too.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

Roman brought his phone away from his ear and put it in his pocket. He walked over to where Logan was still stimming with the book.

“Hey,” Roman greeted.

Logan smiled up at him.

“Can I touch you,” Roman asked.

Logan nodded in consent and Roman wrapped him up from behind. He pressed a kiss into the back of Logan’s head and closed his eyes for a moment as he enjoyed holding his husband.

“Were you waiting for me?” Roman asked, “You didn’t move once you found your book.”

Logan ducked his head.

“Oh, no,” he said, “I was going to read the book. But I found stimming with the pages enjoyable.”

“Mmmm,” Roman hummed.

“You were calling your dad,” Logan observed.

“Yup,” Roman said, “Had to ask him a question.”

“What question? And why not text?” Logan asked. He carefully broke free of Roman’s embrace to face him.

Roman sighed.

“I- uh- I asked him if I had been tested for ADHD as a child,” he admitted.

“Oh,” Logan said. He frowned and shifted on his feet. He continued to stim with the book, “Why did you ask him that?”

“Virgil said- Well Virgil said he thought I might have ADHD. I guess I was just-” Roman waved his hand as if to explain, “y’know?”

“I don’t actually,” Logan admitted, “I’m not sure what you're saying. Can you clarify?”

Roman nodded and tried to figure out the words he wanted.

“I guess I’m just- I wanted to see- I’m trying to figure out- Maybe I do? Maybe I do have ADHD. And I’m trying to figure that out.”

“Okay,” Logan said, “Thanks for clarifying.”

“Not a problem,” Roman was quick to assure. “I’m just- well what do you think?”

“About?” 

“Do you think I have ADHD?”

Logan paused, thinking. He stopped stimming with the book and instead raised a hand to tap at his chest.

“You could,” he considered, “I can see why Virgil would think that. I’d have to do more research on ADHD. And your thoughts and observations are vitally important to the discussion as well. I would think that would be the most important piece by far.”

“Yeah,” Roman sighed, “I think… I think I might have it?” he admitted. “A lot of the symptoms fit and it’s just- like a lot of things make sense looking back with ADHD on mind? Like when me and Virgil weren’t getting along when we first met. And when I struggled to take over as director. And as a kid when I struggled in school because I couldn’t focus on the material. Also in school as a kid when I was quickly drawn to theater and it was so much looser and I’d get so focused on it. Time is weird? It can pass so quickly but also super slow and I’m awful at estimating it and that’s apparently an actual ADHD thing called time blindness. Coffee calms me down more than waking me up. How I could never seem to keep my room clean as a kid. I just…” Roman trailed off, and then laughed slightly. “The rambling too,” he added.

Logan quirked a smile at that.

“You do talk a lot,” Logan said.

“Yeah.”

Logan paused for a moment, shifting and looking around the room. He frowned and dipped his head down.

“I’m not sure how to progress this conversation,” he admitted.

“Honestly neither do I,” Roman admitted, “I don’t- I don’t really know where to go from here at all. I have ADHD, but what does that mean?”

Logan’s head jerked up, eyes settling on Roman’s forehead.

“You said you had ADHD,” Logan said.

Roman slowly nodded.

“Well yeah, I mean that’s what we’re talking about? So…”

“You didn’t say that before,” Logan continued, “You said you might have ADHD. You asked me if I thought you had it. You said Virgil thought you had it. But you now just said that you did have it.”

“I…” Roman tried to find the right words. He hadn’t even noticed the change in his wording. But Logan was quick to pick up on things like that and bring them to light. And Logan was right, that was a change. A significant change. What did it mean?

“Does it click?” Logan asked.

“What?” Roman asked.

“Does it…” Logan huffed and cast his gaze downward. Roman waited. “I’m trying to figure out how to explain,” Logan said. 

“Okay,” Roman acknowledged, and waited some more.

“Does it… Inside you- when you hear the words ADHD, look at the diagnosis, see the symptoms. Is there something in you that…” Logan pressed a firm hand against his chest and close to his heart, once again lost for words. He did it again, and Roman understood.

“Yes,” Roman said, “Yes. It resonates. Is that a good word for it?”

“Yes. That exactly. It resonates,” Logan agreed. “Does it?”

“Yeah. Yeah it does,” Roman admitted.

“Well then,” Logan shrugged, “Do you need more than that?”

“I- a diagnosis?” Roman tried, “I need to be diagnosed.”

“Do you?” Logan asked, “I mean- if you want to search for a diagnosis I of course support that decision and I'm sure our husbands would as well. But do you need that to know you have ADHD?”

Roman shifted, and considered. Because he knew now. He knew. He had ADHD. It made so much sense, it clicked, it resonated. It was a part of him and so many things had explanations now. So much of his behavior began to make sense.

He knew without a diagnosis. But…

“If I don’t get a diagnosis isn’t that kind of faking?” Roman asked.

“No,” Logan, “I think a diagnosis is just physical proof of your experiences. It doesn’t change anything. But if it’s something you want or need, again I will support you with that, whatever the reason for wanting it. I just want to make sure you understand that a diagnosis isn’t going to change things. Either way you have ADHD.”

“I… I’m not sure?”

“About?”

“If I want a diagnosis or not.”

Logan shrugged.

“Okay. Well you don’t need to know right away.”

Roman nodded, relieved. It was already a lot. This was a lot. He was figuring out and learning a lot and his brain was tired. Did that make sense? He didn’t know if his thoughts made sense anymore.

“Yeah. Thanks Logan,” Roman said.

Logan gave him a warm smile and grasped his hand briefly before taking his book and leaving the room.

-

“Like I know I have it now, but what do I do?” Roman complained, pacing across the floor, “What does it mean?”

“I think it means whatever you want it to sweetheart,” Patton told him, from where he was lying on his stomach on the bed, heating pad on his back.

“What does that mean?” Roman whined some more.

Patton shook his head fondly at his spouse. Roman just continued to pace, muttering as he did so.

“Does this make things different now?” he asked, a hint of something new in his voice.

Patton looked up. He raised himself carefully on an elbow and turned to look at Roman, wincing as he did so.

“What do you mean?” he asked, carefully soft.

“Like does this- does it change things?”

“I think it could,” Patton admitted, “But I don’t think in the ways you’re expecting.”

Roman stopped facing and turned to face Patton directly.

“What? How?”

“Well… I mean you haven’t changed love. You know you have ADHD now but you haven’t changed. I think the things that could change would potentially be some coping skills and ways of getting things done. But you aren’t going to change, some things we might adapt to work with you better.”

Work with him better? Why did they need to change things?

“What do you mean?” Roman asked, now frowning, “I cope fine?”

“I do think you’re doing well,” Patton agreed, “But if you’d like I’m certain we can change some things to work with you better. Cooking for one.”

“Cooking?”

What did cooking have to do with ADHD?

“Yeah. You’re okay in the kitchen but often not alone because you tend to mess up the recipes slightly or don’t watch the time. I’m guessing you get distracted.”

Roman stood stock still. 

How had he never realized that? That was exactly it. When Roman cooked his mind tended to wander, not sticking to the task. It’s why he usually cooked with others, so they could keep him on task.

“I- oh. I never realized that before.”

Roman sat on the edge of the bed carefully so it wouldn’t shift too much. His back was to Patton.

Did Patton want him to be better in the kitchen? He wasn’t terrible but he certainly wasn’t good. But wasn’t that the same as letting his husbands down? He was letting them down because he wasn’t good at simple things like cooking. He was starting to not like this whole ADHD thing.

“Mhmm. And when you get hard on yourself- the uh- the- you told me the name? But I forgot it. But when you get really hard on yourself. We can come up with coping skills with that. I mean we have a bit already, but we can work with communicating more as well as helping validate you.”

“Communicate more?”

Roman turned to face Patton, swinging one of his legs onto the bed.

“Mhmm,” Pat agreed, carefully taking one of his hands.

Roman wasn’t good in the kitchen. Which was pretty much the same as bad. He was letting down- no failing- his husbands.

“Okay. Uh, well. I’m feeling sorta bad about the kitchen thing.”

“What about the kitchen thing?” Patton asked as he rubbed small circles with his thumb on the back of Roman’s hand.

Gosh Roman did not want to explain. Especially after learning that not everyone did this. Roman was just such a failure letting his husbands down.

“I feel like- I’m letting you down? With cooking? And that’s kinda spiraling to letting you down in general? That I’ve failed as a spouse?” Roman shared.

“Oh honey,” Patton said, “Okay that’s valid, you feeling like you letting us down is very valid, you’re allowed to feel that way. But you are absolutely not letting us down one bit. Even if you stopped cooking all together, you wouldn’t be letting us down. All we need from you is you. That’s it.”

“Yeah but- I make more work for the rest of you.”

Roman sighed and leaned against the headrest of the bed.

“I can’t cook alone,” Patton reminded, “Is that a problem?”

“Of course not!” Roman was quick to insist.

“Okay. Well why is it different for you?”

“It’s just- It’s-”

Roman should be able to control this. This wasn’t something he should struggle with. He was invalid, incapable, a disappointment.

“It’s how your brain works Roman, that’s just how it is. That’s okay. All I’m saying is that if you want, I’m sure we can come up with some better ways to support you. You don’t- Roman we love you for you. Whatever that means. You haven’t failed us or yourself.”

Roman felt like he had. But maybe Patton was right. Because- because this was just the RSD wasn’t it? It was his brain working differently, telling him he was bad and a failure when really he isn’t. He isn’t.

It was hard to believe and it was hard to fight but it was easier now that Roman had a word for it.

“Okay. Yeah,” Roman said.

“There’s also medications for ADHD if you feel like some of the symptoms are greatly impacting your daily functioning.”

“I think it does impact me,” Roman admitted, “Like a lot? But not to a point where I’m not able to function or struggle to function. So for now I think I’m going to table meds, but keep my mind open.”

“Okay,” Patton agreed easily, “Of course. We’re here to support you.”

Roman smiled down at him, and Patton pressed a kiss into his hand.

“Need anything from me?” Roman asked after a minute. Patton looked up at him with a soft smile, but the pain he was in was clear in his eyes.

“Lay with me?” Patton asked, “Just careful please.”

“Of course,” Roman agreed, and slowly made his way to do so.

-

“Ughhhhh,” Roman groaned, flopping straight onto the couch as he entered the room.

Virgil snorted from his position in a chair next to the couch.

“Don’t laugh at me,” Roman whined.

“Sorry, sorry,” Virgil said, most certainly still laughing. “Bad day at work?”

“Mm. Kinda? Not really? Ugh I dunno. I’m done thinking.”

Roman took this opportunity to smoosh his face into a pillow and groan even louder.

“Pretty sure if you're done thinking that means you’re dead,” Virgil remarked around his groans.

“Ughhhhhhhhh. But thinking is exhausting.”

Kit came to investigate him at that moment, pawing and poking with his nose and a wagging tail. He brought over a toy and dropped it onto Roman as he continued to bug him.

“Ugh you’re so cute,” Roman said. He lifted his head slightly and gave Kit a few pets and ear scratches. “Good boy.”

Kit perked up at the words and his tail wagged even harder.

“So, work?” Virgil prompted, pulling Roman’s attention back.

“Right. Ugh. So I’ve been thinking about getting an ADHD diagnosis.”

“Okay,” Virgil said, because this wasn’t news. Roman had mentioned it earlier that week, that he had ADHD and was now considering getting a diagnosis for it. Everyone had taken it in stride and worked on supporting him.

“Yeah but of course that meant that’s all I could think about today. Which means I couldn’t focus on anything. Which I’m now learning is an ADHD thing. Weird. Oh! But what I was saying was- I can’t decide.”

“If you want a diagnosis?”

“Yup!” Roman agreed, popping up and sitting to face Virgil. “Like- I don’t know if it’s something I need? Like I know I have ADHD so why do I need proof? But also getting a diagnosis could be validating? And there’s so many other pros and cons and I don’t know how to choose.”

“Oh. I bet that’s frustrating.”

“It is,” Roman groaned.

Virgil typed a bit on his computer before looking back over to Roman.

“Hey Roman, wanna know something?” he said.

“What?”

“Indecisiveness is also a symptom of ADHD.”

There was a pause before Roman dramatically buried his face back into the couch cushions and screamed.

“Oh fuck me!” Roman exclaimed, “Fucking everything’s going to be a symptom of ADHD at this rate.”

He’d figure out this whole diagnosis thing another day. (Or maybe not. Who knew anymore? At least he figured out he had ADHD, that was a solid enough of a starting point). But for now, screaming into a couch would have to satisfy him.

~~~

taglist below

-ask to be added or removed-

Kit goes with them, enthusiastic but cautious. His ears are pricked up and his nose is sniffing like crazy, trying to decipher all the smells. 

When they reach the fence, Kit goes right up to it, sniffing at the pony. The pony looks down at him in equal interest and leans down to meet Kit. The pony gives a wide snort, nostrils flaring, and Kit darts back a few paces before cautiously coming forward. He reaches through the fence and wacks the pony’s nose.

“Kit!” Virgil says unsure whether to laugh or admonish the pup. The pony sees fine and there’s no harm done, but Kit also can’t go around batting animals. Though to be fair, the pony is also something he has never seen before.

Virgil just settles for shaking his head, not bothering to correct it unless it happens again. He’ll keep an eye out, that’s enough for now.

“Look, there’s ducklings,” Patton says, pointing over to one of the enclosures. The follow his lead to the new fenced off area where a few ducks and numerous ducklings lie. Starting there, they go down the line, cooing at all the animals that are particularly cute. They get to the pigs later, and Logan reads out the names for them on the plaque.

Virgil doesn’t pay much attention, eyes locked on the critters, but the last name makes him pause.

“Wait what did you say the pig was named?” Virgil asked.

“Waddles,” Logan said.

“That’s from a thing. I don’t know what thing. But it’s from a thing. What’s it from?”

His spouses give him shrugs so Virgil pulls out his phone to check. He knows it’s from something, and it’ll bug him all day if he doesn't check now.

“Gravity Falls,” he says outloud, “It’s from Gravity Falls.”

“Oh yeah!” Patton says, “Yeah it’s Mabel’s pig.”

“Who’s Mabel?” Virgil asks.

“You know Waddles but not Mabel?”

“No,” Virgil shakes his head and tries to figure it out, “Like- I recognize both names. But I don’t know from what.”

He searches up Mabel from Gravity Falls, and he suddenly knows where he’s seen the cute animation style before.

“Picani,” he realizes, “Picani has a poster in his office.”

Well- Picani has many posters in his office. But there’s definitely a Gravity Falls one now that Virgil thinks about it. With a boy and a girl in the center with a pig and somewhere in the background there’s a floating triangle with an eye. Oh and a weird uncle.

“Hmm,” Patton hums, “We should watch it. It’s a good show. Cute. About these two twins who go spend the summer with their great uncle where a bunch of weird supernatural stuff happens. I think there would definitely be triggers for you though. We can check ‘Does the Dog Die?.’”

“Oh I think my sister’s seen this show!” Roman chimes in, “Wait is one of the twins trans? I’m like 90% sure she said one of them was trans. Or both. Was it both?”

“...Technically neither of them are trans?” Patton admits, “But they’re both trans now. Because I’m trans and I say so.”

“Valid,” Virgil says.

He’s quickly followed by Roman’s, “Mood.”

“Did Esther like the show?” Logan asks.

“Hmm? Oh uh- I think so?” Roman replies, face scrunching up into an adorable frown, “I can ask.”

“Is there actually any queer representation in it?”

“I think so,” Patton says, “There was something and I know it was a big deal but I don’t remember exactly.”

Logan hums and turns back to the pigs.

“Which one’s Waddles?” Logan asks.

“I think that one?” Roman says, pointing at the one in the far corner. “It has the same spots as the picture.”

Logan nods, and they stare at the pigs a bit longer before moving on.

The goats are last and by far the most fun. They seemed to almost play with each other, bleating and jumping around. They also engage in a bit of staring and bouncing with Kit and Trixie. The goats seem fascinated and entertained by the pups, and the pups seem equally fascinated and entertained in return.

In fact, they got so caught up in watching the goats and dogs tease each other, that they completely missed the last goat.

“Ow!” Roman yelps, falling back from the fence.

“What?!” Virgil responds instantly, narrowing in on Roman for any signs of harm or injury.

“It bit me!” Roman complains loudly.

“What?”

“The goat! It bit me!”

“Are you okay?” Virgil presses, still worried.

“Oh yeah I’m fine,” Roman easily dismisses. “But hey! It bit me! And it chewed through my jeans!”

He turns to face the tree of them, pointing out the chewed away fabric near his knee.

Patton stifles a giggle, leaning into Virgil’s side at the sight as Roman continues to look highly offended.

Roman ignores them, and instead struts right back over to the goats.

“That wasn’t nice,” he says directly to the goat that bit him, “That wasn’t nice at all. You’re mean.”

“The goat doesn’t understand you,” Logan inputs, “In addition I very much doubt  it has the capacity to consciously make a choice to be mean or unkind or to feel similar complex emotions and intend to perform actions that follow through with those complex emotions. But I’m unsure. I don’t know much about goats. But it is a goat Roman.”

“I don’t care!” Roman says loudly.

Logan shrinks ever so minutely. Roman still isn’t facing them.

“I don’t care,” Roman repeats, and carries on, “Your goat facts are very interesting Logan, thanks for sharing.” Logan straightens a bit, and bounces on his toes. “But I’m human and I’m going to project my goddamn emotions on these evil goats if I so please.”

Patton continues to snort into Virgil’s side. Virgil wraps an arm around him and watches the entertaining interaction.

“As long as you’re aware that you’re projecting your emotions onto the goat,” Logan supports.

“Heck yeah. They’re mean goats. I’m doing the healthy anger projection thing. What’s that called?”

“You’re generally discouraged from projecting in therapy,” Patton adds, the same time Virgil adds, “Equine Therapy.”

“Oh yeah, animal-assisted therapies are a good example,” Patton agrees, “Cause sometimes we need to project. But projecting onto actual people can hurt them and hurt our relationships with them. Projecting onto animals can create a healthy release for certain emotions when done in a proper setting. Equine therapy is a great example of that.”

Roman nods, still glaring at the tiny goat in front of him.

“I’m calling this mad-at-goats therapy,” he declares, before giving one last piercing stare at the ‘evil’ goat, before his face softens. “He’s kinda cute though. Now I feel bad for him. I’m sorry goat.” He reaches his hand back over the fence and the goat sniffs it gently. “Hey can we get a pet goat?”

A quick flip from hating goats to loving them isn’t exactly something Virgil would expect from most people, but from Roman it’s hardly a surprise.

“I’m vetoing goats,” Virgil informs him.

Roman grumbles, faux annoyed.

“We all agreed when moving in with Virgil that he got veto rights on any pets,” Logan mentions at Roman’s grumbling.

At the comment, Roman finally turns back to face them at all.

“I know,” Roman says, “I was teasing. I don’t actually want a goat, and I’m not mad at Virgil for vetoing the goat even if I did want one. It was very kind of you to gently but firmly remind me of a preestablished agreement we had come to.”

Roman rejoins them, and they continue to stand in eyesight of the goat enclosure, while still being out of reach and out of the way of all the other people who want to check them out.

“Oh. Okay. I don’t want a goat either. I suspect they would need exercise, but seem very difficult to walk,” Logan muses.

They all glance over at the leaping animals.

“Yeah,” Virgil agrees, “We can barely manage a puppy as is.”

Patton gasps.

“Don’t talk about my son that way!” Patton insists, glancing down at Kit at his feet. He looks back at Virgil. “Can you pick him up for me?” Virgil nods and reaches down to pick up the small pup before trading the puppy for Patton’s cane so Patton can hold his small body in two hands.

“Don’t listen to them Kit,” Patton coos, “They’re just mean. You’re a lovely perfect darling who could never do anything wrong.”

“Hey! I thought I was the lovely perfect darling who could never do anything wrong!” Roman protests.

“No love. You’re the darling who decides it’s a smart idea to stand up on your desk during college to debate with a classmate and then fall off it and get a concussion.”

“Okay, that was once!” Roman argues, “And come on, it’s not fair using that against me twice in one day.”

Patton’s eyebrows knit together.

“I mentioned that earlier?” 

The sentence is much more of a question than a statement.

“Yeah. I almost fell off the hay bales in the corn maze,” Roman reminds.

“Ah right,” Patton nods, “I remember the hay bales You almost fell off?”

“I mean yes but nope. Completely fine. No near falls or misses or anything like that. But yes I almost fell.”

“He almost face planted,” Virgil supports.

“But I didn’t!” Roman says, voice rising at the end.

“You need to be more careful,” Patton chides. A shifts on his feet a bit and grimances slightly, “We don’t need someone splitting open their head at the pumpkin patch.”

A searing picture burns through Virgil’s mind. One of human skull and brain matter. Of blood and bones and-

Trixie presses against his leg. Virgil shakes the past from his mind and takes an even breath.

“Virge?”

“Hm?” Virgil responds, turning his gaze back to Patton as Trixie stays at his side. Patton watches him carefully. 

“Oh, I’m good,” Virgil says, soothing Patton’s concern.

Patton nods and shifts again. Kit squirms lightly in his hands.

“Want to trade back?” Patton asks, nodding at his cane.

They switch again, and Kit gets transferred to Roman’s arms after Virgil instead of back to the ground. Roman holds him close and gives small cooing noises as Kit squirms enthusiastically at the attention.

“Can we sit?” Patton asks, “My hip’s hurting.”

The group quickly agrees and they find an open bench nearby. They take a minute, just sitting, taking in the scenery. The pumpkin patch is large, and the actual pumpkin patch part of the pumpkin patch is even larger. The fields stretch off into one direction, quite a few people wandering around them to pick their own pumpkins.

“We should get funnel cake,” Roman says abruptly.

“Oh yes.”

“I’ve actually never had funnel cake,” Virgil admits.

“What?” Roman says, whipping to catch Virgil’s gaze and mouth hanging slightly opened, “You’ve never had funnel cake? Ever?”

Virgil’s told his spouses a lot of weird, fucked up things over the years. But of course this simple detail about a dessert he has yet to try would be one of the things that managed to shock Roman completely.

“We didn’t exactly get dessert in a doomsday cult,” Virgil explains, voice light.

“Okay, first off, you weren’t in a doomsday cult just fucked up weird religious shit. Second of all, You had what…” Roman takes a moment to fumble over the dates, “fifteen-ish years since then. And you still haven’t had funnel cake.”

Of course Roman’s going to focus on the funnel cake. 

Virgil shrugs in response.

“Unacceptable, we’re definitely going to get funnel cake now. You have to try it.”

“Don’t make him try it,” Logan immediately jumps in.

Roman turns to him, seemingly a bit lost for words.

“...Why not?”

Logan taps his foot on the ground. Patton reaches up to settle a hand on his shoulder before thinking better and dropping it.

“It should be Virgil’s choice. Don’t make him.”

Logan’s gaze is downcast and his hands wring together in what Virgil knows is an anxious stim. Roman seems to recognize the stim for what it is as well, and his face and body relax.

“Oh of course,” Roman agrees, switching from light teasing to pure honesty, “Sorry I was probably a bit unclear. I meant that I suggest Virgil tries it, and I encourage him to, but if he really doesn’t want to, I’m not going to force him.”

Logan nods, but frowns. He starts rocking slightly.

“Lo? You alright?” Virgil asks.

“I think-” Logan hesitates, “I think I’m overstimulated. I feel- not bad… but not good. It’s- static, but not static? Buzzing perhaps. I think I’ll stay with Patton if you’re going to get funnel cake.”

“Would you like a firm hug? For a pressure stim? Or touching in a different way?” Patton asks.

“Don’t touch me,” Logan responds immediately.

Patton nods, and listens.

“Apologies,” Logan says after a minute, “That was rude. I meant-”

Logan doesn’t finish and scrunches his shoulders in towards his body, face still downcast.

“Are words hard right now Logan?”

Logan hesitates before nodding.

“Okay,” Patton replies, “Well I don’t need an apology. I think ‘don’t touch me’ is a perfectly fine way of communicating you wouldn’t like touch. It was direct, and some people may take it as rude, but I know that wasn’t your intention and that communicating is hard right. It was a fine way to say that.”

“Okay,” Logan agrees.

“Do we still want funnel cake?” Roman asks for a moment, looking at the group.

Virgil considers, “Yeah why not try it?”

“Heck yes,” Roman says, “that’s the type of attitude I like.”

Roman pulls Virgil away to go get funnel cake, giving Patton and Logan a bit of space in the meantime. It seems to help somewhat, because when the return with treat in hand, Logan looks much calmer and less overwhelmed.

Roman presents the funnel cake dramatically, causing Patton to giggle and Virgil to elbow him gently. They pass around forks and dig in.

Virgil has to admit it’s not half bad. He wouldn’t want it every day- the flavor and taste being much too overwhelming for everyday consumption. But the treat seems to fit in perfectly with today, and Virgil can appreciate that. Some foods are just made for certain occasions. Like latkes during Hanukkah.

They finish the treat, throwing away the trash before settling on a bench all together to make a decision on their next move.

“Pumpkins?” Patton asks.

There’s no objections, and as such, they all start moving towards the field of orange.

~~~

Taglist Below

-message me to be added or removed-

Veera was going off to college next year. Logan and her have always traded off days opening the box. Maybe they could continue when she was gone, with just Logan opening until she got back from break and then they could open them together?

Logan had thought about solutions and work-arounds and how to continue forward, but he doubted his parents would see it the same. So he tested his theory.

Off hand he mentioned something about advent box next year and then he watched for the signs.

His mom wouldn’t look at him. Odd, because she was always trying to get him to meet her eyes. She chuckled and gave him a non answer. Also odd because it was a simple remark that Logan had made. His father had patted him on the shoulder (which Logan didn’t like but was normal behavior from him) and then he had said “we’ll see,” which also didn’t make sense considering Logan hadn’t actually asked a question, just made a comment. It didn’t line up and Logan knew they were lying.

Or not lying exactly, but he gathered that it was very likely they would not be doing advent box next year. Hence the stabbing feeling in his stomach and also why this year had to be perfect.

Not all the boxes were opened on the right days. Logan thought that this would have bothered him if it wasn’t also routine for his family to forget or get busy on some nights.  But three days leading up to Christmas (the last day on the box) and they had six days to make up for. Which was a lot.

They decided to do it now, right now, as Logan was preparing himself breakfast in the morning. They usually did it in the evening and if he thought about that too much his hands start itching. Logan’s parents- who were also in the kitchen- insisted that he called down Veera. Logan gulped but nodded. It needed to be perfect and sure it was morning which wasn’t Right, but it was also Logan’s first weekday off from school and routine was already thrown to hell so what was one more thing?

Plus if they didn’t do it now they’d probably forget and they wouldn't do it tonight and then they’d fall more behind and wouldn’t get it done by Christmas. And true, why they had fallen behind before they had never actually failed to complete it. The burning sense of that Wrongness beat out the Wrongness of doing it in the morning, so Logan rushed over to the foot of the stairs.

“Veera!” he called up towards her, “Veera! Advent box!”

She didn’t respond. He frowned and tried again. Still no response.

He turned back to face the kitchen.

“Is Veera here?” he asked his parents.

“Yeah, and Caleb too,” his dad replied.

Logan frowned and called again. They’re was once more no response, though he could see the cracked door so if they were there they should be able to hear him. He looked over at the front door and checked the shoes. Caleb’s converse were there. (He had bigger feet than Logan and Veera and Logan’s parents didn’t wear converse so they were easy to distinguish).

He was about to shout once more when Caleb exited the room.

“Hey Logan,” he greeted, making eye-contact with Logan.

Logan looked down immediately and nodded.

“Hey,” Logan replied, “Veera coming?”

“Yeah, she’s trying to do this thing with her hair.”

“Okay,” Logan left the foot of the stairs and returned to the kitchen, leaving his sister’s boyfriend. Once he had entered the kitchen, he made his way to the advent box. It was an odd number day. That meant it was his turn today. 

He was vaguely aware of Caleb and his parents moving to join him around the box as he counted out everyday and tried to remember what had been in each box previous.

When he finished he turned to face them. Still no Veera.

“It’s your day Logan,” his mother said, “Why don’t you open it?”

“I know it’s my day, it’s an odd day,” Logan said, “And I’m waiting for Veera, we can’t start without her.”

Everyone had to be there for advent box. It was a rule.

“Logan why don’t you just-”

Logan’s mother was cut off by his sister appearing in the kitchen and sliding over to join them.

“I’m opening it,” he announced, to make sure he had everyone’s attention. He opened it to reveal a paper. The paper had a brand name on it, which meant that it was a toy, but had been too big to fit in the box. He held up the paper expectantly towards his mom, but didn’t turn to face her.

“There’s a paper.”

He saw her nod out of peripheral vision and she turned to get whatever the toy was. She handed the bag over to Logan first. That was also tradition. Logan was the one who had opened the door so he got first pick. Whoever opened the door got to choose first. It was a rule.

Logan peered inside to see sticky hands. He wondered briefly how they had not fit, considering they were quite small. They should have been able to fit in the box. He picked at one and realized it was due to the packaging. It was unnecessarily large, and his mom probably hadn’t wanted to unpack them for fear of losing their stickiness.

“What is it Logan?” his sister asked, and Logan recognized the impatience at her voice. 

Still considering the packaging dilemma, Logan held one up to show her. 

“Oh cool,” she said. 

Logan thought that was funny. Usually she’d make fun of childish stuff like this. But advent box always had this sort of stuff and it was also tradition to not care how silly it was. It was sort of backwards but it also meant that his family wouldn’t be mean to him about liking childish things, so Logan was okay with it.

He laughed a bit though, because it was funny.

His sister scowled at him and snatched the bag from him. He let her. It didn’t matter anymore. He had his sticky hand. She passed the bag around as he slowly unwrapped his own. It plopped into his hand and it felt horrible. Logan immediately dropped it.

“Logan, don’t let it fall on the floor, it’ll get dirt on it,” his mother chided.

Logan struggled to process her words for a minute. His hands still felt gross. He wanted to move them, to get the feeling off. He wasn’t supposed to flap them though. But maybe just once? It wasn’t like he was flapping them for a bad reason, he just wanted to get the sticky feeling off of it.

He flapped the hand that it had touched and then slid the hand against his pants, hoping his parents wouldn’t notice. He thought his mom was maybe watching him, so he put his hand in his pocket. With his other he was forced to pick up the sticky hand again. His mom had told him to, and she wouldn’t take nicely to Logan ignoring or refusing her.

So he picked it up, holding it as lightly as he could with the least amount of his skin touching it. He tried not to wince. His mom turned away and unwrapped her own sticky hand. 

In response, Veera shot her sticky hand towards her mom. Mom threw hers at Veera in return and then chaos broke loose. The four other members in the house started darting around the kitchen trying to hit each other with the sticky hands. Logan watched them and rocked forward on his feet.

Even Caleb- who was still hesitant to join in a lot of the family interactions- was participating. A moment later they died down a bit and came back over to the advent box, still flinging their hands gently at one another.

Then Veera flung hers at Logan.

It hit his clothes thankfully. Logan didn’t know what he’d do if it hit his skin. Probably scream, and he didn’t think his family would like that very much. He grinned a bit, because Veera seemed to be playful and it wasn’t all that common that she was nice to him. In fact, usually she was quite mean, snapping at him and making rude comments. His parents said that it was college stress and Logan was over exaggerating. Sometimes they even said it was Logan’s fault.

But she seemed happy now. Logan, not wanting to miss out on the rare opportunity, flung his sticky hand back. 

It hit Veera’s hair.

She immediately screeched and wrenched away.

“Logan!” she said, “You’re going to mess up my hair! Don’t do that!”

Logan shrugged and turned to hit Caleb instead. Caleb was looking at him and didn’t react to the sticky hand. Logan frowned and looked back over to his sister. She was glaring at him and desperately messing with her hair.

“Oh, I’m really sorry Veera,” he said, “I didn’t mean to mess up your hair. I won’t do it again.”

She continued to glare and Logan realized his parents were too. He couldn’t help but feel he did something very wrong. He set the hand down. He didn’t think his mom would complain if he chose not to participate andymore. 

Caleb kissed Veera’s cheek and whispered in her ear. She sighed and continued to scowl, but stopped messing with her hair. She seemed okay now. Logan thought so at least.

“It’s your turn to open advent box,” he said.

“Logan you can’t just hit people in the face.”

Logan knew that. Of course he knew that. It’s not like he had been trying to. Plus he had hit her hair anyway. He got that that wasn’t okay, but he hadn’t meant to.

“Everyone was throwing the hands around,” Logan said in an attempt to explain. Everyone was throwing them around. They weren’t very accurate. One was bound to hit someone in the face eventually. It just happened to Veera by Logan’s hand. It wasn’t on purpose and Logan knew it wasn’t okay. He had apologized. “It’s your turn to open up advent box.”

Veera scowled and pushed forward, opening the box. It was chocolate in it. Logan quietly took one from her when she offered them forward. He unwrapped it and ate it and watched the others around him do so as well.

Logan still hadn’t eaten breakfast. He was in the middle of making his when they started. His skin itched.

It was Logan’s turn. He opened it. It was also chocolates. He pocketed his this time and passed the rest out. As he was doing so, another mini fight with the sticky hands broke out.

“It’s your turn Veera,” he mentioned. 

She sighed, stopped her fighting, and pushed forward. She opened the box and then moved back without glancing inside. Caleb whacked her with his sticky hand. She laughed and tried to whack him back but hit dad instead. Seconds later and they were racing around the kitchen once more, having fun.

Logan smiled at them and didn’t join in. They seemed to be having fun. He’d probably ruin it.

He looked in the open box and pulled out a couple of pull back race cars. They were tiny and cheap and they were in advent box every year. Logan sat them down. 

Since it was Veera’s turn, she got to choose first. But she was playing and having fun and his whole family seemed to be enjoying themselves, so Logan let her be. She could choose the one she wanted in a minute, that was fine. Logan could wait.

“Hey Lo,” Veera called, “Go ahead and open the next box!”

Logan froze.

He couldn’t do that. Veera hadn’t chosen which car she wanted yet. She had to choose first before moving on to the next box.

“You need to pick which car you want first,” Logan called back.

“I will in a minute, just open the new box,” Veera said.

“I don’t want to be rude,” Logn replied. Because he didn’t. That’s why the rule was in place. It let the person who opened it choose first, which was polite. Logan sometimes struggled to know what was polite and what wasn’t, and his family often got upset with him about that. But this was an established rule that Logan knew was polite. He could at least follow that.

Being rude was mean and Logan didn’t want to be mean. So he’d wait for Veera.

“Just open the stupid box,” Veera said, coming back over to the advent box.

“Choose a car first.”

“Just take one Logan,” she huffed.

“You’re supposed to choose first,” Logan said, because that was a rule.

“Gosh,” she huffed, “See this is why I hate doing things with you. This is why nobody likes you Logan. You’re making this into such a big thing it doesn’t even matter.”

“I’m j-”

“Here, whatever, I’’l take the blue one you can have the green. Let’s move on now, come on. Open the new box, god Logan.”

Everything was going to fast. Logan stood, blinking for a moment as he tried to process her words.

Logan’s parents stepped forward, recognizing the increasing tension in the room.

“What’s going on here?” his dad asked.

“Logan’s making a big deal out of nothing,” Veera said, rolling her eyes. She stepped towards Dad, “Logan wouldn’t open the new one until I had chosen which car I wanted. Which is just-” she huffed, “So I chose one but he’s still not opening the box.”

His parent frowned.

His mother spoke, “Logan why don’t-”

“I wasn’t trying to not open the box!” Logan protested, finally finding his words. Veera was making him the enemy again and maybe if he could just explain… Because he wasn’t being bad, he wasn’t! But they were frowning at him like he had been but really he was just trying to be polite like they wanted him to be.

“Logan-”

“Veera opened the box with the cars. And if you open the box you pick first. That’s the rule. It’s polite. We do it so we’re not mean. And I’ll open the box now in just a minute- I just wanted to clarify what I was doing. I wasn’t trying to make it a big deal, I-”

“God Logan,” Veera huffed.

“Logan why don’t you just open the box. You’re making this more difficult for everyone involved.”

How was this Logan’s fault? Everything was moving too fast. He didn’t know how to keep up.

Logan’s eyes felt strange and his whole body itched and he could still feel the sticky residue on his hand. He wanted to flap his hands and get it off. He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream.

His parents wouldn’t be happy if he did those things.

He looked at the advent box. He wanted this to be perfect. It was the last year.

(That felt so Wrong).

Logan felt worse. He frowned, looked down at his feet, and with the little energy he had left, he exited the room. 

(Better to leave now with his family just a little upset than to have a meltdown in front of them, causing them to be extremely angry with him).

He could vaguely hear Veera’s complaints behind him.

When he got to his room he threw the stupid pullback car that was still in his hand at the wall. Once he had done that- and kicked his desk for good measure- he immediately got into his bed and cuddled the blankets around him. They were the thickest ones he had. Then, he opened his mouth and shoved a pillow in it.

He began to scream as loudly as he dared, muffled by the pillow. He cried too. He cried a lot.

His brain waged war with him, outlining everything that was Wrong and it all felt off and Logan was falling to pieces and nothing felt right and Logan didn’t know how to fix it.

He wondered if this was his fault. 

He had probably done something wrong again, broken another rule.

But he was too tired to think about that and his brain didn’t like him right now so he screamed and cried and bashed his hands against the wall.

(He made sure to stay quiet enough that the rest of his family wouldn’t hear him, even though that made his body itch unpleasantly).

Eventually, he tired himself out and stopped crying. He was exhausted. His brain had trouble thinking and connecting and his eyes grew heavy even as he kept crying, pitiful whimpers interrupting the tears every so often. He felt himself starting to nod off.

The last thing Logan heard before he fell asleep was his family laughing the other room, presumably playing with the sticky hands once more. Enjoying themselves. Without Logan.

That was also a tradition, his family only enjoying Family Time without him. And he hated how that felt Right.

~

Taglist Below

-message me to be added or removed-

The patch was vulnerable. The patch clearly and loudly stated what was wrong with him and Virgil wasn’t quite ready for that. It bore his soul to the world, allowing people private information into his life. They’d connect the dots and know more about him than he’d like, all from a single patch. Virgil wasn’t ready for that, wasn’t ready for the world to be aware. He put the patch away.

It ended up never getting added to Dolly’s vest. Instead it sat in his bedside drawer, slowly gathering dust. Virgil forget about it most days.

Then Virgil got Trixie. He changed the vest and in doing so, remembered the old patch. He pulled it out and studied it once more. His finger trailed around the border, considering.

His diagnosis didn’t hurt anymore, hadn’t for a while. In many ways, Virgil saw his diagnosis as a relief, because without it he’d have no explanation for his behaviors. His life would be so much more confusing without the diagnosis, and he genuinely didn’t know what he’d do without. Yet, he still didn’t want to add the patch to Trixie’s vest.

The patch declared him to the world. Even if Virgil was more vulnerable now, people’s reactions were still unpredictable. They would judge him. He knew they would, it happened all the time. It gave other people the opportunity to make assumptions and label him, see him a certain way. Such a declaration, such a boldness could change people’s behavior and get Virgil easily labeled a certain way. He didn’t want to live that life, so he didn’t add the patch.

(Virgil did end up bringing the patch to college. It sat in a bin under his bed and Virgil wasn’t even quite sure why he brought it when he didn’t even take it out).

Eventually, Virgil forgot about it once more, considering it didn't really have a reason to occupy his mind.

Years later and Virgil was settling down in a house with his partners. And, as adults tended to have to do, he was going through old stuff in an attempt to clean things up a bit and get rid of things that lacked value, importance, or significance.

He stumbled across the patch.

He pulled it out, flipped over, then back again, observing the small object that seemed to weigh so much more than it should. He let out a loud, even breath.

Trixie was at his side in an instant, out of interest verses work. She nudged his hand and got down on her paws playful. When Virgil didn’t respond, she batted at him and gave a small jump. 

Virgil chuckled and she raced out of the room. A moment later she returned with equal speed, this time with a rope toy in her mouth. Virgil dropped the patch and took to playing tug with her for a few minutes. 

She pulled heartily for a while before randomly stopping and darting out of the door once more. 

Virgil let her be and looked down at the patch. 

Looking back, he didn’t really know why he hadn’t put it on. Sure, he remembered. He’d refused at first because of acknowledgement, then due to vulnerability, and then due to reactions. At the time they had certainly been valid reactions. But looking back Virgil could easily see the faulty logic of his own thinking. 

He was at peace now. 

He didn’t fear his own diagnosis, and he didn’t fear vulnerability. People’s reactions were a bit more unpredictable, but in all honesty, Virgil didn’t give a shit anymore. People could say what they wanted, think what they wanted. 

Virgil pondered what the patch had meant to him, the significance it had held over the years and how it had never been on display. 

It seemed much lighter now. It didn’t seem as heavy. It just seemed like a simple, declarative sentence. It stated Trixie’s job. 

“PTSD Service Dog.”

Did Virgil really used to have such an issue with that?

Trixie came back into the room, startling Virgil a bit as she started to lick his face, tail wagging behind her. 

Virgil made a decision. 

“Trixie, get your vest,” he said. 

The dog perked up and once more left the room, much more calmly this time. She returned with her vest in her mouth. Virgil took it from her, and put it on. He smoothed out the edges and peeled off one of the previous patches and scooted it down one way. 

Then, he swallowed, look down at the patch that had never been on the vest before, and placed it firmly against the velcro, smoothing it down. 

Trixie turned to look at him curiously as he did so. 

“All down,” Virgil said, “How about we go for a walk.”

At the word ‘walk,’ Trixie perked up significantly. If she hadn't been in her vest, Virgil knew she’d be spinning in excited circles. Instead, she just sat, tail thumping. 

“Okay, let’s go for a walk.”

The patch sat on Trixie’s vest and it felt right. 

The next morning Virgil got his first comment.

“New patch?” Roman asked. He sounded casual but when Virgil looked at him, he recognized that Roman was aware of the potential weight of his words. Roman didn’t know the history of the patch, but he had know Virgil for years and had yet to see Trixie’s vest patches change. He certainly seemed to perceive that there was likely some significance there.

“No,” Virgil said, “it’s uh- old patch actually. Finally got around to putting it on.”

Virgil didn’t take the time to explain the patch’s entire history, but Roman nodded and gave the impression that he understood. 

Patton came up on his side and threaded his fingers in Virgil’s own, squeezing Virgil’s hand softly, showing his own recognition and awareness of the patches value. Virgil squeezed back. 

“Why’d it take so long to put it on?” Logan asked, “It should be fairly easy, shouldn’t it? It’s a velcro patch.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Virgil said, “it should have been easy. It just… wasn't.”

“Oh,” Logan said as he realized and recognized the tone in the room and became more aware of Virgil’s speech patterns, “Oh okay. Well then that is more than...” Logan seemed to struggle for words, looking for how to validate Virgil.

“Thank you,” Virgil said, knowing what he meant anyways. Logan nodded in return.

Trixie came over, weaving through Virgil’s legs and looking expectantly up at him, tongue lolling out of her mouth. She wore her vest proudly, and the additional patch was on clear display for the world to see. Any worries bled away as he became sure that it had been the right choice.

Virgil smiled, and moved forward.

~

Taglist Below

-message me to be added or removed-

Patton returns to his writing, looking back up at the screen and then down at the paper, trying to find where he left off.

“You’re at the third to last line,” the girl snaps, when he doesn’t immediately find his place.

Patton ducks his head, shoulders scrunching inwards, and finishes the last three lines without comment.

“Okay,” he says, putting it aside, “I’m done.”

The other three people have made a small circle with him. Most other groups are already chatting. Patton looks at his three partners and recognizes that he’s probably aware of them, but certainly doesn’t recognize them.

“Can we start with names?” he asks.

There’s a pause where none of them say anything.

“Hi,” he introduces, “I’m Patton.”

“I know,” the girl who spoke to him previously comments, “We have two classes together this year and we had math together last year. Do you really not know my name?”

Patton balks.

“Sorry,” he replies, as he tries to figure out what to share and what to leave out, because he knows how this goes. He’s seen as rude if he doesn’t say anything, but at the same time he really doesn’t want to share his whole medical history. He hates the casual ableism that expects him too. “I- uh, have memory issues.”

“Oh I get that,” one of the other members says, “I’m incredibly forgetful too!”

Yeah that's not what Patton meant. There’s a difference between forgetfulness and memory loss. But whatever, it isn’t something Patton wants to debate right now.

“Oh and I’m Alise,” she adds.

“Jack,” the boy at her side mutters.

The girl that originally interrupted Patton huffs but introduces herself as “Sabrina.”

Patton nods, scrawling each of the names on the page as his project even though he’ll probably forget that the names are there, and won't remember whose name was whose.

“Okay so I was thinking about the project and we have four weeks, so I started creating a timeline where each person can get their part done in a reasonable time in an orderly manner so we aren’t procrastinating or falling behind,” Sabrina says quickly, pulling out a paper and gesturing to it. “This project is worth a significant part of our final grade and it’s really important we do well on it.”

“Oh, uh, we actually get three extra weeks,” Patton says, “I have certain accommodations for schooling. This project we get to start with three extra weeks and then if we’re still struggling we can communicate that and potentially work other accommodations out too.”

“Accommodations?” the other girl asks. Patton fails to remember her name.

“Yeah,” Patton says, “I have accommodations in school due to disability. This project we get three extra weeks.”

“I don’t know about that,” the first girl says, and great now Patton’s forgot her name too.

“We do,” he says, “If you don’t understand or don’t believe me we can talk to Mr. Z.”

The girl hesitates. Patton waits.

“Okay… but like, those extra weeks are only if we need them, right?”

Yes. They extra weeks are there if they need them. Patton needs them. That’s why they’re there.

He doesn’t say anything.

“Right, so… we’ll just try not to use them then,” the girl remarks and what’s her name again? He looks down and there's three names scrawled across his paper, Jack, Sabrina, and Alise. So which one is she?

Patton could ask, but she doesn’t think she would take that kindly.

“Okay so here’s the plan…” she starts to explain, laying each part out. He’s already exhausted.

Patton ignores Dani’s and Liam’s arguing in the background, instead turning to watch Blythe enter the room and flop down on the couch next to him in preparation for family movie night.

“What are we watching?” she asks with a yawn.

Dani and Liam’s voices both rise to argue for their movie as their mom comes racing back in to settle them both. Blythe shares an amused smile with Patton. Patton rolls his eyes at his younger siblings- as if he didn’t get into similar bickering with his siblings on occasion- and turned back to his phone which had buzzed a few times in the past minutes.

He opens his phone to find a text string he doesn’t recognize. He frowns slightly and taps it. The texts at the beginning are a quick reminder or what it’s for: Patton’s newest group project. He saves all the numbers quickly and tries to commit their names to memory before glancing back at the actual texts.

They seem to be texting about meeting up one day, so Patton quickly finds the date planned.

“Hey Blythe,” he says when he finds it.

“Hmm?”

“Remember March 10th for me?”

“Sure,” she says.

Patton nods and closes his texts, going to the calendar app instead and landing on March. He stares at it for a second. He just said that date. What was it?

“What was the date?” he asks.

“March 10th,” Blythe responds back.

Patton nods and clicks on the date.

His schedule quickly comes up, and he frowns at the noticeable conflict.

“Blythe?”

“Ye- ACK- Yeah?”

“Doctor’s appointment, March 10th.”

“M’kay.”

Patton goes back to the group chat and texts out a quick apology, explaining he has a doctor’s appointment that day.

“Thanks Blythe.”

“No problem. Who do you think is gonna win?” she asks, nodding at Liam and Dani.

“Hmm?” Patton asks, putting his phone down. He turns to look at his younger siblings who are still arguing over movies, if much more calmly. “Liam,” he decides on, “He’s the baby. You can’t say no to him.”

“True- but he caves easily. My money’s on Dani.”

Patton settles in to watch.

Suddenly Blythe gets up next to him. Patton watches her with interest, expecting her to get involved in Liam and Dani’s movie debate. But Liam and Dani aren’t there anymore. In fact, Dani sprawled out against the other couch and Liam’s falling asleep in a bunch of pillows on the floor. Patton looks up and on the screen in front of him- the movies credits are rolling. Patton couldn’t say what movie. He doesn’t remember.

Holy shit did he just forget an entire two hours?

A full two hours. With no supplemental memories or feelings or- or anything?

Patton grabs at his mind and he thinks he was maybe… maybe content during the movie. The emotion is reassuring but he really can’t remember anything past that.

“I’m headed to bed- ACK ah-” Blythe announces, head twisting with a tic as she finishes her statement, “Night.”

She gets a chorus of replies and everyone else starts to move to return to their own rooms to sleep. Patton stays seated- still as he tries to process what happened.

“Pat?” Blythe asks, “Hey Pat, you okay?”

Blythe’s words draw everyone’s attention to him.

“I, uh-”

Is he okay?

Memory gaps like this- large ones with no additional information- have been happening more and more recently and they’re terrifying. It’s scary being somewhere one moment and then somewhere else the next and having to scramble for context clues to figure out everything in the middle.

Patton’s always dealt with time gaps, and while annoying he knows how to deal with them. But lately they’ve been getting worse and Patton doesn’t know what that means.

What if he forgets everything one day?

“Hey, hey,” Blythe soothes, coming back over to kneel at the couch in front of Patton. She offers a hand and Patton takes it. “What’s going on?”

What does Patton say?

“I- uh… Who won? Dani or Liam. With the movie?”

The room stops and Patton knows it’s his fault- it’s his stupid brain’s fault but he’s terrified right now and doesn’t know how to communicate that.

“Pat,” comes Liam’s small voice- much too small, “Pat do you not remember the movie?”

And how does Pat tell his little brother that no- no he doesn’t he has no clue what happened in the past two hours.

“Is Patton okay?” Dani asks. “Is he going to forget more?”

While Patton’s younger siblings worry over him- which while touching make Patton feel incredibly guilty- his mom approaches him.

“Blythe, can you please go help your Ma with your siblings?” she asks as she takes Patton’s other hand and rubs it comfortingly.

“Yeah,” Blythe responds easily, “ACK- Pat that okay with you?”

Patton nods and Blythe leaves.

“Do you know where you are?” is his mom’s first question.

“Yeah,” Patton answers and that’s relieving but he’s terrified, “yeah. We were going to watch a movie. For family movie night. Dani and Liam were arguing. Blythe sat with me. You and Ma were trying to get Dani and Liam to work it out. I don’t- I don’t remember after that. I think I had a good time though?”

“Okay. Thank you for telling me. How are you doing? Do you have any questions for me?”

Patton’s terrified. This is terrifying. But he can’t say that. It’s already bad enough, he doesn’t need to scare his entire family further. He never wants to hear that hint of fear in Liam's voice again, never wants to see the terror on Dani’s face as she considers that her brother might forget everything eventually.

“I’m fine,” he insists, “Are Dani and Liam okay?”

“They’ll be okay, but let's focus on you right now honey, okay?”

“Okay,” Patton agrees, not even trying to argue. He tilts his face down so he doesn’t have to look at his mom’s worried face. He doesn’t know what to do, what to say. His mom continues to rub at his hand soothingly. The dog tries to wiggle her way into his lap, and Patton lets her. Her fur feels nice.

His ma comes back into the room, because she and mom exchange words quickly for a moment while Patton gets lost in his head. Eventually she kneels at his side as well and takes his other hand.

A lump forms in Patton’s throat.

He doesn’t want to cry.

He can’t cry.

He knows it’s okay if he cries. But if he cries that means he’s hurting and his moms can’t know that he’s hurting because they’ll feel bad and there’s nothing Patton can do to fix it. He doesn’t know how to fix this.

“How you doing, love?”

“Okay,” Pat replies.

“Okay. That’s good. Do you know where your notebook is?”

“My backpack? Or my desk. Probably.”

She nods and carefully pulls her hand away, most likely going in search for it.

She returns soon after, the light blue notebook clutched in her hand. She flicks through the patches, written accounts of Patton’s memory gaps. Full gaps, not just missing info. The past few months fill up almost as many pages as the rest of the book. It scares Patton.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” his Ma asks him, firm but somehow gentle. It’s information she needs, but Patton feels safe despite not quite knowing the answer.

“Dani and Liam were arguing about movies. Blythe and me were talking about who we thought would win.”

“Do you remember what Dani and Liam were saying? It’s okay if you don’t- I’m trying to get a more exact time if possible.”

Patton shakes his head.

“Okay,” his ma says, “That’s alright. We’ll ask Blythe. And what’s the next thing you remembered?”

“I- Blythe got up to go to bed. Everyone was on the couches. There were credits on the screen.”

She scrawls in the notebook. Patton knows it has to have been about two hours.

“Anything else you remember?” his mom gently prods as his ma writes.

It’s a question that often makes Patton feel guilty because the answer is often more likely ‘no’ than ‘yes,’ but he knows it’s necessary.

“I- I remember feeling content, I think,” he says,”I don’t remember anything about the movie or watching it- but I think I had a good time. I’m pretty sure.”

It’s not a concrete memory, but it’s an emotional one and it’s something.

At least he seemed to enjoy the movie, or the time with his family, or something. Right?

“Okay,” his ma says, and writes it down. “Just to remind you- you have a doctor’s appointment on the tenth to talk about the recent large gaps in your memory. It’s in your phone calendar, and the big calendar in the kitchen.”

“Oh. I do? That’s good.”

They need to figure this out. Patton wants it to stop. And if it can’t stop, they need to figure out how to deal with it because right now Patton’s terrified. His family’s terrified. Patton knows they are and he doesn’t know how to fix it. He has to fix it.

“Yeah. Do you want to go to bed? It’s late.”

“Okay,” Patton agrees, His voice echoes. He feels hollow.

His mom helps him up, a hand on his back for support and a hand in front in case he loses his balance. His knees and back both protest the movement. He wonders how long he was sitting in the same position for them to lock up like that.

Two hours. Patton lost two hours.

He goes to bed. Tries to sleep. His moms tell him goodnight and that they love him. It’s a simple gesture, his moms have always been so good at telling him that they love him and Patton knows they do. He’s never questioned their love. They love him unconditionally.

It makes Patton hurt inside.

They love him unconditionally.

And yet, look at what Patton’s putting them through.

They’d never stop loving him, Patton knows that.

But maybe they should. Patton keeps hurting them. He doesn’t want to hurt them.

~

Taglist Below

-message me to be added or removed-