#justkeepstumblingforward

Logan’s own parents were inside. When they were younger, his parents had done more to celebrate the holiday, most notably bringing them to the 4th of July parade and buying small fountain fireworks.

The holiday had always been Logan’s least favorite. The bustle of activity combined with the noise of the parade, fireworks, other activities already provided an overwhelming amount of sensory input. Add in the overwhelming smells emanating from grills, perfumes, and gunpowder, well it had always been quite a bit more that just “too much” for him. All of the excessive stimulation was truly agonizing.

As a child it had led to overwhelming meltdowns that had his parents dragging him inside by his arm telling him to behave and not ruin the holiday for everyone else. He wouldn’t even be able to respond, shutting down at the best and getting violent at worst. He would scream and shake but his parents would just yell at him and sometimes even cry, and well, it wasn’t a pleasant experience for anyone.

In result of this, he was more than happy his parents had stopped making such a big fuss out of the holiday. He definitely preferred it over the alternative.

It was during this inner reflection when the first of the fireworks went off with a loud bang and a flash of color.

Logan jumped and slammed his hands over his ears. The loud noise echoed inside his head and he gritted his teeth in a futile attempt to protect against it.

As quick as he could, he took his hands off his ears to grab the headphones around his neck. He placed the headphones over his ears to better block out the noise.

He could still hear the bangs, but they were not nearly as deafening and overstimulating as before. Logan started to rock back and forth gently as he stared up at the colorful explosions.

Veera turned to give him a look at the action, then rolled her eyes and stared back up at the sky.

Logan’s heart dropped and he stopped rocking.

The noise- which had seemed manageable just moments ago- started to build.

It was then he remembered an old conversation with Patton and Virgil. A conversation that led to research and explanations about stimming. Because that’s what the rocking was- it was a stim. And he shouldn’t have to be ashamed of that. He knew that. And even if he forgot, his boyfriends were quick to remind him over and over again, as many times as he needed.

He had momentarily forgotten that and started to feel ashamed of his stims. That’s why he had stopped rocking. Veera had given him that look and he had remembered everything he had been taught, everything he had been told to hate about himself.

He was ashamed, but he shouldn't have to be.

The noise from the fireworks continued to build.

Logan made his decision, and continued to rock.

The noise settles slightly, falling back into the manageable sensory range, and Veera didn’t spare him another look.

The two of them watched the flashing colors for what had to be hours before they started to dim. And just dim- not stop completely- even though it, again, had to have been hours. Not that he had been expecting any different, America could be quite extravagant when it came to such a holiday.

The noise had also reduced to a much more manageable level, so Logan slid his headphones off, even as he continued to rock.

Veera side-eyed him as Logan slipped his headphones off, and he decided that now was as good of time as any.

“We haven’t talked much this summer,” Logan commented.

Veera let out a soft scoffing noise before speaking up.

“Logan, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’ve never really talked that much,” she stated.

“We did as children,” he insisted, and then before she could reply to that he continued you on, “I know I’ve told you this before, but I’ve been dating someone over a year now. Patton. And he talks to his siblings all the time. And, a friend of mine, Roman, does the same.”

Logan felt a little guilty of calling Roman his friend instead of boyfriend, but he hadn’t had the chance to explain the concept of polyamory to his family, and now was not the time. He continued to rock.

“The both of them talk to their siblings quite fondly, and often. They do occasionally fight with their siblings, and get into quarrels, but they always come back to each other just as close. We don’t do that,” Logan continued.

“We don’t,” Veera agreed, shifting slightly to place her book off to the side from its position on her lap.

Logan took it as a sign that she was indeed listening to him.

“Why don’t we?” he asked.

She gave him another look, one that Logan was absolutely unable to decipher.

“You know why we don’t talk Logan,” she said.

Logan did not.

But even so, he scrambled for some sort of solution. He had no clue what she was referring to, but she obviously expected him to know- which meant he missed something vital in a previous interaction.

He rushed to locate exactly what he had missed, because he tended to miss a lot of things with other people and he couldn’t ask questions because he was supposed to know these things, was supposed to know how humans work because he was one and why couldn’t he just figure this out like he was supposed to?

He paused for a breath and took a figurative step back.

He missed something in a human interaction, something that he knew tended to be a result of his poor social skills, most probably stemming from being autistic. That’s all it was. He didn’t understand because that’s how his brain was programmed. It worked differently, and that was okay.

It was also okay to ask for help and guidance. If someone refused, that was their own fault.

“Veera,” he spoke up, “I- I actually don’t know why we don’t talk. I don’t have a clue why.”

She rolled her eyes and sighed, “Logan, you’ve always been the center of our parents' attention. They devoted everything to you. And like I get it or whatever. Mom and Dad didn't expect to have a kid who has autism.

“But that then meant that everything was about you. ‘Oh Logan finally did this!’ ‘Logan looked me in the eye’ ‘Logan’s new therapy seems to be going really well.’ They always, always, have cared about you more. And again- I get it. But it meant nothing was ever about me. Everything was always Logan, Logan, Logan.”

Logan could only slowly rock in numb silence as her words crashed over him.

The first thing that seemed to come from that numbness was anger, because plain and simple- her assessment wasn’t fair. And that made him angry and hurt.

Here was Veera complaining about him taking away their parent’s attention when he had never asked for it. She also claimed that they cared for him more even after they put him through tortuous programs that forced him to behave as neurotypical as possible. Plus, they always talked about Veera. How many times had Logan heard ‘Why can’t you just be more like your sister’ growing up.

How many times had he been compared to Veera’s perfection?

She was always the achiever, and Logan’s parents loved her for it, and hated him for never meeting her standard.

“That’s not fair,” he protested as he ceased his rocking. He clenched his hands and his fingers dug in deeply into his palms. “That’s not fair,” he repeated.

“Life’s not fair Logan,” was Veera’s bitter response.

“No,” Logan insisted, “No, no, no,” and he was choking a bit on his words now. It was getting harder and harder to talk, to just get them out, but he had to, “Mom and Dad did spend a lot of time dealing with me. But it’s not fair to say that they cared about me more than you.

“All they did was try to make me easier to handle. That’s not care at all. I may have gotten more attention than you, but you’re assuming that the attention was positive, which it wasn’t.

“And even if I was cared for more or given more love, it’s still not fair for you to be mad at me about that. Because I didn’t do anything. I didn’t ask for any of that. Our parents chose to do that, but that was their decision. I had nothing to do with it.

“And it’s unfair that you say I was cared for more. Because I was always compared to you. I was always told that you were perfect and I knew that I would never meet that standard. Our parents knew it too. And that disappointed them,” Logan explained.

When he finished he took a deep breath to center himself. He felt tears start to poke at the corner of his eyes. Weird, he hadn’t realized he had gotten this emotional over the conversation.

“I mean, sure, but if you hadn’t been-” Veera cut herself off.

Logan closed his eyes harshly as he held back tears. He may not be the best at nonverbal language and cues, but he knew how to fill in this particular blank.

“If I hadn’t been autistic,” he said.

His hands gripped tighter in on themselves, and he had to fight the urge to sit on them or shove them into his pockets.

“I-” Veera floundered. She ducked her head, “Yeah,” she admitted quietly, “If you hadn’t been autistic. A lot of the things that are issues started around that.”

“They might of started around that,” Logan admitted, as the first tear fell from his eye, “But it’s not fair to say that’s what caused it.”

“Then what did?” she challenged.

“Maybe it wasn’t me being the autistic that was the problem, but our parents inability to support an autistic child.”

“That- I get what you’re saying Lo- but that’s not- they did everything for you.”

“No,” he whispered, “No they didn’t.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, her tone taking on a startling biting edge.

“I-” Logan tried, “Have you ever looked up what autistic people have to say about ABA?”

“What? Logan what does this have to do with anything? “

“Look it up?”

She frowned at him but pulled out her phone. For a few minutes she typed and scrolled. Eventually, she turned back to him. Logan was surprised to find her cheeks were stained with tears. She reached up a hand to wipe a few away. Logan’s own tears continued to slowly drip from his lashes.

“Oh,” was all she offered.

“Yeah,” Logan said.

“Oh.”

“Do you remember when you bought me the book Seeing Stars by Sarah Gillingham for my sixth birthday?” Logan asked abruptly.

Veera let out a watery chuckle and sniffled.

“You remember that?” she asked him.

“Yes, of course,” he aid quickly, “It was- is my favorite book. I still have it.”

“You do?”

“Yes,” he confirmed. He hesitated, he looked up, briefly making eye contact with her before pulling his gaze a bit upward to look at her forehead.

“I want us to be like we were on that day. I opened the package and was so excited. And you hugged me tightly and laughed as I rambled about our solar system. After I was done, you pulled me on the back and opened the book to read the first page to me.

“I couldn’t sit still and kept jumping up and down, which must of hurt considering I was sitting on top of you. But you didn’t complain. You just laughed and smiled and read to me. I want us to be able to have that again.”

She hesitated. Logan saw her hesitate, and he knew it was now or never. He would convince her or not. This was it.

“I have a lot of resentment,” he admitted, “And a lot of that resentment used to be directed towards you. Because you could be really mean as a child. When I used to have meltdowns you used to scream at me, telling you you hated me and to shut up. And that hurt. But I get it, I understand now. And I forgive you.

“The truth is, the only resentment I hold now is towards our parents. Because they were the ones that were supposed to teach and guide us. Instead they pitted us against one another and were unable to handle us. They never scolded you because they didn’t know what to do.

“You were a child, and so was I. None of what we did had malicious intent. Both of us were hurting and we didn’t know what to do. Our parents failed us in that regard. But that wasn’t our responsibility. We were children.”

At the end of his mini speech, both him and Veera were crying heavily.

They two of them were silent cries. Silent cries because they had both learned to hide such a thing.

Logan hid it because he always cried about the wrong things. The texture of food wasn’t something he was supposed to cry about after all, he was just supposed to eat it dammit.

Vera hid it because she learned it was distracting. If she was crying it took away from Logan’s time, and Logan needed the extra help, you understand right sweetheart?

They were crying because at the age of adults they were still lost children.

“I think Mom and Dad are trying a bit more now,” Logan eventually got out as the tear tracks on his face refused to leave, “I haven’t talked to them for a while ago. And I- well I don’t think they’re ready for us to have a conversation about what autism really is and what ABA does and everything.

“But, I think they know something along the line got messed up between us. We both know something is missing. I- I think they’re trying to figure out what.

“And maybe- well maybe you should talk to them too. I- I don't think they meant to hurt us. I know that doesn’t excuse it by any means, but I think, I do think they care about us. I think they care enough to try for us. That, at the very least, is important to me.”

“God Logan Berry, when did you get so smart?” Veera asked.

“Well if we’re relating ‘smart’ in terms of brain development, the brain develops the most in the first two years of life and finally stops around age 25. If we’re talking about ‘smart’ as in over all knowledge, I actually know very little of all that is out there, and such knowledge would be hard to compare to other human beings. Plus we would then have to factor in the possible existence of aliens as well as the possibility that knowledge is infinite and therefore impossible to measure. Or we talking ‘smart’ in the way of in tune with others? Because I’m particularly bad about that too. Really, the word ‘smart’ has so many definitions and ultimately is subjective and therefore undefinable,” Logan rattled off.

She smiled a bit at him before releasing a quiet huff of laughter, but Logan didn’t think it was directed at him. She then looked back at the sky, which now seemed to be absolutely devoid of all fireworks.

“You said you wanted to talk more?” she asked.

“Yes,” he agreed.

“Okay,” she said with a nod, “Let’s talk more.”

Thinks weren’t suddenly perfect between them, and perhaps they would never be, but they had started the process of reconnecting. That in itself was worth a chance.

The two of them spent another hour outdoors, just staring upwards. Logan pointed out the constellations that were visible in the polluted sky, and only decided to go back inside once their constant yawning was too much to ignore. They gathered themselves and headed inside, quietly say goodnight to the velvet blanket above them.

And somehow, the stars seemed to glow brighter than ever before.

~~~

taglist:

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[Image Description: Photo of a young Bernese Mountain dog sitting in a field. The puppy is looking at the camera with big brown eyes and adorable expression. The puppy is quite fluffy and has the traditional tri color markings of its breed. ID ends]

[Image Description: Photo of a large Bernese Mountain dog striding through a nature trail. The dog is holding its head high and seems quite regal. It is wearing a harness and it’s tongue is hanging out of its mouth slightly. The dog has the traditional tri color markings of it’s breed and it’s long fur has a slight curly wave to it. ID ends]

Dolly

Bernese Mountain Dog

The name Dolly is English, Greek, and American. It most commonly means “a gift from God” and/or “a vision.”

Dolly, being Virgil’s first service dog, had a lot of work cut out for, and her name represents her very being. Dolly was what gave back Virgil his independence and life while also providing him hope and safety. At the time, she really did seem like a true gift from God as the large dog immediately got Virgil to open up and decrease his violent and unsafe behaviors. She was a vision of what Virgil’s future could be.

Dolly was incredible gentle but firm. She was very much a sweetheart and a lap dog when off duty. She was all for cuddles, and her soft, thick fur always made Virgil feel safe.

But she also held her boundaries. At the time, Virgil was in a fragile place, and not only did he need Dolly to ground him and help him through flashbacks, he needed her to feel safe. Dolly often had to task into a Block, physically separating her handler from others to allow him the perceived safety he needed.

Dolly was the definition of a firm and gentle giant, and her passing was devastating on Virgil, only helped by the arrival of his new service dog, Trixie.

[Image Description: Photo of a Dutch Shepherd puppy sitting impatiently outdoors. The dog is black with slight brindle markings. It is looking at something off screen and can barely sit still. ID ends]

[Image Description: Photo of a Dutch Shepherd lying down in a green field. While lying down, the dog is intensely focused on whatever is behind the camera. The dog’s ears are perked up and it has bright amber eyes. The dog’s coat is black with brindle markings. ID ends]

Trixie

Dutch Sheperd

The name Trixie is English and Latin and means “bringer of joy.”

Trixie stepped in as Virgil’s newest service dog almost a year before Dolly’s passing. Dolly was a part of Virgil’s very soul, and had profound importance in his life, making her loss truly devastating. In fact, Virgil was adamant in his refusal to get a new service dog after. And then came along Trixie. Like her name suggests, Trixie’s puppy-like innocence and behavior brought back joy to Virgil’s life as he came to terms with Dolly’s passing. Dolly may have helped Virgil first recover from being kidnapped, but Trixie held the responsibility of helping guide Virgil through normal life and reintroduce him to the joys of it.

Trixie was dignified and passionate while also playful. She took her job seriously separating play time and work time like a pro. She was a constant at Virgil’s side and seemed to know the importance of her position. She took her job seriously and did it with purpose. She got honest joy from doing her job and doing it well. But, let her off duty, and she turned into a light-hearted puppy. She was sure to always wake up Virgil with enthusiasm and slobbery licks each morning.

Trixie was powerful, representing Virgil’s transition to adulthood, while still never forgetting the importance of living life to the fullest, a trait that would continue in Kit.

[Image Description: Photo of a Boxer German Shepherd Mix puppy leaping across a field in front of a house. The dog’s tail and ears are sticking straight up as it proudly holds an antler toy in its mouth. The dog is a caramel brown color with white paws and darker markings around its face. ID ends]

[Image Description: Photo of a Boxer German Shepherd Mix in a snowy field looking directly at the camera. The dog’s ears are a mix between half perked up and half folded over and it’s muzzle has bits of snow on it. The dog has an almost confused expression. It’s coat is brown with a small white marking on its chest and darker markings around its face and ears. ID ends]

Kit

Boxer German Shepherd Mix

The name Kit itself has no real meaning or origin. It has been used both as a nickname for Christopher and Katherine, therefore sometimes tying it to be related to Christ or purity and clearness. A more common use of the name is the abbreviation, meaning Keep In Touch. In result of these conflicts and lack of origin, the name Kit fits perfectly. After all, our origins don’t define us.

Kit’s position was different in a way that neither of Virgil’s other dogs had to experience. While both of his other dogs had to help support Virgil through trying times, Kit was only there for the aftermath. Virgil, while still having severe PTSD, had learned to adapt and manage his life in healthy ways and now had support systems in place. Kit, above all, needed to be adaptable to this new Virgil. He struggled the most in his training, causing Virgil to consider more than once to get a new dog, but it was Kit’s sheer determination that turned him against the idea. And eventually, Kit had a breakthrough in his training and everything fell into place.

Kit was pure energy. Everything about him had charm, determination, and life. While Kit struggled the most to learn his tasks and master his training, he worked the hardest. Virgil put him through the wringer and he always came back for more. It was Kit that inspired Virgil to find his own determination and self-love in himself. He was a reminder of new days and new futures. If Dolly and Trixie were steady, Kit was flexibility. 

Kit became Virgil’s reminder to work through and find new ways to solve his problems, while also taking the time to smell the roses. Kit was balance.

Bonus!

[Image Description: Photo of a chocolate labradoodle puppy in front of stone and brick. The dog’s head is slightly tilted with its tongue hanging out. The dog has a bright brown nose and eyes. ID ends]

[Image Description: Photo of a chocolate labradoodle in front of a cream background. The dog’s body is not facing the camera, but it’s head is turned to directly look at the camera. The dog is lifting its head slightly and has a lolling tongue. It’s fur is quite bushy and curly. ID ends]

Cha-Cha

Labradoodle

The name Cha-Cha does not have an origin, as it was not originally a name, but a dance known for it’s hip movements, small steps, Latin American music, and most of all, it’s energy.

Cha-Cha may not have a name origin, but it certainly has meaning, just as the large labradoodle had in Remy’s own life. Both members of the team have an unmistakably energy, just as the dance the dog is named after. Cha-Cha, compared to Virgil’s dogs, also has a completely different job. Cha-Cha’s job is unmistakable- to guide and support Remy in order to give him more independence.

Cha-Cha is sophisticated and intuitive, and like her owner, dramatic. The dog, more than any other, has always seemed to be almost human. She has been a constant in Remy’s life and has seen him evolve into a more confident version of himself. Her sophistication has allowed him pace to be his own person, while her intuition has always kept them connected as one. She was the perfect in between independence and dependence. Plus, she has always had a sense for the dramatic, as when she was off duty, she would pout like nobody’s business when denied a lick from the peanut butter jar. 

Cha-Cha has always been so much more than just “a guide dog.” She is Remy’s love, freedom, dreams, passions, and aspirations.

-

I really hope you all enjoyed this! This was both very self indulgent as well as me wanting to convey a bit more about the dogs to the readers. I just, these doggos are so good, and they deserve that recognition. I hope you love them as much as I do!

And if you haven’t read my series, but are in anyway interested, you can find it here. 

-

Virgil woke up screaming.

“V, V, its Roman, you’re okay man.”

“What, what, Roman?” he whispered around choked breathing as he looked frantically around the room. His heart thudded in his chest loudly, droning at every other noise around him.

“Yeah man. You had a nightmare. Everything’s okay,” his roommate soothed.

Trixie was on him, putting pressure on him. He breathed deeply in reassurance. That was all over now. He was home and he was safe. He was okay. He was safe.

His heartbeat started to slow and the drowning buzz in his ears faded away. A tendril of shame clawed its way in instead.

“Right. Thanks. Sorry,” he muttered, face hot

“Not a problem,” Roman yawned. He was asleep in seconds.

Virgil just blinked at the ceiling and hoped that sleep would eventually take him soon.

-

Virgil woke up two more times that night. Luckily, neither seemed to wake Roman. In fact, when Virgil woke up in the morning for good, Roman was still snoozing away. Virgil could only guess he had gotten up to pray earlier and then fallen back asleep before his first class.

Virgil sighed and pushed off the covers before heading towards the kitchen. Patton was already at classes, but Logan should still be here.

He had started to heat up water for tea when Logan himself walked into the room. He was looking at something on his phone, flapping one of his hands absentmindedly and grinning wildly. He stopped immediately when he saw Virgil, shoving his hand into his pocket and clicking his phone off.

“What were you looking at?” Virgil asked.

“Oh,” Logan adjusted his glasses, “Just, a video of a fish. It's really quite unimportant. I just-”

“You don't have to justify your interests around us Logan. And we won't get mad when you stim.”

Logan nodded at the reminder.

“Would you,” Logan hesitated, “like to watch the video with me?”

“Sure,” Virgil replied.

Logan quickly joined Virgil and held the screen between the two before restarting the video. It was short, about twenty seconds, of a fish with long flowing colorful fins. As they watched it a few times, Logan took out his hand to flap it and even jumped. Virgil smiled at his excitement. It was nice seeing Logan become more comfortable stimming around them.

They watched it on repeat for maybe two minutes before Logan turned the phone off.

“What time is your first class?” he asked.

“I need to leave in about ten, fifteen minutes.”

The kettle started to hiss. Virgil walked over as he saw the steam rise.

The water was boiling. It would burn him if he touched it. But they knew that. They knew it would burn him. That was the point.

He clutched his arms right to himself and backed away breathing heavily. Trixie jumped up, pressing her paws against his chest. His gaze jerked to her and with a rush he snapped out of the flashback and returned to the present.

“Thanks girl,” he said, giving her a small treat from his pocket. Speaking of which, he needed to feed her. He would do that after his tea.

“Logan, do you want tea?” he asked.

“Yes please.”

Virgil filled two cups, dropping in Logan and his respective favorites. He then took out Trixie’s bowl and filled it up with her food, put some water in it, and placed it on the floor. She sat by it patiently, not moving until he gave her the command that allowed her to eat.

He sipped his tea slowly just as his phone buzzed in his pocket. He took out the offending device and read the reminder that told him to get ready for class. Right, time to get moving.

~~~

September 11, 2019

 “Virgil, come in,” Michelle greeted, beckoning him into her office.

Virgil scowled, but followed, Trixie at his side.

Michelle held the door open as he entered, smiling at him in a way that was much too wide to be real. He took a seat in the small office and she started to close the door behind them.

He could feel the room closing in, trapped in the cellar.

Trixie whined and pawed at him, causing him to jerk back to the present. He patted her head.

“Thank you sweetie,” he told the pup.

The counselor took her own seat across from him and studied him carefully

“So, you chose your major,” she commented when it became obvious that Virgil wasn’t going to be the person to start the conversation.

Really, Virgil didn’t get why these meetings existed anyway. He understood that the school was trying to help each students “get settled” or whatever but did he really need this? He was passing his classes and on track to graduate. What more did they want?

“Yes I did. At the end of last year. Which you know.”

She shuffled some papers. For show, he suspected. Really, how much paperwork could this conversation involve? Plus, she wasn’t looking down at any of them.

“Well yes,” she admitted, “But I’m actually curious about what you want to do with your Creative Writing degree once you achieve it.”

Virgil froze.

“What?” he asked.

“Virgil,” she said, “What do you want for your future?”

-

Virgil walked glumly back to the apartment he shared with Logan, Roman, and Patton. With a groan, he shoved the door open.

He walked in, planning to flop onto the couch only to find Roman with a bowl of cheerios already sitting there.

Virgil just groaned again, causing Roman to look up.

“Hey,” Roman greeted, “long day?”

Virgil huffed in confirmation and joined him.

He sat on the floor, allowing Trixie to perform DPT. He needed the grounding method.

“You okay?” Roman asked as he watched his friend’s dog task.

Virgil shrugged miserably. Slowly, tears started to drip down his face in large drops.

“Woah, woah, woah, Surly Temple,” Roman said in panic, scrambling to join the older boy on the floor.

“Hey, uh, Virge? Can I touch you?”

Virgil just nodded and continued to silently cry. Roman wrapped his arms around Virgil and pulled him close, careful not to shift Trixie, allowing her to still perform her task. Roman had gotten a lot better about noticing things like that in the year they had known each other.

Virgil's tears eyes dried after a minute and he leaned heavily into Roman’s side.

Roman rubbed his back in comfort.

“Hey, what's up?” he asked, “What's going on?”

“I had a meeting with my counselor.”

“Yeah, I remember you saying that. But, isn't that supposed to be a good thing? She like, helps you and stuff?”

Virgil sniffled and swiped at his eyes.

“She asked me about my future.”

“Okay? Again Count Woe-lof, I'm gonna need a little more information. I'm not quite understanding.”

“I have no clue what I want for my future,” Virgil said with a huff, throwing his hands up.

Roman’s eyes narrowed slightly and Virgil could practically see his mind racing as he attempted to figure him out.

“Okay. Well that's okay?” Roman offered, “I mean yeah, you should probably start thinking about it, but you have time. No need to panic over it,” he attempted to comfort.

Virgil just gave him a look.

“I panic over everything,” Virgil said with a chuckle.

Roman shrugged and offered him some cheerios.

-

It was in this state that Logan and Patton found them in when they returned from their date. Roman excused himself to pray, Logan went off somewhere, and Patton joined Virgil on the floor.

“V, kiddo, are you okay?” Patton asked softly.

Virgil gave a small smile. Like always, Patton always knew when something was off. He may not always understand what or why, but he at least knew that something was wrong. It was a nice support to have.

“Yeah, I'm good. Roman and me talked, just got a lot on my mind,” he admitted.

Patton nodded, and after asking for permission, started to thread his fingers through Virgil’s hair. Virgil grinned softly at the action as his body relaxed.

“Hey, you and Logan got back early. Didn't go out for dinner?”

“Nah,” Patton said shrugging, “decided to just get back to the two of you. Lo’s not having a great day, and it's getting busier. And busier means louder.”

Virgil nodded in understanding. Then came to a realization.

“Shit, it's my night to cook,” he looked down at his dog, “Trixie-”

Patton waved his hand.

“Don't worry about it Virgil. I can cook.”

“You sure Pat? You cook a lot. And it's my night,” he protested

Patton just smiled, “Don’t worry, it's no problem. Plus you weren’t expecting me and Logan anyways.”

“I just don't want you putting to much on yourself like you used to.”

Patton gave him a wide smile and switched from petting his hair to quickly ruffling it. Virgil scowled and shoved the hand away.

“Thanks for looking out for me kiddo. Don't worry, I know now how to communicate my limits. It's really okay. I need something to do anyway.”

Virgil hesitated. It was still hard for him to accept help, but after years of practice it was getting slightly easier. Plus, his friends did seem so sincere. They seemed to genuinely want to help. So he relented.

“Okay. Thanks. Just let me know if you need help I guess.”

Patton just hummed and got to work.

Virgil shrugged and stayed with his dog.

Eventually, he directed Trixie up and left to his room that he shared with Roman.

He could fully admit that when the four of them had first started discussing rooming together he was inclined to refuse. His freshman year he had gotten a single dorm through his situation, and the idea of sharing an apartment off campus, much less sharing a room, scared him more than he cared to admit.

Plus, it meant sharing with Roman. And while the two were friends now, they weren't very close in the beginning. The two of them, unknowingly, were phenomenal at hitting each other in their most vulnerable spots.

But, the apartment was working out so far. Hopeful this whole “plan for the future” thing would too.

~~~

September 21, 2019

 “Roman was a genius for bringing this,” Virgil commented as he continued to hit buttons on his controller, knocking Patton off the platform again.

“No,” Patton whined as his character fell, “Yeah it is pretty fun,” he replied, turning to glance quickly at Virgil, “I never really got into video games as a kid.”

They two of them were sitting on the couch, blankets wrapped around them, as the clock steadily ticked towards morning.

Virgil snorted, “I can tell.”

“Hey,” Patton said, letting out an offended gasp. He then proceed to walk his character off the platform. “Okay yeah, I suck at this.”

“We’ll choose a different platform next time,” Virgil promised, “One you can’t fall off of.”

“Oh good,” Patton muttered, eyes narrowed on the screen.

He pressed a button and his avatar jumped.

“Wait, if that’s jump, then what’s attack?”

“Well there’s multiple attacks,” Virgil started to explain once again.

“Wait, what!” Patton exclaimed, looking at his controller in a mixture of shock, horror, and awe.

Virgil snorted again, “Yes, I showed you them. Do you want me to show them to you again?”

“Huh. Uh, yes please,” Patton then proceeded to walk off the cliff again, ending the round.

“Okay, let me choose a new map and then I will,” Virgil said as they were returned to the home screen. Virgil fiddled around a bit, going through the multitude of maps. He flicked between three particular maps before finally settling on one.

He then held up his own controller, showing Patton the different buttons and going through each one and what they did. Patton listened intently staring back and forth between Virgil’s controller and his own.

“Hopefully this map will be better,” Virgil muttered as their characters spawned on the screen. The two played for a bit longer, Patton finally getting the hang of it, before Patton spoke up.

“So, why are you still up Virge?”

Virgil sighed, “Nightmares,” he admitted.

“Wanna talk about it?”

He shrugged and pressed a few buttons. His character on screen threw a bomb, creating an explosion that knocked Patton’s character back.

“Same as always,” he said, “Just a bit worse than usual.”

He tried to blink back the encroaching memories from his mind. Images of blood and bodies and being trapped and taken. Images of promises that he was cared for and safe and that they loved him even as they turned around and abused him the next moment.

He had to focus hard on pushing the memories to the back of his mind. Sometimes processing through it all was just too much. And if he didn’t have the strength to process it, it would just be overwhelming and damaging. Sometimes it really was better to just put a wall up and push it away. Sometimes that was the only thing he could do.

This was where the distraction of playing

“What about you?” Virgil asked, “Pain keeping you up?”

Patton nodded.

“I took my pain meds, but,” Patton shrugged.

Virgil studied him, noticing how his face was drawn tight under his cheerfulness and how he moved as little as possible. It had always been hard for Virgil to tell how Patton was feeling. Sometimes the physical symptoms gave him away, because they’re wasn’t much he could do about hiding them. But Patton could hide the pain. And he was good at it.

“I’m sorry,” Virgil offered, at a loss for anything else.

Patton shrugged.

“It’s kind of just what chronic pain is a lot of them time. Hurt’s a lot, just trying to distract myself.”

Virgil could get that, that attempt at distraction. It was also something he could go along with.

“By killing your character every two seconds?” he teased.

“I’m not trying to!” Patton protested. It probably would have been more effective is his character didn’t die right then.

“Sure,” Virgil said with a chuckle as they continued to play.