#past royality

-0-0-0-0- o0o o0o o0o -0-0-0-0-

He stared as they lowered the casket to the ground.

A morbid part of his mind thought that it was fitting. Fitting that their last goodbye would be in the same place where they were first introduced, fitting that the same song was playing, fitting that similar enough people were present.

A hand on his shoulder made him look at the man he saw as a brother. Tears were running down his face.

‘He looks more affected than me’

“Let’s go home”

He didn’t want to. But he was scared of voicing the fact that, without the other, that place didn’t feel like home. He was scared of acknowledging that he was gone.

Everything in that house was full of memories, of the ghost of his loved one.

They meet in a rainy day of July, the sky dark with grey clouds, and a casket being lowered to the ground.

It was not someone he had spent a lot of time with, but his best friend had once been in love with the other and he had been there for emotional support.

Roman Torres had been the oldest child of a calm family. His twin was currently staring emotionless at the last resting place of his brother.

Logan hadn’t thought much of it; a shock response was maybe the responsible of the lack of emotion on the younger twin. But Logan had enough present of mind to realize the bandages all around the emotionless boy.

He thought to ask Patton later, to ask about what exactly had happened. The answer was a surprise. For what he knew Roman was egoistical and self aggrandizing. But to think he had protected his twin instead of himself during the car crash…

A new found respect blossomed in his chest. Roman had obviously been a good person who worried for those he loved.

When Patton and Logan had reached Virgil to offer their condolences the shorter boy had snapped, slapping Patton’s hands away

“Don’t fucking touch me”

His voice was raw, and Logan wondered if he had been crying.

“Kiddo-”

“It should’ve been me!”

That silenced them, at least enough for Virgil to smirk at them and chuckle. It was the saddest sound Logan had ever heard.

They didn’t saw each other after a few weeks, where Patton had finally managed to drag Virgil away from his room, and they had gone out. It wasn’t happy, no matter how much Patton tried to light up the situation.

Almost at the end of the day Virgil stared at them, his inexpressive mask slowly crackling and leaving space for eyes full of rage

“Why are you pitying me?”

“I don’t pity you Virgil”

“Then what the fuck is going on! Why do you suddenly want to spend time with me! Im not Roman! He is dead Patton! he’s fucking dead and its time you start to face it”

A silence surrounded the table, only broken by their heavy breathing. Patton stared at Virgil in shock, his mouth opening and closing with no clear idea what to say meanwhile Logan stared at the other in surprise.

But Virgil was far from done

“You think is easy to wake up, to see myself and remember him every day?! Do you even have any idea how fucked up the house is?!”

Virgil laughed, tears running down his face while his fist balled in his eyes. He was shaking all over, and Logan had never seen someone break so extremely in front of him.

Patton reacted for instinct, throwing himself to hug the shorter boy. In a matter of seconds they both had sunken to the floor, Patton hugging the shaking man to him and curling protectively around him. A failed and weak attempt to protect him from the world.

Things had gotten slightly better after that. Virgil was allowing himself more expressions, and in a desperate attempt to look less like the ghost that followed him everywhere he had dyed his hair, warm brown locks now a vibrant and deep purple, carefully maintained bangs now covering part of an eye and enhanced by a subtle Mohawk , a piercing crossing his eyebrow and another in his tongue. He was trying to put as much distance as he could to the pictures in his house.

Logan had tallied and noticed every single change, a mental list in his brain that grew bigger and bigger by every detail he noticed. It was like he could do nothing except but to keep count, to notice, to feel a pull every time Virgil added or took something away from his persona. It was relaxing and unnerving.

Sometimes they got together without Patton; those days were a quiet companion was everything Virgil wanted. Days where he could let his emotions out in the form of words, of tears where he knew he wouldn’t be judged. Days where the only thing he wanted was to fight someone and have his body aching for days to come, if only to make the physical pain be stronger than the emotional.

They were counting on each other.

It wasn’t always an up curve. There were days where Virgil smirked, a depressed chuckle leaving his mouth. Days where Virgil questioned why they were there, why they tried, days where Virgil felt guilty for being alive.

Days where Virgil curled down on himself, sobbing and begging Patton for forgiveness, because if Roman hadn’t protected him then Patton could still get him back, they could talk things out; they could go back to being the perfect couple everyone knew they would be.

Patton never knew quite well what to do during those particular break downs. But it was okay, a few hours in a cuddle pile usually gave the younger one a clearer mind.

He had tried therapy, once. The doctor explained how his survivor guilt would eventually disappear, and that had been enough for Virgil.

The Ghost was one day going to stop following him around, and he was content with that.

His relationship with Logan started slow, in a day where neither had suspected it would. In the middle of a breakdown where Logan couldn’t help but to think Virgil was the most beautiful human to ever exist.

They had kissed because Virgil needed to feel he was connected to the actual reality. They had kissed because Virgil had grabbed a fistful of Logan’s turtleneck and had kissed him, angry lips pressing against surprised ones. A small hint of salt from the tears, a small taste of mint from the ice cream, and perhaps the most important moment in their friendship.

It was hard, and complex; because Virgil hated medical help, and Logan just wanted him to get better, to not be swallowed whole by the deep of his depression. But he figured he understood, at least a little. Virgil had lost the other part of his soul, the only other person who would understand him fully.

A part of him thought that Virgil should know better. A small, selfish part of him thought that Virgil should realize that they would eventually pull apart, but he never mentioned it. It would do no good to say something he knew Virgil knew.

So he kept silent, and he helped when he could.

They had spent a year as a couple when they moved in together. After three months of living together Virgil re-started therapy. After four years of living together he asked Virgil to marry him. After 5 years of living together they went to Patton’s wedding.

After six years of living together Logan was starting to realize how strong Virgil really was.

He stared at the empty kitchen, at the empty studio, at the empty bedroom.

He felt like he left a part of his soul in the cemetery.

Roman Torres had died because an irresponsible driver had skipped a red light, crashing against the side of the car and leaving all its occupants in a heavy state of injury. The younger Torres was pressed against the window the driver had impacted. His older brother had noticed, the scene going in slow motion, and had thrown himself on top of his brother shielding him.

Virgil Torres had died in the hands of a greedy man who only wanted money. It wasn’t supposed to be like that, but the man was desperate and he didn’t want to wait until Virgil passed him the things. Instead he stabbed him, took his phone and wallet and left.

Virgil Torres had bled to death, scared and alone.

Logan Sanders had died because of a gas leak. His windows closed and doors trapped to make the smell stay inside.

Logan Sanders had died alone and empty.