#XE LOOK LIKE AN EMO SO SORRY GUYS | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hottestthingalive · 4 years

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Bluebells (2)

Chapter 2: Bulbs

Ao3 Link here.

Chapter 1 here.

Notes: Yay, second chapter is here! Expect the next one... any time between next week and a year.

Plot: Virgil isn’t okay (I promise), life sucks, and things get gayer.

Tw: Cursing, disappearances, mental and physical abuse

Morning came in the beeping of a shrill alarm.

Scratch that, Virgil decided as he sat up blearily, shutting off the alarm immediately. Doesn’t count as morning if it’s still dark out.

He grabbed his phone, wincing as the bright light shone into his retinas. 2:31 A.M, the screen said. He was doing pretty well, then -- as long as he got to the coffee place by three, he’d be able to complete a four-hour shift in time to get to school at seven thirty.

Ugh. He hated the night shift, but his boss liked having the cafe open 24/7, and he ought to be grateful; it was the only time (other than the weekends) that Virgil was able to actually work at, and due to the shitty time the pay was pretty good. It even made up for the lack of tips.

He got dressed quickly, throwing on his patched sweatshirt over his ripped jeans and torn shirt. Makeup was fast, too, just some cheap foundation and dark eyeshadow under his eyes to hide how crappy he’d been looking lately. No sleep will do that to a guy, he thought, doing his best to hide the dark shadows under his eyes, or at least make them look like eyeshadow. Say what you would, being an emo these days had some perks -- people thought the exhaustion and ragged clothes were for aesthetic, or some bullshit like that.

Virgil was out the door quickly, locking it behind him and tucking his keys into his pocket. The boards on the porch creaked under his sneakers, and he grimaced at the noise. Creepy as all hell, that.

As he walked in the darkness towards the better part of town, avoiding the patches of light given by the streetlamps (What if I get mugged?), he reached into his pocket and pulled out his headphones, plugging them into his old phone. Sure, it was dangerous to listen to music while walking alone at two in the morning, but this particular street bordered the woods, and no one wanted to cause a commotion near the home of the fey. There was a reason all the rich homes were in the center of Torbrook, sheltered from their mythical neighbours by human shields.

The ironically-called Sleep was standing at the counter when he arrived, sipping from an obnoxiously large cup and wearing his sunglasses inside. Because of course he was.

“You’re early, Anxiety,” he drawled, tossing a black apron across the counter. “Go sit down. You want a coffee?”

“I’m here to work,” Virgil deadpanned, tying on the apron, “not to buy shitty coffee.”

“Listen, we get a free drink for every shift, and you look like you need it,” Sleep retorted. “Do you ever sleep at all?”

“I need the free drink for later, when I get off,” he said, avoiding the question as he set his bag down in the back room, using his extra time to check his phone.

Sunnyside had left him a voicemail.

“Hey, Anxiety,” a voice said into his headphones. “It’s Beck, from the Sunnyside Hospital for Elderly Care. You still have some unpaid bills from last month -- do you want us to email them to you, or mail them? Please get back to us as soon as possible. Thanks!”

Crap.

“Everything okay?” Sleep asked, giving him a concerned look from the doorway. “Need me to stick around for a bit?”

“I’m good,” he said, mind scrambling for an explanation. “My, uh, my grandma forgot I had a shift today. She got worried.”

“I’m surprised Robin’s even letting you work here. She was always so protective,” Sleep grinned. “I haven’t seen her around town lately. How’s she doing?

Protective? the voice in the back of Virgil’s head screamed. She's in a hospital! How is she supposed to be protective when she thinks I’m living with my aunt and that her shitty insurance is paying all these bills, while as far as anyone else knows she’s just getting a bit reclusive in her old age?

“She’s good,” he said, forcing a smile onto his face as he went to stand behind the counter. “Bossy as ever.”

“Tell her I said hi,” his coworker nodded. “Alright, if you’re good, Anx, I’d better get going. I want to get a short nap in before school starts.”

“Got it,” he agreed, standing. “See you in English.”

“Bye, girl!” Sleep trilled, waving as the door slammed shut behind him.

He dropped the smile almost instantly, glaring down at his purple nails. Four hours. He just had to get through four hours.

“Morning, Anx!” chirped Morality, coming through the doors of the cafe. Virgil sighed internally. Morality was always so cheerful. It didn’t make any sense. “Can I just get that nice caramel thing you made for me last time?” He passed his thermos over the counter, still smiling.

“Sure,” he nodded, taking Morality’s cup and grabbing his own. His coworkers, Oak and Swift, had come in half an hour ago, thankfully early, so he passed the containers to Swift as he untied his apron. “One caramel latte, and for me, as much espresso as you can get into a cup.”

“Anxiety, you’re going to give yourself a heart attack,” Oak deadpanned, but she took his place at the counter. “Have fun at school, kid.”

“When has school ever been fun?” Swift pointed out, before xe turned to face Anxiety. “I’ll give you three shots.”

“Five.”

“Three.”

“Four,” Oak said, “but no more coffee for the rest of the day.”

“Fine, parental figures,” he rolled his eyes, picking up his backpack. “Four.”

“Hey, I thought I was your parental figure friend!” Morality cried, managing to look betrayed even as he giggled.

“You’re the paternal figure, popstar,” Virgil told him, hopping over the counter to protests from both Swift and Oak. They didn’t have to wait long for their drinks, and soon the two of them were in Morality’s car, sipping on the life-giving substance.

Morality was unusually quiet, had been since they left the cafe, and finally Virgil broke the silence to ask “Hey, everything okay?”

“Oh, it’s fine, kiddo,” he grinned, but the smile quickly faded. “It… It just sounded like you made a pun with my name.”

“...Your real name?” Virgil said, blood running cold. “I’m so sorry, Mor, I didn’t -- I swear, I don’t know it--”

“No, of course you don’t,” Morality nodded, smiling again, more genuinely this time. “I’ve just been a bit jumpy lately. The forest’s been so… quiet. We’re entering spring -- shouldn’t we be seeing more faeries?”

“Only Seelie,” Virgil shrugged absentmindedly, staring out the passenger-side window at the foreboding trees in the distance. “Unseelie will mostly be returning to their realm for the winter.”

“I don’t know how you remember that stuff,” the other teenager sighed. “I can never keep track.”

He hadn’t meant to say that. Shit. “I always liked those stories,” he said, chuckling weakly. It was enough to fool Morality, or maybe that was just because he had spotted his boyfriend.

“Sweetheart!” Morality called, rolling down the window. “C’mon, you’re gonna be late for school!”

“Thank you, love,” smiled his boyfriend, sliding into the backseat and kindly ignoring Morality’s blush. “Anxiety, I see you’ve stolen the front seat again, you heathen.”

“Best friend privileges,” drawled Virgil, taking a sip of his coffee. “Morning, Princey.”

Prince rolled his eyes, before leaning forward and stealing Morality’s thermos and drinking from it. “Listen, One American Reject, I’ll have you know that while I respect and honor best friend privileges, I will still attempt to steal the seat closer to my boyfriend at any opportunity.”

“Fair enough,” Virgil nodded. “That was one of your better nicknames, too.”

“Thank you,” he grinned as Morality started the car.

“Anxiety and I were just mentioning how we haven’t seen much activity from the forest as of late,” Morality said. “Put your seatbelt on, honey! Have you noticed anything?”

“Er… I haven’t seen as many fey recently, no,” Prince answered, biting his lip as he fastened said seatbelt. “It’s dangerous to go near the forest, anyways -- they might be there, and we just haven’t spotted them.”

“But usually I see something,” Morality countered, drumming his fingers on the wheel. “It’s just… concerning.”

“Speaking of fey, did Mariposa make plans for the play again this year?” Virgil asked Prince, turning in his seat to face Morality’s boyfriend. “She always tells the actors about her weird precautions first.”

“What do you mean, plans?” Prince raised an eyebrow. “I’m new, remember?”

“Oh, Ms. Mariposa always gets worried that the fey will try to attend the school play,” Morality laughed. “Apparently they did one year? It was ages ago. But she always goes all out to try and protect the auditorium during rehearsals and performances and stuff, all salt lines and horseshoes, and she paid the school to make sure the doors and windows have iron on them. She even hangs bells everywhere! I get performances, kinda, but rehearsals? Tech’d notice if anyone snuck in, and they can’t exactly be actors!”

“They could, actually,” Virgil said, and then mentally smacked himself. Sleep deprivation was going to kill him.

“Really?” his cheerful friend asked, surprised. “I thought they couldn’t lie!”

Apparently, I’m the one who can’t lie today. “They can’t,” he agreed reluctantly, because he’d dug this grave and now he had to lay in it. “But acting is different from lying. People are aware you aren’t actually that person, that whatever you say on stage isn’t necessarily true, and they’re faeries, so they exploit that loophole.”

“How do you know that?” Prince inquired, staring at Virgil with a strange expression on his face.

“My gran. She, uh, used to tell me about meeting some Seelie once, when she was young, and was wearing an iron pendant. They… tried to tempt her by telling her about celebrations they had, and mentioned a performance,” he lied through his teeth, thinking fast. “She was confused, like you were, Mor, and they told her that.”

“I didn’t know your grandmother had almost been taken,” remarked Prince. “Could I ask her about it? That necklace sounds… fascinating.”

Virgil felt himself tense, even as Morality chirped “Oh, I love Robin! She’s so nice! Remember those cookies she used to make for us?”

“They were great,” he nodded, plastering a smile across his face. “But, uh, she’s been kind of sick lately. Not really up to visitors. Sorry.”

“Oh, alright,” Prince nodded, suddenly all bright cheer again. “What were you saying about those cookies, love?”

He tuned out, head pressed against the soothingly cool glass of the window. Those bills were going to suck to pay -- mortgage payments were due soon, too, along with the money needed for everything else. His aunt wasn’t going to be any help at all, the bitch, but his job at the cafe didn’t pay enough for all of the money he owed.

The money just didn’t add up. A sigh escaped him, quiet enough that Morality didn’t notice. He was going to have to dip into his college fund again, huh?

Virgil liked to sit near the windows in classes. Sure, it could be a bit distracting, but even with the coffee, he was too exhausted to pay attention anyways. He liked being able to sit and watch the trees in the distance, observe the squirrels in the large elm that grew beside the school.

An acorn dropped onto the open windowsill, rolling towards Virgil slightly.

And, of course, there was another reason he liked this placement.

Elm trees didn’t have acorns. He knew this, had known it when the very first of the nuts had appeared, when he had picked it up in curiosity and noticed it was a little too light. Acorns weren’t heavy, of course, but they had some weight to them. He’d popped off the acorn cap with his fingernail, noticing the smell of sap, and his suspicions had been proven correct -- the nut was hollow, with a folded, thin wedge of paper curled inside.

Peeling out the paper had been difficult, but with one hand doing as he pretended to rummage inside his desk and the other feigning note taking for the teacher’s benefit, he had managed to extract a note.

He did much the same thing with this new acorn, glad that his seat was in the back of the class and that Ms. Vlinder, his math teacher (and Ms. Mariposa’s wife) was writing out a long problem on the board. Stashing the hollow nut in his desk, he unfolded the paper on his notebook, as stealthily as possible.

Anxiety,

I should be able to meet you later today -- Advice has agreed to cover for my absence. I’ll see you then, unless plans change. The usual spot.

You’re probably reading this in math again, so stop procrastinating on your work, please. Just because you do not like the subject does not mean you should neglect it. Besides, it would probably take up less of your time (like you keep complaining it does) if you actually took the time to do it in class.

Logic

He grinned to himself. Well, that was something to look forward to, at least.

“Anxiety,” said Ms. Vlinder, raising an eyebrow at him from the front of the classroom. “What are you reading?”

His face flushed red. “Um… nothing.”

“Well, whatever it is, it doesn’t look like calculus. Save it for after class, please. Now, can you answer the question on the board?”

He’d gotten lucky, thank god -- the question was one from last night’s homework, and he’d actually done it for once. Virgil muttered his response, slouching in his seat and trying to ignore the heat on his cheeks. Morality cast him a glance, mouthing Are you okay? from his seat closer to the board.

Virgil nodded briefly at him, stuffing the note into the pocket of his sweatshirt.

“Stay for a second, Anxiety,” Ms. Vlinder told him as the bell rang for lunch. He did so, fidgeting nervously where he stood.

“Do you want me to stay?” Morality asked quietly, coming up to him as the other students left the classroom, casting a glance at their teacher.

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” he shook his head, mustering up as much false bravado as he could. “Save me a spot, though.”

“Of course, kiddo,” grinned the other teen, before also leaving the room.

“Are you doing okay, Anxiety?” Ms. Vlinder asked once the room was empty, eyes on Virgil. “I normally wouldn’t ask, but you’ve been extra distracted lately, and your grades have dropped. Even in English, and you’ve always been praised by Mx. Cee for your work in that class. Do you want me to talk to your grandmother?”

“I’m fine,” he muttered, stuffing his hands into his pockets and curling his fingers around the note in an attempt at comfort.

“My wife mentioned seeing you when she went to pick up our coffee this morning,” the teacher told him, frowning. “That would have had to be a very early shift, Anxiety. Are you sleeping alright? Do you want me to talk to the counselor-”

“I need money for university,” he interrupted, the practiced falsehood he’d told everyone about his job falling easily between his lips. “I’m fine, really. Can I please leave?”

“...Okay,” she finally nodded. “Have a good lunch.”

“Thanks,” he said quickly, grabbing his backpack and practically running out the door before she could change her mind.

His friends liked to eat lunch out in the courtyard. It was easier for all of them, the cafeteria being too loud for Sleep and too stressful for Virgil. For March it was relatively warm, and it was an unspoken tradition for every member of their small group to find themselves near the same elm tree that bordered the math classroom for lunch break now that the cold had finally broken. So that was where Virgil went, slipping out the doors with his hood up, ignoring the brief chill of the wind. Morality waved to him, patting the ground besides him, Prince arguing with Sleep about something.

“Why are you fighting again?” Virgil sighed as he sat besides Morality, setting down his backpack to lean against it. “What did Princey do now?”

“Me?” the dramatic male asked, aghast. “Why me?!”

“We were debating who your mysterious boyfriend might be,” grinned Morality, elbowing Virgil. “That’s who gave you that note, right?”

“Spill, girl,” Sleep drawled, taking a long sip from his Starbucks cup. Where did he even get that? Torbrook didn’t have a Starbucks! “Is he hot?”

“I don’t have a boyfriend!” Virgil protested, face red again. “The note -- stop rolling your eyes, Sleeping Beauty, I don’t! -- is none of your business.”

“Aw, you think I’m beautiful!” cooed Sleep, as Morality protested “It is certainly our business! We’re your friends, and as such we have a right to know about your love life! It was in the best friend contract, Anx!”

“No, it wasn’t,” Virgil rolled his eyes. The ‘best friend contract’ had been something he and Morality had made when they were nine, meant to be a joke. Morality’s mom had helped him frame it, and he’d hung it near his desk. It still was on the wall in his room. “I wrote that.”

“Well, I deedn’t expect that to work, anyways,” Morality grinned, and Sleep and Virgil groaned, Princey letting out a snort. “Still, though!”

“Yes, Anxiety, tell us about your mysterious lover’s note!” Prince exclaimed, pretending to swoon. “Every last detail of your courtship! Tell us about your Romeo; did you make the first move, or did he? Have you kissed yet? Do we know him?!”

“I’m certainly hoping I’m not Juliet, because she was thirteen and he was a grown adult, and also they died,” Virgil deadpanned, though internally his mind was racing, scrambling for an excuse. He seemed to be doing that a lot, lately. “Also, no, no, and no! I’m not dating anyone! The note was from a friend of mine who lives outside Torbrook. We, uh, met up over the weekend, he left it for me because when I got there he was out to buy groceries, and I just realized I accidentally grabbed it from his house.”

“You never leave town,” Morality shook his head. “Try again.”

“Actually,” Sleep interjected, actually looking interested now, “last Sunday he wasn’t at work for once. Asked me to cover for him. Are you telling me you actually went to visit this friend?”

“Yes,” he sighed. “Now they get it. We all know I’m doomed to be alone, anyways.”

“If you keep talking bad about yourself I will physically fight you!” Morality screeched, tackling Virgil into a hug as Sleep rolled his eyes in fond exasperation and Prince snickered at them both.

After school, he found himself walking home. He never accepted Morality’s rides on the way back from school, always coming up with some excuse or another to walk. Virgil suspected the cheerful teen believed he was sneaking off to see someone, which would explain how that idea had started, but the truth was that he simply couldn’t let his best friend figure out that his grandmother wasn’t in the house. As far as Morality or anyone else knew, he was living with his grandmother in their nice house near the edge of town. As far as his grandmother knew, he was living with his aunt in her apartment a few towns away, and their shitty insurance was being supported by said woman. Only he knew the truth: that when his aunt had come to visit his grandmother in the hospital when she’d first been admitted a few months ago, she’d sat down with him at the dining table and told him that he wouldn’t be staying with her.

“I have nowhere else to go--” he’d tried to tell her, but Caroline (she had no other title, having grown up outside Torbrook) had stood up from her seat, eyes shards of ice.

“I’m not having Lydia’s child in my home,” she’d spat, and Virgil had recoiled at the mention of his mother. “My sister poisoned everything she touched -- she was driving, that night when she died, wasn’t she? Killed your father and your sister, and finally took herself down too. I wouldn’t be surprised if she did it on purpose. She was like that.”

“She -- it was an accident!” he cried. “Don’t talk about Mom like that!”

“I will talk about her any way I damn well please, Anxiety,” his aunt snapped. “You’re just like her, you know. You even call yourself after her! You could have chosen anything, and you decided on a goddamn disorder!”

“Gram told me-”

“I don’t give a fuck what she told you. That woman’s batshit crazy. She tore apart our family to come back to this town, and when I thought the cycle would finally end with her, my idiot sister forgave her, and granted her custody of her child when she died.” Caroline had paused there, picking up her bag. “You’ve been poisoned by both of them, Virgil, and I’m not risking my own life or happiness to deal with helping you just to let you go back after the old bitch dies. The old woman will be gone within a month without money for her treatment, you know that, and I’ll take you in then, finally get around to fixing you.”

She glanced at the rainbow flag magnet sitting on the fridge, holding up a picture of Virgil and his grandmother smiling together at the camera, her expression twisting from simple hatred into something ugly. “Maybe we’ll finally be able to get that gay bullshit out of your head, then.”

“Who am I supposed to stay with?” he’d asked, quiet and resigned, because he understood what was happening, had known deep inside the moment that his grandmother had told him to call Caroline that things would go wrong.

“Just stay here,” she’d rolled her eyes. “You should be able to care for yourself, Virgil, you’re almost an adult. I’ll see you in a month, when she’s gone.”

He’d felt like laughing, even with the dark bags under his eyes and the crippling exhaustion he hadn’t yet learned how to manage, when his aunt had come back a month later, expecting to see her mother on her deathbed. The confusion and anger on her face when she’d seen Robin sitting up in her bed, hooked up to an IV but chatting merrily with a nurse, and had heard the old woman say “Oh, Carol, hon! I know we’ve had our differences, but I’m so glad you’ve been able to put them past you to care for our Anx, and help with the bills. The doctors say I should be out by August, dear, just in time to see him off to college. How will I ever thank you?”

His aunt had looked at him, standing on the other side of the bed, where his grandmother wasn’t looking, and he’d grinned, twirling his finger near his temple in gentle circles, the sign for crazy, and pointed at first his grandmother, and then himself. There had been a brief flash of fiery anger in her eyes, before Caroline had returned her gaze to her mother. “No need,” she’d smiled benevolently, and Virgil had to give it to her; she was a brilliant actress. “We’re family, after all. It’s what Lydia would want.”

(He’d regretted taunting her later, when she’d thrown his grandmother’s favorite vase against his head as he tried to leave the house, trying to escape her wrath. She’d been screaming that he was poison, as toxic as his mother and grandmother before him, when the world fuzzed to black, and had left Virgil to wake up a few hours later with his bright purple hair dark with water and blood. He’d only seen her a few times since, when they’d met outside the hospital to visit his grandmother. They’d never mentioned it, and if she noticed how he was constantly on edge around her, she didn’t tell him.)

Virgil snapped himself out of his thoughts, unconsciously rubbing the back of his head. The injury had healed, now, but sometimes he found himself touching the spot anyways, especially after certain nightmares.

He glanced around as he ducked into a gap between the trees, shifting to the right through a bush to find himself on the rough path he’d carved out over years of walking through these trees.

It had been too long since he’d visited, he saw -- the grass had begun to regrow, and he muttered silent apologies to the forest as it was crushed under his torn sneakers. A faint breeze swirled around him, lifting the branches, and he grinned to himself. Virgil wasn’t much for gods, capital G and singular or otherwise, but he’d always believed these woods held a magic all their own, even beyond the faeries that used it as a portal between his realm and theirs. The place seemed to hum with it, a quiet force all its own, and he half-believed he’d only ever survived his adventures into it because it let him, had perhaps even guided him to the field of flowers when he was young.

It was only a matter of minutes before he reached the clearing, and he shivered as the sunlight hit his skin fully, the afternoon sun’s warmth combatting the cool breeze.

“There you are,” he heard from behind him, and he whirled around at the familiar voice.

“You’re starting to look like Slenderman,” he grinned at Logic, who had grown taller again.

“Those legends were inspired by my people,” the faerie said, rolling his eyes. “And I will have you know I am of perfectly average height for an Unseelie. At least I am not the size of the average mushroom, like those flowery nitwits.”

“Don’t be rude,” Virgil scolded, but he was still smiling, and pulled Logic into a hug even as he said it. “I missed you,” he muttered into his shoulder.

“...I missed you as well,” Logic told him, warm against the crisp March breeze. “It has been a long winter.”

“You look exhausted,” he pointed out, frowning as he pulled away to examine the shadows under the faerie’s mismatched eyes. “When did you last sleep?”

“I’m not the only one,” retorted the other, taking his hand and pulling him further into the sunny space between the trees. The grass was soft as the two sat, Virgil taking off his backpack to put it besides him. “I told you you would need adequate rest to ensure your head healed properly.”

“It’s fine,” he grumbled. Logic still moved behind him to check, examining the skin on the back of his head. “It really is, L. The magic did the trick -- no pain, no dizziness, nothing.”

“It looks alright,” the faerie conceded, although he still seemed perturbed. “Be careful, though, Anxiety. It may have been a while ago, but head wounds can have lasting effects.”

“I know,” he nodded, turning to face Logic again. “Now, why do you look like you haven’t slept since August?”

“I could say the same to you.”

“Logic.”

“It has been an… eventful winter,” sighed the dark-haired faerie, lying back in the grass. “There has been strife in both courts for years, but everything has gotten worse now. The heir to the rule of the Seelie Court has gone missing.”

“What? How is that even possible?” Virgil asked, staring down at him.

“He disappeared in late summer, at the very end of August. Both courts have assumed they are being framed for what happened.” Logic closed his eyes, frustration seeping into his words. “I’m… friends with him, I suppose. I’m a bit worried about him -- Prince was never known for his intelligence.”

“Prince?” he blinked, a cold wave of suspicion washing over him. “Short, dramatic, acts like he stepped out of a Disney movie? Acts like the universe personally affronted him and will only accept an apology if it brings cookies?”

“You know him?” asked the faerie, eyes flashing open as he sat up. “When did you meet him? How? Did he hurt you?!”

“He sounds like Morality’s boyfriend,” Virgil told him, a mix of confusion and anger and fear rising in his chest. “Princey moved to town just in time for school to start -- they started dating in January. Apparently they had Christmas together, some cute fairy tale kiss under the mistletoe.” He’s vaguely aware his breath is quickening, but the blood pounding in his ears is far too loud to concentrate. “Oh god, L, what if he hurts Mor?”

“We cannot be sure your Prince is the same as mine. It could just be a coincidence,” Logic told him, moving closer to hold Virgil’s shoulders. “Breathe, Anxiety. It is alright. Do you remember the pattern you taught me?”

They did a breathing exercise, a four-seven-eight method Virgil had once led Logic through when they were fourteen and the faerie had been having a panic attack. He’d had no idea Logic remembered.

“We’re going to have to figure out a way to definitively identify whether they are the same person,” he heard a while later, once he had calmed. His head was on Logic’s lap. He didn’t remember lying down, but long fingers were running through his hair and Virgil was far calmer than before, so he shrugged it off. “There’s no way he’d be willing to accompany you near the forest, right?”

“I doubt it,” he shook his head. “Everyone’s scared about this place. How’ve you been getting the messages to me? Could we use that?”

The faerie sighed. “Unfortunately, no. I’ve been making use of the birds in the area to do that -- a little magic, a promise of food, and they do whatever I wish.”

They sat in silence for a time, each with thoughts running rampant through their minds. Something tugged at Virgil’s attention, and he focused, trying to remember what he’d forgotten…

“His eyes!” he exclaimed, startling them both.

“What?” Logic asked, a trace of amusement in his voice. “What about them?”

“Shouldn’t they be like yours, if he’s a Seelie?” said Virgil, sitting up. “All… fey-ish?”

“That isn’t a word.”

“Shush, you. Point is, shouldn’t I have been able to tell he was a faerie because of that? Or because of his ears? Do Seelie also have the pointed ears, or is that just your lot?”

His eyes widened. “An illusion, of course! Anxiety, you absolute genius!”

“I try,” he grinned.

“The solution would be to pose as a human, accompany you to your place of schooling, and speak to him myself!” Logic exclaimed. “Do you have any human clothing I can borrow?” He hesitated. “Only if it is alright with you, that is. We can come up with another solution.”

“Actually, that works out,” Virgil told him. “I lied to my friends about visiting someone out of town over the weekend -- they’re going to ask for photos or something for proof, knowing them, so you can stand in as my imaginary friend.”

“What were you actually doing?” Logic asked, frowning, and Virgil mentally cursed. Why was he so goddamn perceptive? “We haven’t seen each other in a few months, so it was not on my behalf, and I have never known you to lie without reason.”

“...I was visiting my gran,” he confessed, staring at the blades of grass under his hands. “She hasn’t been doing too well lately, and my aunt still isn’t helping with money. I’m probably going to have to take more shifts at my job, and I wanted to see her without my aunt there for once before I started having no time to.”

“You told me once that it was strange that my people made me work even as a child,” Logic said, voice quiet. “You are clearly not doing well, Anxiety, and your health is precarious enough as it is. You should have gone to human doctors for that head wound, and you appear exhausted.”

“I’m fine, L,” he snapped.

“No, you aren’t!”

They both were startled by his shout, and Logic pinched his nose in faint exasperation. “I apologize. That was unnecessary. But I think you really should inform your grandmother of the situation. At this rate, even if you save her, you may kill yourself in the process.”

“She’ll make Caroline take me in, or ask a friend of hers from out of town. I can’t leave Torbrook now,” he shook his head. “I can’t. I’d be leaving you, and Mor, and… and God, L, there’s some sort of curse on this place, and I want to go to college, I want to see the world before I’m dragged back here!”

Everyone, even the fey, knew of the strange power of the town, and its effect on its residents. Virgil had watched people try to leave for years, to go to college or to just finally escape, and yet somehow, every single person, even the ones who hated the place most bitterly, were dragged back, unable to stay away permanently. It had happened to his gran, he knew -- she’d left, married a man she’d met in college, had his mom and Caroline, and then when both of the girls were ten, had found herself divorcing her husband and returning to Torbrook. Robin had hated herself for it, said so to Virgil after she’d had a bit too much wine, but she hadn’t seen another way -- the place had seemed to pull on her soul, and she couldn’t drag her new, innocent family along with her.

The only people who had ever seemed to permanently escape were the ones who had accidentally revealed their names, and Virgil suspected that was only out of pure necessity. They could only survive on the outside -- returning to Torbrook was a death sentence, or worse, with any faerie or opportunistic human ready to use their true names against them. It was what had happened to Taylor, formerly called Yellow. They had accidentally told their true name at a party, gotten a bit too vulnerable, and one of their friends had told the whole school. They’d left town the next day, and hadn’t been back since. Their parents had occasionally visited them, but never seemed able to permanently stay with their child, much as they wanted to. Eventually, the visits stopped, and then so did all communication.

Taylor could have been dead, for all anyone knew, the pull of Torbrook doing to them what it had done to all the others who had resisted -- first sickness, like the flu, a shivering weakness, and eventually…

Well, after a girl called Fortune had died in the hospital near her college, the doctors unable to help her, no one had wanted to risk it.

So Virgil couldn’t leave Torbrook, even if he wanted to. He was saving every second for college, and maybe for a trip after that if he got lucky.

He wouldn’t.

Abruptly, he stood.

“Anxiety, I-” Logic began, and Virgil knew him well enough to know the other was about to apologize, and he couldn’t take that, not then.

“Meet me here again in a few days, okay? I’ll bring clothes and stuff, and I’ll let the school know you’re a visiting student. They let that kind of thing happen, usually assume it’s a cousin who was born here who got the sickness. Super lax about it, weirdly.” He was aware he was babbling now, as he grabbed his bag, but he couldn’t stop himself from speaking. “Sunday should work, yeah? You can come with me on Monday, I can say we drove down from your home together.”

“Anxiety, what if it is him?” Logic asked, interrupting him mid-tangent. “Not only will we face the wrath of the next ruler of the Seelie Court, but will also expose the fact that we have been… consorting.”

“I’m not letting Mor get hurt,” said Virgil shortly, stepping back to leave. “I don’t need my best friend getting kidnapped by a faerie on my plate, too. I’ll see you Thursday.” He turned, and, without giving Logic a chance to respond, left the clearing.

It was Sunday before he knew it, and Virgil was exhausted. All of his friends had noticed that he was more tense, more tired, more snappish -- he remembered muttering something about college admissions, which made sense since the letters were supposed to be coming in the next couple weeks, and they passed the mood change off as heightened anxiety. If Sleep noticed him picking up more shifts than ever, mowing lawns and doing whatever he could for money around town, he didn't say anything, and Virgil was grateful. Besides, Sleep himself was an insomniac -- he would just be a hypocrite.

Not to say Virgil had insomnia. More than anything, he wanted to fall onto his bed and sleep for a week. But he couldn’t, not yet.

He asked for the day off for both Sunday and Monday. His boss didn’t protest, telling him to go get some rest in a quiet tone. Sleep didn't make fun of him like usual, either, and there was no teasing him about going to see a boyfriend, only a quiet thumbs up.

The forest was quiet when he entered, a bag over his shoulder, and he shivered. It was disconcerting. Virgil had gotten used to noise, blasting music over his headphones as he worked, and then in lectures or with his loud friends every other moment. Faint birdsong, wind in the trees, dirt under the combat boots his gran had bought him two Christmases ago -- he wasn’t accustomed to them anymore.

Perhaps that’s why Logic could sneak up on him so easily.

“You look awful,” the faerie said bluntly from beside him, startling him enough that he almost tripped. He got lucky -- Logic reached out to steady him, concern shining in his strange, mismatched eyes. “Anxiety, you… you look worse than when I last saw you. Are you doing alright?”

“I’m fine,” he said, trying for a smile. Judging from the look on Logic’s face, it wasn’t convincing. He patted the bag. “Look, I brought you clothes. Got a couple of outfits. And, bonus-” he reached into his coat, pulling out a hairbrush and the scissors his grandmother had used to use to cut Virgil’s own hair when he was young. “We’re finally going to make you presentable, Tarzan.”

“How dare you?” Logic exclaimed, but there was no heat behind his words, just a quiet underlying concern that Virgil almost hated more. “My hair is perfectly fine!”

“Listen, you look like a member of Aerosmith,” Virgil rolled his eyes. “I’m thinking we can put it in a bun. Or maybe cut it even shorter! I’m just saying, you’re cosplaying a rocker from the 80s.”

“My hair isn’t that messy, or that long!” the faerie protested, but he let Virgil lead him to an old tree stump and sat down, albeit reluctantly. “Not too drastic of a change, Anx, or I swear, I’ll turn yours pink.”

“Eh, I needed a new dye job, anyways,” Virgil shrugged, and narrowly dodged Logic’s attempt to swat at him.

Half an hour and much swearing later, the disheveled hair was brushed through and tied into a bun. Logic looked unbelievably cute. It was not fair in the slightest -- Virgil’s dark gay heart wasn’t built for this kind of shit!

Alright Virge, stop checking out your friend. he snapped at himself mentally, handing Logic his phone to see his new look as he reached into the bag. He’s a faerie, firstly, and also, you’re doing this to save Mor. Haven’t got time for this, you disaster gay.

“I will confess, this does suit me,” the faerie smiled, looking up at him. “You’re quite good at this.”

“My gran taught me,” he shrugged, before dumping the bag of clothes onto Logic’s lap. “Pick an outfit.”

“This is not the same kind of clothing you wear,” blinked the faerie, looking through it.

“You’d hate wearing my clothes, and they wouldn’t even fit you,” he pointed out. “I brought you… I dunno, nerd stuff. Should make you look respectable and smart, or whatever -- we’re going to play into all the stereotypes, today. Besides, people ought to think of you like you are, not like some emo.”

“You think I’m smart?” Logic asked, staring up at him.

“You’re the smartest person I know, dumbass,” Virgil told him. “If you don’t want to wear any of that, it’s fine, I packed a T-shirt and jeans, and you could borrow my hoodie, I just thought it was kind of more your style-”

“No,” the other smiled, and wow, Virgil was really gay. “You… yes. I would prefer to be thought of as smart or respectable, I just didn’t realize that was something that could be done.”

“Anything’s possible when you harness preconceived prejudices,” he grinned in response.

Virgil couldn’t mask his amazement when Logic whispered to the forest, convincing the plants to grow together to make him a screen to change behind (he’d always been fascinated by magic, even when they were kids), but forced himself to stare at his phone when the faerie went behind it. He’d read through the same Tumblr post four times without understanding a word of it when Logic said “Anxiety?”

He’d chosen a black polo and a dark indigo tie, a shade that perfectly offset both colors of his eyes, paired with dark pants and his rabbit-fur boots. He looked hot.

“You… you’re going to need different shoes,” Virgil choked out.

“Oh, yes, I suppose I will,” Logic nodded. “Here, I am going to attempt an illusion.” He ran his fingers over his ears, and the points vanished, rounding. The rest of his features softened, less harshly fey and more human. He paused at his eyes, frowning.

“What’s wrong?” the human asked, as they had yet to change.

“Eyes are… harder to hide,” the faerie confessed. “For fey they are quite literally the windows to the soul. I believe I will require an external object near my face to mask my eyes to cast the spell on.” He bit his lip. “If we restyled my hair to have bangs a bit like yours, I could use that, but I do not wish to ruin your hard work.”

Virgil frowned, thinking back, before snapping his fingers. “Princey carries around contact solution in his bag! I bet that’s how he’s doing it -- casts the illusions on the contacts, pops them into his eyes, good to go.” He grinned. “You, Logic, are lucky I am so blind.”

“Excuse me?” he frowned. “I think your vision is alright. I wouldn’t have let those scissors near me, otherwise.”

“I wear contacts too, most of the time; good excuse for my weird eyes, people who don’t know me assume they’re colored. Plus, glasses don’t match my aesthetic.”

“What aesthetic?” Virgil glared at him, and Logic snorted in laughter.

“Don’t be rude, nerd. Anyways, I carry around my spare pair of glasses just in case, because if I lose a contact I can’t see without them. I was going to have to switch over to them soon -- don’t have enough money to buy another box -- but I can lend them to you for now, and we can cast the spell on them. Will the prescription affect you?”

“Let me see them,” Logic frowned, and Virgil pulled his glasses case out of his coat, handing the frames over.

The faerie tried them on, frowning briefly before running his hand over them. The glass shimmered for a moment, and suddenly his eyes only had color in the iris, one a paler green than Virgil’s own, the other a dark blue. “There. And I can see through them fine -- just have to change my own ability to see to do so. Easy shapeshifting spell.”

Virgil smiled despite himself, looking at the different colors. “We’re still eye buddies, huh?”

“I wasn’t about to give that up,” Logic grinned as he rolled his new eyes. It was so much more obvious when he did that, now that he actually had evident whites and pupils. “How do I look?”

Virgil stepped back, passing an appraising glance over his friend. “Very human,” he decided. “Also, very nerdy, so welcome to the weird kid club, L.”

“Excellent,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm, before his features adjusted into something more serious. “Are you sure you want to do this, Anxiety? For all we know, your Prince isn’t mine at all. I can think of no reason for him to disappear for so long into human society.”

“I can’t risk Morality getting hurt,” Virgil shook his head. “We’re doing this.”

“Alright,” Logic nodded, before his face split into a sly smile. “Now that I look human, though… There are some things you’ve mentioned in Torbrook I’ve always wanted to see.”

Virgil laughed despite himself. “Well, you should probably stay with me tonight, for appearances’ sake anyways… Okay, sure. Let’s go see the library, and then we can stop by my house.”

“How did you know?” the faerie asked, startled, as they started collecting the supplies Virgil had brought.

“Magic,” he grinned, and Logic punched him in the arm without any real force.

“Ass.”

“Dork.”

Even as they laughed, fear’s cold claws sunk into Virgil’s heart. He swallowed. What if Prince was who they thought he was?

What would one of the most powerful fey in the Seelie Court do to the human and the Unseelie that exposed him?

He glanced over at Logic. The faerie was beautiful when he smiled, even with his teeth disguised to look duller and more human. The sun streamed through the trees, lighting up his dark hair and contrasting the shadows painting fragile pictures across his skin.

What if Prince hurts him? the little voice in the back of his mind whispered.

No. He wouldn’t let that happen, Virgil decided, pushing the fear deep, deep down. Not to Logic, or Morality, or Sleep, or anyone he cared about.

The world was so shitty, as it was. He wasn’t about to let the few people that made living in it bearable suffer.

“Anxiety?”

Logic’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and he turned to see the faerie looking at him. “Yeah, L?”

“It’s going to be alright,” he promised, reaching out to hold Virgil’s hand. “Everything’s going to be alright.”

“Okay,” he nodded. And it helped, really, because he knew faeries could only tell the truth, or at least what they believed was the truth. Logic was the smartest person he’d ever met, and if he really believed that…

Everything would be alright.

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