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#all of his thoughts that aren’t masking or scripts are also in purple
esrah-rah-rasputin · 2 years
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some art, because I lost speech earlier and that sucked because no one around me could know, and also because autistic Jon rights
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[ID: Jon Sims from the Magnus Archives, drawn in purples with pink shadows. He is at the bottom of the frame and is drawn from the shoulders up, and behind him the rest of the space is taken up with unsaid thoughts and scripted conversation starters. He looks nervous and uncomfortable, and says quietly, under the other thought bubbles: “uh…”. Jon is pictured as a thin, British-Indian man with short cut hair with small streaks of grey in it, square wire glasses, a somewhat patchy beard, a few round scars on his cheekbones, jaw, and neck, and a line scar across his voice box. He is wearing a plain light t shirt.
The thought bubble directly above Jon’s head, in bold, says: I can understand you, you know. The bubbles around it, are in various shades of light purple and pink, the pink ones with quotations around them. The purple bubbles read, in no particular order: I want to join in on the conversation if you just let me. / This is going to be awkward, isn’t it… / I feel useless like this / Please don’t leave me out / I wish it was quieter here. The pink bubbles read, in no particular order, some of them cut off partially: “did you see the game last night?” / “how’s your partner these days?” / “how’ve you been lately?” / “damn, this weather, huh?” / “how are you?”. The artist’s url is in the top left. /End ID]
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thewritewolf · 4 years
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Losing Their Marbles
Summary: With Alya and Marinette out of town, it is up to Carapace and Mister Bug to watch over Paris! But the greatest enemy they face isn't an akuma but loneliness. :(
Entry three of four of my Adrien Augreste one shots! This one had Mister Bug as the week prompt, and Bugaboy, No Girls Allowed, and Plagg as my selection of daily prompts. 
@adrienaugust​
Enjoy!
Read on Ao3
Patrol was quiet.
Maybe it was because Chat Noir and Carapace rarely patrolled together - especially since it wasn’t exactly Chat Noir on patrol tonight. Sure, it was still Adrien under the mask, but with Marinette out of town for a couple weeks, someone had to wear the spots. And who better than her partner and boyfriend?
Thinking about the fashion event again, that was probably the real reason the two of them were in a funk. After all, it’s not like Adrien was a stranger to hanging out with his best bro Nino, masks or no. But neither of them had gotten to see their respective girlfriends for the past two weeks since both of them had made that trip to London together - Marinette to participate and Alya to report for the news outlet she was working for these days.
It also helped that Hawkmoth had been surprisingly quiet for the past couple weeks. There really wasn’t anything to distract them while they patrolled and the city was oddly quiet. And not just in the masks too - most of their friends seemed to be out of town.
Luka had gone on tour with Jagged Stone, leaving his Snake miraculous behind. Kagami had gone back to Japan because of some family emergency. With Marinette and Alya in London, almost the entire hero squad was out of action.
“Ugh!”
Mister Bug lifted his head off of the metal railing to look around for the familiar disgusted voice. He found Plagg watching them from a satellite dish, his black fur making him practically invisible except for his big green eyes looking down on them.
“What’re you grippin’ about now, cat dude?” Carapace said, crossing his arms at Plagg and leaning back against the rooftop railing. “Your fancy feast not up to your expectations?”
“My camembert isn’t the problem, shell boy,” Plagg shot back. “It’s you two moping around yet again just ‘cause your girlfriends aren’t here for you to make goo goo eyes at.”
Mister Bug rolled his eyes. “We aren’t moping!”
“Kid,” Plagg said, staring him down, “you might be able to lie to each other and yourselves, but I know for a fact you’ve been cuddling your new Ladybug body pillow every night since she left.” He tossed his wedge of camembert in the air and ate it in one gulp. “Just admit you’re lonely and save us all the trouble.”
“No we aren’t!” Carapace lied.
“Yeah?” Plagg said with a lazy yawn. “Then prove it. Do something else besides mope.”
Mister Bug and Carapace gave each other uncertain looks before Mister Bug shrugged.
“So, how’s the mixing going for Jagged Stone?”
“Good enough.” Plagg disappeared into Mister Bug’s yoyo.
After a moment of silence, Carapace shook his head. “It’s not going half bad. Not exactly what I thought I’d be doing working for the legend himself, but I love the work and it gives me plenty of time for fun projects.”
“Fun projects like your movie script?”
“Definitely, bro! Though I’ve gotta say the writing and the mixing and putting out original music… creatively, it is super exhausting.”
“I bet! Sometimes I get exhausted just looking at your soundcloud.”
The two of them shared a laugh.
“What about you, my dude?” Carapace lightly punched Mister Bug’s shoulder. “I know you ain’t a slouch. Especially now that you aren’t working for someone’s else’s dream but your own.”
“You’re not wrong there.” Mister Bug sighed and turned around, leaning his back against the railing. “I still have to do some modeling if I want to get my flower shop off the ground but…” He looked up at the moon hanging bright above Paris. “...I’m getting there. My happily ever after.”
Carapace snorted.
“Got a problem with that, shell boy?”
“Nah, just thinking that you and M are perfect for each other is all.”
“Good,” Mister Bug said with a huff. “Because we are.”
Their conversation was cut off there when the sound of something large crashing suddenly drew their attention. They exchanged looks of surprise before they ran off towards it.
Just like they suspected, it was an akuma. After a two week dry spell, it came as a bit of a shock. Did Hawkmoth finally notice that most of the heroes of Paris were missing? Or did their theory that Hawkmoth was a part of the fashion world suddenly gain some credence? After all, many of the designers who presented early in the event would have headed home by now. Maybe Hawkmoth was among them.
For now, all Mister Bug and Carapace needed to do was worry about the akuma. They could figure out the implications of their enemy’s disappearance and reappearance later.
Tonight’s akuma wasn’t anything incredibly special - someone in the flowing robes with stars and moons sewn on them of a magician’s costume floating around the city. The magician cackled with delight at the devastation they caused, gesturing with one hand to pick up objects, no matter how massive and tossing them around. Cars and buses were thrown just as easily as mailboxes and benches.
But it was what was in the akuma’s other hand that caught Mister Bug’s attention.
“Do you see that spoon?” Mister Bug said, pointing toward the akuma.
“Weird choice for an akuma object, but I’m not about to complain.”
They winced as a car went through a building. It was an empty office complex, but the next one might not be. If they wanted to keep the magician from doing more damage, they needed to act now.
“Hey, weirdo!” Carapace shouted as he tossed his shield, the two of them leaping down to the streets below while it went spinning towards the akuma. “Catch!”
The shield suddenly froze in midair as an aura of purple energy surrounded it - the same energy that rolled off the magician akuma in waves. She smiled malevolently, her hand held out in front of her in a stop gesture.
Carapace held his fist up, his forearm right in front of his face, which was screwed up in concentration. The smile immediately vanished from the akuma’s face as the shield was jerkily pulled towards Carapace in small and quick jumps. She focused even harder to maintain her control, her hand clenching into a fist that she shakily pulled toward her.
Eventually the miraculous proved stronger - either that, or the akuma didn’t want to get stuck in a tug of war. The shield slammed back onto Carapace’s arm.
“Shelter!”
No sooner did the green force field go up than the barrage began. It was slow but steady as the akuma repeatedly made one handed throwing gestures with cars responding in kind. Through it all, Carapace held firm with a steely look of determination on his face as he watched cars hurtling towards them, only for them to break upon his impenetrable shield. Not once did he flinch.
After a few seconds of this, he shouted over his shoulder at Mister Bug, “Got any plans, Spots?”
“No clue.” Mister Bug poked his head around his friend, squinting through the debris raining down on them to look at the akuma. “Maybe a lucky charm will help?”
“Prolly can’t hurt, dude.”
“Lucky Charm!” Mister Bug held out his hands for whatever would come down. Secretly he hoped for a net launcher or a tranquilizer dart. Something nice and straightforward.
A bag of marbles (red and black ones, naturally) landed in his hands.
Mister Bug sighed.
“What’re we working with?” Another car shattered against the green dome.
“Marbles, looks like.” A park bench burst into pieces. Mister Bug stroked his chin and stared at the heavy bag. “What can we do with marbles…?”
“Trip the akuma?” A street lamp bent against the shield.
“Bro, she’s floating.”
“Ah, right.”
“What if we just… get a sock, fill it with the marbles and just wail on her?”
Carapace shook his head as a bus bounced off his force field. “If we could get in beating sock range, we could just punch her.” Carapace frowned. “How about flicking the marbles at her as a distraction?”
“She’d just catch them.” Mister Bug’s eyes lit up as an idea came to him. “Unless…”
Mister Bug gently tossed up the bag and caught it a couple times, getting the feel of its weight. His other hand grabbed his yoyo and got it ready as well. He waited for the right moment, watching the oncoming traffic carefully until…
Now!
He threw the bag with all his considerable might at the akuma. The yoyo was sent right after it. His timing was dead on and just as the akuma reached a hand to stop the bag, the yoyo connected with it, bursting the bag and sending a storm of marbles against her. In wide eyed surprise, the akuma reached out with both hands to stop it.
“She dropped the spoon!” Mister Bug excitedly slapped Carapace’s back and pointed at the spoon in question. “Run run run, get it!”
Under the cover of the shield, they bolted for the spoon. By the time the akuma realized what was happening, it was too late - Mister Bug held it triumphantly in his hands.
“So… how do I…?” Mister Bug glanced at Carapace, who shrugged. “Do I just bend it…?”
As soon as the spoon was bent into a right angle, the akuma came fluttering out in a panic. Carapace caught the falling de-akumatized woman as Mister Bug purified the butterfly. Scooping up a bunch of marbles, he tossed them into the air.
“Miraculous Mister Bug!”
The city was set back to normal. Mister Bug and Carapace shared a grin. Ladybug and Rena will be so proud of them when they get back!
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I’ve done this dance a thousand times
(Same old script with different lies)
Warnings: fighting (physically, Logan just straight decks someone), one-sided pining, mentioned physical abuse and emotional abuse briefly, non-sympathetic deceit (sorry, I do love him I just really needed a bad guy and OCs take too long for me to make!)
Ship: Prinxiety/Logicality/Roceit (He’s called Declan)
Plot: Virgil has been dropping hints for about a year now, at this point, everyone but Roman seems to know. On another hand, Patton has been trying his hardest to simply get Logan to notice how much he loves him, to very little avail (In which Roman is ginger and oblivious, Virgil is Virgil, Logan is as emotionally challenged as ever, and Patton feels too much, always).
The first time
“What about you Virgil?” The teenager looks up from under his dark purple fringe, glancing at Logan who only rolls his eyes whilst Patton and Roman lean forward eagerly. “Do you have a crush on somebody?” Virgil snorts, taking a bite out of his chip with a shrug. 
“Probably,” He replies dismissively, waving the hand holding his half-eaten chip. Patton frowns whilst the redhead pouts. 
“That’s not an answer!” Logan chuckles at Roman’s outburst, his red curls bouncing as he folds his arms. “I swear you two don’t have types, I’ve never seen either of you dating,” The youngest shrugs, his attention on the food he’s eating. Chips, the one true love that will never disappoint. “Come on spill, Logan what's your type?”
“Intelligent,” He replies shortly, cracking open his book “And that’s me out of this conversation, I refuse to participate in your,” He waves a hand aimlessly at Roman “Shenanigans,” Roman goes to open up his mouth again to interrogate Virgil, but the younger simply holds up a hand with a quirked eyebrow. 
“Redheads,” Roman sighs and flops back onto the chair, none of them had quite noticed how intently (and dejectedly) Patton was currently staring at Logan. Virgil smirks as the hint went straight over Roman’s head, as expected. 
“Too bad I’m not a girl eh?” Logan snorts and hides his face with his book but Virgil can see him stifling his laughter, earning him a swift kick to the shins. The dark-eyed boy smiles a little too pleasantly at Roman. 
“Too bad,”
--
The second time
“Patton you’re glaring holes into that book buddy,” The boy in question drops the textbook as he jumps an inch off the ground, startled. Virgil raises his eyebrows at the elder as he gives a small smile. Seconds before the other goes to plaster on his everything-is-okay mask, Virgil picks up the textbook and gestures towards the seats “What’s going on? Why are you reading...triple science textbooks, Patton you don’t even study triple science,” 
The eldest looks like a fish out of water as his mouth opens and closes, cheeks red. His answer comes as Roman’s bag slings itself onto the library reading table, earning a few glares from the other occupants “He’s trying to be ‘intelligent’” The theater student announces, earning some shushes. “I keep telling him there are different kinds of intelligence but now he’s trying to understand nuclear fission,”
“Is this about Logan?” Virgil asks quietly. Patton nods miserably and rests his head in his hands with an exhausted expression “Patton...Logan cares about you a lot, whether or not you understand...whatever this is...that’s not going to change how he feels about you, and Roman for once is right there’s many types of intelligence, not just an ability to digest textbooks for breakfast,”
“Does Logan eat books?” Roman asks curiously. 
“Probably,” Patton answers tearily, before shaking his head “You’re right, I’m just being...” “If you say the word stupid I will scream,” Virgil interjects “You are not stupid Patton, you’re really clever, maths, science, and all that shit aren’t a measure of your intelligence and you shouldn’t make it like that either,” The eldest looks a little deflated but nods. 
“Thanks, guys,”
As if on cue, Logan approaches and dumps a pile of books on the table “Triple science?” He asks curiously “None of you study that, in fact, I vaguely recall both Virgil and Roman solemnly swearing that if I ever see them with a science textbook to assume they’re planning the apocalypse,” 
“You’re not wrong,” Roman grins, grabbing the textbook and opening it, he reads for a moment before he throws it back on the table “Nope nevermind, I’d rather die,” The youngest sighs and rolls his eyes, leaning his head onto his hand as the other began to talk passionately about how much he hated science. Virgil watches him, the way his hands wave around and his eyes light up and the way his curls bounce. He smiles slightly, feeling like he could let the other complain forever. 
For a moment, Roman’s eyes catch his and the redhead falters slightly, taking in the small smile and dazed expression before he brushes it off and continues his rant. 
--
The worst time.
“This is Declan,” Virgil’s fork pauses on it’s journey from his plate to his mouth as he looks up at the announcement “He’s my boyfriend,” He places the fork down and feels as though all the color has drained from his face. As if in unison, Logan and Patton both shoot him worried looks. 
“Nice to meet you Declan,” Virgil mutters, looking between him and the arm around Roman’s waist. Had he forgotten how to breathe? “I...I left something in my last class,” Everything felt off somehow, his heart hurt as he walked as fast as he could far, far away. Tears blurred in his eyes, dear God was he crying over Roman? 
A hand on his shoulder makes him jump and he turns around to see Logan, an expression as close as he can get to worry plastered over his face. Feeling hot and cold all over Virgil bursts into tears, muttering a mess of words, justifications, and worries as his anxiety take the reigns right next to his heartbreak. 
Logan lets him collapse onto his chest, wrapping his arms around his friend and rubbing his back; it’s funny that out of them all, it was Logan who had taken the initiative considering he couldn’t see the constant wide-eyed and lovestruck expression that was generally going in his direction. 
It’s also funny because if there’s one thing Logan is bad at, it’s emotions. But he tells Virgil it’s going to be alright and doesn’t complain that his shirt has tears all over it and simply allows his friend to let out all his emotions. Through the cafeteria doors, Logan can see Roman glancing over at them. 
He doubts, somehow, that the other boy will know exactly why Virgil is in this state. 
--
The time where Logan has an epiphany (and Virgil has to deal with it)
Logan has been talking for a while now, as he flicks through the textbook in his hand, but all Virgil can quite think of is Declan’s smug face and his hand on Roman’s waist. He only notices when the intellect stops talking, the pen sliding from his fingertips; Virgil looks up to see the elder’s eyebrows furrowed and eyes fixated on the page. Not reading, the anxious boy notes, just...staring. 
“Logan?”
For a moment Virgil wonders if Logan had short-circuited (metaphorically speaking), burned himself out or something but then quietly, the quietest and softest voice he’s ever used “Virgil can you answer a question for me as honestly as you can?” Virgil sits up, worry on his face at the out of character behavior. 
“Yes,” Of course.
“Is Patton in love with me?” Virgil freezes like a deer caught in the headlights, blinking as all words that could have been used to form a sentence of any structure flies from his mind. No matter the answer, he was going to be upsetting Patton, and possibly Logan too. But the elder smiles at the expression, leaning back against the wall “That’s a yes then,” 
“I...probably?” He squeaks out, “How...”
“I’m not quite as dumb as everyone thinks I am when it comes to emotions, Virgil, I just pretend to be, the same way Patton pretends he doesn’t know how to do math equations,” He pulls a piece of paper from his pocket and unfolds it “And then solves them all on a separate piece of paper, with full marks I should add,”
“Have you been tutoring Patton?”
“Apparently not,” He places the piece of paper on the bed, “He said he couldn’t understand it, and I thought that was odd because he’s in additional maths and not by his choice, but I didn’t question it, I thought maybe he was just having some trouble with this specific area, but as it turned out he was solving them on a separate piece of paper and pretending he didn’t know,”
“He’s got it really bad for you, buddy,” Virgil sighed “And has since 9th grade,” He pauses “But that was when you realized?”
“No, that was the figurative nail in the coffin, so to speak, I knew to some extent but my main realization came from when I analyzed his expressions and reactions, I was conducting an experiment,”
Virgil blinks “You know what, I’m not going to question it, continue,” “I was wondering how you could tell if someone was romantically invested in you, initially it was to get Roman to open his eyes a little because the back and forth you two were doing was driving me insane, and not figuratively, literally insane, so I looked at the reactions you have to Roman, the hanging off his every word, wide-eyes and constantly beaming in his presence,”
“And then you looked at Patton and realized he was doing exactly the same?” Virgil quirks an eyebrow, of course, he did he’s Logan how had he expected anything different? “So I did some digging, Patton always knows where to find me, no matter what which means he’s memorized my timetable without me even realizing,”
“A bit stalkerish but it’s Patton so I’ll let it slide,” Logan waves a hand at him dismissively. 
“He knows almost everything about me, and then I remembered the textbook,” He pauses “You two had said you’d hated science and maths and everything it entails, I know Patton dislikes those things but not because he’s said it, because of his reactions to it, when Roman picked up the textbook it was like he’d never seen anything in it before so I immediately knew it wasn’t his, I also happen to know because we used to be in the same class that your class had just finished no less than two minutes previously, that’s not enough time to find a book and begin reading it,” Logan pauses for a breath “Which means it was Patton’s, a little over two days previously I’d said my type in partner was someone intelligent,” Virgil blinks, he could’ve pieced that together but he hadn’t expected Logan too. “That brings me back to an earlier point that Patton has never said he hates things that he knows we love,” He pauses “Because he loves us, I just think he...loves me differently,”
Virgil feels like he’s reeling, Logan had actually really thought about this. Half of him wants to throw balloons in the air and say “Congrats, you’re officially not as dumb as I thought you were,” and the other half wants to cry. 
Logan had realized so he and Patton will get their happy ending.
And where does that leave Virgil?
“Congrats Lo, you should probably go tell Patton now, well actually maybe skip out all of that and jump straight to the ‘I’m an idiot and I love you’  part,” He’s never seen the boy move so fast in his life (Not since 8th grade science fair when he won with a, suspiciously explosive machine). 
The next time Virgil sees Logan and Patton they’re holding hands. He doesn’t want to admit he walks in the other direction with tears in his eyes. 
--
The time where Declan and Logan got into a fight
Virgil doesn’t quite remember that day so clearly, he does remember it being the first time he’s ever seen Logan furious, and he remembers Patton crying. The rest is a little fuzzy. 
They were in the park, the sun was starting to set a little and they were all hanging out together with Declan who had all but made himself part of their group. Patton, quietly, had admitted he makes him feel a little uneasy but he’d refused to tell Roman; Virgil had wanted any reason to be far away from him. 
Today, this day, that reason seemed to have grown. He wouldn’t stop talking and usually, that isn’t grounds for completely decking someone but Declan was not playing nice. Virgil hears from where he’s swinging in his self-pity on the swing the words “Don’t be such a little bitch,” By the time he’s looked up Logan has him in a chokehold. 
Patton starts shouting first, and Virgil is halfway towards them before the elder boy has physically thrown Declan onto the ground “Logan stop,” He shouts, all but bowling himself into the teenager's body to stop them from fighting “What the fuck happened,”
“Declan called Patton a bitch,” Roman said quietly. Virgil faltered for a minute, looking at Logan who is breathing heavily, and then at Patton who is shaking. 
“Well, it’s not going to help Patton if you’re giving him a panic attack,” He cannot believe he has to be the voice of reason, it’s not a job he’s good at nor enjoys. “Logan sit down and breathe, Patton you too, and you,” He looks at Declan with a steely gaze “Don’t you come near us ever again, or next time I’ll let him beat the shit out of you,” 
He looks like he wants to protest but instead, he wipes the blood off his nose and walks away. “What the fuck were you thinking?” He hissed at Logan once he was out of earshot “Jesus Christ Lo,” It was a testament, really, to Logan’s temperament but Virgil doesn’t really have time to consider this as the other tries to comfort Patton. 
Roman swallows dryly, looking down at his feet “I can’t believe he said that,” He mutters. 
“I can,” Virgil mumbles bitterly. 
--
The time where Patton has had enough
“Patton’s angry,” Logan’s statement has both Roman and Virgil looking up in surprise “He won’t talk to me,” He follows this statement with an expression that even for Logan, is a little too blank. This can’t be good. 
“Is that why he’s not replying to my texts?” Roman hums, popping a chip into his mouth before grabbing his phone “I thought you two were off canoodling or whatever it is you do,” Logan rolls his eyes as he sits down and dejectedly munches on a chip off of Roman’s plate “Hey just because you’re sad it doesn’t mean you can eat my food,” Virgil offers Logan a chip off of his plate instead. 
“Why is he angry?”
Logan shifts a little, an uncomfortable expression as his eyes flicker to Roman and then to Virgil, giving a small shake of his head. “I don’t know,” He’s lying, and Virgil can tell why. He picks up his phone and shoots Logan a text ‘is this about Declan?’ a few seconds later he gets a quick ‘yes’ before the two lock their phones, an uncomfortable silence descending. 
“Where is he?” Virgil finally mutters, there’s a quiet scuffle, not uncommon for the cafeteria, behind him. He blocks out the noise as raised voices fly through the background. Logan gives a small shrug. A chant is starting up in the background. 
“Uh..guys?” Roman whispers “I found him,” Virgil and Logan turn in their seats. “Shit,” The three of them launch themselves over the back of their chairs, except Roman who has a free bench to himself and just slides out. “Patton!”
Patton, who is very desperately trying to not get punched in the face. Logan is through the crowd in moments, Roman on his heels. Virgil pushes through with a lot more of a struggle, trying to see what is happening properly. He only sees the aftermath, which is Patton stood behind Logan with a bleeding nose and a snarl on his face, as Logan, once again, lands a punch right on Declan’s nose. Roman drags his boyfriend away in sheer hope of stopping him, placing himself between Logan and Declan, only to get a punch right across his face. 
Virgil hisses lightly as Roman staggers back, watching the expressions that cross his face from fear to fury in under a second. “Roman! Don’t!” He grabs his wrist before it can swing, his eyes full of fear, enough damage had already been caused without more being added to the table. Roman’s face softens as he meets Virgil’s eyes, sees the worry in them, and instead squeezes his hand and steps back. Virgil wonders if he stares long enough, will Roman see how much he adores him? How much he wants to protect him? How he’s silently begging for this to end?
“Shows over,” He mutters “Don’t come near me, ever again,” He says to Declan, a firm line in his voice where the sentence ends. Finally, Virgil feels like he can breathe again.
When they have to recount the story later to the principle, they know how it’s going to end before it does. “Patton confronted Declan on a personal matter regarding his treatment of him personally,” They would, one day find out that that is a lie, and that that was not the first time Declan had landed his fist on Roman, and that Patton knew this. “Declan then reacted with violence and attacked him, I reacted in Patton’s defense as he wouldn’t relent, Declan then hit Roman,”
They all get suspended for three days, but Declan never comes back.
Patton had been angry at Declan, and angry at Logan for not taking the way he was treating Roman seriously, and angry at Roman for not telling him the truth from the start, not wanting to explode he had cut off contact from them whilst he calmed down. But he never calmed down, furious and melancholy he had approached Declan and shouted at him, as much as his very quiet and very squeaky voice could manage.
--
The time where Virgil has had enough
A month after Declan, Virgil has time to fuss over his feelings. He doesn’t want to miss the chance to tell Roman the truth. What if he gets into another relationship and it’s just as awful, or worse? What if he gets into another relationship and it’s wonderful and Virgil will have never told Roman.
He has had enough of pacing holes into carpets as he tries desperately to make sense of the chaos in his head. So he calls Roman, asks him to meet him outside, and the other boy is always eager to spend time with his friends. His friends. Virgil stands on the front porch and waits as the rain starts to pour. 
Then Virgil sees him, red hair a mess and freckles dotting across his cheeks, a grin on his face and jacket hanging off of him, his eyes sparkle with glitter and Virgil knows that Roman has gotten so bored he let his little sister do his makeup again. He looks wonderful. As always. Virgil just wants to shrink into his hoodie and close his mouth because he’s not good enough for Roman.
But surely that’s also for Roman to decide?
Except now he’s here and his smile slips a little as he looks at Virgil’s shaking figure. Virgil can’t piece together the sentences he wants to say “Roman...I...there’s something I need to tell you,” His words trip together as they try to stitch themselves into coherency. “I just...I mean...I...” His cheeks go red as his hands wave a little. 
Roman smiles. He smiles like he knows a secret that he hadn’t wanted to tell. In some sad way he already knew, he’d always known, but it’s funny because he’s never thought himself to be good enough for Virgil, that he couldn’t even dream of Virgil loving him. It’s funny and it’s not because now Virgil is here with his cheeks red and tears welling in his eyes as he gives in and blurts out “I love you,” and Roman has to face the fact he went through all that effort to ignore his feelings for nothing.
No one wants to think about that, so he just cups Virgil’s face in his hands and presses their lips together like he’s searching for the answer to a prayer. A prayer held only in the way Virgil smiles against his lips and his hands grip Roman’s shoulder. “I love you too” He mutters against his lips. “I love you so much,” 
Virgil is crying, his hands fumbling in Roman’s jacket to just keep pulling him closer, as close as he possibly can or could. Then he’s being pushed through the door, barely breathing as Roman’s hand's cup his face; between crying and kissing there’s nothing in his lungs but he supposes the air traveling straight from Roman into his mouth is all he needs to breathe. Like he could live like this forever. 
He can’t of course, but it’s a nice thought. They pull away for air and nothing more until Virgil’s legs are wrapped around Roman’s waist holding on for dear life. Roman’s hair is soaking, Virgil’s cheeks are not much better. By the time they’ve rested themselves on the couch and really needing to slow down for just a second, they’re both a little damp from the tears from the sky and themselves.
“Is this a dream?” Virgil asks numbly, still unsure.
“I don’t want to wake up if it is,” Roman replies, his voice aching.
Lucky for them, this is not a dream, and so they never have to wake up from it.
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astarlightmonbebe · 5 years
Text
I’m 11 Minutes Away
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The thing about your dreams was that they weren’t dreams; they were time. The thing about you and Hyunjin was that you hadn’t had enough time.
Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x reader
Word Count: 1,601
Warnings: None
A/N: Inspired by the song 11 Minutes by Halsey and Yungblud. Also...I wrote this last night, so it doesn’t really make a lot of sense, and it is a huge mess. I haven’t posted any writing in a long time, though, so I wanted to give you guys something <3. I promise I’m working hard on more stories, I’m just having difficulty making progress with the 10 (more or less) that I’ve started. The italics are song lyrics, and indicate a break in the story.
Also I guess you can consider this a quick little happy birthday to my darling Hyunjin, my beautiful bias wrecker, who deserves all the love in the world. Happy birthday love <3.
I think I missed you callin' on the other line, I'm just thinkin' all these thoughts up in my mind
Night was when it was lonely, because night was when you dreamed.
When you dreamed, you dreamed of red lips and ink colored blood. You dreamed of blue water drowning, green grass that was actually a field of pills. Your dreams weren’t nightmares, but they were hardly magical.
Night was painful, because your dreams blurred into reality. Your phone screen was lit up, and you would reach over and pick it up, only to wake up and realize that you had been dreaming, just dreaming.
Always dreaming, when it came to him calling you.
I would sell my soul for a bit more time, you stain all on my body like you're red wine
Hwang Hyunjin was more than just two names. Hwang Hyunjin was someone whole, someone touchable but too far away for you to ever touch.
When you thought of Hyunjin, you thought of the stars. You remembered lying on your back, staring up at the sky, giggling as he traced the constellations on the bare skin of your inner arm. His fingertips were light, like feathers, brushing over you. Like a paintbrush, filling every part of you in.
Sometimes when you dreamed, you dreamed that you were a part of those stars, those constellations. Floating through space, feeling light headed and airy. Was that what stars felt like, like they weren’t quite made up of enough to be something?
In those dreams, you looked down and saw Hyunjin looked up at you, that soft smile playing across his lips. You reached down to touch his fingers, but whenever you did, he would dissolve into the same stars you were spinning through.
I'm sorry there was no one to apologize, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry
The thing about your dreams was that they weren’t dreams; they were time.
The thing about you and Hyunjin was that you hadn’t had enough time.
You had had time, but it wasn’t enough.
You needed that time back.
You needed that time back, so you dreamed that time back, trying to go back.
The thing about time was that it knew you were the one who had wasted it.
And yeah, I've seen you in my head every day since I left, you on the floor with your hands 'round your head
The first time you dreamed time back, you had gone back to rainy Thursday. Rainy Thursday was when Hyunjin had given you his umbrella, face mask pulled down around his chin so that you could see his smile.
Hwang Hyunjin, rainy Thursday. Both two words, two meanings you stored in your hearts. When it rained on Thursdays, you would stand out in the rain, waiting for that umbrella, those hands wrapped around the handle.
On rainy Thursday, Hyunjin gave you his umbrella, his number slipped into the handle just as you remembered. You smiled, thanked him, motions and words following the script you knew you had to. You couldn’t mess this up, because even if time was your dreams, time only gave second chances once.
Hyunjin was all wet brown hair and soaked and see through white t-shirts, crinkling eyes when he ran away. You watched him go, feeling vacant, because Hyunjin wasn’t your Hwang Hyunjin. He was a memory, a sepia toned mirage.
You closed your eyes and saw his hand and his smile, reaching up to grab you from the stars.
Tell me what you need, I can make you more than what you are, come and lay the roses on the floor, every single Sunday, don't get bored
The only day you didn’t dream back time was Sunday, because Sunday was for mourning.
Hyunjin had been the person you had leaned on when you went with your flowers, but now he was the one you were laying them for.
Purple hyacinths. For saying ‘I’m sorry, please forgive me’.
“I promise I’ll fix this.” You told the flowers, watching petals fall to the ground as they shook. “Forgive me when this is over, okay?” Petals floated down, scattered across the white tile, like lavender splotches.
Hyunjin would never forgive you. He would never, but if you made him forget that this time had ever happened, he would. All you had to do was fix time, dream the clocks back some more, and then everything would be okay.
Your phone rang, and you saw the caller ID, pulling it out and ready to answer with that hovering anticipation in your chest still.
Like every other time, you woke up and realized that it wasn’t Sunday after all. You had been dreaming again, like every other time.
The purple hyacinths were in a vase next to your bed, petals in a purple halo around the glass, reflecting in fractals.
Who could say the difference between dream and reality anymore?
I just want to freeze, I can give you more than what you are, now I see you standing all alone, I never thought the world would turn to stone
The other thing about time was that your time had frozen at the same time Hyunjin’s had.
Maybe time had tied the two of you together, because as soon as Hyunjin had closed his eyes, the world around you had faded to black and white.
Except for you dreams, your dreams were always vivid colors. Maybe because your dreams were time, and your past time had been colorful, because your past time had had Hyunjin in it. Or maybe it was just Hyunjin that had been made of color, because Hwang Hyunjin was just beautiful like that. He was dripping watercolor flowers, molten silver and melting gold.
You couldn’t comment much on how the world looked much now, because you dreamed for hours at a time, trying to turn it back.
Dreaming time back hadn’t worked since rainy Thursday. You kept waiting on rainy Thursday, unable to move past, unable to move past watching Hyunjin disappear into the rain.
“Are you trying to tell me something?” You screamed after him, once, and that had been the one thing that had changed your dream to floating in space again, stuck up there with the stars.
Stuck up there as a star.
So call me stupid, call me sad, you're the best I've ever had, you're the worst I've ever had
“You should stop.” Hyunjin said.
He wasn’t supposed to say that. He was supposed to give you his umbrella, with his number tucked into the handle.
It was raining, the world melting into blurs of tinted color around you. You felt mute, felt deaf, felt like everything was a ringing mess.
“Is that you speaking, or time?” You asked. Hyunjin, with his goofy grin and his half dimple, shrugged.
“Maybe it’s you.” He told you, handing you his umbrella, with the number in the handle, the paper already damp. He waved, dashing off into the rain, and you dropped the umbrella.
Maybe it was only rainy Thursday. Maybe it was rainy Thursday everyday, but that was better than having nothing. That was better than never having Hyunjin and rainy Thursdays again.
You needed this to breathe. You needed this dream. You needed to rewind time no matter how much it hurt, how much it took.
No matter how much time you took from yourself trying to keep these few precious moments of past time.
You're 11 minutes away and I have missed you all day, so why aren't you here
One last time. One last dream of time, because you and Hyunjin needed a couple more minutes, if anything.
This time you don’t dream back rainy Thursday. This time, you dream back to your last time, to Hyunjin at the car wheel, his fingers tapping at it. His rings are silver, heavy on his hand, and you want to kiss him, to scream.
“I forgive you.” He said aloud. “You don’t need to give me promises and purple hyacinths, y/n. I know you’re sorry.”
You hugged him, resting your head against his chest. You could hear his beating heart, feel his heartbeat through the thin material of his shirt. A fragile butterfly, straining at its cage. The two of you, searching for that freedom, fighting for that freedom.
You felt his fingers in your hair, soothing you, pushing it out of your teary eyes.
“Time doesn’t stop for anyone else, y/n. Stop making it stop for us.” He whispered in your ear.
Everything crashed.
It hurt.
Hyunjin wrenched away, and you fell back, feeling blinded by pain you had been numb to feeling. His fingers slipped away from yours, and you reached forward, salty tears and blood—
And let him go.
Why aren't you here?
Night was cold, and empty, and dreamless.
No more floating stars or color, no more Hyunjin and his smile. No, these nights were when you opened your eyes and looked at the black and white world that was still stopped around you.
Maybe reality had been a dream, or maybe you had made your dreams your reality.
Maybe you had never dreamed back time, or maybe you had.
Time stopped for no one, Hyunjin had said. Maybe it didn’t, but that didn’t change the fact that you had lost Hyunjin a second time. That didn’t change the fact that you spent your Sundays laying purple hyacinth after purple hyacinth in his old room and on his grave, screaming through your teeth when you left.
Time stopped repeating for you, but it stopped moving forward, too.
[End.]
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