#colao3update | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thechildoflightning · 5 years

Text

Forecast

Title: Forecast

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Pairings: Remile

Word Count: 3217

~~~

Summary:

An average fall morning with Remile, ft. depression fog, broke college students buying expensive coffee, teeny tiny pumpkins, emotional distress, and succulents (not in that order).

For the lovely @illogicallyinclined’s hockey au.

Warnings: Depression, Seasonal Affective Disorder

[ao3 link]

~~~

Forecast

Remy had mixed feelings about October and the approaching holidays and seasons.

On one hand- October meant Halloween which meant seasonal drinks like Pumpkin Spice. It also meant that decorations went up and he and Emile would get a bunch of those ittie bittie pumpkins to put literally everywhere in their apartment. Emile would light his candles and the apartment would smell like falling leaves, and apples, and pumpkin pie. He loved it.

On the other hand- October brought the beginnings of Remy’s seasonal affective disorder- which he had just nicknamed “The Big Sad.” Seasonal depression adding onto his regular depression was just another weight on his back, until it became an almost struggle to just be at a decent mood level. He hated it

This year had hit him hard.

He wasn’t even sure why.

So here he was, lying on the bed he shared with Emile, blinking up at the ceiling and trying to convince himself to just… get up.

He could. He knew he could.

It was always the mornings too. The mornings were a bit harder than everything else because now he had the whole day looming ahead of him and it just seemed so long and forbidding.

Over the years, Remy had counteracted this with a routine. If mornings were always going to be hard for him, might as well give him something to get up for, right? So he had collected succulents over the past few years, slowly decorating the apartment. He’d check them all every morning, fingers gliding over their leaves carefully to take note of growth, decay, light damage, shade damage, soil dryness, and much more.

Had he really expected to learn this much about succulents? No. But he had. And he loved it.

Most importantly, it gave him a reason to get up.

He would then make himself breakfast, and Emile some too if he was around, before heading to classes, work, practice, or whatever he had that day.

The routine kept him moving, kept him active, kept him from not sitting in bed all day long.

These days, it generally wasn’t even a struggle. But he woke up on the third day of October with a weight in his bones and the faint smell of ginger and cinnamon in the air.

His alarm had gone off twice now. The second one was his safety. His “okay, you’re having a rough day, here’s a few extra minutes, but then you need to get up alarm.”

He hadn’t gotten up.

Nope. Instead, he was blinking lazily up at the ceiling, tears pricking at the corner of his eyes and a heavy weight settled across his chest. Fuck depression. Fuck SAD.

This was, of course, when the door opened.

“Remy!” his roommate? friend? boyfriend? partner’s voice cheered as he entered the apartment, “Guess what! The cafeteria put up little pumpkins today and I remembered we hadn’t gone out and gotten any yet and we don’t have weights or Zumba today, and you don’t work until later so we totally have time to-”

Emile cut himself off as he realized that the kitchen area (that was more than a kitchenette but less than an actual kitchen) did not actually contain the person he was attempting to rant to.

Remy would give him to the count of three.

Sure enough, right as Remy ticked the final number off in his head, the door to their room (which had technically started as Remy’s but was now really both of theirs) was pushed open by Emile.

“Rem?” the voice called.

He couldn't quite make his vocal cords work, but he could shift slightly under the bed covers.

Seconds later the light in the room was flickering on and Emile’s warm gaze met Remy’s cold one.

“Oh,” Emile said, taking in the situation, “Hi.”

“Hi,” Remy replied meekly.

Emile sighed at the reply. But it wasn’t one of those sighs of frustration or annoyance. It was one of those small sighs that was just a breath of air. A reassurance. Emile always sighed like that. Remy thought it was maybe a stupid thing to love, but he loved it nonetheless.

Emile walked forward and settled on the edge of the bed, extending an arm with the palm face up.

A knot grew in Remy’s throat, even as he extended his own hand to grasp Emile’s.

“You’re usually up by now,” Emile offered.

“I know,” he said.

“What are you at?”

Remy sighed. This sigh wasn’t like Emile’s nor was it one of frustration. No, it was a sigh representative of the crushing weight of everything in the world building up and accumulating, dragging Remy down with it.

“Big SAD’s at like a six or seven? It’s, it’s not so bad. Just used to it being a lot better now. This year hit hard,” Remy confided.

Emile nodded and rubbed his thumb soothingly against the back of Remy’s hand.

“I need to get up,” Remy said.

“You usually check on your plants,” Emile said. It was his way of agreeing, his way of encouraging and supporting Remy on days like this without providing pressure. Holding his hand and grounding him, reminding him he wasn’t alone. Talking about his plants and their needs, reminding him he had a routine. That getting up seemed impossible, but it wasn’t.

Remy groaned loudly before dropping Emile’s hand and rolling to the side of the bed. He let his weight carry himself over the edge, caught him just before he fell, and stood.

He made it out of bed. That was something.

(Emile’s soft laughter at his behavior was also quite the reward).

As Emile continued to giggle, the faint outline of a smile graced Remy’s face. He rushed forward and lifted Emile up, twirling him once before setting him down and giving his hair a soft kiss. He released Emile, and then started for the day.

“Plants first,” Remy said, “Then breakfast. Sound good?”

“I can help with breakfast,” Emile offered.

“No,” Remy insisted immediately, “No I always make breakfast, it’s okay.”

Emile shrugged, but relented without further argument.

Remy moved to the windowsill that contained his plants, and began to check the first one’s leaves. Emile stood right next to him, not quite in his way, but close to it.

“Maybe I should get some plants. Maybe some flowers that can grow indoors.”

“Em, honey, you don’t have the time.”

Em pouted, sweater paws folding over his chest, but didn’t protest Remy’s claim. Remy laughed at the sight and moved to the next plant.

The fog of depression still settled in his brain, but now that he was up and talking and moving, it seemed to be lifting a bit more. It was settling back to be manageable once more, instead of overwhelming. He could deal with that.

“Remy! This one has flowers!” Emile suddenly exclaimed, from further down the windowsill, which considering the windowsills length, was just a few more inches down.

Remy pulled his attention away from the current succulent he was inspecting, and directed it towards the plant Emile had been pointing out.

Sure enough, just in between two thick green nubs, a long green stem with tiny blooming white flowers appeared. Remy smiled at the sight and Emile tucked into his side.

“It’s pretty,” Emile claimed.

“Mmhmm, yeah,” Remy agreed, hooking his head over Emile’s own, and holding him there for a minute. He wasn’t really quite tall enough to do such, so he had to stand on his tiptoes and raise his chin a bit, but it was so worth it.

They stood there together a bit, peering at the little white flowers, before moving onward with their day.

During breakfast, Emile re-explained what he had started to that morning when he had first entered the apartment.

He told Remy about how the main dining hall now had the tiny baby pumpkins up in it and how they absolutely had to get some for the apartment themselves. He was practically begging, coming up with a billion and one reasons that they should get them, as if Remy didn’t love them just as much.

After breakfast, they cleaned up, and Remy showered and dressed, before heading out to get said pumpkins. Emile had been right, it was hard to find substantial time when they were both free to do things together, and Thursday mornings happened to be one of the few times. They still didn’t have a lot of time, but it was something.

They were walking in the direction of the grocery story when Emile came to a complete halt. Remy blinked and tried to figure out what had happened.

Just a minute ago Emile had been talking about one of his classes. Remy had been trying to listen, really he had, but the fog in his brain had started to pick up again, making each step a little bit harder and listening to even mindless chatter almost impossible

It also meant that if Emile had given any warning or explanation for stopping, Remy had completely missed it.

“Emile?” he asked.

“Let’s get coffee,” he said, gesturing to the Starbucks in front of them.

Okay, that wasn’t fair. Emile knew he was going to say yes.

“Coffee’s expensive,” he mentioned. They were broke college students which was why it was completely unfair of Emile to say they were getting coffee because of course Remy was going to say yes but they couldn’t keep buying the stuff if they wanted to have food for meals and tiny pumpkins.

“Yeah, but I know you love the seasonal drinks. My treat,” was Emile’s response.

“Emile, I’m literally the one with the discount.”

And the one with the father that was more than willing to fund Remy’s coffee addiction three times over but he was trying to adult himself with minimal support from parents. Minimal support meaning yes please pay for my education and part of rent that is very appreciated but also I should probably learn how to feed and clothe myself I’ll let you know if I’m failing at that and then you can swoop in and save me.

“Okay. Then your discount, my money. Mostly my treat.”

Emile’s defense was weak at best but it didn’t really take much to convince Remy in the first place. Plus, he had that blinding smile on his face that just made Remy melt.

“Okay,” he agreed, “Okay. Coffee. But we can’t make it a habit.”

Emile shrugged, nodded, and pulled him towards the door.

“We won’t,” he promised, “Just today. Special occasion.”

Remy grinned lightly. Emile was always saying stuff like that, calling mundane things special or important. Remy pretended to hate it, but somehow, whenever Emile did it, it really did make whatever event just a little bit magical.

“And what, pray tell, is so special,” he drawled, dropping his arm onto Emile’s shoulder.

Emile shrugged and moved forward to get in line, Remy trailing afterwards, leaning his weight against him just to piss him off. (It didn’t seem to be working as Emile just sorta snuggled into his side and, great, now he was blushing).

“It’s special because…” Emile trailed, before his eyes lit up like gems, “Because you got out of bed this morning!”

A lump grew in Remy’s throat and he had the urge to take his arm off of Emile’s shoulder. The blush that had spread across his cheeks faded.

“I did,” he said, aiming for casual, “Y’know, it’s pretty simple. You just yank off the covers and hop out. Or fall off in this morning's case.”

Emile gave him a look.

“Yeah. It is simple. Doesn’t mean it's easy,” Emile said, with that wisdom he seemed to always carry and spew out. Damn emotional intelligence.

Remy did drop his arm this time, pulling it away from Emile.

Emile frowned and opened his mouth, but didn’t get the opportunity to say anything more as they made it to the front of the line.

Remy moved forward quickly and ordered for himself. When he was done, he went to order for Emile like he always did, but stopped when he realized that Emile hadn’t actually told him what he wanted this time.

See, Remy always ordered for Emile. Emile’s anxiety made it harder for him to talk to strangers, especially when it involved ordering or asking for something. It was certainly something Emile was capable of doing, and something he sometimes insisted on doing just so that he knew he still could, but it was also something he generally preferred not to do. Remy had no such issues and so Emile would tell him what he wanted and Remy would order for them both.

But Emile hadn't gotten the chance to tell him what he wanted. Remy could guess, but he hated to do that when Emile was right here and could choose what he wanted himself. He hated to assume, even if he was usually pretty spot on. Knowing Emile for such a long time made it pretty easy at this point.

The worker was looking at them now, as Remy’s pause went on for a touch too long.

“Emile?” Remy asked.

“Oh, uh,” the other boy stuttered, before rattling his own order off.

They didn’t really speak until they had left the shop and continued on their way to the grocery store.

“Earlier,” Emile started, “I know you can get out of bed. I wasn’t trying to- I dunno- mock you or something. I just know that it can be hard for you- that it was hard this morning. I-” he shrugged, “I’m not proud of you because that’s just-” he wrinkled his nose up, “That’s not something for me to be proud of, but you… You should be proud of yourself.”

Remy sighed and reached out to clutch Emile’s hand.

“I know,” he agreed, “It’s just that…” he sighed, and the fog in his brain continued to swirl around, “Thank you,” he said instead and worked on trying to maybe take Emile’s words to heart. The swirling didn’t seem to like it, but it could fuck off because he was going to buy little mini pumpkins with his- his Emile and it was going to be great.

Emile squeezed his hand.

“Pumpkins?” Remy offered, and Emile just smiled and nodded in return.

They didn’t have the time to decorate their apartment with all the little pumpkins they bought because they were starting to run late for morning skate. So they left the clump on the small table in the main room before getting ready and heading towards practice.

As they did so, a little foreign weight dropped in Remy’s stomach. It wasn’t like the fog. It was more like dread. It was starting to become a familiar feeling whenever practice and games approached. Remy absolutely hated it. Plus, morning skate wasn’t even really practice, it was just to get them moving so why the hell did Remy feel this way?

He enjoyed hockey. He did. He really really did.

(Just maybe not lately).

But he ignored the feeling, as well as the concerned look from Emile and headed out the door. They had morning skate to attend.

It wasn’t until late evening that they were both home at the same time.

The moment Remy walked through the doors he wrestled Emile away from his studying because come on Em, you can take ten minutes to decorate the apartment. Emile relented, standing to give a soft kiss on Remy’s jaw, and moved towards the pumpkins from earlier. Remy absolutely did not blush whatsoever and followed.

“Remy,” Emile commented once they were finishing up, “Are you- Are you doing alright lately?”

The fog buzzed louder.

Remy let out a weak chuckle.

“I’m always doing alright,” he said.

Emile just gave him a look.

“No really,” Remy insisted, even as a lump formed in his throat, “I’m- I mean. I’m okay. Uh- this morning was hard. Today wasn’t- wasn’t the best. I can tell this year isn’t going to be the best. But yeah, yeah Em I’m okay. I promise.”

Emile’s worry dropped a bit but didn’t fade completely.

“Okay,” he said, “I- You’ve just seemed more stressed lately. Uh- with Logan-” Emile swallowed and Remy squeezed his eyes tight for a second, “With Logan… out. I mean, it’s a lot more on you.”

“I’ve been Starter before,” Remy said gently.

“Yeah. I know.”

Because Remy had been Starter before. But not- not like this. Never like this before. And they both knew it.

“It is more,” Remy admitted, “But it’s fine. I’m fine.”

“Okay,” Emile said, and let it rest.

What Remy didn’t say was that it wasn’t the extra games, extra playtime that was getting to him.

It was the team’s faces.

It was how they went into games expecting to lose and Roman and Patton couldn’t agree on a single thing and Remus was getting reckless again and even Deceit was joining him and Virgil just seemed off and the fans hated that Remy was taking Logan’s place because it was Logan’s place and sure Remy was good but he wasn’t Logan good and they all knew it and it wasn’t even a bad thing but it did mean that even playing his best Remy knew he was letting his team down, letting Logan down, letting himself down.

But it wasn’t the playtime.

Oh no, it was so much more than just the playtime.

The fog expanded, pushing down and back on Remy’s brain, encoating him in a layer of discontentment and hopelessness and misery.

Remy sighed. He set the last pumpkin down.

“I think I’m gonna head to bed,” he said.

Emile nodded. He usually checked the clock when Remy announced he was retiring for the night, making sure that it hadn’t gotten too late yet. But he didn’t bother this time. They both knew it was still much too early for either of them to be sleeping.

“Okay,” Emile said, and smiled, but it didn't quite stretch across his face like it usually did, “I have work to do still, but I’ll join you in awhile.”

“Okay,” Remy agreed.

And they both stood there staring at each other.

Then, suddenly, Emile lurched forward and grasped Remy tightly, clutching the taller boy in a tight hug. Startled, but not about to deny the hug, Remy gripped back, just as tight.

He didn’t start to cry, but it was close.

“Love you,” Emile said.

“Love you too,” Remy responded, voice muffled from where his head was buried in Emile’s neck and trying not to cry.

With that, he headed off to bed.

Later, Emile would slip in next to him, acting in a rare occasion as the big spoon. That next morning would be a little bit easier and three mornings after that would be a little bit harder. Remy would continue to get out of bed.

Hockey would continue and Logan wouldn’t return and tensions on the team would get worse. Through all of it, Remy would be caught in the absolute worse position as Logan’s replacement.

But for now, Remy would go to bed early, fog pressing down, harsh and unforgiving, but still much softer than the upcoming storm. Because that’s really all this was, wasn’t it? The calm before the storm.

~~~

taglist below

-ask to be added or removed-

@mewithanie @eddies-spaghetti @lemonyellowlogic @savioursailor @goldteethandacurseforthistown

228 notes · View notes

thechildoflightning · 5 years

Text

Calendrical Consequences

part of the jksf verse

Virgil is excited to begin his sophomore year of college. He's found a good group of friends, adjusted to college life, and is used to living miles and miles away from home. Virgil's ready for this. He's ready for anything. But Virgil wasn't exactly expecting the call asking him to testify in court, resurfacing all of his old trauma. Mix in family issues, growing feelings, a meeting with his counselor, and Virgil is left spinning. - Or the College AU because every fandom needs more of them. Plus, a sprinkle of trauma (or maybe a truckload).

Chapter One- Seasonal Equivalent (August) [ao3 link] [podfic link]

Chapter Two- Meteorological (September) [ao3 link]

Chapter Three- Collision Course (October) [ao3 link]

Chapter Four- Penultimate (November) [ao3 link]

Chapter Five- Remembrance (December) [ao3 link]

Chapter Six- Two Consuls (January) [ao3 link]

Chapter Seven- Quadrennial (February) [ao3 link]

Chapter Eight- Late Antiquity (March) [ao3 link]

Chapter Nine- Etymology (April) [ao3 link]

Chapter Ten- Proletarian Mayovka (May) [ao3 link]

Extras:

About the Service Dogs

Character Appearances

What’s in a Name?

Master Lists:

Fic Master List

just keep stumbling forward (baby im waiting for you)

36 notes · View notes

thechildoflightning · 5 years

Text

Satellite

Title: Satellite

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Pairings: Background CALM/LAMP

part of the jksf verse

Summary:

To put in simple terms- Logan and his sister don't talk.

To make it more complex- Well are you sure you want to open that can of worms? - Or: Logan and his sister have played the blame game for years. It's time to metaphorically clear the air. But doing so brings up a lot more than simple sibling rivalry.

Warnings: Unhealthy Family Dynamics, Internal and External Ableism, ABA Therapy and Practices

[ao3 link]

Satellite

It was approaching dark on the fourth of July when Logan decided to make his way outside. He and his sister had both been home for three weeks now, and neither had made an effort to really talk to each other. Not that the lack of communication was unusual, in fact it was quite normal for them. Now, nearing dusk, Logan was attempting to change that.

He opened the front door and slipped out, his headphones around his neck as an upcoming precaution against the fireworks he knew were bound to go off.

In the past few hours there had been minor bursts; mostly kids playing around with Bang Snaps and the like. Nothing large had been set quite yet, as it was still early evening and no one wished to waste the colorful bursts in a sky that was still light.

Veera, his sister, was sitting out on the deck, half-reading a book as she watched some of the children on the street race around in hyperactive excitement.

Logan carefully took a seat next to her, letting the sound of the neighborhood reach him. The kids were loud, but the space around them trapped their voices and made them seem far away. Parents muttered on decks and the faint smell of BBQ and potlucks was in the air.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Logan’s heart dropped and he stopped rocking.

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

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

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

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

The noise from the fireworks continued to build.

Logan made his decision, and continued to rock.

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

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

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

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

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

Veera let out a soft scoffing noise before speaking up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why don’t we?” he asked.

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

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

Logan did not.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“If I hadn’t been autistic,” he said.

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

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

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

“Then what did?” she challenged.

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

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

“No,” he whispered, “No they didn’t.”

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

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

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

“Look it up?”

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

“Oh,” was all she offered.

“Yeah,” Logan said.

“Oh.”

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

Veera let out a watery chuckle and sniffled.

“You remember that?” she asked him.

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

“You do?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” he agreed.

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

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

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

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

~~~

taglist:

-message me to be added or taken off-

@mewithanie @eddies-spaghetti @lemonyellowlogic

#logan sanders #lamp/calm #ts sides #sanders sides #oc #autistic logan #autism #angst #hurt/comfort #family dynamics #my writing #ao3 #fanfiction #fan fiction #colupdate #colao3update #colfanficupdate #jksf #justkeepstumblingforward

23 notes · View notes

thechildoflightning · 5 years

Link

Title: Corporeal Essence

Pairings: Eventual Prinxiety, background Logicality

Summary:

Mask (v)- conceal (something) from view.

Virgil confronts Roman. Lies are revealed, but so are more than a few truths.

Warnings: lying, ableism, unsupportive family, shutdown

Excerpt:

Only one thought ran through Virgil’s head: Roman had lied to him. Virgil had extended his trust to Roman and Roman had broken that trust because Roman had lied.

“Virgil, are you okay?” Patton asked, frowning a bit. His daemon also seemed to notice the change in atmosphere. Glinda’s fur bushed up, making her look larger than she actually was.

“I, uh, forgot something,” Virgil said quickly, “I’ll be right back,” he fibbed, before abandoning both Patton and his daemon.

Patton frowned after him, but Virgil paid him no mind, having only one singular goal at the moment.

Adva, realizing his intentions, crawling down from his neck and back down into his pocket. Good. Virgil didn’t want her exposed for this. It was too personal, too vulnerable. Roman had lost that privilege because he had lied. He had lied.

Roman had lied.

Roman also happened to be quite easy to find, working with a set of four other students off to one side of the stage.

Virgil stormed over, causing every member but Roman to look at him with a bit of fear in their eyes.

“Roman,” he seethed, “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

taglist below

-message me to be added or removed-

@mellow-yellow-nutella @mewithanie @eddies-spaghetti @lemonyellowlogic @savioursailor @goldteethandacurseforthistown

#ts virgil #ts roman #prinxiety #ts sides #sanders sides #autism #colupdate #colao3update #logicality

14 notes · View notes

thechildoflightning · 5 years

Link

Title: and fireworks flash between us

Pairing(s): Logicality with LAMP/CALM friendship

Summary:

Mindscape High School was pretty lax as far as most schools go, but it did have exactly three unspoken rules that everyone knew by heart.

1. If you didn’t have somewhere to sit at lunch, English teacher Mx. Virgil Torres’ room was always open.

2. The pink glitter that still covered the majority of the arts wing was absolutely 100% drama teacher Mr. Roman Prince’s fault and you shouldn't let him tell you any different.

3. Algebra teacher Mr. Patton Hart and chemistry teacher Mr. Logan Bright absolutely loathed one another.

No one really knew when or how said feud started, but it was nothing short of entertaining.

Warnings: Ableism (mentioned), Running Away, Being Kicked Out of Home, Unhealthy Home Situation

Taglist Below

-message me to be added or taken off-

@mewithanie @eddies-spaghetti @lemonyellowlogic

#morality #logan #patton #platonic lamp/calm #sanders sides #ts sides #autistic logan #adhd patton #bipolar roman #virgil has anxiety #teacher au #human au #alternate universe #my writing #fanfic #ao3 #childoflightningao3update #colupdate #colao3update

22 notes · View notes

thechildoflightning · 5 years

Text

Growing Roots Ch2- Plumule

Title: Growing Roots [Masterpost]

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Pairings: platonic Prinxiety, background Logicality

~~~

Chapter Title: Plumule- Chapter Two

Summary:

A plant, much like friendship, doesn’t grow in a day. To grow, a plant requires the right nutrients, proper soil conditions, and correct lighting to grow to its full potential. Even with this perfect balance, not every plant makes it. A friendship is much more delicate, and a lot more complex.

Or: How exactly did Roman and Virgil become friends?

Warnings: PTSD, Flashback, Pet Death (past), Assumptions, Aggressive Male, Unsafe Situation, Lack of Consent, Date Rape Drugs (past), Sexual Assault/Abuse/Rape (mentioned)

[ao3 link]

~~~

Plumule- Chapter Two

Roman would be the first to admit that things were not the best between Virgil and him. It was all to clear, but Roman was trying to fix that, okay? He really, really was. The main issue that continuously thwarted Roman’s plans at friendship was that sometimes Virgil would get angry for no reason at all. Roman was doing his best to respect Virgil’s boundaries and what made him uncomfortable, but it was made pretty difficult when Virgil wasn’t willing to share most of those boundaries with him.

At this point, Roman pretty much knew three rules for dealing with Virgil: one- don’t touch Virgil without consent (even for the smallest things like a hand on the shoulder or bumping him gently); two- if Trixie was bugging Virgil, Roman needed to leave them both alone (sometimes Virgil would just take a breath, but other times he would slide to the ground and Trixie would clamor on top of him); three- if Virgil says ‘no’ that’s it, that’s the decision and there would be no arguing it (Virgil would only say no to things that made him uncomfortable and would instead say things like ‘I don’t want to’ or ‘I would prefer’ for things he had no real issue with but still didn’t want to do).

Roman did his best to respect those three rules. The problem was, there were a lot of things that didn’t quite fit into those categories that made it a lot harder for Roman to navigate the treacherous waters of being Virgil’s maybe-sorta-kinda-working on it friend. (Last week Virgil had freaked out over some hot tea. The week before he had requested that Patton didn’t leave out his Anatomy book when he came over).

Roman didn’t get Virgil. But he was trying to. Which made tonight the perfect night, while also the absolute worse.

Tonight was Movie in the Quad. Logan, Patton, Virgil, and Roman himself had all been planning to go. In the end, Patton and Logan canceled last minute, due to the fact that Patton was having a bad pain day. Virgil and Roman had immediately offered to come over instead, so that Patton didn’t have to leave his room. After Logan had prompted him to be honest with what he needed and wanted, Patton had refused their request citing the need for space and rest.

Logan’s insistence at Patton’s honesty made Roman wonder how often Patton had lied about his pain levels and needs before. He vowed to work on being more observant in the future.

Patton had also insisted that Roman and Virgil still go see the movie, since all four of them had been looking forward to it. Considering it was Patton insisting and it was pretty impossible to tell him no, Roman and Virgil had both hesitantly agreed and committed to still going

This was where the chance to get to know Virgil better came in. The problem- Roman and Virgil has never really talked without the presence of Logan and Patton around, making the interaction extremely awkward.

But it was a little too late to back out.

Roman had spread out a blanket early on and sprawled across it. Virgil met up with him a few minutes later, hands fiddling with the short leash on Trixie. He had joined Roman on the blanket, but had elected to sit in the furthest corner away from him. Virgil then had Trixie lie down next to him, and she settled her head in his lap.

If Virgil wasn’t such a grouch, Roman might call it adorable.

So there the two of them were, awkwardly on the same blanket waiting for the movie to start. (Which was looking to be awhile because at first the projector had been too low and then it had a weird tilt and then for some reason the image was flipped upside down and now it didn’t seem to be working at all and they were trying to fix it).

Around them, people chatted to pass the time. Virgil and Roman seemed to be outliers, instead giving each other awkward looks and refusing to talk. Roman decided to make an attempt and go with the less creepy version of the ‘adorable’ thought.

“Trixie’s really cute,” he mentioned.

Virgil’s head jerked up to him, as if completely caught off guard by Roman talking to him.

Come on, it couldn’t be that weird that Roman was instigating conversation between them, right? Roman had started a conversation between the two of them before, hadn’t he?

(He couldn’t remember a single time he had).

“Oh,” Virgil said with a smile, as he looked down at his dog. He petted her a few times and she thumped her tail on the ground. “Yeah, she is pretty cute isn’t she?”

Roman hummed and wondered where to go from there.

Luckily, he didn’t have to figure it out, because Virgil was doing that for him.

“Y’know, she has this one spot on her- Here, just come here for a second, yeah?”

Bits of curious confusion stumbled through Roman’s brain, but he shrugged and did as requested.

Virgil said the word, “Break,” and Trixie’s entire demeanor changed. She didn’t actually do anything different- besides roll onto her side at Virgil’s instruction- but she seemed completely changed. Roman had never seen her seem so much like, well, like a dog before. Which was weird considering she was a dog, but that was the best way he could describe her demeanor in that moment.

“Hand?” Vigil requested, holding his own out.

Roman shrugged, but dropped his hand onto Virgil’s. He noted that the other boys was surprisingly warm. Roman thought he would of ran cold. It just seemed like a Virgil thing. Guess he was wrong.

Virgil placed his hand on Trixie’s lower belly before moving it quickly from side to side, effectively petting Trixie with Roman’s hand.

Instantly, the dog’s hind leg came up to shake and thump, as if scratching herself in mid air.

A surprised laugh escaped Roman and a grin raced across his mouth. Virgil offered his own smile in return. He removed his own hand, and let Roman continue to let her by himself. He continued to do so with dedication, attention completely focused on the dog’s leg.

A minute later, and the abnormal movement stopped.

Roman frowned, admittedly disappointed. Virgil just laughed, rolled his eyes, and moved Roman’s hand slightly, before nodding for him to continue.

Roman did so, and was excited to see Trixie’s behavior return.

When Roman finally got bored, he stopped petting the pup quite as rigorously and moved to give her long stroking pets instead. Her tongue hung out of her mouth and she twisted a bit to move more into her back, her legs suspended in midair.

Virgil rolled eyes at the behavior.

“Yeah, you like that don’t you girl? Yeah, you do. Roman spoils you, huh? Spoils you with all the belly rubs?” he teased her.

Trixie made a little huffing noise and closed her eyes in pure bliss. Virgil laughed. Roman found the sound surprising and nice. Separate adjectives. Not surprisingly nice, surprising and nice. In fact, Roman would have bet money on Virgil’s laugh being adorable.

He blushed and continued to pet Trixie. He accidentally hit the same spot on her lower belly, causing her to kick her hind leg a few times again.

“Yeah, she’s done that since she was a pup. Dolly would do it on occasion, but she wasn’t quite as sensitive or really ever had like, a specific place that would get her to do that. Trix has always had that one spot.”

As Virgil explained, an expression Roman hadn’t seen crossed his face. His smile was sweeter than normal and his voice was soft and fond.

Roman had never seen Virgil nostalgic before. He thought that was maybe what this was.

“Dolly?” he questioned, because he hadn’t recognized that name.

“Yeah, Dolly was my first service dog.”

“You had a service dog before Trixie?” Roman asked, a fair amount of shock coating his words.

He didn’t know why he was shocked. He had thought- well Roman hadn’t known what he had thought. Roman knew Virgil was different. He was pretty sure that Trixie wasn’t for any sort of physical disability or illness or something, which meant that Trixie had to be for something mental.

Roman also knew that service dogs were a pretty serious thing. He knew that. At the same time, he hadn’t ever really taken the time to consider that Virgil having Trixie probably meant something fairly serious. Again, Roman had known something was different about Virgil, but he had also kinda expected- he didn’t even know- Virgil to change or something? To move on? Roman hadn’t really considered that whatever was going on with Virgil would potentially be a lifelong thing. The mention of another service dog made a lot of things click into place.

Roman should not of needed evidence to realize any of this. He should not of needed proof of longer support through a previous service dog. He should not have expected Virgil to change or move on. But he hadn’t known, hadn’t realized. But he knew now. He could respect that. He could change his behavior (again, because Roman could never seem to get it right because he really was that much of an absolute failure at this whole thing and sure he was trying but did that even matter if it didn’t change anything?)

“Yeah,” Virgil said, “Yeah Dolly was actually my first service dog. She uh- she actually just passed away a few months ago.”

“Oh,” Roman said. His hand stilled on Trixie. “Uh, sorry.”

Virgil shrugged and curled in on himself.

“Is what it is,” he offered. His voice was toneless and the sentence dry. Roman felt like he should offer something here. He just wasn’t really sure what.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Virgil sighed and a hand gripping the sleeve of his hoodie came up to wipe at his eyes.

“No,” Virgil said, “No. It’s okay. I’ve- I’ve like, come to terms with it. It’s not a big deal anymore. It’s just… It just makes me sad sometimes.”

“I think I get that,” Roman validated, “My mom- well she was already sick, but she died giving birth to me. I never knew her, y’know? But every once and awhile, I just get, sad about it.”

Virgil nodded in what was probably agreement or understanding.

He opened his mouth to say something more, but just then, there was a loud whoop from the crowd. Both Roman and Virgil’s heads shot up, and they caught sight of the opening credits on the large white screen the school was projecting the movie onto. They got the projector fixed then. Good.

With that, the music started to blare, and Roman and Virgil settled in to watch.

It was about an hour in that Roman had to pee. He got up, and turned to leave, before catching sight of Virgil’s face.

The other boy- who had taken to cuddling with his dog just moments ago- was now half sitting up and gazing after Roman, mouth slightly open.

“Just headed to the bathroom,” Roman remarked.

Virgil hesitated. Trixie shifted slightly, settling her head on one of Virgil’s legs. His gaze moved towards her, before looking back up at Roman.

“Okay,” Virgil said, “See you in a minute.”

Roman nodded and turned to leave, expecting to do exactly that.

He did not see Virgil in a minute, because just as he was headed back across the lawn to rejoin Virgil after using the restroom, he ran into a guy, quite literally.

The guy stumbled a few steps before catching his balance. Roman apologized, half holding a hand out in some attempt at help. The guy’s gaze dropped to it, and seemed to note the rainbow bracelet Roman wore on his wrist.

“It’s alright sweetheart,” the guy slurred a little, and Roman was immediately put off.

The man was obviously more than a little buzzed, which made Roman a bit uneasy in the first place. The second issue was the way that the guy had started eyeing him. Roman wasn’t one to mind being checked out, but something about how this guy did it was just off and made Roman’s skin crawl.

“Hi,” Roman said, voice curt, “Sorry, you’ll have to excuse me, I’m trying to get back to my friend.”

The guy laughed and Roman’s body started to feel a little heavier than normal.

“Noooo,” he whined, “Don’t worry about your friend right now. You’ve got me! And I can be quite good company, if you know what I mean.” He threw in a wink that sent Roman’s stomach rolling.

“Sorry,” Roman insisted, “I really do need to be going.” He turned away, knowing that staying in this situation any longer wouldn’t do him any good.

“Hey!” the guy shouted, and then Roman felt a hand grasping his wrist.

Roman had always been a flirt, he would admit that freely. He enjoyed it, but he also only enjoyed it when it was consensual. Usually that meant that Roman- as the flirtee- would need to make sure that the guy he was flirting with was comfortable with said flirting.

In this case, the tables were turned, and this guy certainly didn’t seem to care about Roman’s comfort levels or consent. This wasn’t flirting or showing interest. This was being inappropriate, and creepy, and borderline dangerous.

“Please let me go.”

His voice came out as a whisper, and he was- quite frankly- disappointed in himself, even if he wasn’t the one that should be feeling any shame in that moment.

“C’mon, at least tell me your name, pretty thing. Don’t I deserve that at the very least?” the guy asked. His gaze was unfocused, but stiff as steel, and it was then Roman regret not taking a single self-defense course in his life. The man might have been drunk, but he had a firm grip on Roman’s wrist, and he was much bigger and stronger than Roman. Roman was tall but had never been extremely athletic. He had never regretted it until now.

“Come on, honey,” the stranger cooed, “Your name?”

Roman didn’t know what to do.

“Let go of him,” a new voice demanded, stepping into the fray. Roman blinked a few times because- because it was Virgil.

“No need to worry,” the creeper purred, turning his attention to Virgil, “Everything’s fine here, right darling?” He shot an expectant gaze towards Roman.

“Let go of me,” Roman insisted once more.

The man didn’t.

“You heard him,” Virgil said.

“And if I don’t?” The guy asked, sizing Virgil up. If Roman was smaller than this guy, than Virgil was tiny compared to them; this guy would overpower him in a heartbeat. The guy seemed to know it as well because his grip didn’t loosen and his smile refused to drop.

“You don’t want to find out,” Virgil threatened.

The guy then had the gall to laugh, which was the exact moment numerous things happen.

With the lack of focus on him, Roman was able to twist away from the man and free his arm. At almost the exact same time, Virgil planted himself firmly between Roman and the stranger and threw a well-aimed punch, setting him stumbling back a few paces in surprise. As he did so, Virgil yelled one singular word as loud as he could.

“FIRE!” he screeched.

Everyone turned to look their way, muttering voices looking for the danger. The man, who had recovered from Virgil’s shove, stopped in his pursuit back towards him as over a hundred eyes turned to stare at them. He scowled and stalked away. People also started to glance away, now eased by the knowledge that was definitely no fire. Roman wasn’t even sure if any of them had noticed what had happened.

Speaking of…

“Hey, uh, thanks,” Roman offered, turning back towards Virgil.

Virgil nodded, and Roman realized he was shaking. It was then he realized he was also shaking.

After what seemed to be only a moment later, they were back in Roman’s dorm. Roman knew it had to have been more than a moment but the only thing he could remember was Virgil and him looking at each other and now he was opening his door with his key.

The instant it opened, the two of them plus dog stumbled inside. Roman fell onto his bed, Virgil at his desk.

Roman couldn’t believe what just happened. What had happened? What was going on?

(He was still shaking).

He took a breath, and everything started to fit back into place. He took another and the world slid back into focus. He took a third and he was okay.

He was okay. He was going to be okay.

Thanks to Virgil.

Roman looked up, planning to thank him again now that the situation had calmed down exponentially and Roman wasn’t freaking out quite as much anymore, the adrenaline fading away. He expected Virgil to be in about the same mental state as he was in, but when he caught a glance of him, it was very clear that he was not.

Virgil was crying. Loud, ugly, wheezing, thick crying. Tears and snot and fluids covering his face. Trixie was draped across his lap in his seated position. He didn’t seem to notice her and then he began to scream. Loudly.

Roman winced and fought the urge to cover his ears. He was loud.

Virgil was screaming and crying and he was huddled in on himself and Trixie was trying to stay on top of him but it was hard when Virgil was curling up into a ball.

Roman didn’t know what to do.

He never knew what to do.

“Virgil,” he called cautiously.

The boy didn’t respond. He wasn’t quite screaming anymore, but he was loudly begging. For what Roman couldn’t quite be sure because Virgil kept cutting himself off and slurring his words and talking over himself.

Roman knew a pleading tone when he heard one. This went a step further.

Roman hesitated, before getting up and took a step forward, trying to be of some assistance.

Virgil flinched backward violently and Trixie stepped in between them. Virgil also stopped his pleading and turned instead to apologizing.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” the boy whimpered, “I’ll do better. I promise! Just please don’t hurt me. I’m sorry.”

Roman’s heart thudded because those words suggested things he wasn’t quite ready for. He took a step back, hoping that would help.

It didn’t. Virgil continued to apologize. His volume did lower, but Roman had no idea if that was a good thing or not.

Trixie returned to his side and tried to nuzzle apart his hands that had been gripping onto his opposite upper arms.

Roman didn’t know what to do, but trying to help didn’t work, so he decided to wait it out. (Virgil would be okay in a little bit, right? He had to be. Because if he wasn’t, well Roman wasn’t sure what to do next. Should he call someone? A doctor? 911?)

He should call someone, he realized, and he knew who to call as well.

The phone rang twice before a familiar voice picked up.

“Roman. Why are you calling?”

“Hey Specs, so Emo Nightmare’s freaking out and I don’t know what the hell to do,” he blurted out instantly.

If anyone would have a solution, it would have to be Logan, right?

“Okay,” he replied, “What do you mean by freaking out? Also, if you don’t know what to do, you should probably learn.”

“I am trying to learn,” Roman insisted. He ignored the rest of Logan’s words, working on the second half first because that was the part that had stung some place deep inside of him, so it was the part he was going to focus on, “That’s why I called you. I thought you would know what to do.”

“I know you’re trying. I wasn’t suggest that you weren’t, and I apologize if that’s how it came off as. That was not my intention Roman.”

Roman shifted, cast a gaze back at Virgil who was still giving pleading apologies.

“Thanks,” he muttered.

“I can try to help. What’s going on?”

“He’s- he’s. I don’t even know. He’s not looking at me and doesn’t seem to even realize I’m here. He’s curled up in a corner and apologizing and asking to not be hurt. I tried approaching him but that made it worse.”

“Is Trixie with him?”

“Yeah?”

“What is she doing?”

“Uh, at first she tried to like, sorta jump and lay on top of him? And then when I tried to approach him she stood in front of him. I backed away and she went back to him and was nudging his arms. He’s curled up, so she can’t lay on him anymore, but she is pawing and nudging him.”

“Okay. I think Virgil’s having a flashback.”

“A flashback?”

“Yes- a flashback is a disturbing immersive memory that can cause extreme panic while seeming completely real and current to the person experiencing it,” Logan rattled off.

“No, no, Logan I know what a flashback is I just don’t know why Virgil is having one.”

“Well they can happen to anyone that experiences a distressing enough experience, but is often common in those who have dealt with intense trauma or have PTSD.”

“Yeah but Virgil hasn’t- I mean, Virgil?”

“I couldn’t tell you which category Virgil falls into, but I probably could form an educated guess, though that is not important right now. The important thing is that he is having a flashback.”

Which he still was. Roman was expecting this whole phone conversation to much quicker and for this situation to be much easier.

“Okay so what do I do?”

“Was there a triggering incident?”

“A what?” Roman asked.

“A triggering incident,” Logan repeated, “Something that may have been a catalyst for Virgil’s current state.”

“Uh, I mean yeah,” Roman said. Because they clearly had been. A guy had gotten handsy and aggressive with Roman in a situation that implied-

Holy shit had Virgil been in a situation like that before? Was that why he was freaking out? Had Virgil been- had Virgil been assaulted before? Had he been sexually abused? Raped?

More and more suggestions filled Roman’s head, each one as unpleasant as the last.

It would explain his fear and apologies. It would also explain why he freaked out when Roman got closer. It explained the dog at his side. It explained almost everything.

“Okay, well if you can identify the trigger, you need to remove it if it hasn’t already been removed. From there you need to approach the flashback with that trigger in mind. Try to avoid triggering Virgil again. That can help stop the progression of the flashback. To actually help soothe or stop the flashback, Virgil will need to be grounded in reality. Grounding techniques like reminders of the present and breathing exercises can help immensely. I can send you a few things, give me a minute.”

Roman held his breath.

Virgil continued to cry and apologize and how long had he been doing that now? It had to have been a long time now. Jeez, what had Virgil been through?

Roman’s phone buzzed a second later. He pulled it away from his ear and looked down to see a text from Logan. He pressed the phone back to his ear and promised to check it in a minute.

“I suggest starting with one of those. If it doesn’t help, or if you feel like you need more assistance, call me back. I can come over if you need me to. I also sent over crisis lines if things get worse for any reason. In most cases I would recommended calling one of those lines before calling the police or similar services. The police can be- well they aren’t exactly trained in this area and might not be able to help Virgil. Plus, they make assumptions, and Roman you are a Muslim man with a white-passing guy panicking in your dorm room.”

“Yeah got it, no police. But, uh what do you mean if things get worse?”

“If things get too much for you to handle. If Virgil severely injures himself. If he passes out and doesn’t immediately regain consciousness. If he gets violent due to a perceived threat. If you at any point feel threatened or that harm could come to you. If things get unsafe, then you need to call one of the lines, okay? Some have different purposes, read what they’re for.”

“Okay,” Roman agreed, “Okay. I’m gonna try and help Virgil now.”

“Sounds good,” Logan said.

“Okay, okay bye.”

“Bye, Roman.”

“...Thanks.”

“You are welcome.”

The line went dead.

Roman sighed, and checked the massive text Logan had sent, scrolling through it.

Virgil let out a loud gasp and continued to cry in the corner. The muttering has gone down somewhat but he still seemed largely unaware of his surroundings.

Roman clicked one of the links that looked promising. Here went nothing.

“Uh, Virgil?” he said.

The boy looked towards him for a second before glancing back towards the floor, eyes distant and chest heaving. But it was recognition, which was more than Roman had gotten so far.

“Hey uh, can you do me a favor? I think, I think it might help you.”

Virgil’s mouth moved. At first Roman thought it was a response to his question, but then he realized that the boy had just taken to muttering his apologies under his breath instead of out loud.

“Uh,” Roman said. Should he still do it? Roman was sure if Virgil would be able to do it considering it didn’t really seem exactly here. But Roman had to try something. “Uh,” he repeated, “Uh can you, Virgil can you name five- is it five?” He checked his phone. “Yeah five things you see?”

What was this bullshit? Five things Virgil saw? How was that supposed to help. Especially when he seemed to not even be aware of where he was or what he was doing. Who came up with this shit?

“Floor,” a voice mumbled, “Dog… Bed. Desk… Person.”

Roman blinked. That was five things. Virgil had just listed five things. Was this working?

“Uh, four things you can touch?” Roman asked, after reviewing the article on his phone.

“Jacket,” Virgil started. He shifted his hand, letting it fall onto Trixie. “Trixie.” He let his hand travel further down her back. “Trixie’s vest.” He reached up to touch his own face. “Tears.”

It was working. Virgil still didn’t seem well and he was still crying, but it was a definite step forward from whimpering like a wounded animal. Roman couldn’t believe that this was working.

“Yeah. Uh that’s really good Virgil. Three things, three things you can hear?”

Virgil completed the next task, and together they worked their way down to one. When they did reach one, Virgil’s eyes were much more clear.

“Welcome back,” Roman offered.

For the first time since all of this had begun, Virgil met Roman’s eyes. His face instantly dropped.

“Are you okay?” Virgil’s voice was desperate and demanding.

“Am I okay?” Roman asked incredulously, “What about you?”

“I’m fine,” Virgil insisted, “but uh- I only got there after he grabbed you. Are you- Roman I- Did- Are you okay?”

“Nothing happened,” Roman was quick to confirm, even as his heart thudded harshly is his chest, “I’m fine.” (Something could of happened, he realized, it could have been way worse, and that was a frankly terrifying thought).

Virgil frowned, not believing the rather obvious lie. Which Roman thought was totally unfair because Virgil had said he was fine and Roman was letting him get away with it.

“Roman- You- It’s okay to not be fine after something like that. Even if nothing happened.”

“I was roofied last year,” Roman blurted out, “Theater party. And well,” Roman pointed to himself, “Muslim. Drinking is haram. I don’t do it. So I noticed pretty quick. I- Uh- well I told a friend and he took me home and called my parents. They were out of town so he then also stayed with me the entire time. To make sure I was okay and safe. But things could have been a lot worse. Things tonight could of been a lot worse.”

Virgil nodded, showing zero signs of disagreement. Roman hadn’t been expecting Virgil to disagree, but in a selfish way Roman wished he would have. Because maybe if Virgil told him nothing would have happened and he would have been fine Roman would start to believe it himself.

“Are you okay? Actually?” Roman asked. If Virgil wasn’t going to deal with Roman’s bullshit answer, Roman wasn’t going to accept Virgil’s.

“I will be,” Virgil promised. He hesitates and shoving his hands into his dog’s fur, gripping it softly. “I- I have PTSD. So I- I uh, get flashbacks once in a while and stuff.”

“Oh.”

“Uh yeah,” Virgil said. He then stood, hands tightly gripping the short leash that was attached to Trixie’s vest. “It’s uh late. I should- I should probably go.” Virgil shifted from foot to foot and cast his gaze down.

At the thought of Virgil leaving, Roman’s heart twisted into a knot. From fear, Roman realized. He was afraid. He was afraid to be alone.

Something must have shown on his face, as Virgil spoke back up.

“Or- Uh- I, if you really want I could stay?” He offered.

Roman wasn’t sure why he offered, considering Virgil very obviously did not want to stay. He was probably just being polite.

“No no, I’m fine,” Roman promised, because he wasn’t about to make Virgil do something for him that he didn’t want to do. He wouldn’t waste Virgil’s time an energy like that, especially when Virgil had already done so much for him. “Go back to your dorm. I’ll be fine.”

Virgil hesitated.

“I’m serious,” Roman insisted, “go.”

Virgil hesitated once more, but nodded and left. Roman hadn’t expected any different. Roman didn’t expect Virgil to actually care about him. They weren’t even friends yet, even If Roman was trying.

Roman didn’t sleep that night.

Taglist Below

-message me to be added or removed-

@mewithanie @eddies-spaghetti @lemonyellowlogic @savioursailor @goldteethandacurseforthistown

#ts roman #ts virgil #ts logan #ts patton #sanders sides #ts sides #flashback #fluff #hurt/comfort #hurt #angst #ptsd #mywriting #my writing #ao3 #fan fiction #fanfiction #colao3update #colupdate

8 notes · View notes