Part three of what I’m dubbing my “dark side logan” series.
Patton is having a bout of depression after everything that has changed in the mindscape, and his own failures as a friend. Ambition decides to visit for a talk.
….
He is having a “gray day”.
It doesn’t happen often, though it happens more than it used to. He’s trying to let himself feel all his emotions, even when they hurt, or make him feel bad, because repression doesn’t help, he knows this, now.
So, it is a gray a day. A day where the sparkling sepia of his room is gone, dimmed, the comforting aura of summer days and childhood nostalgia shifting into cold winters and soft regrets. A day where nothing seems bright, or good, or happy. A day where everything and anything brings tears to his eyes, so he doesn’t leave his room, because even that takes too much energy.
Instead, he is laying atop his bed, not even under the blankets, staring blankly up at the ceiling. He can feel the fat drops of tears slipping down his face, but he doesn’t move to wipe them away. He is numb, more than anything else, he is numb against the pain as he turns up the volume on his ear buds.
It’s Logan’s playlist. Listening makes him feel worse, makes the numbness recede enough for the ache to set in, and he doesn’t know which is worse. Feeling nothing or everything.
Still, a smile slips through as the elements song plays, reminding him of when Logan would quietly hum it to himself, remembering the pride in his voice as he recited it from memory for the first time, having listened to it endlessly on repeat after Thomas had heard it in science class. Roman had given him a standing ovation.
In the next breath, his small joy turns to burning shame as Erase Me plays. It is so obvious, had been so obvious, that Logan was hurting, that he was hurting so, so badly. He is emotion, he is supposed to know what the others are feeling, he is supposed to help them, he knew Logan was having a hard time, he knew he was in pain, and he hadn’t said anything, hadn’t stepped in, because, what?
He was afraid? Afraid of offending Logan, afraid of pushing him away, afraid of breaching his privacy, afraid of making him even more unlikely to share his feelings in the future?
He’d done a terrible job at being Logan’s friend. He hadn’t listened to him, had never acknowledged his contributions, had belittled and talked over him until he didn’t even see the point in speaking anymore.
And now it is too quiet. The silence follows him everywhere. He misses coming into the kitchen, Logan already sipping his tea, book open in front of him. He misses being in the commons, Logan idly sharing factoids about whatever is on the television, or spouting information from whatever topic he’s currently researching, he misses Logan’s quiet and steady presence, misses his grounding influence, misses the way he was always, always there.
He wishes he’d given Logan even half of the care Logan had given them. He wishes he’d put aside his own stupid doubts and talked to him sooner. He wishes he’d ever taken a second to ask Logan if he was ok, because he knew that he wasn’t.
But it doesn’t matter anymore. Logan left.
That brings another wave of tears down his face, and he rolls over onto his side, hiding his face against his pillow as he sobs silently, clutching to his chest his scrapbook, the one with a picture of the four of them on the cover, and he can’t bring himself to open it, even, to look at them, happy and together, and wonder if Logan had actually been happy in any of them.
He knows it is selfish, this mourning, because Logan isn’t gone, gone, not really. And as much as he’s mourning for all the willfully ignorant hurt they put Logan through, that’s only half of why he feels like this.
The other half is because he knows that Logan is happier now. He knows that Deceit will take care of him, that Remus will protect him. He knows Ambition will have long debates about philosophy with Deceit, that don’t end in frustration and anger but in mutual appreciation. He knows Remus will drag him outdoors, and Ambition will appreciate the complexness of his creatures, probably fill binders full of notebooks with scientific observations and notes about their behaviors and physiology.
It’s selfish and low of him and he hates himself for it, but he aches because he knows that Ambition is happier. And he’s sorry, so desperately, endlessly, sorry, that it took Logan leaving to force him to see how badly he needed someone, anyone, to reach out to him.
He doesn’t realize what he’s doing until he’s already doing it. Because if he thinks about this, he will lose his nerve, and he won’t do that again, won’t hesitate now, when last time it cost him one of his best friends.
He feels their eyes on him as soon as he pops up, hovering uncertainly in the entryway, not wanting to intrude on their space, because this is their space, and he’s been shitty enough to them in the past, the very least he can do is simply respect them.
“Patton.” Deceit’s voice is surprised, tinted with an edge of concern, and a fair bit of suspicion. Which is fair, honestly, given everything between them. Everything that happened with Logan.
“Lookin pretty disheveled, Daddio, did someone show you a good time?” Remus asks, exchanging a worried glance with Deceit as Patton doesn’t react at all to his comment.
“I’m sorry. I should have listened to you. About… about the callback, and the wedding. Not… all of it, but there could have been a compromise, there could have been something else there, and I wasn’t willing to listen. I never listen and I should and you should be heard and not just dismissed. I… I screwed everything up. I’m sorry.”
“Patton, are you alright? Not that I don’t appreciate the apology and enjoy you finally broadening your horizons a little, but…”
“But you look like shit. And not the fun kind.”
“didn’t know there was a fun kind.” He murmurs, voice wavering, and they exchange another wide eyed look of alarm as Patton chokes back a gasping sob, one hand flying to cover his mouth, the other wrapping tight around his middle in an almost hug.
“remus. I’m sorry I dismiss your ideas right away. I’m sorry I don’t take you more seriously. I’m sorry I classified you as bad and Roman as good. You’re not bad, you're just you, always and unapologetically, and that’s not bad, that’s brave. I’m proud of you, kiddo. I’m… I’m proud of both of you, not… not that that probably means much to either of you. I don’t think it should mean much of anything, anymore.”
“Patton. Please. What’s wrong?” There’s a desperate edge to Deceit’s voice, that makes him hesitate for just a moment, but it’s not their problem, and it shouldn’t be and he’d said what he came to say.
“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” He whispers. He sinks out before the noise building in his chest can escape his lips, before the pain can turn itself into sound, before he says or does something that makes them feel obligated to care.
He collapses back onto his bed, this time pulling the covers up over his head, burying his face in the scarf he’d dug out of the closet earlier, holding it tight to his chest and curling around it, barely able to gasp in air through the fit of tears shaking him to the core, because it was Logan’s scarf, from his Sherlock outfit.
He wants those days back, more than anything, he wants just one more silly roleplaying adventure of Watson and Sherlock, running around the mindscape solving mysteries, driving the other sides up the wall with their antics, it was one of the few times Logan let himself be seen having fun, had showed himself loosening up, ruddy cheeked and breathless as he accused Roman of drinking the last of the orange juice and putting the empty carton back in the fridge while he gasped in surprised horror at the crime, or tracking down Virgil’s lost head phones, interviewing suspects, until their path led them to under the couch, where they’d been accidentally kicked to after Virgil had set them down on the floor.
He misses Logan’s smiles, his small, proud smile, when they all learned something, his soft, stricken smile when he learned something, his tight lipped, frustrated smile, his grinning, rare, wild smile, his soft voice, his loud voice, his frustration, his joy, he misses it, misses it, misses it.
He slips his ear buds back in, numbing nothingness cresting back over him as he breathes in the scent of Logan, pressed laundry and sun warmed wood, the playlist starting back up at Equation, from the Little Prince. Surprisingly, one of Logan’s favorites. He wonders if it still is.
…
“So… that wasn’t normal, right? I’m not going even more mad, that just happened, right?” Remus asks, eyes flicking between Deceit and where Patton had just been standing.
“Whatever it was, it was… sincere. The only part that was a lie, was-“
“him being ok? Yeah, that doesn’t take a genius to figure out.” Deceit frowns, looking at Remus, who quickly looks away.
“Remus. He meant every word he said about you.”
“Who did?” They both look a bit guilty as they look at Cygnus, who is looking at them with an eyebrow raised.
“Patton.” Remus blurts out, and Cygnus inhales sharply, eyes narrowing.
“What did he say? I told them to stay away from you, if he hurt you, I swear-“
“Cyg. He… apologized. To the both of us. He looked… very bad, honestly. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Patton acting so… un patton like.” Deceit interrupts, before Cygnus can get riled up even more. Instantly, he relaxes slightly, though his gaze is still puzzled.
“I… is he… ok?” Deceit bites his lip and Remus shakes his head firmly.”
“No. no, he’s not, he’s really, really not.” Cygnus takes a deep breath in, reaching to readjust glasses that are no longer there. Old habits are hard to break.
“It’s ok to still care about them, lovely. It’s ok to go visit. And I think… I think Patton has some things he wants to say, now. And I think it would be good for you to hear them.” Cygnus hesitates, before smiling smally, shaking his head.
“alright. You’re right, as always. I… will be back shortly. I suppose.” Cygnus shoots them a small, brave smile, before vanishing.
…
He doesn’t know how long he’s been laying here. The music has long since gone dead, but he doesn’t have the will to turn on something else, or to start it again. He’s replaying Ambition’s words over and over.
He was right. In that moment, all he had been afraid of was being left alone to handle Roman and Virgil. He can’t do it on his own, he can’t do it alone, and he’s not the perfect pinnacle of light, he knows this, more deeply than probably the others realize, and how could he not have noticed Logan was gone for five whole days?
There’s no excuse. He doesn’t have one, wouldn’t even attempt to produce one, because there are no words that can justify that lack of attention. He’s been a terrible, awful, horrible friend.
“I’m not mad. I could never be mad, at what you did. You… you did what was best, for you. And you’re happy now. You’re… you’re taken care of and listened to and all the things we didn’t do for you but should have. I’m happy for you, I am! I’m just… I’m sad for me.” His voice wavers, breaking, because he knows how selfish that is, how terrible it sounds, after everything, but it’s the truth, and he won’t give anything less to Ambition.
He hears Ambition let out a soft, low breath, feels the bed dip down as Ambition sits on the edge, and he curls tighter underneath the covers, glad he’s already spent all his tears for the day, already emptied himself out.
“i’m sad. I’m so, brokenly, sad. Because I should have known. I should have said something. I should have been there, for you. And I wasn’t. I haven’t been. And I miss…” his voice cracks and he is proven wrong, more tears slipping down his face as he swallows, “I miss you. It’s selfish and stupid, and I know it, but I miss you. And I wish…” He can’t finish his sentence. He’s so choked up he can barely breathe. He doesn’t need to, he supposes. Ambition can already tell, better than he can put into words what exactly he wishes.
“oh, Patton.” Ambition murmurs, the softness in his voice only makes him cry harder, because he doesn’t deserve that, not from Ambition.
Cygnus doesn’t know what to do. He can feel everything Patton wishes and wants, and it is a conflicting cacophony of sorrow and hope and want and fear.
He wants everything to go back to the way it was, but he wants Ambition to be heard. He wants Logan back. He doesn’t want Logan back if he’s going to be unhappy. He wants to hate Deceit and Remus for taking away Logan, but he knows it isn’t their fault, he loves them for taking care of Ambition, loves them for loving Ambition as he should be loved, he wishes he didn’t wish for any of this, he wishes he didn’t feel at all, he wishes he could just somehow fix everything even though he knows that’s impossible.
Above and beyond all of it, all of the turmoil, is one singular burning wish.
He wants Ambition to know he still loves him, even if Ambition hates him, as he has every right to. Nothing could stop Patton from loving him.
“I’m sorry this is what it took, for you to be listened to. To be happy. I’m sorry I didn’t give you what you needed. I’m sorry I wasn’t good. I’m sorry I didn’t notice. I’m sorry I didn’t care. And I’m sorry that I’m sorry because being sorry now seems like too little too late!” He sobs, not looking up as he feels the blanket being gently folded over, his head now exposed from under the covers, and he feels Ambition freeze for a moment, at the sight of him.
He must look a mess. He doesn’t care, it doesn’t matter, he just… doesn’t know, anymore, doesn’t know what he feels or wants to feel or wants at all, because everything he wants he can’t have, he doesn’t want Logan back at the expense of Ambition’s wellbeing and mental health, he wants Ambition to be happy, he wants Logan back, he can’t want both, but he does, and it hurts, and he deserves the hurt, because this surely must be what Logan was feeling before he left.
“Patton. I’m still here. I’m still me. My role has changed, yes, but not my personality. I’m still here.”
“I know. And it should make me feel better, but it doesn’t, because I know now that I don’t know anything about you, I never took the time to really truly know you, and I know this… guilt and shame, it doesn’t help anything, it doesn’t make up for anything, it’s nothing but selfish, but I can’t help it, because I hurt you!” he swipes at his eyes, having sat up during his outburst, legs pulled to his chest. “I hurt you. And I’m sorry. And that’s not enough. I know it isn’t. But it’s all I have.” He whispers, head against his knees, eyes closed as he tries to take a shuddering breath, tries to calm himself before he breaks completely.
“Patton. I don’t… I don’t hate you. I know I was harsh, with you especially, but I don’t hate you. I was angry. I still am, a bit, and I’m hurt, but I don’t hate you, Patton.” He feels Ambition carefully wrap an arm around his shoulders, and before he can stop himself, he lets out a pained cry, folding against Ambition’s side, burying his head against his side, crying harder as Ambition’s other arm encircles him in a soft embrace.
“s-sorry, I’m s-s-sorry, you sh-shouldn’t have to b-be here right now, I’m n-n-not your problem.” He chokes out, shame bubbling in him because he can’t bring himself to pull away, even though he should. Instead, Ambition just holds him closer, letting him sob himself dry once more, until he is barely sniffling, exhaustion cresting over him, that almost wonderful numbness creeping back into his bones, settling into a depressed apathy.
“You’re right. You’re not my problem. But I would like to still be your friend. I don’t mean to be antagonistic. I still want to work with everyone. None of that changes.” Ambition replies.
“y-you d-do? S-still want to b-b-be friends?” he asks, brokenly, looking up at Ambition’s mismatched eyes, lip trembling, and he’s so utterly miserable that Ambition doesn’t think he could say no if he tried his hardest. But he doesn’t want to.
“yes. I do, Patton. Deceit and Remus are my family now. They love me like family should, take care of me like family should, that’s what I needed, that’s why I moved, because I needed to put myself first and take care of myself for once. You failed, as my family.” He flinches, but he doesn’t say otherwise, because Ambition is right, they did, he did, and it hurts, but it should. “but I think we will do better as just friends, instead of family. I think not living together anymore will help alleviate some of our problems. Will help me be listened to, more. And If I am not listened to by you all, I won’t be as frustrated because I know Deceit and Remus will.”
“I’m sorry.” He whispers, because that’s all he can muster, as lame and lackluster as it is, it’s all he can say, because he had enough chances to do something about it and hadn’t. “I want to do better, I want to be better, I want… I want whatever you’re willing to give me, I…” he doesn’t realize his eyes are slipping shut as he feels Ambition gently stroking his hair.
“I know, Pat. I’m not… I’m not going to give you everything, right away. I might never give you my name. But I will give you another chance, to start over. To… to try again.”
“I wouldn’t ask anything more from you. I wouldn’t even ask that of you.” He mumbles, barely aware anymore, because this feels so good, it unties something inside of him, it gives him hope that things can get better, that they will get better. It is one tiny ray of light that cuts through the gray.
“What you said, to Deceit and Remus… why?” He swallows hard.
“because I should have said it sooner. I hesitated with you. I broke the last of what we had. I won’t do that again, I won’t ignore that again, I won’t… I won’t let anyone else be hurt like I hurt you.”
“I… that’s good, Patton. That’s a good first step, to making things right. It tells me you mean it, when you say you want to be better. You’re willing to actually put in the work and the time to change for the better. I know that isn’t easy.” Ambition’s voice is a rumble against him, and he feels him pulling away.
He wants to grab hold, to not let go, to be held tight and close until he falls asleep and wakes up well rested for the first time in nearly a week, but he desperately tries not to want that, because then Ambition will know that he wants that, and he won’t ask Ambition for it, because he hasn’t earned that closeness with him.
He hears Ambition sigh softly as he tucks him in, managing to peek his eyes open as he feels Ambition softly tuck his hair back behind his ear. There are so many more words he wants to say, but he doesn’t need to say them, because Ambition already knows.
“I love you.” He mumbles instead, because it’s still true, will always be true, no matter what, he loves them all.
“I know. If… if you wish, once you are rested, you should come have a longer conversation with Deceit and Remus. I think everyone would benefit.”
“ok.” He whispers. Ambition hesitates in the doorway, before stepping out into the hall, closing the door softly as Patton’s eyes slip closed. He freezes as he hears another door open, eyes meeting Virgil’s.
He stays frozen as Virgil approaches, unable to read anything from him, he is keeping his thoughts so controlled that he can glean nothing from him, even as he stands right before him, fiddling with his hoodie ties, dark hair hiding his face.
“hey.” Virgil says softly, hesitating. “he… he doing okay?” Virgil finishes, nodding towards Patton’s door.
“He’s… doing better. We talked. I… it helped, I think.” Virgil nods, biting his lip, hand on the doorknob, pausing before he turns it, looking back at Ambition with hesitant trepidation.
“Are… are you doing okay?” Ambition smiles smally, looking down at the ground.
“yes. More than ok, in fact.”
“Good. I… that’s good. They… Deceit and Remus… they’re doing alright with all of this too, yeah?” That gives Ambition pause, there’s something to unpack there, but he doesn’t know what exactly it is, and now isn’t the time to pry.
“They’re fine, Virgil. We all are.” Virgil winces a bit, at the use of “we”, rubbing his forehead in the way he only does when he’s overwhelmed or frustrated or both.
“cool. I… just… it’s goodtoseeyou,Ambition.” He stumbles out, then he’s in Patton’s room and the door is closed and Ambition is left staring at the closed door, wondering what exactly that was all about.
Perhaps he’ll ask Deceit and Remus for their side of the story later, now that Patton is on the road to doing ok. At least he didn’t seem angry anymore, just… off.
For now, he has to get Deceit and Remus ready for a longer visit from Patton. He doesn’t know how they’ll react, but a conversation is necessary. And he thinks they are all ready for it. Ready to start moving forwards. To start being… better.
The next little part of my Darkside Logan series! Enjoy!
...
He wakes to a wild screech, glitter and party popper streamers raining from the ceiling, an incredibly loud noise maker going off, fireworks exploding against the ceiling, in pops of deep indigo and silver sparks. He raises an eyebrow as he sits up, stretching, lips twitching into a smile at Remus whooping and cartwheeling around his room, finally coming to a stop in front of him, clapping his hands and bouncing on the balls of his feet.
“Good morning to you as well, Remus. That was quite an impressive show.” He says evenly, the last of the glitter settling on the ground around him. “I do hope you’ll clean that up later, otherwise it’ll get everywhere.” He yelps as Remus pulls him to his feet and into a waltz, disembodied music drifting through the room, laughing as Remus spins him quicker than his mind can process, dipping him low to the ground. Then Remus swears, and he feels the balance shift, and they’re both on the floor, Remus landing atop him in a tangle of limbs, both of them erupting into startled laughter.
“Not that you need a reason, but this seems like extra effort, even for you. What’s the occasion?” He asks, once they both get their laughter under control, untangling from each other as Remus helps him back to his feet, grin wide and wild, practically vibrating with energy.
“Cygie! You really don’t know!?” Remus exclaims, linking arms with Cygnus as they leave his room, slowly walking down the hall to their kitchen.
“Hmm… nothing comes to mind?” Remus squeals, pulling him faster towards the dark commons, Cygnus’s breath leaving him in a rush as he takes in the state of the room.
It’s decorated with indigo and silver streamers draped in intricate knots across the ceiling. There’s an archway made of black and blue balloons over the entry way to the kitchen, sparkling silver stars dotting the walls, glittering tape tracing constellations in them. And across the wall, above the couch, is a hand made, hand painted, beautifully caligrohpied sign.
“Happy birthday, Cygnus.” Janus says, echoing the sign, emerging from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel, watching him appraisingly.
He can’t seem to find his words.
“Cyg?” Remus asks softly, coming around his front, taking both of his hands, and he realizes his eyes are watering, on the verge of tears. “Oh shit, did we fuck up? I’m sorry, was it the glitter? Was it the penis I hid in the happy bday sign?”
“WHAT?!” Janus squawks indignantly at that, and Logan lets out a laugh, shaking his head, because he loves these two, so much, and he’s trying to regain his composure enough to explain.
“No, I… it’s wonderful. I just… I’ve never celebrated, my birthday before. I never… kept track, with them. I… it’s been a year, already?” He asks, looking between Remus and Janus, who are sharing slightly horrified and slightly concerned looks.
“You never… they never did anything for you? Not even Patton?” Remus asks, his voice so high it’s nearly at a pitch only dolphins can hear. He shakes his head, looking away.
“There were more important things to attend to. I didn’t want to distract everyone. No one… remembered, anyway, so I just… stopped, keeping track.” He explains, not protesting as Remus pulls him into a tight hug.
“Well. Your happiness and self worth are very much more important than having a productive day. If Roman gets a full week of birthday shenanigans, the least they could have done was give you a day, sweetling.” Janus adds softly, joining the hug for a brief moment, before pulling back, wiping away Cygnus’s tears, a soft smile on his face. “you deserve it, Cygnus. You work so hard, darling. You deserve to be pampered and fawned over for at least a day.”
“Every day must be my birthday then.” He answers, smiling at Janus’s soft laugh, who ruffles his hair as he passes by.
“Oh, you haven’t seen nothin yet, my starry night! Today is going to be a nonstop orgy of Cygnus appreciation! To Breakfast!” Remus screeches, sprinting into the kitchen, from which loud crashing emerges a moment later, along with a muffled “I’m okay!” That has Janus shaking his head with an exasperated smile as he follows Remus into the kitchen, ready to manage whatever mess he’d made.
…
A year.
It has been a year. One whole year. Three hundred and sixty five days. Five hundred, twenty five thousand, six hundred minutes. Thirty one million, five hundred thirty six thousand seconds.
It hasn’t felt like that long. Or maybe it has felt longer, with all the changes taking place in the mindscape. He’s not really sure, but it sure is giving him a bit of a strange sense of vertigo, right now.
It’s almost impossible, to compare where he is now to where he was a year ago, two years ago. He’s… happy. He’s so much happier than he’s ever been before, he feels appreciated, he feels loved, he feels listened to. He’s not working himself to near death every single day without giving himself any breaks. He’s not pretending to be a machine, not denying his emotions anymore. He’s smiling, he’s laughing, he’s crying, he’s… learning, how to express himself, to understand his emotions, and always, always, Remus and Janus were patient and considerate and there for him.
His relationships with the others are also probably better than they have ever been before. He was right, when he told Patton so long ago that they would do better as friends than as family. That the distance would be good for them.
Everyone is making progress, in leaps and bounds, in acknowledging their own faults, in realizing their own shortcomings, in accepting their flaws and reaching out for help. It helps, he supposes, that there are now two sides who can, in a way, sense lies. Neither him nor Janus will let the others get away with denying their needs or wants, not when it’s important, anyways, and slowly, everyone is getting into the habit of simply… not hiding.
Patton is open, about his bad days. The days he calls ‘gray days’, where the world doesn’t seem to shine, where nothing feels right or good, and he can’t see a point to getting out of bed. He’s devised several signals, clear markers with everyone that show a day is gray, so he doesn’t have to say it, to speak it out loud, because even that is too hard, somedays, it’s easier to just leave a frowny face sticker on his door, and the first one to see it tells everyone else, who take turns spending time with him, coaxing him into activities, or at least out of bed, slowly driving the apathy away.
Roman is still trying to find himself. To rebuild himself, from the crushing defeat and existential crisis of the wedding, and everything it resulted in. He still struggles to admit when he’s struggling, still finds it hard to portray anything other than the happy, peppy persona, but he doesn’t pull back, run, anymore, when someone calls him out. If someone asks how he’s feeling, how he’s doing, Roman won’t paste on a smile and chirp out an answer. He’ll let his mask fall, and answer honestly. It’s too hard, yet, to bring it up himself, so the others are learning to ask, making sure to ask, making sure to not simply brush Roman’s worries or frustrations aside. He’s happier, too, Cygnus knows, the time spent writing with Thomas has him happier than he’s been in years, and more and more days the answer to how he’s feeling is on the okay side of the scale.
Virgil… has stayed much the same, outwardly. But he spends more time, now, with Remus and Janus, and… himself. They’ve talked, quite a lot, actually. He explained his history with the other two dark sides, why he acted how he had towards them, had explained too about his old, unhealthy, habits, how he still struggles, every once in a while, though he hasn’t given in and done it in years. He’d hugged Virgil then, it was maybe the bravest thing the anxious side had ever done, telling him that, telling him everything, apologizing for how he’d reacted, the first time he had appeared to all of them, as Ambition. He’d found it impossible, not to forgive him. Overall, he’d handled it the best out of any of them.
And Thomas.
He’s so proud of Thomas. He’s taken everything in stride. He’s making time for himself, making time to spend individually with every side.
He’s writing with Roman, and also with Remus, working with him to express his horrifying ideas in darkly comedic ways, countering Roman’s fairy tale quests and happy endings.
He’s watching movies with Virgil, or swapping music with him, listening to him spout off about his favorite bands, favorite lyrics. They’ve broken out the karaoke machine a couple times, singing at the top of their lungs, dancing like fools around the living room until they’re breathless from laughing. Virgil’s smile is becoming a more and more common sight.
He’s crafting with Patton, the fatherly side teaching him how to knit and crochet, which Patton is an expert at, fawning over every one of Thomas’s haphazard attempts at a scarf or pot holder. While their hands are busy, they talk, about anything and everything. They’re even attempting to learn how to cook together, though that often ends with the smoke alarm going off. They’re not allowed to cook unsupervised anymore, usually Virgil or Janus keeping things from getting too out of hand from the living room couch.
He’s playing video games with Janus, who loves to pick out the strange, indie games, the ones with ambiguous story lines, twist endings, choices that affect the game, affect the people in it. They discuss undertale for hours, Janus going on an hour long monolague of Flowey’s morality, his take on how much influence Asriel actually has on Flowy, when he’s soulless, surprised that Thomas pays attention the whole time, just as into the game as he is. They play A Way Out together, and Thomas actually throws the controller at the plot twist, shock on his face, as he’s forced to battle Janus, who is laughing the whole time at his indignant spluttering and shocked expression, Janus absolutely annihilating him.
And himself. Thomas hadn’t been lying, when he said nothing changed, between the two of them, just because he is now Ambition. Thomas hasn’t shied away from him, hasn’t excluded him. He’s made time for him, as well. He’d bought a telescope, and set it up in the backyard. They go stargazing together, Cygnus pointing out the planets, when visible, the constellations, passing comets, relaying their history and myths, Thomas asking questions at every turn, until their conversation was somewhere else entirely, talking about anything and everything. They’d also started a bit of a book club, as Thomas called it, though it was really just the two of them. Each month they took turns giving the other a book to read, and then they’d discuss it. He usually sticks to the classics, the three muskateers, moby dick, the jungle book, and he was a bit surprised at how fast Thomas took to them, how much he enjoyed them, enjoyed discussing them. Thomas’s choices surprise him sometimes, too. It’s not always another adventure novel, sometimes it’s the original book of Wicked, or a nonfiction book about the history of cartoon animation, he varies more than Cygnus would have guessed, and he’s surprised at how… entertained, he is, by Thomas’s choices, the ones he would never have picked to read himself.
But most importantly, most incredibly, were the others. Patton, Roman, Logan, Virgil. They had all, individually, apologized, for the way they had treated him, talked over him, ignored him, silenced him. And they were proving they meant it. Every day, they were proving they meant those apologies. They were listening to him. Listening to each other. Everyone has an equal voice, now, and everything feels… good.
So why, does it having been a year, make him feel so… strange? It’s not sadness, not even nostalgia, really, it’s… something melancholy. Something a bit happy, something a bit sad, something a bit wistful.
“Cygnus? Are you alright?” He blinks away his thoughts, realizing he’s been staring at his plate of pancakes for a solid five minutes without taking a bite. They look delicious, topped with sugared berries and warm syrup.
“Just… lost in thought. These are from your garden, correct? Hopefully the non venomous section.” He answers, looking up at Remus, who’s shoveling pancakes topped with caramel and rainbow sprinkles into his mouth, who swallows hugely, nodding.
“Yuppers! And I did pick the ones that won’t kill you, just for your b-day, cygie! At least, they should be mostly non toxic. Let me know if your tongue starts tingling.” Remus answers, and Cygnus chuckles, cutting into his pancakes.
“I will take that into account.”
…
He doesn’t know what he’s doing, when he wanders up the stairs, towards the light side living room. He doesn’t even intend to go there, really, it’s just… where he’s drawn.
“Ambition. We, uh, didn’t expect you, so early.” Roman says, peeking out of the living room, moving to lean against the doorframe, blocking his view of it before he could see anything.
“Roman. You are acting… strange?”
“Me? Wha? No, I’m being perfectly normal! Because you, Ambition, is here!” He sputters, saying the last sentence far too loud to be normal. He’s about to reply, when Patton’s head appears, shooing Roman out of the way.
“You, go finish the… the project! Ok, Roman?” Roman nods, scurrying back into the living room, Patton taking his place blocking the doorway.
“Is everything alright, Patton?” He asks, slightly amused, and only mildly concerned at a distant curse from Virgil.
“Uh huh! Just finishing up something! What brings you here, Ambition? Not that it isn’t good to see you, and you’re of course welcome here all the time, but why on this particular day at this particular moment have you chosen to come visit?” Patton squeaks, his tone rising in pitch until it was nearly above human hearing.
“Are you alright, Patton?” He asks, trying to gauge what exactly has everyone so on edge.
“Yup! Just waiting for the ok!”
“The okay for what?”
“We’re ready!” Roman calls, and Patton steps aside.
“The ok for this.” Patton says softly, stepping aside and ushering him into the living room. For the second time this day, all the air escapes his lungs, and his hands cover his mouth to stifle whatever noise is trying to escape, he can’t tell if it’s a sob or a laugh or something in between.
The room is decorated with glow in the dark stars, blue and white flowers climb the walls on deep green vines, blooming from the cracks in the plaster, filling the room with the sweet smell of summer. On the table sits a cake, carefully air blown a blue ombre, constellations carefully traced across it in silver gilding, it must have taken hours. He can feel the tears slipping down his face, knows everyone is trying to figure out what to do.
“Ambition. Can I hug you?” Virgil asks, stepping into his field of view, and he nods, letting Virgil wrap his arms around him, surprising even himself as he hugs back, face buried in his shoulder. He feels Roman’s arms wrap around him from behind, Patton’s joining a moment later, surrounding him in warmth.
“you remembered. I… you’ve never…”
“We know. I know, Amby. And we’re so sorry.” Roman murmurs, pulling back.
“I know this doesn’t make up for that, for all those years… but we thought maybe, maybe this could be part of starting over. Of being better.” Patton adds, smiling through his own teary eyes as he pats Ambition’s shoulder, before pulling away as well, Ambition finally emerging from Virgil’s embrace, swiping at his eyes.
“Yes. I would… like that.” He mumbles, still a bit awestruck.
“Oh, let’s get Janus and Remus, for presents!” He frowns slightly at that, stepping back.
“Did they put you up to this?” He asks, voice trembling, and he hears Janus’s soft laugh from the doorway.
“No, sweetling. This was all them. We didn’t tell them a thing.” Janus murmurs, appearing with a swish of his cape, Remus thundering up the stairs behind him.
“Nice digs! Not nearly as sweet as our decorations of course, but you tried!” Roman splutters indignantly at that, squaring off against his twin.
“Please! I bet I could plan a party better than you, any day!”
“Maybe if it was for babies. Can you even make a cocktail?”
“Of course! I know how to mix drinks, Remus.” Remus grinned, eyes swirling.
“I was thinking more of an entrée.” He replies with a smirk and shoulder shimmy.
“Remus.” Janus says, exasperated, glancing at Patton.
“It’s alright. He’s just excited! I’m sure you’d throw very interesting parties, Remus. If… if you promise not to make it too scary, maybe you and Virgil could team up for a Halloween one.” Patton suggests, laughing as Remus squeals, launching himself into Virgil's arms, who catches him instinctually in a Scooby-Doo like hold, before dropping him like a hot potato.
“What the heck, dude!?”
“Can we? It’ll be like old times, you and me, creating horrors and monsters and creeping lurking things? Pleaaaaase?” Virgil snorts as Remus bats his eyelids at him, rolling his eyes.
“Yeah, sure, whatever.” He mutters in agreement, trying to contain his own grin as Remus whoops, spinning him around in a circle, already babbling about ideas. It’s good, to see them laughing together.
“I believe someone said something about presents?” Janus drawls, resting a hand on Cygnus’s back, gently leading him to sit down on the couch. Instantly, everyone else crowds around, clamoring over who gets to go first, and he’s crying again, because not only are they giving him attention, they’re fighting for his attention, and he supposes he should feel guilty about liking it, but Janus has rubbed off on him, a bit, so he just smiles, instead.
Before anyone else can, Roman shoves a box into his hands, grinning at having gotten in ‘the first gift’, everyone settling as he stares at the shimmery blue wrapping paper. Tentatively, he peels back the paper, removing the cardboard top of the small box, eyes widening.
It’s a large, blue star sapphire, embedded in a silver filigree, hanging from a silver chain. He lifts it, slightly awestruck, turning it over as his thumb feels grooves against the back, tilting his head to decipher the writing, discovering it’s his name, Ambition, in circular galifreyan.
“Did I get the spelling right? I looked up several guides, but there’s a lot of rules and such.” Roman asks, no doubt nervous at his silence.
“It’s… it’s perfect, Roman. Thank you.” He says softly, slipping the chain over his head, the pendant resting just above his heart. He looks up in time to see Roman’s blush, his expression so tenderly soft, looking at him, that he clears his throat and looks away.
“Me next! Ours are a set!” Remus interrupts, shoving another box into his hands, slightly larger than the previous one, though much the same weight. “Ro had the idea, and we coordinated our results!” He chirps, as Cygnus pulls open the box, a soft grin already on his face.
It’s a silver circlet, with a teardrop blue diamond that will sit in the center of his forehead, and engraved along the inside of the circlet is more galifreyan, this time that reads ‘cygnus’. The band is thin and light, but sturdy, and he knows the engraving must have taken a long time, to do by hand, requiring a lot of patience and focus.
“It’s wonderful.” He murmurs, slipping it onto his head, finding the weight odd, but rather comforting. His past self would have scoffed, at these items, said he didn’t desire to play pretend, to play dress up, and what was the point of them? But he knows better, now, has more confidence in himself and expressing himself, now, and he knows he’ll rarely be seen without them on, he loves them already.
“Wow, ok, well, way to make a side feel wholly inadequate. Um, here, I guess.” Virgil mumbles nervously, depositing a tissue paper wrapped item in his lap. “It’s not much, compared to, that, but-“ Virgil cuts himself off with a shrug, toeing the floor nervously as he unwraps the paper.
It’s a photo. He’s in the kitchen, head thrown back, laughing. Remus is a blur of green movement in the background, chasing a blur of red, a pot is boiling over on the stove, Patton frantically stirring it, trying to scold the twins from over his shoulder, and somehow Janus is hissing from atop the fridge, clearly having climbed up there to escape the shenanigans below. He smiles, running his thumb over the frame, touched that Virgil had thought to capture that moment, one of the first moments of happiness since everything had happened, one of the first times they’d all been together, and all let themselves go.
“I love it, Virg. I… thank you.” He murmurs, low and sincere, and a small smile creeps across Virgil’s face as he nods, tension leaking out of his shoulders.
Janus is next, his simple, a book Cygnus has been meaning to read for ages, but he knows it’s really an invitation for a debate, or perhaps to set up a lecture in the mindscape theater, an open invitation for a day spent ranting and raving and arguing and debating, until they’re both too tired to continue, losing their thoughts mid sentence, trying to string together coherent points at three am. He sets it aside with a small nod and smile, all Janus needs, to know he’s understood, and appreciates it.
Patton is last, but not least, not in the slightest, as he sits down on the couch beside him, nervously running his hand up and down the couch.
“Mine’s a bit… a bit of a group project, I suppose.” He says, handing the package to Cygnus. It’s bigger than the others, with a bit more weight to it, as well, a card taped atop the paper wrapped package. The front has a rough drawing, of all of them together, holding hands. Inside it says ‘Ambition. You’ll always be a part of my heart. Happy birthday, kiddo. Love you.’ With doodles of butterflies and stars and planets.
He's already smiling warmly at that, as he carefully sets it aside, opening the package to find a large book. On the cover is space for a photo to be inserted, and he recognizes it immediately, it’s a selfie Thomas took with all of them. The cover is patterned in silver constellations, the background a deep blue, and curiously, he flips it open, finding the cover is signed by Patton, Virgil, and Roman, who have all written short notes to him, expressing their support, their love, their pride, in who he is becoming, in his own self. His hand is shaky as he turns the page, finding it decorated with stickers and intricate doodles outlining the edges of the pages, the edges of the photographs, each of the three of them recounting what was going on in each picture, leaving their own commentary, witty and sarcastic and heartfelt, on each photo of him smiling, them as a group, him stargazing with Thomas, Him and Janus in the debate room, eyes flashing as they argue, him on stage, wearing safety goggles, Remus helping him with an experiment, him and Patton, decorating cookies, Roman dragging him through the imagination, to search for dragons, a thousand memories and moments and smiles, genuine smiles, all put in one place, all outlined with drawings, all filled in with their words and laughter and remembrances, and he’s shaking, again, a hand over his mouth as he puts the book aside, not wanting tears to stain the pictures, to smear the ink, he wants it to stay perfect and pristine forever, he hadn’t realized they were taking pictures, hadn’t realized they’d cared to memorialize his happiness, hadn’t realized that those moments meant just as much to them as they did to him. Hadn’t realized how much they meant it, when they said they truly, deeply, cared.
“Oh, kiddo. Can I?” Patton asks, arms open, and he nods, letting Patton sweep him up into a hug, letting himself squeeze back, breath hitching. “I love you so much, Ambition, and I’m so… I’m so proud of you. I’m so proud of all you’ve done, and how far you’ve come, and much you pushed all of us to be better, you’re so good, Amby, you’ve always been the best of us. And I’m just… I’m so glad, to see you so happy, kiddo. That’s all I’ve ever wanted, for any of you, is to be happy. You’re a part of this family, kiddo, and we love you, we all love you, so, so much.” Patton murmurs, as he feels others joining the hug, surrounding him in warmth and arms and soft assurances from all sides, overwhelming him, with their support, their love, their affection. It’s everything, this is everything he’d ever hoped for, been too afraid to ask for, been denied, as Logan.
But this… they’d done this. All by themselves, they’d done this, they’d remembered, they’d gone out of their way, to do this for him, they’ve been doing it for the entire year, every day, and he realizes, suddenly, that he’s started trusting them again. That he wants this to truly be a new start, this, today, here, is the last bit of proof that he needed, to show him they mean it, they mean their words and promises about doing better, they mean their I love you’s and affection, they put weight behind their words, and followed through, and he thinks maybe it’s time he does the same.
So despite himself, he pulls away from the hug, smiling at the mild cursing that comes with the twins trying to disentangle themselves from around him, taking a moment to wipe away the tears from his eyes, to take a deep breath, to compose himself. His heart is pounding, irrational fear biting at his heels, and he thinks Janus understands, the leap of faith he is about to take, can sense what he is about to do, and he slips his hand into his to steady him.
“I… have something, I would like to say.” He says, softly, voice a bit tremulous, but the others all give him encouraging nods, and once again, he’s shocked at the difference between now and then, everyone staying silent, giving him space to speak, willing to listen. “I know this hasn’t been easy. I know… I know it hurt, in a lot of different ways, everything… everything that’s happened. But instead of pulling further away, this pulled all of us closer together, and I’m… I’m proud, of everyone, for it. You’ve all grown, so much, and I just… just thank you. Thank you for meaning it, when you said you would work harder, listen more, be better. Thank you for doing it, for showing it, for giving me, for giving each other, the room to grow. The support that was necessary, for that growth to happen.” He pauses, taking in a deep breath, feeling everyone’s eyes on him.
He realizes suddenly he’d never gotten a proper name reveal before. Before, when they all chose names, he just picked the easiest one to remember, he hadn’t seen a point, to personalizing it. And Patton had called him Logan in front of Thomas, thus accidentally stealing that moment from him, that choice, to share it or not. He’s never had to worry, about a reaction, about the weight of it, about the consequences. Then Janus squeezes his hand, and he exhales, looking up at each of them for a long moment, seeing the question, the hesitation, the dawning understanding where this is going, in Virgil’s eyes.
“So I think… I think it’s time we start over, properly. No more hiding. No more secrets. No more… titles. My name… my name is Cygnus Ambition Sanders.” He’s barely finished the sentence, when Patton is barreling into him once again, wrapping him in a tight hug, tears falling though he’s grinning hugely as he pulls away, eyes shining behind his glasses.
“Thank you. Cygnus, thank you.” Patton says softly, practically bouncing in excitement, the air radiating with his joy and delight and heart stopping love.
“It suits you, teach.” Virgil says simply, though he wears one of his rare, open, lopsided grins, eyes warm and soft as he looks at him, somehow warming his heart more, because he knows Virgil understands, what it means, how much it means, that he’s shared his name. Virgil has been there, in much the same position he himself is now in, and he relaxes slightly at his approval.
“Cygnus.” Roman murmurs, seemingly a bit dazed by the revelation, though the name sounds like music on his lips, making Cygnus’s ears burn red, as Roman sweeps him up, spinning and dipping him, a mirror of Remus this morning, god was it only this morning? And he remembers once more just how similar the twins are, though they’re both loathe to admit it. He laughs as Roman sets him upright once more, pressing close in a moment long hug, steady and firm and grounding. “thank you, Cygnus. You’re so brave, and we’re so, so lucky, to have you with us.” He murmurs, before stepping away. “See Remus! That’s how you do a dip!” He yells at his brother, who’s grinning ear to ear, laughing.
“But it’s so much more fun to drop them!” Still, Remus sweeps him into a hug as well before skipping off, trying to steal frosting off the cake, if Virgil’s indignant screech and subsequent pounding of footsteps chasing is anything to go by.
Janus pulls him close, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head before leaning forwards until their foreheads touch, resting against each other, his hand stroking back a stray piece of hair, lingering against his cheek in a pleasant warmth.
“Proud of you, lovely. You’ve done so well, Cygnus, you really have.” He smiles, not pulling away.
“You know this doesn’t change anything, correct? I’m not moving back. I’m not leaving you and Remus. I will never.” He murmurs back, a promise, ringing with truth, and he feels some of the tension washing out of Janus.
“Of course. Now, let’s cut into that cake before Remus decides to shove the entire thing into his gaping maw.” He laughs, stepping back, letting Janus lead them back into the fray the party has become, smiling at the single candle atop the cake, Patton struggling with the lighter, before Virgil gently pries it away, lighting the candle in one go, despite muttering about it being a fire hazard and the whole house going up in flames, Janus wrangling the twins out of their chase to sing happy birthday, both of them trying to outdo each other with riffs, though they finally do actually finish the song together, harmonizing the last few lines.
Staring at the lit candle, at the joyful, expectant faces around him, Cygnus realizes he only has one single wish, as he blows out the candle.
He's with everyone, when he feels the familiar tug. A bit surprising, given that no one else seems to feel it, and it makes his fragile heart beat just a bit faster.
He feels so cracked, still.
Everyone is being nice, everyone is making sure to spend time with him, spend time together, as groups or one on one, dark side, light side, it’s mattering less and less by the day. Instead of there being an endless chasm between the two worlds, it’s more like a two story apartment.
When Remus appears, he's met with a small smile from Patton, a quiet hey from Virgil, and wraps him in a hug before he has a chance to say a word. He comes around more often now. Roman feels badly, for how much he scared everyone, but especially Remus. He's been spending more time with his twin, who understands him better than anyone, and these days they spend more time together than apart.
Janus always pretends to be annoyed, visiting the light side, even though he’s the one that chose to stop by. He’s spending more time with Virgil, the two of them mending whatever fence had been broken. Often, he finds them in the living room, Virgil curled against Janus, eyes closed, if not fully asleep, Janus smiling softly as he pets Virgil's hair. It’s sweet, he thinks. Makes him think of Patton.
Patton has been making an effort, too. Not just inviting the others up for dinners or movie nights, but going downstairs, playing board games, debating, in a constructive way, with Dee, or listening to Ambition. Working with all of them to find a healthier balance of work and self care, both for Thomas and all of them.
It’s… good.
For the first time in a long time, things feel good. Everyone is being heard.
Which is why this call makes him afraid, because he hasn’t spoken to Thomas since he’d fallen apart in front of him, and he’s doing better now, too, but the wounds are still there, still a barely a closed scab over his heart, and he feels… raw.
“Roman?” He looks up at the question in Virgil's voice, he no doubt can feel the anxiety prickling under his skin.
“Thomas. He's calling me.” He answers. Virgil nods, slipping his headphones off his ears, around his shoulders.
Patton and Janus are in the kitchen, having a baking competition (who knew Dee had a guilty pleasure for cooking shows, his favorite, of course, being Cutthroat Kitchen?), Virgil is sitting on the steps, listening to his music and meditating. Ambition is on the couch, reading a book, softly discussing it with Remus, and he himself is sitting on the floor in front of the table, coloring idly while listening to Ambition, occasionally asking a question or adding his input. He can feel Ambition's surprise and spark of happiness each time he does, proving he's been listening to every word, and he wishes he'd started listening sooner.
But there's no point in regrets, just in doing better, which is what he's been trying to convince himself of.
“I suggest you go answer him, then.” Ambition replies evenly, though he can hear the soft concern in his voice.
“I should.” He says, making no move to leave, and he feels Remus squeeze his shoulder.
“It’s ok, Ro. I promise. It’ll be good.” He sighs at that soft assurance, pushing himself to his feet. He doesn’t know if Remus is right or not, but he knows not going now will only make his own anxiety worse. Like a band aid. Just gotta rip it off and pray the sting fades. “And if it isn’t, I’ll haunt his nightmares!” Remus adds cheerily.
“You'll do that regardless, you insufferable gremlin.” He says fondly, ruffling Remus's hair, grinning, sinking out before Remus can retaliate, hearing Ambition laugh at the squawking duke.
He sinks up into the living room. No dramatic flourish or loud sing song declaration, his voice seems stuck in his throat, and he feels oh so small again.
“Hey, bud.” He looks up, a bit surprised to see Thomas sitting on the couch, wearing comfy clothes and chilling out, a soft smile on his lips.
“Hello.” He replies, a bit strained, a bit awkward.
“Wanna come hang out?” He furrows his brow, plucking at his sweater. He's wearing the Christmas one, he hasn’t put his prince outfit back on yet. He doesn’t feel like he's earned it. Like he is a prince.
“Why?” he asks, watching Thomas closely as he frowns slightly, clearly thinking over his words carefully.
“Because I've been hurting you without noticing, and that needs to stop. I care about you, Roman, and I… haven’t been very good at showing it, lately. I’m sorry.” He shakes his head, walking quickly to the couch, kneeling before Thomas, taking one of his hands. A knight swearing fealty to his noble.
“You don’t have anything to be sorry for. I should be better than this, that’s the problem, is I’m not, I’ve never been… good enough. You’re so… amazing, Thomas, you can accomplish so, so much, but I’m just not good enough to get you there. Maybe if it were still King, maybe if there were only one of us, but alone, I can’t, and I’m the one who’s so, so sorry.”
Thomas is looking down at him, brown eyes surprised, as he fumbles for words. He settles on leaning forwards, wrapping his arms around Roman's neck in an all encompassing hug. His breath hitches, and suddenly he’s crying, burying his face against Thomas.
“oh, buddy. I’ve really broken you, huh?” Thomas murmurs, slipping off the couch and onto the floor with him, rubbing up and down his back, hugging him closer.
“I’m so-rry. I t-try so hard but it's not enough and I d-don't kn-know what else I can do.” He stutters out, pressing tighter against Thomas's shoulder, feeling guilty for accepting this comfort, this contact, he’s supposed to be the strong one, supposed to be the defender, not the one falling apart.
“I know, God Roman, I know, I can feel it, everyday I can feel how hard you try and it’s not your fault, you are always good enough, you are always enough. I know how much you give up, I know how utterly selfless you are, I know how hard you try to cover up all your fears and flaws and that’s fine, but it’s fine to be hurting, too, it’s fine to be sad, it’s fine to be selfish. It’s ok to fight for yourself, Roman, not just for me.” He lets the touch soothe him, lets his tears slowly stop, though he doesn't move from where he's practically curled against Thomas.
“It isn’t. Not when I fail. At everything I do, I fail. Every romance, every audition, every dream and hope and goal, I have failed. I failed to look out for Remus, I failed to accept Deceit, I failed to reach out to Logan, I failed to be kind to Virgil, I failed them, I failed you, I’m a failure.” Thomas pulls back, hands on his shoulders, fiery warmth in his eyes that he knows used to be reflected in his own. But his fire has burned low, barely an ember, and that aching tiredness is back in his bones. “you deserve so much better.”
“No. Roman, you’re my hero.” He jolts at those words, denials ready to fall from his lips, but Thomas shakes his head, forcing Roman to look up, look at him. “you are. You are not a failure. You are the reason I go to every audition, the reason I make my own videos, the reason I have the amazing career and life that I have. You are the reason I have all my friends, because you push me to talk, to meet new people, to be spontaneous. You’re the reason I dream big, the reason I sing for no reason, the reason I doodle, the reason I love art of all kinds. All my passion and dreams and love! How could you ever have failed me, when you’ve given me all of that? When you continue to give everything you are, even when it’s tearing you to pieces. Even when you’re so hurt, you still try and smile and lighten my mood, and act brave and strong even when you feel anything but. You make me better, Roman. You make me happy. Even at your worst, I love you. I will always love you and need you and want you. You’re my hero, Roman. You are.”
He can’t breathe. It feels like his lungs are on fire, and he finally sucks in a breath, something tight in his chest unknotting itself at Thomas’s declaration, the cold, hard pit of despair and self loathing starts to lighten, and he's gasping in air like a man nearly drowned because for the first in time in nearly a week he can breathe again.
He lets his head thump forwards, forehead resting against Thomas's chest as he exhales a huge, shuddering breath, letting Thomas rub up and down his arms to ground him. He’s not crying, exactly, it’s somewhere between euphoria and crushing doubt, gasping and shaking as he tries to steady himself.
“Roman? You ok?” He’s not, not yet, not really, but he’s better, he’s so, so much better, but he can’t find the words to express what it feels like to have this incredible weight lifted from his shoulders, these shackles he hadn’t even realized he’d chained himself to, to be released, and it’s impossible to remember the last time he felt this light, this almost dazzlingly happy.
“Yes. Just… tired. The normal kind, not… not the existential dread kind.” He replies, smiling at Thomas’s small laugh, more weight freeing itself from the pit of his stomach at that sound, a small reflection of how he himself feels. “thank you.” He whispers.
“Always, Ro. I’m here for you, alright? If you’re not feeling heard, if we’re being too harsh instead of constructive, if you just need to talk, I’m here.” He pulls back finally, wiping at his eyes, unable to help the grin on his face, feeling a thousand beams of light shining inside his chest at how Thomas grins right back, warm, soft, care and hope in his eyes. “Another thing. I know you work hard, for me, too hard, for your own good, sometimes. I know creating things is literally your role, but it doesn’t always have to be your job, y’know? It… it should be fun. It should be something we love doing, even when we are doing it for the show, or a video, or whatever. So, we’re going to start writing together, okay? Anything we want, anything we think of, no matter how silly or nonsensical or stupid it is, even if it doesn’t have a plot, even if it’s just word vomit on the page. Just… doing it together, to do something together. For fun. Yeah?” He almost breaks, he can feel tears threatening again, because god, when was the last time he felt this happy, this stupid with joy, because Thomas is right, he misses questing for fun, not frustration, he misses writing short stories or poems, not panicking over late scripts or forcing ideas. He misses writing or drawing whatever comes to mind, instead of narrowing his scope so specifically he can’t find a single idea in his sea of millions. And to do that, with Thomas, together? They’re going to make worlds upon worlds of curious, wonderful, quirky creatures. He’s already more excited for this than he has been for anything else in years, already ideas are springing to mind, and he loves it.
“yes. Please, yes.” He near whispers, afraid this is a dream, afraid this is a wonderful, beautiful dream, that will shatter any second along with his heart. “I would really, really love that.” Thomas beams at him again, slipping back up onto the couch, patting the cushion next to him.
“Cool. Good, I didn’t want to pressure you, but I’m kinda super excited about it.” He laughs, sitting next to Thomas, realizing Kingdom Hearts is pulled up on the screen, the very first one, and he sees Thomas looking at him out of the corner of his eye, with that silly, stupid grin.
“What is it Thomas the dank engine?” He asks, borrowing one of Patton’s nick names. Thomas shakes his head, grin growing somehow wider, grabbing the controller.
“It’s just good to see you looking like… you again, Princey.” He looks down, realizing he’s unconsciously shifted himself back into his prince attire, katana and all, and he dramatically sighs, leaning back into the cushions.
“Yes, well, a prince’s work is never done. For now, we must vanquish the vile villainous, the darkest shadow, the mistress of all evil herself! FOR DISNEY!” He cries, brandishing his weapon, Thomas snorting, laughing.
“Dude, she’s like one of the last bosses we fight. We’ll get to Hades waaaay before her.”
“Well, it’s the intention that counts. ONWARDS!” He cries, Thomas shaking his head fondly as he presses start, both of them on the edge of their seats even though they already know by heart what is about to happen, bantering back and forth over the dialogue, doing their best impressions of the characters to read their dialogue.
It’s fun and silly and stupid, and every moment of it is a balm to his sore and broken heart, until by the time he returns to his room, far, far later than he should, well past midnight, he is smiling and his stomach aches from laughing, and he suspects that’s the reason none of the others fetched him sooner, told him or Thomas to go to bed, because his laughter had echoed through the mindscape for the first time in months.
He feels solid, again.
He feels right, again.
And the next morning, when Patton wakes slowly to the smell of waffles and bacon, and he stumbles into the hall, running into Virgil, who holds a finger to his lips, tilting his head towards the kitchen, he stays silent, first out of confusion, then out of awe and relief strong enough to bring tears to his eyes, as he finally realizes what he’s hearing.
Singing. For the first time in nearly four months, Roman is shamelessly, joylessly, singing.
