Two days late but here is the last story for @intrulogicalweek this year! Once again, it was lots of fun and I am amazed that I am still not tired of these dorks 🤭 Anyway, I couldn't help myself and again sneacked in some Intruloceit, though Janus doesn't make an actual appearance. If you want more context for this story, read Sk8er Boi which I wrote for last years Dukeceit Week! It's a prequel to this but not a necessary read to understand this one. Hope you enjoy! 💙💚
“Hey Lo, I’m home!” Remus called as he closed the door to their apartment behind him.
“Welcome back!” his boyfriend answered from what was most likely the living room. Remus quickly took off his combat boots and leather jacket before hurrying to find him. He was indeed in the living room, typing something on his laptop. Remus came to a stop in front of him, bouncing on his feet quietly as he waited for Logan’s signal that he was done.
His boyfriend made an audible click on something, let his eyes dance across the screen once more and then nodded. With a grin, Remus plugged the laptop off his lap and put it on the coffee table before taking its place.
“Hello darling, did you miss me?” he purred as he straddled Logan’s lap.
“I did, Cephy,” his boyfriend chuckled. “I hope you had an enjoyable day.”
“I did! I did! It was very fun, we—”
“Before you start telling me about it – and I do want to hear it,” Logan softly interrupted him, “I have some news for you.”
Remus’ interest was immediately piqued. “What?!” He leaned closer, their noses almost touching.
“The first recording of your new album arrived today.”
With a delighted screech, Remus sprung up and clapped his hands. “Play it, play it, play it!”
“I thought you might say that,” Logan chuckled and grabbed a remote that sat next to him. With one button press, their stereo started playing the newest song of Remus’ rock band and with an excited wiggle, Logan was pulled up and into Remus’ arms.
“Let’s dance!”
They twirled around their living room, Remus holding Logan close to his chest and humming along to the melody. The dance didn’t fit with the music, but Logan was used to that. When Remus got excited, he liked to hold his loved ones close and his usual dance moves didn’t allow for that, so instead he just hugged Logan close and spun around a bit.
It was a tradition at this point with every new bit of music they produced.
“It’s a good album, Cephy. You outdid yourself again,” Logan praised, and Remus kissed him enthusiastically.
“Wasn’t just me! You and Virgil and Pat and Ro all did a lot, too!”
“Of course.”
For a moment they just enjoyed the music until Remus’ initial burst of energy dissipated a bit. He still held Logan close and swayed along to the rhythm but stopped with the spinning. Logan was grateful, he was starting to get dizzy.
“I’d love to hear about your day now,” he reminded, smiling up at Remus, whose expression brightened.
“Oh, it was great! Jannie and I had lots of fun chugging the golf balls as far as possible!”
“Aren’t the courses in a mini golf park rather, well, small? I cannot imagine you had to shoot them all that far.”
“We didn’t!”
With a fond sigh, Logan dropped the topic. He should have known that Remus wouldn’t play the game as intended.
“As long as you didn’t hurt anyone, I guess that is fine, too.”
“We didn’t hit anyone. The owner wasn’t all too pleased with us though,” Remus giggled.
“I can imagine.”
“Jannie said he enjoyed himself though. He also asked about you, you know.”
Logan stiffened slightly in Remus’ arms. “Did he now?”
Remus stopped their dance entirely and grabbed the remote to turn the music down, though he kept his boyfriend close.
“He did. He’d really like to get to know you, too.”
“I know. I would like that as well.”
“But?”
Oh, Remus knew him too well. Nervously, Logan fiddled with Remus’ shirt, keeping his head low to avoid eye contact.
“But I still feel like it’s too early, don’t you? I mean, you just started going out, maybe we should wait to see if—”
Remus squeezed his shoulder to stop his rambling.
“I don’t think that’s actually your issue, is it, Lo Lo? Me and Janus is our thing, you don’t have to worry about us. And there’s nothing to worry about to begin with, we’re great. I really like him, and he likes me, too. And I’m sure you would like him as well if you gave him a chance.”
“I want to give him a chance. It’s just that I…” He trailed off but Remus didn’t push him. He knew that Logan sometimes needed to gather his thoughts before speaking. “I am worried. I know we both agreed that we are open to multiple partners and I am not taking that back. I love you and I am happy that Janus makes you happy as well. I… I am simple worried about managing two relationships at once, I have never done so before.”
“And that’s a valid thing to worry about,” Remus nodded. “It’s not gonna be easy, I mean, our relationship took a while to work out, too. But I’m here for you. And Jannie will understand it, too. I don’t want to share more than I should, but you know he’s trans and grew up in a rather conservative household. He understands how scary change can be and that some stuff will take time to figure out. None of us can expect this to go perfectly, so don’t think about it too much.”
“I know. I’m trying.”
“And I’m very proud of you for that.” Remus pressed a kiss into Logan’s hair. “If you need more time, I won’t push you. But maybe consider letting me invite him for tea or something? It doesn’t have to be anything big; it doesn’t even have to be a date. Just a conversation to start with, okay?”
Logan took a deep breath.
A conversation.
Yeah, he could do that.
“Yes. I’ll try and find something I am comfortable including him in.”
“Thank you, starlight.” Remus hugged him closer, nuzzling him contently. “I love you.” “I love you too, Cephy.”
WC: 3378 - Rated: T - CW: swearing, non-graphic discussions of abuse
Janus depositions Logan in preparation for their court battle with Kelly. He tells Janus everything. Well, nearly everything. Everything relevant, Logan is certain.
I have a tale to tell
Sometimes it gets so hard to hide it well
I was not ready for the fall
Too blind to see the writing on the wall
A man can tell a thousand lies
I've learned my lesson well
Hope I live to tell the secret I have learned
'Til then, it will burn inside of me
- Live to Tell, Madonna
Roman stayed until Saturday afternoon. They spent the night on the couch, talking and… to be honest, each had dozed a bit, as well. Logan had fallen asleep first, warm and safe, wrapped in Roman's arms, holding him just as closely. The next morning, the boys didn’t question Roman’s presence and simply greeted him like he belonged there.
Despite his worries, they’d had a blissful weekend together, with cake and leftovers for breakfast, and a thrift store hunt for books and Doctor Who DVDs later in the day. Saying goodbye to Roman had been difficult, with wild fantasies of making a permanent space for him flitting through Logan's mind. But Remy's scheme to meet up the next weekend for the movie gave them all something to look forward to.
Remy’s housemate Emile came by Sunday afternoon after spending the weekend with his parents and they’d all fumbled their way through making sushi with the kit the boys had given him for his birthday. Emile had even gifted him a little matcha tea set, the sakura petals on the bamboo finish perfectly matching the kit from his sons.
By Sunday night, Remy, Virgil, and Emile had driven back up to Bellingham, and Logan had dropped off Patton at Kelly’s for her week with him. Neither had mentioned the papers.
He took his time getting ready for bed, drawing out the rote tasks. He flossed twice, refilled the hand soap bottles, changed out the towels in all the bathrooms. The weekend’s busyness, his sons’ laughter filling the house—and, thanks to Roman, his own—had pushed away his worries about Kelly’s filing and Monday’s deposition with Janus.
Now that he was alone again, it was impossible to think about anything else.
More times than he wanted to admit, he’d picked up his phone, tapping open his ongoing chat with Roman, and tried to imagine what he would say if he invited him over. Twice, he’d even started to type out the message, but no matter how he worded it, his request sounded… disrespectful. Dirty. Hey, Ro, my sons aren’t home. Wanna come over?
Shaking his head, he went downstairs to finish the laundry he’d neglected that weekend. Once that was done, he moved on to strip all the beds and, in a few loads, had washed all the sheets and blankets. By the time he’d folded the last comforter, still warm and smelling like that Saturday Roman had found him at the laundromat, the first birds had begun their morning calls. Logan made his bed, brewed a fresh pot of coffee, then stood in front of the kitchen window to watch the sunrise slowly open the blooms in his flower box.
When the bottom edge of the sun cleared the horizon, Logan rinsed his cup and got ready for work. If he left soon, he could take the bus in and not need to worry about the traffic over the bridge.
~
“A little odd to be on the other side of one of these, isn’t it?” Janus remarked as he sat across from him in his office. He tried not to listen when Janus asked Beatrice to ensure they weren’t disturbed, though he’d appreciated the way Janus had asked him to bring a stack of files from his office as a subtle subterfuge.
“More than a little,” he nodded.
Humming, Janus flipped through folders on his desk. “I see from the proceedings you represented yourself—”
“You have my court records?” Logan interrupted, eyes wild as he tried to recall what other information might be hidden away in those files.
Janus looked up, a faint frown wrinkling his brow. “I’m your attorney.”
“Right, yes, of course… I—I don’t mean…” He looked down at his hands. Janus was certain to rescind the Assistant AIC offer after all of this. This was even worse than the review of his Q-Law cases.
“Did you consult with anyone?”
“No.” He shook his head. “I… took care of it. Kelly was the petitioner. She… It was… I just wanted it done.”
Logan wasn’t sure if Roman had warned him or not, but Janus started very slowly with the rest of his questions, building out a chronological list of events in their marriage and separation. He captured the boys’ names and birthdays—they’d been redacted from the court record. They talked a bit about Virgil’s birth and his surgeries. Logan even told Janus how Virgil’s genetic screening had showed a hereditary component to the defect in his diaphragm. He admitted how, afterward, he’d had his own genome screened and confirmed he carried the gene.
Janus didn’t ask for more details, so he let the rest of that thread drop.
Instead, he began to ask about the… quality of his relationship with Kelly. Logan bit the inside of his cheek, fighting for control. He’d just managed to win a sliver of respect from his boss. He couldn’t… He couldn’t just throw that all away with some overly emotional reaction.
“We… we disagreed on…” Logan sucked in a slow breath, forcing his twitching hands to calm. Janus’ eyes flicked down to his lap and made a note in the margin of his yellow legal pad. “On a few important things about the boys.” He shrugged, “Like all married people, I suppose.”
He nodded slowly, writing without taking his eyes off of Logan’s expression. “Your parents… disagreed a lot?”
In one breath, Logan was back in his parents’ old rambler in Oregon. He sat on his closet floor, making flashcards, a heavy AP History textbook open on his lap. Surrounded by hanging clothes, with his blanket shoved against the gap at the bottom, his father’s shouted words and his mother’s occasional responses were muffled and difficult to make out.
But the tones were unmistakable. And far too familiar.
Logan couldn’t stop his hands from shaking so he crossed his arms over his belly, gripping and releasing the sides of his shirt. “Excellent motivation to get a scholarship to UW and move out on my own,” he said, an attempt at levity. His voice cracked at the end and Janus simply made another note on his legal pad.
Janus tapped the end of his pen against his lips and went quiet. Logan had observed him cross examine reticent witnesses often enough to have seen this tactic of his before. Given enough time under his ‘I have all day, how about you?’ gaze, even other attorneys who knew it was coming would start to sweat and say anything to fill the silence.
Logan was well practiced at holding his tongue.
“You were married for…” Janus flipped back to the front page and did the math. “Eighteen years.” Faster than Logan had expected, he’d moved on to the ‘I already know everything, you might as well answer my questions’ stage. “This is difficult. Difficult to talk about, difficult to re-experience,” he said, his voice softer than Logan had braced himself for and his eyes darted up, an unfamiliar expression on his boss’ face. “Believe me, I understand.”
He nodded, then lowered his head and waited for Janus' next question, shields up and ready.
“Talk to me, Logan.” Without seeing his face, it almost sounded like a plea. “What made you finally decide to divorce?”
Eyes closed to avoid the inevitable ridicule on Janus’ expression, Logan forced a slow, deep breath. Still, his voice shook shamefully when he spoke. “How much of this has Roman already told you?”
“None." Logan looked up, the honesty in Janus' voice too strong to ignore. “Roman can be a bit of a drama king—”
“Excuse me?” Logan’s voice was sharper than he’d intended but instead of looking angry at his interjection, Janus merely looked surprised and… pleased?
“As is my Remus,” he said, the tone of that ‘my’ hanging in the air, as though he noted some other parallel between the brothers. Janus’ smile morphed into a bit of a smirk. “As am I, so I’ve been told.” Janus watched his reaction with interest and for a moment, Logan could have sworn his boss was about to add him to his list of ‘drama kings.’ Logan looked down and smoothed his tie for the sake of having somewhere else to look. “Personally, I think the world could use more drama kings,” he continued. “You never need doubt where you stand with us.”
Speak for yourself, Logan thought but did not say.
“Regardless.” Janus grew serious. “Unless you asked him to tell me something personal you’d shared with him, Roman would not breathe a word of it.” He lowered his legal pad. “And, aside from a very short list of legally required disclosures, the same is true for me. Your secrets are safe.”
He pinched his sides, a distraction from the tears already burning the backs of his eyes. Janus waited, but when Logan didn’t speak for several long moments, he prodded. “To do my job, Logan, I need to know everything.”
Logan deflated, the last shreds of his pride spooled in a tangled mess on the floor. “I know,” he sighed.
“Was it more than 'disagreements' between you?” Janus asked again, even softer this time.
Logan’s bottom lip trembled, but the harder he tried to control it, the worse it got. He nodded and swallowed hard against the lump in his throat.
“Much more.”
~
Eighteen years of practicing law plus two decade’s worth of his own personal experiences had muted Janus’ expressiveness in the face of misery. Remus worked hard to ensure it was a mask he could drop, that he had spaces where he was free to cry and shout and stumble and laugh. His husband spent an inordinate amount of energy and love ensuring he would not be swallowed up and consumed by his jaded attorney façade.
Janus clung to that jadedness now, letting it carry him as he fought to keep a mostly neutral expression while Logan recounted the gradual descent from storybook romance to a narrow escape from Hansel and Gretel’s witch.
It was a familiar story. While Q-Law received most of its funding from its flashier cases, the national attention garnered through their work on major legislation, fancy galas, and private benefactors, from a caseload perspective, a plurality of their work was in family law. Domestic violence cases in particular. Q-Law was there to serve a need in the queer community and, tragically, that’s where the greatest need lay.
What made this story different for Janus was he didn’t need to ask if anyone at his client’s workplace had the faintest inkling of just how bad, just how dangerous his home life had been.
Janus had had none.
Shame bubbled in his chest as Roman’s tight-lipped admonition ran laps through his mind. ‘Maybe you don’t actually know him as well as you think you do.’ This interview proved he most certainly did not.
He turned to a fresh page. “And which of these injuries did you actually seek care for?” Logan curled in on himself, the implied accusation harsh even to Janus’ ears. “That came out wrong, I’m sorry. I simply wish to retrieve hospital records,” he said.
“Do you—” Logan shivered and Janus checked the thermostat. The office was set to 71°F. “Do you really think that will be necessary?”
He frowned and sat back in his chair. Janus was accustomed to clients, particularly DV clients, demonstrating resistance to reliving and retreading these parts of their lives. But Logan was a lawyer. A lawyer who, thanks to his now explainable eagerness to pick up so many of the toughest DV cases, was arguably the most experienced DV trial lawyer in the firm.
What wasn’t he getting about this?
“We’ve only seen the initial petition, Logan,” Janus began as carefully as he could. A spark of annoyance he couldn’t quite suppress buzzed in his mind. “If she alleges any sort of—”
“I never hurt her. Not even—” His voice fell away and his eyes were drawn to the door. Fuck, he was losing him.
Janus looked down at the desk between them. He stood, wincing when Logan flinched. He brought his legal pad and a pen and sat at the other end of the couch, nothing between them now but a few feet of overstuffed leather sofa.
“What can you share, Logan?” he asked softly.
“I…” He sighed, shoulders curled over and he held out his right hand. A vague recollection of a college sports injury explaining away the titanium pins that triggered court metal detectors flicked across Janus’ mind.
“I had surgery at Evergreen for my wrist fracture. Started at the emergency room. There will be X-rays.” Janus’ pen flew across the page. “I left… AMA from Recovery.” He massaged the bone just above his wrist and from here, Janus could see the three little white lines from the incisions. “Kelly came by with the kids and… drove me home.”
“She convinced you to leave against medical advice?”
Logan looked away. “The doctor had called a social worker because my injuries were ‘inconsistent with the patient’s reported cause.’”
Janus nodded slowly and made a few marks on the page before flipping back to review the full list of incidents Logan had recounted. “This was in October 2011?”
“After Patton’s first diagnosis.”
He nodded again and flipped back to the mostly blank page, pen hovering over the sheet, ready for the next set of records to requisition. When Logan remained silent, Janus looked up. “Whenever you’re ready,” he prompted gently.
“That’s it.”
“What do you mean, ‘that’s it?’” He stared at Logan, brow furrowed as he turned again to the pages detailing the times their arguments had turned violent. The times that bitch had turned violent.
“That was the only injury for which I sought care.” His voice was stiff. Formal.
“What?” Janus hissed, calm façade cracking as he scanned the list. “You—your—The fractures in your hand?” Logan shook his head, eyes on the floor. “Your concussions, the burn, the—the tear in your lobe, you—”
“Dermabond surgical adhesive was sufficient to stop the bleeding.“
Janus scoffed. “You can’t just order that shit from Amazon!”
Logan merely shrugged. “It’s a basic veterinary supply. It isn’t that difficult to acquire.”
“I see,” Janus said more to his notepad than his client. Logan had used fucking vetbond on himself then went to work the next day like nothing had happened. His employee. His co-worker. Sour acid churned in his stomach.
‘He’s your friend, too…’
Roman had been wrong. Janus had not been his friend.
He watched Logan over the top of his legal pad. Shame crawling up his spine, he wondered how many times he’d fucking laughed when Devin had sat where Logan was now and remarked how clumsy their quiet co-worker must be to so often have had some sort of limp or bandage or…
No. He couldn’t undo any of that. But he could fight like hell for Logan now.
“Do you have friends who would be willing to support any of this with contemporaneous reports?” he asked, trying a new tactic. “Neighbors? Anyone you’ve been close with who knew what had really happened and would give a statement?”
“No,” Logan said. His fingers tapped the side of his knee in what more closely resembled a tremor than a fidget.
“What makes you so sure they’d be unwilling to come forward?” Despite humanity's general unwillingness to rock the boat even to save a person from drowning, Janus couldn’t imagine everyone in Logan’s life would be so reluctant to help. With the notable exception of Devin, Logan had always been kind and thoughtful to everyone in the office, unerringly polite and considerate. The first to pass around a card for birthdays or tragedies, despite the glaring omission of his own. There had to be someone.
“We could ensure their anonymity if they’re concerned about… social ramifications. She wouldn’t need to know they’d said anything.”
It was like convincing a rock. He wouldn’t even look up. “Logan, we’ve done it before. Domestic violence situations, particularly when witnesses consider both parties friends and—”
Logan shook his head. “You misunderstand me. I mean I… I have no… confidants from that period of my life. Your, ah…” Logan crossed and uncrossed his legs then wrapped his arms around his stomach, hugging himself. “Your brother-in-law is my first friend in a very long time.”
He looked down at his statement. “You… “ Sighing, he set the legal pad face down on the coffee table and turned in his seat to face Logan properly. “You have been through so much and…” He met his eyes.
Janus used to wonder how people could be so blind when the people around them were suffering. How people could waltz through their days, ignoring the obvious hurt of those around them. But he’d been just as bad. Just as oblivious. “I'm sorry I never noticed the signs. That I never tried to help you.”
Logan looked away, rubbing the fingers of his left hand. Janus had always thought it a nervous habit. Now he wondered how much the mis-fused bones pained him. And how much of it was a reminder of that fight.
Finally, Logan shrugged. “I made every effort to ensure there was nothing for anyone to notice.”
They sat in awkward silence for a few moments, then Janus stood. “Can I make you some tea?” Logan looked up, surprise cutting through his mask. Janus smiled and spread his hands, gesturing toward the little kettle and bamboo box of matcha. “I know I could use a cup. I imagine you could, too.”
Logan huffed. “Got anything stronger than tea?”
Shaking his head, Janus chuckled and pulled his five-year Alcoholics Anonymous chip from his pocket. “Nope.”
“Oh, fuck, I’m sorry, I—I didn’t know.”
“It’s all right, Logan. We… we’ve both had our secrets, haven’t we?” Janus checked the kettle and clicked it on, then pulled two mugs from underneath the tea caddy. “How long have we known each other?”
“Almost twenty-two years.”
Janus shook his head. “Far too long to not actually know each other.”
“Perhaps,” he said.
The water rumbled in the kettle and Janus whisked it into the powder in the chawan, the steam carrying the bright, clean scent through the room.
“May I help with the tea?” Logan began to rise. “You don’t need to serve me.”
“Yes, actually, I do.” Janus looked over his shoulder and winked. “You’re older, so I pour the tea.”
Sitting back down, Logan shook his head, a tiny scowl wrinkling his brow. “I can’t be that much older than you.”
“Very nearly nine months,” Janus smiled as he poured Logan’s tea, then his own, and set both cups down on the table.
Logan’s face couldn’t decide if he should glare or grin.
“Don’t worry,” Janus nodded and waited for Logan to pick up his cup. “I promise I won’t rub it in too much.”
Smiling, Logan took a sip and set down his cup.
“Besides, it’s bad manners to mock the elderly.”
A sudden belly laugh burst from the ordinarily quiet man.
“Careful there,” Janus murmured, sipping his tea. “Too much excitement at your age can't be healthy.” Shoulders shaking, Logan laughed until there were tears in his eyes and Janus passed him another tissue.
Janus slid a little closer on the couch and smiled. “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you really laugh.”
“Well,” Logan nodded and raised his cup. “Here’s to twenty-two more years of hearing it.”
By the time they finished their tea, the clock on Janus’ desk chimed six times. “Damn,” he muttered, pulling out his phone and confirming just how late it really was. “I hope I’m not keeping you from your boys.”
“No,” Logan shook his head, turning the little cup in his hands. “Not at all. Patton is at Kelly’s this week. I’m not needed.” Janus frowned at his phrasing and Logan fumbled to explain. “He carpooled after school, and the…” He looked down and the desk lamp cast long shadows across his face, exaggerating the dark circles under his eyes. “The quarter’s started at Western.”
“Hmm.” More shaken by Logan's words than he wanted to admit, Janus took their empty cups and placed them in the basin on the bottom shelf of his tea caddy. “Any plans for dinner, then?”
summary: logan has carried the nickname of "ice king" with him since middle school. he has never successfully meshed with a team before. his opponents think him incapable of growth.
his opponents are wrong, and their mistakes carry a heavy price.
(OR: a haikyuu!! au; one game featuring logan the genius setter and his team)
a/n: rewatched haikyuu!! got inspired. here's 3.5k! HUGE huge thank you to josie ( @flamingfawkes ) for beta reading! title comes from haikyuu!! s2 opening 2
CW: trash-talking, insults, minor injury/blood mention, references to past mistakes, making assumptions based on past actions, swearing, nonspecific v-mit mention
wordcount: ~3.5k
read it on ao3!!!
“Hey, isn’t that the crazy setter from that middle school tournament last year?”
“Yeah, they called him the Ice King!”
“Whoa, what a cool nickname!”
“Not so cool if you’re on the court with him. I hear his teammates kicked him out of his last game because he’s incapable of being a team player.”
“No wonder he ended up at that garbage school - I bet none of the good schools would take him!”
“How stupid does that team have to -”
“Hey!” Remus barks loudly, jerking his chin up and leering at the suddenly-terrified players. “You got somethin’ to say about my teammate, you absolute rat bastard -”
“Remus!” Thomas grabs the libero by his collar and picks him up like a drowned cat. “I apologize for my teammate. He gets a bit . . . overzealous at times. Remus, apologize.”
“Go to hell!” Remus says cheerfully, twisting around to try and lick Thomas’s arm. Thomas drops him in disgust, but Remus lands like a cat and rolls to his feet, bouncing away with a cackle.
“What was that all about?” Roman asks. Remus takes his bag back and slings it over his shoulder, looking up at his twin. “I thought we talked about causing trouble at tournaments - they’re going to kick you out, and we don’t have a backup libero anymore.”
“People were being assholes about Logan. You think I can just let that slide?” Remus bares his teeth, and Roman levels a glare at the opposing players.
“Oh, well in that case,” he mutters, pushing up his sleeves. Before either of them can respond, Logan reaches out and grips their shoulders.
“Please do not get into fights on my account.”
“Well, it’s not like you’re not going to get in them on your own account, are you?” Remus says. “You can pretend you don’t have feelings all you want, Logan, I know the shit they say bothers you.” Logan flinches, just barely, and Remus reaches up to pat at his shoulder. “You’re not alone anymore, Logan. You don’t have to fight these battles on your own. We’re not going to let them shit-talk you and get away with it.”
“I might not be as willing to fistfight people for your honor as my deviant brother over here, but I know for a fact that the whole team shares his sentiments. You’re not the person you were in that middle school tournament.” Roman places his hand over Logan’s, and Logan offers him a small smile.
“Are we fighting people?” Janus asks. “Remus, darling, you know we’re not supposed to do that in uniform. What if you get blood on it? I know you didn’t pack a spare, and I won’t have time to launder it before our game. Besides, you know better than to make threats where there are witnesses with recording equipment present.”
Remus slips out of Logan’s grip and bounces off towards the court, chattering idly to Janus and waving his hands around. Thomas turns back to them, setting a hand on Logan’s shoulder.
“You okay?"
“I am adequate.”
“Not what he asked you,” Roman says, shoulder-checking Logan as they keep walking.
“I know what people say about me. I am aware of the toll my past behaviors took on my working relationships with my team. I am . . . working to be better than I was, but I am not sure I have made much progress.”
“You’re already loads better than you were,” Roman says. “You’ve got a great eye for tosses, and you’re learning to talk to the rest of us. We’re getting there. We are.”
Logan blinks, looking back and forth. “Where’s Virgil?”
“Probably in the bathroom, trying not to throw up.” Logan looks alarmed, which is to say that his eyes widen slightly. “Don’t worry, he usually doesn’t. He just has nerves that get the better of him, so he takes some alone time in the bathroom to calm himself down.”
Virgil rejoins them at the doors of the gymnasium, looking pale and faintly green. “You okay?” Thomas asks. Virgil nods, winding a stray lock of hair around his finger. “It’s gonna be alright. You’ve been working on that pinch serve for how long now?”
“Months, but it could still go wrong, it -”
“It won’t. You’re called a pinch server for a reason, Virgil. We bring you in when we’re in a pinch.”
“Which puts even more pressure on me to not mess up!”
“You will be fine,” Logan says. He turns around, peering at Virgil through his sports glasses. “I have faith in you. You are more than your serves - you are also an excellent blocker with swift reflexes. You are a multi-purpose tool, and I will utilize you to the best of my ability.”
Virgil stares at him, mouth slightly open, and Logan blinks, leaning back, eyebrows creasing. “Was - that an insensitive remark? I meant no disrespect.”
Virgil blinks at him, once, and then laughs, gently socking Logan in the arm. “Maybe other people would have found it insensitive, but I found it comforting. Thanks, Lo.” Logan crinkles his eyes and curves the corner of his mouth up, gently bonking his forehead against Virgil’s shoulder.
*~*~*~*~*
“I’m sorry!” Roman sprints across the court and pulls Janus to his feet. “I hit you in the face, are you alright?”
“I’ll never recover,” Janus says, rubbing his face. “Am I bleeding?”
“Not that I can see.”
“Still have all my teeth?”
“Yep.”
“Then I’ll be fine.”
“You really gotta get better at receives, Jan!” Remus laughs.
“And why would I do that when I have my darling libero looking out for me?” Remus grins, pleased, and Janus ruffles his hair fondly.
“Can you please not be gross with my brother right the fuck in front of me?”
Janus raises a single eyebrow at him before leaning down and very deliberately sliding his tongue into Remus’s mouth. “What the fuck, I officially retract my apology for hitting you in the face, I’m done, I’m leaving, goodbye -”
“That’s an . . . unusual warmup strategy,” the opposing captain tells Thomas.
“They’re unusual players,” Thomas says.
*~*~*~*~*
“Thomas, nice serve!”
Thomas spins the ball between his hands, takes a deep breath, tosses it in the air, slams it forward. “Damn it - straight to their libero!”
“It’s a quick from the left! Janus, that’s you -”
“On it!”
“Nice one-touch - pick it up!”
“Remus -”
“Got it!”
Logan turns, runs, leaps up into position, scans over the team. Where are the blockers - where are the spikers - what’s the position - who can he use - what can he do -
“Logan, to the ace!”
“Number two, number two!”
Roman jumps on the left, Janus on the right, and coming from the back row - the pipe, he can do it, where is Thomas, he’s running from the back, he’s in the air, twist lift and set -
Thomas slams it straight past the opposing blockers and hits cleanly. The referee blows her whistle, and the score changes. One point in their favor.
“Logan, I wanted a toss!” Roman complains. Logan squints at him - is he really upset? No, his eyes are crinkled like when he laughs at Remus’s stupid jokes, and he shows Logan a thumbs-up.
“You can have the next one,” Logan says.
“Telegraphing your next move so loudly? I guess the Ice King has lost his touch,” Number Eight calls. Remus begins snarling from the back row, but Logan turns a cool stare at his opponent.
“I have more than one weapon in my arsenal.”
Number Eight scoffs, but Logan just turns away. “Thomas,” he says. Thomas looks at him, and Logan lifts his hands, signing quickly. Setter-back-row. Aim-receive-9. Thomas nods, taking the volleyball again.
Remy touches Emile’s shoulder gently. When he turns to look, Remy nods at Logan and Thomas. “What is he saying?”
Emile turns more fully towards him. “Their setter is in the back row. He’s not allowed to move to the front row until after the serve, so there’s a moment of confusion where he has to run in front of someone. If you aim a serve correctly, there’s a delay, which can mess up even the strongest receiver.”
Sure enough, the setter darts in front of Number Nine, and the receive goes flying out of bounds.
“He really is something else, isn’t he?” Remy asks.
“Logan? Yeah, he’s got great analytical skills, and they’re fast to boot. His problem is communication, but this team . . . it’s not gonna let him get away with being silent for long.”
Thomas serves again, and they receive it more cleanly. The set goes up, the spike goes down, and Remus dives to catch it. “Nice receive!” Logan moves into position, his hands go up, Roman gets into position and jumps, the blockers move in front of him, and Logan shifts at the last second and dumps the ball right in front of the net.
Number Eight glares at him again. Logan stares back impassively. “Was that supposed to impress me, Ice King?"
“Was that supposed to intimidate me . . .” Is Logan supposed to insult him back? How would Remus insult him? He will never understand the art of trash talking someone. “For someone playing a team sport, you seem to be incredibly self-centered right now.”
Number Eight scoffs at him and turns away; Logan just blinks.
“Was he trying to insult me?” he asks Roman.
“Probably,” Roman says.
“Oh. Was I supposed to insult him back?”
Roman grins at him, sharp and bloodthirsty. “Let your tosses insult that pesky motherfucker. Don’t be afraid to rely on me to help you, hmm?”
Logan nods. “As you wish.”
Remus has to dive for the next receive, and it comes off-kilter. “Sorry!”
Nothing to apologize for, Logan thinks. You got the ball in the air. That’s all I need.
Roman slams the ball past two blockers without even trying.
*~*~*~*~*
They take the first set narrowly, 25-20. Their opponents attack with a vengeance in the second set, and it isn’t long before the player-swap whistle blows and Virgil steps up to serve.
Logan hands him the ball; their fingers overlap. Virgil looks at him, and Logan looks back, crinkling his eyes. “You can do this,” he says, voice low. “They underestimate you the way they underestimate me. I can see it in their eyes. Show them why that is a mistake.”
Virgil blinks at him, taking the ball. “You got it, Lo.”
“What’s he gonna do?” Number Eight laughs. Logan returns to his front line position next to Janus.
“You know, you really run your mouth quite a bit for someone who has yet to show me anything truly impressive,” Janus drawls. Number Eight looks like he wants to flip him off, but before he can, Virgil serves.
“It’s out!”
Number Eight smirks, chin up, but Logan doesn’t look at him. He keeps watching the ball as it travels, travels, wavers, wobbles, and drops to the court, just within the line.
The opposing team turns to stare in shock as the whistle blows.
“Nice serve!” Remus and Roman yell, sprinting over to slap their hands against Virgil’s in victory.
“I knew all that practice was gonna pay off!”
“You’re amazing!”
“Guys, it’s just one point,” Virgil says, rubbing the back of his neck. His face has a pleased flush.
“It’s one more point than we had!” Remus says. “One point is the beginning - it’s all we need! Now go out and get us one more!”
Virgil serves, again and again, and racks up three more points before the opposing team figures out what to do with his jump float serve.
*~*~*~*~*
Not all blocks are equal, Janus thinks. The goal is not always to shut the ball down. Sometimes, a wall is not possible.
Janus is not a tall middle blocker; he isn’t nearly as short as Remus is, but he’s only average height. He cannot shut down the opposing spikers the way that someone else might. He hears what people say when they see him take position.
How can he possibly be a middle blocker with that height?
Aim for the middle, he’s too short to make any difference!
Even if he jumps, he can’t stop you!
They are all fools.
Janus does not need to stop a ball to block effectively.
He jumps, and Number Six smirks at him, aiming right for him. Janus can see Remus moving behind him from the corner of his eye, and he smirks right back at Number Six.
I don’t have to stop your spike to shut you down.
He shifts his fingers, and the ball bounces off of them. “A soft block?!” Number Six shouts. Janus hears the ball make contact with Remus’s forearms, and he’s running when he lands. By the time Logan’s hands are in the air, Janus is all the way at the other side of the net, and he swings his hand as though he’s going to slam the ball down. Number Six jumps in front of him, snarling, and Janus shifts to the tips of his fingers again and feints.
The ball drops to the court just behind Number Six, the referee’s whistle blows, and Janus lands. “Was the toss alright?” Logan asks, jogging over. “Do you need me to make any adjustments for you?” Janus notices the way his eyes widen, as though he’s afraid he’ll get yelled at, and he smiles. It’s genuine; despite the popular misconception, he is capable of those.
“It was wonderful,” he says. “Nice toss, Logan.”
Logan smiles up at him. “Nice feint!”
“Damn it!” Number Six shouts. Janus turns to him and smiles with all his teeth, no mirth behind it.
You underestimate me at your own peril.
*~*~*~*~*
Their opponents call a time-out, and Logan grabs his water bottle. Remus slaps him on the back before he has a chance to take a sip. “Logan!”
Logan turns, startled, and Remus grins up at him. “You’re on the back row when we go in, right?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t run forward.”
“What?”
“Don’t move forward to set. Focus on getting the cleanest possible receive you can, okay? Just get it into the air.”
“If I receive, I cannot set,” Logan says. “I do not understand.”
Remus drops his grin, showing Logan his ‘I’m-being-serious’ hand sign. “I know you’re a genius setter, but trust me, Logan. My brother and I have a trick or two up our sleeves. It’ll be okay.”
Logan blinks at him. “I am unsure of this plan.” Remus just keeps watching him. “However . . . I trust you. I trust my team. If you say that you can handle it, then you can.” Remus grins at him, holding up his hands for a high ten. Logan tucks his bottle between his legs and high-tens him back.
Before they step back onto the court, Remus grabs Roman’s wrist. “Wh -”
“I told Logan to focus on receiving this next spike.” Roman turns to look at him.
“What the hell - why would you do that?”
“He’s all the way in the back row! And it must be tiring, setting all those balls one after another. Don’t you think it’s Wonder Twin time?” Roman’s expression changes from angry to joyous in an instant.
“You know what? You’re absolutely right.”
The serve comes in, and Logan shifts into a receiving stance. Remus and Roman make eye contact across the court, and Roman’s eyes flick to the left. Remus nods. Logan receives the ball cleanly. “Nice receive!”
“Their setter received it!” Number Two yells. “They’re limited!”
Not on my watch, motherfucker, Remus grins. He sprints forward, touches down right in front of the attack line, jumps, twists, and lifts his hands. Roman heads for the left, all three blockers surge up to meet him, and then he pivots and sprints to the center. Remus tosses, Roman jumps, and the ball slams down onto the opponent’s court.
Remus, who isn’t used to being in the air, lands on his ass, but he rolls to his feet quickly. “Take that, you son of a -”
“Remus!” Thomas snaps. Roman sprints back and gives him a high ten, grinning, and Logan looks at him.
“You can set?”
“I’m better at receiving, and I’m not really tall enough to play any position other than libero. But that doesn’t mean you’ve seen my whole bag of tricks! I can set in a pinch, as long as I jump from behind that attack line, but I really only practice setting for Roman, so I don’t do it for anyone else.”
Logan blinks, and then his face breaks out into a wide, unrestrained grin, one hand flapping rapidly at his side. “You’re so cool!” he bursts. “That’s amazing, that’s so so cool!”
Remus grins, flushing under the praise. “I know! I am amazing, aren’t I? Marvel at my power!”
“Don’t compliment him like you mean it, Logan, he’s gonna get a big head!” Roman scolds. Remus sticks his tongue out, and Logan laughs.
*~*~*~*~*
Logan lifts his hands to the back of his head, like he’s covering it against the serve. He shifts his fingers to signal: synchronized attack.
The serve goes up, clean receive, which means the most likely course is -
“Center attack!” Logan shouts. Number Three scoffs as his center straight comes down right against Remus’s waiting hands.
“It’s all yours, Logan!”
All four of them move in unison - Virgil, Janus, Roman, Thomas, all running forward in unison. Logan shifts, watches the confusion of the blockers, lifts his hands. The toss that will work the best, the toss that can score a point, the spiker who will carry the momentum of this match is -
“Watch out, it’s number 13!”
Virgil slams a cut shot across three blockers and scores without breaking a sweat. “Unlucky,” he smirks, fistbumping Janus.
*~*~*~*~*
The second set comes to a deuce, and they call a time out. “We need to gain a two-point lead to take this match, but don’t get so caught up in the idea of the next point that you miss the one in front of you. Keep your focus in the moment, not the future. Understand?”
“Yes!”
Logan tosses the ball into the air, jumps, and serves. As the other team receives, he grabs Roman’s shirt. “Roman, instead of a wall, try an umbrella!”
“What?”
Roman’s eyes widen in recognition as they jump to block the spike, deflecting it towards the back. “Remus!” Thomas shouts.
“I got it - it’s up!”
“Roman!” Logan shouts, turning to set.
“Thanks for the heads-up, Ice King!” Number Eight laughs. All three blockers converge on Roman, who jumps and bounces the ball off the block.
“What?!”
“A rebound?!”
“Remus, pick it up!” Roman shouts.
“I got it!”
“Come on, let’s go!”
Roman and Janus jump at the net, but Logan is already setting for the pipe. Thomas jumps from the back, slams the ball past the block, and scores.
“Nice kill!”
“You couldn’t use lingo that’s a little more clear next time?” Roman complains
“Why would I need to? You understood what I meant, didn’t you?”
Roman ruffles his hair, and Logan swats at his arm. “Hey, that hurts, don’t do that!” Roman just laughs and keeps going.
*~*~*~*~*
The rally has been going for almost two minutes now, the ball constantly in the air, and the exhaustion is setting in. They have the lead by one point, and they only need one more to take the match. “Come on, come on!”
“They’re gonna use the ace! Cover Number Three!”
Roman jumps, Logan’s hands go up, the blockers move to cover Roman, and Logan dumps the ball. Number Ten dives for it, but it drops to the ground right in front of him.
They take their second set, and the match, 26-24.
*~*~*~*~*
Patton tucks his manager notebook into his bag and starts handing out water bottles. “You were all amazing! Logan, I think that’s the most you’ve communicated in a match, and it really showed!”
Logan takes the water bottle, nodding. “It took me a while to learn how to communicate most effectively with my teammates. I was trying to carry the entire weight of the team on my shoulders as the setter. But I . . . am not the only one on my team thinking. I can give options, and trust that they will utilize those options effectively.”
“That’s right!” Remus crows, slapping his back. “We have brains too, Logan!”
“The rest of us, maybe. You? Debatable,” Virgil says. Remus immediately tackles him to the court.
“Are you trying to injure me?” Virgil shrieks. Roman rolls his eyes and sighs.
“I do not know how you put up with him on a regular basis, I truly do not,” Logan sighs.
“It’s a miracle I haven’t suffocated him in his sleep, it really is.”
*~*~*~*~*
The bus ride home is quiet. “I’m sorry,” Logan says.
Virgil passes him an earbud. “What do you mean?”
“I did not toss to you nearly as much as I have in previous and practice games when you were on the court.”
“No need to apologize for that, man. I wasn’t in as much as normal, and you utilized the rest of the team to the best of your ability. And we won, didn’t we? I’m not offended, I’m not gonna break up with you over it.”
Logan smiles, and Virgil tilts his head to press a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Take your post-tournament nap, Popsicle. We gotta build up our strength for tomorrow.”
Logan puts the earbud in, leans his head against Virgil’s shoulder; Virgil leans against him in turn, and they’re asleep before the bus crests the next hill.
Logan is a famous fashion designer, Virgil and Janus are his assistants
Patton, Roman and Remus are the models
In the beginning, Logan never paid that much attention to Pat, him being his model and all
but one day Patton rushes into his office after work because he forgot his phone
His hair is a mess, he is wearing his normal clothes and he took off all his makeup, so his face was an explosion of freckles
This is the moment Logan starts to develop his crush on the model
Suddenly Logan's designs are a bit less stoic
A lot of flower patterns sneak their way into the outfits and they seem to fit Patton suspiciously well
Patton, being really happy with the more colourful clothes, starts to hang out with Logan more after work
This goes on for a while, until the model finds Logan in his office after a big fashion show one day
Logan sits asleep on his office chair, his glasses falling of his face, he is drooling a bit and is holding his suit jacket tightly against his chest
Patton stares in awe at him for a few minutes, before carefully tacking off his glasses and leaving the office
He never mentions this moment to Logan, but this was the moment Patton fell in love with the usually perfect man
The model tells Logan all about his favourite flowers and helps him to choose patterns for future designs
One time, Pat makes matching flowercrowns for Roman, Remus and his own outfits
and of course, he also makes one for Logan, with the Gardenia as the main flower
After a bit of research, Logan and Janus find out that a Gardenia means 'secret love'
Janus starts to tease Logan when his cheeks turn bright red
Logan stutters for a moment before reminding Janus how flustered he gets when Remus only looks in his direction
The next couple of weeks, Lo and Pat start to flirt more with eachother
This results in a lot of teasing from Virgil and Janus
At the end of one of Logan's shows, he walks up the catwalk together with all his models to receive the applause of the audience
In a moment of excitement, Logan takes Patton's hand
The model turns to him and slowly nods
Logan gently crabs the collar of his shirt and kisses Patton softly
Roman and Remus start whistling and the audience loses it
The two start to work together more and soon they are the most popular couple in the fashion world
Logan and Patton have to watch their friends obviously crushing on eachother
After a while they are just done with it and Logan makes his assistant talk to their crushes, while Patton just pushes Roman and Remus towards them
That night ends with a lot of flustered faces and two new fashion couples
Sooo this is way longer than it was supposed to be but yeay. Also, a huge thanks to @irritating-lady-knight @justalittlecorrupted and @also-youre-mischevous for helping create this AU
ao3 || wattpad || fanfic masterpost || main masterpost || inspired by this post <3
words: 1647
ships: prinxiety (no romance implied / they just met), background logicality, background dukeceit
characters: roman, virgil, everyone else mentioned
warnings: panic attack
extra: thank you to @coconut-cluster for giving me the idea! i may write a follow-up involving those tags where they keep running into each other also loll
summary: “Can you tell me your name?” He’s confused and moderately concerned when he’s met with a shake of the head. “No? You don’t know your name?” The stranger nods, puzzling him even more. “Yes… Yes, like you do or yes you don’t?” He’s met with a frustrated huff of air. “You know your name but can’t tell me?” Roman feels like he’s reached a little for that last question, but then he receives a nod. Upon tilting his head with curiosity, the stranger pulls his hands away and holds them up.
Can you sign?
The city is beautiful on these days. Waves of laughter rise above the base of chatter and the chitter of the birds in the trees while various groups of people mill about the public garden. Photographers, high schoolers ditching, adorable old couples, you name it. The spring weather is perfectly pleasant, not uncomfortably hot but not particularly chilly either, and the sun is framed by the distant terraces beautifully from the angle where the artist sits cross-legged by the bushes with his sketchpad, which has the name ‘Roman’ embellished into it in elegant cursive. He brandishes a variety of pencils and has colourful little paperweights scattered about him, protecting his drawing references from the gentle breeze. Everything is serene, calm, almost perfect.
The only thing that could possibly bring Roman out of his wistful trance is the sound of heavy footsteps, accompanied by equally heavy breathing. There’s a small thud some distance away, and he looks over to see someone about ten feet away on the grass. He looks visibly upset and shaky, with smudged makeup under his eyes and faded purple hair. His arms are secured tightly around his own middle as if he’s trying to cut off circulation to the lower half of his body.
“Hey, are you okay, buddy?” Roman calls out softly with his eyebrows furrowed in concern. It’s not often that he sees someone so distraught; perhaps at the college library during exam season, but never so out in the open. The stranger turns his head sharply towards Roman and pauses, then nods with a grimace that’s so obviously forced that Roman nearly ignores the yes and moves over anyway, but he decides to only press, just once. “Are you sure?” Another forceful nod.
Roman watches for a moment longer as the stranger goes back to hunching over himself and shakily breathing, wondering if he should ask again, but decides against it. If he doesn’t want to spill his brains to a stranger, that should be respected, he tells himself as he turns back to his sketches.
About ten minutes go by, in which he’s back to being fully immersed in his art. He has a pretty good light outline of the terraces and has even added in some birds and flowers for extra embellishment. As long as he can get this done on time, he’s confident he’ll get a top grade for this project. Just thinking about it makes him excited. He takes a short break, fishing around in his backpack for a water bottle when he catches a glimpse of that mysterious stranger again, and he looks more upset than ever, tears streaming almost passively out of his eyes and his body rocking back and forth. In fact, Roman instantly notices the telltale signs of a panic attack and feels a pang of guilt in his heart. Then, he hears a soft whimpering over the breeze and he decides he can’t just ignore him.
“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” He makes an agile movement over to the stranger and sits down in front of him. “Can you hear me?” The stranger looks up at him. He has one of his hoodie sleeves pressed over his nose and mouth and an awful, gut-wrenching sob escapes his throat, but there’s a glint of human recognition in his eyes, so Roman continues. “Take a deep breath in for me. C’mon, in…” He inhales with exaggeration and watches the stranger drag the air into his lungs like trying to breathe tarmac, just barely, the fabric of his sleeve hindering him. “Can I take your hand away from your face, sweetheart?”
There’s a moment when Roman suddenly regrets letting the nickname slip, unsure if it’d even be received well, but eventually, he’s holding a tearstained hand to his chest so that the stranger can feel his lungs expand and contract. They spend the next few minutes just breathing together, forgetting that they don’t even know each other, oblivious to everything else going on around them. The chitter of the birds and the chatter of the city dwellers go ignored because all that matters to Roman right now is calming this ball of nerves in front of him.
Once the stranger seems calm enough despite the tears and little hiccoughs, Roman reaches out to take his other hand and moves onto grounding exercises. “Can you tell me your name?” He’s confused and moderately concerned when he’s met with a shake of the head. “No? You don’t know your name?” The stranger nods, puzzling him even more. “Yes… Yes, like you do or yes you don’t?” He’s met with a frustrated huff of air. “You know your name but can’t tell me?” Roman feels like he’s reached a little for that last question, but then he receives a nod. Upon tilting his head with curiosity, the stranger pulls his hands away and holds them up.
Can you sign?
Oh. “Why, yes.” Roman speaks out loud but starts to sign with his hands while he talks out of habit. “I’m fluent in sign. Would you like to talk to me that way?”
The stranger nods and briefly swipes his hand across his teary face before signing again. My name is Virgil. I can speak but being overwhelmed makes me unable to for a while.
Roman nods understandingly. “Ah, you’re overwhelmed. Is there anything that usually helps you that I can do, Virgil?”
Just grounding techniques, I guess. Virgil makes a flicker of eye contact with Roman before looking down at the grass, but he seems to be trusting him.
“I was just trying grounding techniques by asking your name,” A playful smile tugs at the corners of Roman’s lips. “but I’ll continue. Do you know where you are?”
The public garden.
“Good. Are you in college or anything?”
Yes, I'm in English Literature. Virgil cracks a tiny smile. Sanders University.
“Hey, that’s where I go!” Roman claps his hands together excitedly, forgetting that he's supposed to be asking grounding questions yet again. “You might know my brother, Remus. He’s in English Lit too.”
The breathy laugh that leaves Virgil’s mouth is enough to fill Roman’s heart with warmth. Virgil’s smile reaches his eyes, and he looks almost ethereal suddenly, and on top of that, he then starts to speak. “Oh my god, that’s your brother?” His voice is quiet and a little hoarse, but Roman falls in love with it nonetheless.
“You know him?” Roman beams. He’s filled with a multitude of emotions, happiness being the main one as he’s successfully brought Virgil out of that awful looking panicked state and then made him smile.
“Yeah, you must be Roman, then.” Virgil says, then Roman suddenly remembers he never even told him his name.
“Ah yes, I’m Roman. I never told you, my bad.” He hums bashfully, but Virgil smiles again.
“It’s alright. Remus kinda rubbed me the wrong way when I met him, but he’s my good friend now. He’s talked about you a few times.”
Now it’s Roman’s turn to laugh. “Hopefully he’s not besmirching my reputation. However, I’m not surprised he conflicted with you. He does that with a lot of people. I'm glad you get along though.”
Virgil hums in agreement. “He told me you’re really loud and boisterous, but you’ve been rather calm with me.”
“I am quite loud usually,” Roman muses. “but I know when I need to be calm for someone else. When I saw you panicking, you were reminding me of a friend of mine, Logan. Last year he had a series of nervous breakdowns from work overload and I learned to help him through each one. The first time, I kinda panicked with him because I didn’t know what was going on and the noise made him worse, so I was quieter with him for the rest of them. I guess I saw him in you.”
“Aw,” Virgil wears a kind expression. “You’re a real good friend.”
The compliment only causes Roman’s heart to melt even more to the point where he’s not sure he’ll recover, smiling so widely his face begins to hurt. “Thank you so much, Virge. I really do try.”
“And, it’s a small world, isn’t it?” His voice starting to strengthen again, Virgil turns the questions onto Roman. “I’m sure my friend Patton has a boyfriend called Logan who had a massive mental break last year. He was telling me about it.”
Roman gasps with awe. “Oh, wow. We really should’ve been introduced sooner, huh? Anyone else we both know?”
Virgil thinks for a moment, then smirks playfully. “Remus’ boyfriend, Janus?”
“Boyfriend?! Ooh, he never told me he and Jan finally got together!” The two share a laugh, talking the hours away and forgetting about the circumstance that had them interacting in the first place. Virgil’s eyeshadow has smeared across his face after crying, but he’s unexpectedly enjoying himself today when he’d previously thought that today was going to be a bad day. Meanwhile, Roman had been enjoying today already, even if he’d only describe it as ‘almost perfect’. Almost. Then, it appeared to worsen when he saw that stranger having such a hard time, but now the stranger’s become a friend. Unknowingly, a friend of many other friends. And this means they’ll most definitely be hanging out much more often. And neither of them reject that idea.
Even after such an emotional rollercoaster, they can both still hear the usual waves of laughter rising above the base of chatter and the chitter of the birds in the trees. The weather is still pleasant, neither of them are too hot or cold, even with Virgil in that thick hoodie of his, and Roman suddenly remembers that his sketchpad and paperweights are still sat just ten feet away by the bushes, his drawing references protected by the gentle breeze. Gentle.
