Nominexiang - IDK-ANOMALY

I don't have a sofa and when I do get to sit on one it's either I'm upsidedown or not on the f-ing sofa

The Main 6 sit on a sofa.

Letters

Ships: Prinxiety, Platonic Moxiety, platonic analogical, platonic dukexiety, brotherly anxceit

Warning: Cursing, Angst, Crying, Hearts Broken, Leaving people behind, Remus and Deceit are in this story! But they aren't the bad guys!

--

The other sides can't stop crying. They were all broken.

Virgil left. Their Virgil. His Virgil.

The emo left. Their emo left. His emo left.

Anxiety is gone. But how? When? Where? Why?

--

11 a.m.

Patton was still waiting. Logan insisted they eat early. Patton was confused, Virgil wasn't usually this late. Is he okay? What did Patton do? Did another fight happen? What happened? Did something go wrong? Did Patton do anything? Did Pa-

Patton was cut short with a hand rubbing his back. He couldn't tell who was in front of him, the tears in his eyes made it blurry. He could hear well though. "--tton. Tap once if you could hear me." The voice said, taking hold of Patton's hand.

Patton tapped and felt the hand. "Logan." He thought to himself as he felt the bracelet he gave him. "Okay. I need you to breathe Patton. In for 4, hold for 8, out for 7." Patton was having a hard time breathing but Logan tapping the beat on his hand helped.

Patton could breathe and see properly now. "Wh-what happened?" Patton asked, wiping away the tears. "You started hyperventilating. That's not usually normal with you." Logan remarked, giving Patton a few tissues.

Patton nodded and started fidgeting with his sweater. Roman came down and sensed the tension between the two. Roman nodded at Logan and sat at far end of the table. "Sooo, no Virgil yet?" Roman asked, tilting his head.

Patton sniffled and nodded. Logan sighed and put an arm around Patton and squeezed him a bit. "Everything will be okay. And Roman? Will it be okay if you check on Virgil? He is usually not this late." Logan said.

Roman nodded and made his way up to Virgil's room. He knocked the black door that was decorated with purple that said "Virge" in his handwriting. "Weird." Roman told himself. He knocked twice now.

Thrice.

Four times.

5 times.

He grew impatient and jiggled the door knob. He was threw the door open and was met with nothing but a dark room. He opened the lights and scanned the room. "Virgil?" He called out. Roman groaned and called out again. "Virge? this isn't funny. Patton isn't gonna be happy."

He stepped inside and checked his room for Virgil. Nothing seemed out of place. His guitar case was in it's usual spot. He checked Virgil's private rest room. No foggy mirror. The bed was messy. It was usually made.

"Virge? ....Virgil?" Roman called out, before checking the drawers. He found 3 envelopes(ah shit here we go-), one in dark blue with Logan's name, one in pastel blue with Patton's and one in res, with Roman's name. Roman's eyes widened. "Shit shit shit shit Virgil no please don't do this to us." Roman said, running out.

"Logan! Patton! Shit Virgil don't do this to us." Roman shouted, going down two steps at a time. "Did something wrong happen?" Patton asked. Roman panted and nodded as he gave out the letters.

"I don't understand, why did he write us letters? Is he showing us his love? Was he in the room?" Logan asked, inspecting the envelope. "Okay specs so he's not showing us his love and no, he was not in his room." Roman said, panting.

"Then..what's wrong?" Patton asked, concern in his voice. Roman raked a hand through his hair and began telling them.

--

"Hey, Roman? What's the best way to tell someone you're leaving them?" Virgil asked, breaking the silence. They were stargazing in their imagination. Roman faced Virgil and raised an eyebrow.

"You planning to leave us Emo Knightmare?" Roman asked, concerned. "Oh! No no no! I just had the question because uh, I'm wondering, is there any way we can tell someone that we're leaving without hurting them?" Virgil clarified, smiling awkwardly.

Roman nodded and looked back at the stars. "Well, you will hurt them really. It's hard to focus because you know you're going to hurt them. But, if I were to do if, which I won't, I would write a letter really. I don't want them to chase after me and all that." Roman said. Virgil nodded and faced back at stars.

"Hey Ro?"

"Yeah Virge?"

"Thanks for being a really nice friend, I'm sorry for calling you nicknames and all that." Virgil said, facing Roman.

Virgil chuckled and smiled softly. "Same goes to you V. Past is past, we're friends now." Roman said. Smiling.

But

He still never gets hurt.

He's broken and Virgil doesn't knows.

--

Patton felt tears going down his cheeks. Logan was shocked. Roman is...broken, really frustrated.

"No no no no no Virgil. No. No!" Patton said, letting his head down and letting his tears roll down his face. "..Roman? Did you know?" Logan asked, hugging Patton tighter. "No, I didn't I- I didn't mean- I just- I never wanted to give him id-ideas, Logan, P-patton, I'm so- I'm so sorry." Roman stuttered, panicking more and more.

Patton looked back up and opened his arms and let Roman fall into his touch. "I'm really- really so-sorry I- I'm very sorry, please fo-forgive me guys!" Roman said, starting to panic. "Ro, breathe, 4, 8, 7, continue that." Logan said, grabbing Roman's hand and tapping the beat on his hand.

Roman's breathing slowed down but he was still panicking. "I-i think we should read these. Privately, but f-first, we should, see if he's with the others." Patton suggested, rubbing Roman's back. Roman nodded and Logan gave a thumbs up.

"You two should rest, I'll go ask. For now, stay safe." Logan assured, closing his eyes and sinking out. He opened up his eyes as he heard a voice say "Logan!" He looked around. "Remus' room." He thought. "Logie! What are you doing here specs?" Remus exclaimed, placing his deodorant on the side.

"Ah Remus. I have a question. Have you seen Virgil? He isn't in our area and he left us notes and we thought he was wi-" Logan said, before being cut off by the door being swung open by Deceit. He looked at Remus, whose smile fell and Deceit, who was not wearing his usual outfit.

(How did Deceit open the door in time well- that's a story for another day-)

"Okay wait wait wait! You got the letters too? Logan, thank god." Deceit exclaimed, making his way towards both. "Wait..how did he give you the letters, may I ask?" Logan said, gesturing to a dark green envelope on the side. "I-i'm not sure. I woke up and found these next to me." Remus said.

Logan nodded and paced the room. "Have you read them yet?" Logan asked, ignoring the feeling of panic growing in his chest. Remus shook his head and Deceit sat down beside Remus, putting an arm around him.

"Ah, I suggest you read them privately. But if uh, your feelings, get in the way. Ask for help." Logan said, looking back at Remus and Deceit. Remus was crying now and Deceit's eyes were teary eyed.

"I- I just- I really miss him Logan. I kn- I know that it doesn't se-seem like that. He- he would be the- there for me and D-dee. We-we would play and lau-laugh.. He- he was our be- ..." Remus choked out, tears falling more and more. "He was our best friend." Deceit said, finishing the sentence for Remus.

Logan sighed softly and nodded. "I-i know..he was like a brother to me. He was a nice friend. I'll leave you guys for now. Farewell." Logan said, smiling softly and sinking out. He was able to catch Deceit's thank you before sinking out.

--

Logan rose up and looked down to see a note on the kitchen table.

"Hey Logie! Roman and I are in our rooms. We decided to take a break before reading our letters! We'll start reading them at around 1 p.m.! I think you should do the same! Bye!

~ Patton & Ro"

Logan smiled and took his letter out from his pocket. He made his way up the stairs. He entered his room and tossed the letter on his desk. He plopped himself on his chair and looked at the clock.

"12:59"

Logan waited until it hit 1 and took the letter. Roman was on the floor, taking out the letter from it's envelope. Patton was lying down on his bed, doing the same thing. Deceit was in the other side's kitchen. Remus was in his room.

(From here, this is gonna be what it says in their letters! Enjoy <3)

--

Dear Logan,

   Hey L. I'm really sorry for doing this to you. To Dad. To Ro. I'm very sorry. You may not see me telling you I'm sorry or anything, but I am. You're like a brother to me. You're smart, funny, savage. You're just cool. You're talking confuses me sometimes but that doesn't matter.

   You say you don't have "feelings" but deep down, you do. Do me a favor and try and find them. You're more than what you think Lo. You're doing well Lo. You're amazing. You're kind. You're smart. You care. You take your time to talk to me.Take care of Pat for me please. Stay safe. Love ya bro. I'll return soon. Just need time.

                                                    ~Virgil.

--

Hey Remus,

    How's Deceit doing? Hope the snake dude is doing good! Hey, I'm really sorry okay? Remus, i know you really scared Thomas last episode but, he will accept you. Thomas isn't going to hate you forever. Sure, it might take some time. But, he will. Lessen the gore and dirty jokes a little though.

Patton learned to deal with you too.

   He said that you may be too out-going but that's what makes you you. You don't have a filter but you're amazing the way you are. Your jokes make me crack up. You're sweet and you try your best. Thank you Re, thank you. Have fun and continue being cool.

Love ya trash man. I'm gonna return, not any time soon though.

                                                      ~Virgil.

--

Dear Deceit,

    Hey Dee. I miss you. A lot. It doesn't seem like that all the time but I do. I miss you a whole lot. The light sides know. They care about my decision. They make me feel better like you did. You're cool Dee. Thomas will accept you. You may seem scary at first but that's okay.

    I've been with you for years and I know that you aren't just a liar. You're a friend. A brother. A hero. You're not always a villain. You and Remus were never the villians. You're not one of the dark sides. You're like us.

    I love you guys alot. You guys deserve the best in this world. You guys are really cool. Let no one tell you otherwise. Thanks for being there for me when I need it. Love ya big bro. I'll return and give you the biggest hug. I just don't want to right now.

                                                     ~Virgil.

--

Dear Dad,

   Pat, I'm really sorry. Please forgive me. I'm very sorry. You didn't deserve this but this seemed right for me. You're amazing. Your puns make me laugh. You make a wonderful friend Patton. You deserve a "Patt-on" the back for that. I'm glad you learned how to accept Remus and Dee.

   You don't know how much that means to me. You're really loving and caring. I hope you take care of yourself more. Your feelings aren't stupid or dumb. They matter a lot. You make an amazing dad. Your cooking is delicious. You treat us like we're your kids.

  Patton. I love you dad. Take care of yourself too. Love ya. Keep being awesome. famILY. I'll come back,  not soon though.

                                                      ~Virgil

--

Dear Roman,

  Roman..i'm really sorry. Please please please, forgive me. You're a really cool guy. You may not think the same but I do. Patton does. Logan does. Deceit does. Thomas does. Even Remus does. You're a lovable dork and that's why you're my closest friend.

  You deserve the world Princey. You're amazing. You're cool. You're sweet. Kind. Wonderful. Smart. You're YOU Roman. You're "Really Obviously Mascular And Nice". R-O-M-A-N. I'm glad that we moved our differences away. Sureee, call me out for being cliche. But I'm saying the truth.

  You are my best friend. Patton is my dad. Logan is like my brother. Deceit IS my brother. Remus is also my friend.  But you, you're my closest friend. My friend. The friend who would look out for me when the others are away.

  Roman, I'm sorry but I can't keep my feelings away now. I like love you Roman. I always have. Not the best friend love. Love. Love as in late cuddle sessions and movie nights. Roman. I love you, Roman. I'm sorry that you have to go through this, really I am. But this is what feels right for me, and I hope you understand. I understand if you can't forgive or if you don't love me. I really do.

 For now stay safe, this isn't the end. I'll return. Just not soon. Te amo con todo mi corazón.

                                  Lots of l♡ve, Virgil

--

Silence fills the whole mindscape. Nothing but silence. A pin could drop and everyone would hear. No one dare moves.

Patton's the first to break. He bursts into tears and holds a patch from Virgil's jacket that came with the letter close to him.

Remus follows next. His sobs get louder as he slowly brings up the patch of Virgil's jacket to get a better look at.

 Deceit is next, unable to let go of the patch of his little brother's jacket. Every sob came with more pain than the last. It just hurts.

Logan has never felt so broken in his entire life. His whole body shook with choked out sobs as he buries his hair in his hands, staring at the patch in his lap.

Roman, Roman couldn't breathe. He loved Virgil. Virgil was his dream. Roman shook his head in disbelief as his shaky hands held the final patch in his hand. Every sob came faster than the last.

And there left the sides. Missing the only thing that held them together. Patton's son. Remus' best friend. Logan's best friend. Deceit's little brother. Roman's love. Virgil is gone.

 When would he come back? And...will he keep to his word?

--

WOW THAT WAS A RIDEEEEE! First time writing angst, so sorry if it's kinda bad! But liek, did I break your hearts? If I did, I apologize bUT I WANTED TO TRY AND ANGST-

Also sorry for the hella long post!

Anywaysss-

@thesentientmango @the-fangirl-sunstorm @actslikeacat @spoopy-kusuri @books-andbiscuits @flowersandskeletons

Is it okay? Or anything? Pleaseee leaave a comment! I like to hear your opinions! But go easy on me!

"Warmth, Fortune, and Joy" atleast I can finally stop being edgy-

2021 looks bright!!!

💕: “Years I’ve spent dormant in the earth, thinking of my horrible revenge upon humanity, yet when you set me free I suddenly had seconds thoughts” for Anxciet? :>

,,,,i tried! (This isn’t beta’d so all mistakes are mine) enjoy theres two disaster gays!

Virgil had bought the golden gothic locket from a seemingly innocent and unassuming booth at the market, the booth owner had been sweet and kind and had even given him a discount on it because it matched his aesthetic! And well, as a struggling college student, how was he to say no?

He’d worn it days on end, feeling safe with the weight of it resting against his collarbone, careful to maintain the little locket’s nice condition with the occasional TLC. Never had he expected anything more from the small little locket, even when his nightmares noticeably died down after receiving it. Leave it to an entitled thief at the park later that month to prove him wrong.

It was pretty late in the day and Virgil was chilling on a bench, sketching a concept piece in his sketchbook. Occasionally he would pause to get a gauge on his visual, his non-dominant hand loosely clutching the locket as he fiddled with the intricate engravings. Honestly, it was no wonder that it would gain him some looks from time to time, being a bright but still gothic gold, it was the only stand out color that he wore amongst his dark blacks and purples.

“Excuse me, Sir?” A female voice from a distance called out, causing Virgil to glance up. A pretty woman was flirtingly sauntering up to him, obviously trying to catch his attention with a self-satisfied smirk when his eyes met hers and flicked away again. She seemed sure she’d caught his full attention now, completely oblivious to the fact that Virgil was completely and utterly gay, not to mention uninterested in the confrontation.

“I couldn’t help but notice, you’ve got a pretty cute necklace there. Where’d ya get it, honey?” She laid it on thick, batting her eyes and speaking in a heavily, almost too suspiciously sweet tone. Virgil blinked at her, once, twice.

“Um..? I don’t think you’ll get one exactly like mine but there’s a vender that-“ The girl held her hand up to silence him, before looking at her nails with a sorely fake, sorrowful look.

“Oh that just won’t do, Doll. I like yours! Any chance I could buy it off you?” Virgil blinked at her, and tried not to chuckle, completely confused. Who walks up to a stranger, offering to buy their own personal items off of them?

“Uhh, no? It’s uhm, it’s a gift from my grandma, and I’m not willing to part with it.” That was a lie, of course, but lately he’d been finding himself a little more comfortable with doing that lately if it meant it got him out of harmless situations like this. Plus, he really didn’t want to give it up! However, the stranger did not seem to want to accept that answer.

Before he knew what was happening, this woman was screaming at him, calling him entitled and a rotten, selfish teenager, and plenty of other nasty things under the sun. Immediately, the sudden onslaught had caused Virgil to curl up, staring up wide eyed and terrified of the older woman now standing above him and shouting at him. Then his body’s shaking began, and Virgil knew he was in for it. He’d frozen up like a petrified fawn in front of an over glorified wolf, and the overwhelming negative emotions being projected at him was tearing him apart inside.

Getting fed up with the boy’s lack of response, she reached for the necklace, growling out “If I can’t have it, then no body can!” Before giving a sharp tug. The old metal snapped, causing Virgil to jerk back as he watched this stranger slam the fragile locket to the concrete pavement. It made a sickening crack as it broke in two. However, before the woman could truly be satisfied with her wrath and before Virgil could properly mourn his loss, black smoke billowed out and around the two. Virgil, still on the verge of an emotional breakdown, could only think about how that much smoke couldn’t have naturally fit in that tiny locket.

The woman stumbled back, temporarily broken out of her petulance to escape the pitch black smoke with a shout. In a matter of seconds, the smoke asmassed together and tightly formed together, before dissipating. In its wake, a tall, lean man was left in its place. He wore dark clothing, a suit of dark grey and a golden accented vest, a dark bowler hat tilted stylishly upon his dark hair. His back was facing Virgil, but the woman, from what Virgil could see, looked terrified.

“Well, Hello there. I didn’t think I’d be summoned by something so pathetic.. one hundred years in that stupid prison and this is the welcoming I get?” The woman was still in utter disbelief, glancing over to Virgil with confused anger resurfacing.

“Is this some kind of act? You think I’m an idiot, huh, Brat? Just because you’re friend was able to pull this,-” She gestured towards the particularly disinterested man in front of her, “this stupid prank or whatever off! I’ll sue you for harassment!”

At this point, the woman looked haughty and ready to do something even more rash. However, before she could move, the man flicked his wrist, and the woman’s hand slapped over her mouth.

“My, you could drone on and on, couldn’t you? Please, a mortal like you doesn’t scare me. Now please, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave.” The woman’s eyes briefly flashed yellow, and she turned around and walked off without a huff. With a sigh, the man turned around to the bench to sit, only to pause as he finally took notice of the shaking man curled up on the bench. Now Virgil could see why the woman had been surprised, realistic green scales were attractively scattered up one side of the man's face, his eyes mismatched of green and yellow. For a being that was apparently trapped within that locket for at least, what, a hundred years? He still looked as sharp as a young adult, and attractive too.

“Oh, hello.” The man’s voice had softened considerably, apparently surprised into sympathy at seeing a young man so visibly shaken. Before Virgil could muster up a response or even figure out a proper reaction to the situation, the man dipped elegantly to one knee, bowing in front of Virgil with the flourish of his hat.

“Excuse me, my dear. I didn’t mean to startle you! I am called Dorian, however, you can call me anytime.~” The mysterious man called Dorian held out a hand to Virgil, smiling warmly when the young man’s shaking hand rested itself in the others gloved hand. “You’ve been caring for me in all this recent time, I recognize that panicked heartbeat, My Dear. How lucky am I?” Dorian’s adoring gaze never left Virgil’s pretty flushed face as the other brought the still trembling hand to his lips. All Virgil’s frazzled mind could think to do was make him giggle at the absurdity of the situation, and close his eyes and cover his face because his mind wasn’t even sure he was breathing.

Surrounded by his thoughts, he did not hear the other get up, nor did he feel when the other sat beside him. However, he did feel the arm that pulled him closer to the other man, gentle and loose, yet still comforting. For a few long moments the pair sat in silence.

As Virgil calmed down, his mind slowly came to terms that his company was not really human, but found that his tired mind did not really care. Lowering his hands, Virge glanced at the taller being next to him who was gazing up at the darkening shades of the sky. Leaning against Dorian’s arm a bit more, he joined the other in his gazing at the sunset splashed sky. Another long moment of silence stretched past them, before Dorian finally found his voice to speak.

“...Years I’ve spent dormant in the earth, thinking of my horrible revenge upon humanity, and yet when you set me free I suddenly had second thoughts..” Dorian hummed, meeting Virgil’s gaze solidly for a moment before gazing out across the park. “It’s been long since I’ve stretched these legs, used these eyes, held another so close.. I’ve missed it dearly. I hope you don’t mind, uh-“ Dorian paused, realizing what he’d forgotten. Here he was, cuddling with a mortal that he didn’t even know the true name of!

Virgil seemed to catch on, chuckling softly, “It’s Virgil, Dorian. My name? And.. don’t worry about it. I totally get being touch starved, dude.” Dorian smiled sadly, disappointed that this human was feeling the consequences of lack of contact too. He let the others name roll off his forked tongue, an inhuman purr escaping him at such a pretty name. Dorian didn’t miss the shiver that passed through Virgil in reaction to the deep voice, but kept his thoughts to himself about it for now.

“I think.. A proper night of introduction is in order. A walk around the park, or this fascinating city, if you will?” Dorian smiled, standing up and reaching out a gloved hand for Virgil to take. Accepting this weird fate, Virgil just shook his head with a smile and took the others hand, allowing Dorian, ever the gentleman, to link arms with him.

“What about your um, scales?” Virgil asked, hoping that they wouldn’t get anymore stares than a man in a suit and a man in full goth attire could attract. In a swift movement of a hand over Dorian’s face, the scales vanished. Replacing them was breathtaking vitiligo, the yellow eye becoming blue to accompany Dorian’s green one. Virgil laughed softly, face flushing at the beautiful man before him but still keeping his shy smile present.

“Now that that is settled, how about that walk, hmm?” Dorian grinned, and with Virgil’s agreeing nod, the two disaster gays from different times were off to traverse the city.

Steel Type with the appearance of a bird like ferret, I love it but the type is a bit hard to imagine on that since these two are basically floofy in my mind

pokèmonize yourself!!!!

spin this wheel to see your pokemon type

spin this one to see how you'll look like

WHY....just why you made me cry..... God why it's like hanahaki disease whyyyyyy

Unrequited love, any ship, that one where a song starts playing in someone's head once they fall in love and will keep playing until the person goes insane or until the person they fell in love with confesses, but they kill themselves before the other one gets a chance to?

Just an idea

do it or you're white

A/n: Hey, it didn’t take her months after the last one this time! I still apologize though ‘cause I know this was still sent in so long ago. Also I may have gotten carried away uhhh. Safe to say, I loved the prompt and my head and fingers went brrr. I apologize in advance. Hope you like it, fam!

Too Close, Too Late

Warning/s: Major Character Death, suicide, mention of suicide attempts, suicidal ideation, self-harm, figurative mentions of sharp objects, panic attacks, unrequited love, please please tell me if I missed anything

Pairing/s: Unrequited Analogical (Virgil x Logan)

Word Count: 6898 words

Song: Too Close by Alex Clare

~~~~~

You know I'm not one to break promises

I don't want to hurt you but I need to breathe

Virgil drags out a breath as he plops backward onto his bed, eyes closed and headphones over his ears. Thomas has gotten attached to this one particular song lately -- “Too Close” by Alex Clare. Virgil doesn’t understand why Thomas suddenly grew a liking to it. The song was released ten years ago, and it was hardly a masterpiece. But Thomas likes it, ergo, Virgil does too, much to his dismay. 

It’s catchy, though. He’ll give it that.

He’s put his playlist on shuffle for the past few days to try and get the song out of his system, but for some reason the darned thing just keeps popping up, and Virgil never has the will to skip it.

It isn’t that the song is terrible, it isn’t the opposite either. It’s that it reminds him too much of a certain side; a side he’s been avoiding lately, one who’s started noticing.

It reminds him of Logan.

At the end of it all, you're still my best friend

But there's something inside that I need to release

They’ve always been close. Roman and Patton’s undying, exuberant energy was too much for them, while Janus and Remus’ chaotic antics didn’t always sit perfectly with Virgil or Logan as well. They both grew to find indulgence in harmless little debates, peace when they sat in silence on the couch reading books, company in the way they made coffee together, calling each other out for their drastically different tastes. 

He dared to call Logan his best friend, and Virgil was stupid enough to fall in love.

He knew he was truly, deeply fucked when his chest ached in warmth and his eyes stared in wonder every time Logan talked about the universe and the heavenly bodies it contained. He knew it when his breath hitched every time their hands brushed as they hunted for books in the mindscape library. He felt it when Logan left them in Patton’s room once when they were all drowning in nostalgia and no one had listened, the empty space beside him too obvious and too real. 

He realized it when Logan gave him that audiobook gift card for Christmas and they spent the whole afternoon browsing through catalogues and listening side by side. He confirmed it when he stayed with Logan through a stressful week, getting him to smile for the first time in days, keeping the beauty of his laughter all to himself.

He falls in love with Logan a little bit more each day that it hurts to even just be near him; close enough to touch, but never daring to. 

Which way is right, which way is wrong

How do I say that I need to move on

You know we're headed separate ways

Logan is the sun-- dazzling, bright, and radiant in all the magnificence of its rays, but scalding,  deadly, dangerous once one veers close, lest they desire to suffer ‘till their forms are reduced to nothing but ash.

And maybe Virgil is already burnt, walking Thomas’ mindscape as ash, wanting to drift through the breeze if only to graze Logan’s brilliance at a microscopic scale, forever fearing the possibility of disintegrating into anything further.

He wants to stay friends, he really does. Every second he spends in avoidance of Logan is a thorn to his chest, and he pretends not to notice the lack of luster in Logan’s voice when he declines yet another visit to the library earlier that day. He feels awful subjecting his best friend to this isolation, and it feels just as excruciating for Virgil to lock himself away like this.

When he thinks of being with Logan, he thinks of how he relishes in his presence, how he feels so much at ease, how he can be himself, how he treasures every star they’ve counted and every song they’ve listened to. But he also thinks of how much he longs to linger in his arms, how he wishes to cup his face in his hands, how he yearns to link his fingers with Logan’s, to trace every fine line in his features, drink in his every word and cherish his every breath. He thinks of how he wants more than what they have, what they are.

Then, as the song comes to an end, he thinks of how he cannot have that, and he thinks of how it hurts.

And it feels like I am just too close to love you

There's nothing I can really say

I can't lie no more, I can't hide no more

Roman invites him out of his room later that night to join them for dinner. Patton always tries to rope everyone together with different activities. None of them mind the efforts; in fact, some of Pat’s pursuits were well received and appreciated, becoming habitual and routine. It’s just that each of them were all so different, too diverse for these events to come about naturally.

Virgil remembers the last time he declined one of Morality’s little get togethers and has well-learned from it. 

He doesn’t know whether it was by chance, fate, or choice that the empty seat laid out for him happens to be beside Logan, but he notices how Logan’s eyes are locked on him as he approaches, and Virgil decides to be courteous enough to look at him back and shoot him a smile. 

Already he feels the rapid beating of his heart, the overwhelming rush of emotions, the falling of his guard. He reminds himself that Anxiety is not supposed to feel safe. His entire facet pivots around emergency exits, towering walls, jolts of fear, and guards paying vigil. Yet as his elbow brushes against Logan’ sleeve sitting down, he feels the trust and tranquility hidden beneath the friendship and infatuation. He fears it, tries to clamp down the feelings rising in his chest, and eats in silence.

Got to be true to myself

The whole table settles into light conversation. Every time Logan talks Virgil’s cheeks grow the slightest bit hotter, yet he remains unspeaking. Logan tries to spur Virgil into joining the talk, tempting him with mentions of double-edged song lyrics and book titles; but he only replies with halved answers and carefully guarded words. If he cannot distance himself physically, then perhaps he can still do so in other ways. 

And it feels like I am just too close to love you

Then he hears it. It’s soft, and almost unnoticeable, but Virgil hears it. His neck snaps to the side right in the middle of Logan’s sentence, trying to look for the source of that same song.

“Virgil? What’s wrong?” Logan asks, and Virgil’s eyes flit towards him, ears still picking up on the faint sounds of the song.

“Don’t you hear it, Lo?” It feels new to be talking to Logan again like this, but he pushes his former agenda aside, if only to at least find the source of the music.

Logan looks around, fork hovering over the food and neck stretching to listen. “I do not hear anything, Virgil.”

Virgil looks to the rest and finds them listening in as well, only for them to confirm nothing but the sounds of cutlery and breathing. As he takes another glance at Logan’s familiar, worried face, the song seems to resound louder.

So I'll be on my way

“Virge? What are you hearing, kiddo?” Patton inquires, napkin clutched loosely in his hand.

Virgil’s fingers shake around his silver utensils, spooked and confused at the premise of no one else but him hearing the recognizable riff. He considers telling them, but anxiety makes him dread what they must think of him once he reveals his plight, what Logan might say upon knowledge of his ridiculous predicament.

So he doesn’t.

“Sorry, uh… it was nothing, probably. Just thought I heard something from the imagination. Maybe I just need sleep or whatever.”

The line works on most of them, sending them into a cascade of reminders for Virgil to take better care of himself, and a few teasing words from Janus and Remus. Logan stays silent, and from the corner of Virgil’s eyes it’s hard to miss how Logan’s brows furrow, before it smoothes again into the usual stoicism he holds often.

The song comes to an end, and Virgil thinks his suffering ends there.

From beside him, Logan stands abruptly. He thanks Patton for the meal, places his dishes in the dishwasher, and retreats into his room. His absence both relieves and disappoints Virgil, bringing him back to when he’d usually follow suit with a half-coherent debate topic on hand, ready to get verbally beaten by Logan in a light-hearted battle of wits.

He doesn’t expect the song to start again.

You gave me more that I can return

Yet there's so much that you deserve

He’s mostly kept to his room since the dinner. He spent the entirety of that night hunting for the source of the music. He checked his phone, his speakers, his headphones. He ventured through the mindscape to relentlessly hunt for where it was coming from, only to come back defeated, tired, and losing his mind over hearing the song for more than ten times in a single night.

He concluded, as he stood in the middle of his messy room, that it was coming from his mind. He didn’t sleep that night, and he still can’t now. It’s grown a bit louder over the days. He tries to ignore it, blasting louder music to drown it out or occupying himself with watching conspiracy videos and writing half-assed poetry until the sun rises yet again without his knowledge. 

But the song’s ceaseless beats continue its tune, like a broken record left to play for eternity.

Nothing to say, nothing to do,

I've nothing to give

He finds his answer at the one-week mark, after scouring countless of articles on the web and timing his visits to the library at times when no one, especially Logan is around. It’s an odd ordeal being in a library when Alex Clare’s voice is playing over and over in your head at a certain volume. He reads about a thing called Musicalia and how this curse happens when one falls into the unfortunate circumstance of unrequited love, only ending once the love is finally reciprocated. That is, assuming the individual has not lost themselves to insanity yet.

The words brand itself in his consciousness, mingling with the notes and lyrics on-repeat. Virgil shuts the book close with trembling hands and heaving breaths, panic threatening to take him over. He tips his head back and breathes, trying his utmost best to keep a steady rhythm despite the confusing tempo in his ears. Images of Logan find its way into the forefront of his thoughts, memories playing out in time to the song, biting Virgil with every lyric and moment his brain throws at him.

He recalls the number of times Logan had emphasized how he did not feel things and how Virgil always corrected him after, telling him to quit denying the fact and spending whole nights in Logan’s room trying to prove to him that he does indeed have the capacity for emotion. 

Though Logan never believed it, Virgil always did-- still does. However, the prospect of Logan harboring feelings for Virgil? It was more impossible than a rock growing wings. Virgil desperately tries to stop the tears from flowing once he thinks about how Logan may never see Virgil the way he sees him, how there is nothing about himself Logan or anyone can possibly love beyond friendship, and how Logan will only ever see him as that. A friend.

“Too Close” restarts again, and he yells, hoping the echoing of his screams will be enough to scare away its taunting notes. He yells as he thinks about how he might have to live with this song trapped in his head forever. 

He cries as he realizes he may not even have forever.

But he can stay sane. He will stay sane. For himself, for Thomas, and for Logan.

I must leave without you

You know we're headed separate ways

He knows he cannot hide in his room forever, and circumstances where he is forced to leave the comforts of his room are unavoidable. None of the sides can control when they are summoned, so Virgil learns to divide his attention. He trains himself to push the record player to the back of his mind to listen to what the rest have to say. He grows accustomed to hiding the twitching of his eyes, the throbbing of his head, and the gritting of his teeth. He clamps down pained groans in front of the others and manages to hold conversations without looking off into space too often.

He still talks with Logan, albeit professionally. They discuss the advantages and disadvantages of attending a social gathering, right times to hold livestreams, mistakes and inconsistencies in their scripts. Virgil sees how the wonder in Logan’s irises have diminished, how the words have lessened, how the cadence of his voice has flattened. And Virgil aches to reach out if only to see Logan’s smile again, to laugh with him until their stomachs hurt, to wear his tie and have him wear his hoodie, to have things back to where they were before.

But every minute he spends with Logan is another notch higher in his curse’s volume, another hit on the replay button, another shard in his head and a thorn in his heart. So he swallows his yearning and keeps their acquaintanceship as a forlorn shot at dwindling his own suffering. 

Sometimes, Virgil thinks if he should instead go the opposite route and restart the fire; mend their friendship and hope for it to grow into something beautiful, something that will throw him out of this endless loop. But every time the suggestion comes to him, the insecurities and the anxiety attack ten-fold, reminding him that Logan never will, especially not now. And he again chooses to instead see how far he can push the fragile threads of his mind.

How long can he last in this never-ending nightmare?

And it feels like I am just too close to love you

There's nothing I can really say

It gets louder with each passing day.  He is not sure how many weeks or months have passed, but to him it’s been eternity. 

Other times he gives in, hopelessly singing along and tapping his palms and fingers against his desk with nothing to do but ride along the song’s sickening, lively beat. He’s memorized it by now, knowing every rise and fall of the singer’s voice and every pitch of the synthetic accompaniment. He doesn’t even register any longer when the song has ended and when it’s started again. 

Most times he’s frantic and furious, exhausted and desperate to have one minute of silence. During those days he loses his control over his body and he lets rip the loudest, ear-curdling screams into the expanses of his room as he throws everything he can lay his hands on. He digs his fingernails into his scalp as if tearing open the skin there will release the song from its cranial prison. He helplessly runs his hands across his face, nails dragging against pale skin, breaths loud and heavy.

All the while he can only think of Logan, the very virus who caused him his anguish and the only person who can cure him of it. Logan, the beacon in the night he blindly flew into, like a moth drawn into the brightest flame in the sky. 

I can't lie no more, I can't hide no more

Got to be true to myself

He’s on his bed hugging his body tight one night, tear stains still fresh and lips mumbling the godforsaken lyrics when it happens. 

He almost doesn’t hear it over the deafening sound waves of the cursed song, but there’s a knock.

He hauls himself out of bed, does a quick check in the mirror, wipes his eyes and dabs powder over his face to give a semblance of stability, and breathes deep as he opens the door.

The volume hikes up again once he sees who’s behind it, his heart hammers in his chest, and it takes all of his strength not to wince from the sheer loudness of the song.

Logan looks like a deer caught in headlights, as though he was not expecting Virgil to open the door. He’s carrying a tray with a plate of Crofters-filled pastries and two glasses of juice, standing slightly awkwardly in his place. Virgil stands just as rigidly, fingers in a death grip on the door knob.

And it feels like I am just too close to love you

“Oh, uhm, hel--salutations, Virgil,” Logan begins, face back into a neutral expression while his arms shake ever so slightly. “Janus and Patton tried their hand at baking a while ago and requested me to bring some in for you. They’re asking for a sort of ‘peer review’ on their work, if you don’t mind.”

Virgil’s grip on the doorknob tightens while his fight or flight instincts try to kick in. His hands then quickly fly out to quite clumsily take the tray from Logan, the slight brush of their fingers intoxicating.

“Cool. I’ll tell them how it is later. Tell them I said ‘thanks’ for me, Lo.” Virgil begins to move the door closed with his foot. “Now, uh, if that’s all--”

“Wait!” Logan sets a hand on the door from his side, keeping it open, eyes wide and staring into Virgil’s intently. “I have also been meaning to discuss something with you, if I may.”

Their eyes stay on each other through the small opening, the tray shaking slightly as the song continues to blare through his mind, and Logan speaks again.

“Please.”

Virgil swears he hears so much emotion in that one word that he double checks to see if this person in front of him is actually Logan. Despite the loud alarms saying otherwise, he finds his walls crumbling once again in front of this man and before he knows it, his foot is nudging the door open.

“Okay. Come in.”

Logan does, and the emotion is expertly wiped off his face. “Thank you.”

Virgil sets the tray on his desk as he sits on his swivel chair, and Logan silently asks permission to sit on his bed. Virgil gives him the ‘go’ signal in the form of a nod and a pained smile. The moment feels wrong. Both of them are too silent, too distant, yet the music in Virgil’s mind is too loud, too alive.

“So, what did ya’ wanna talk about?”

Logan looks down for a bit before looking back up at Virgil. “I only want to know how you are fairing, Virgil. It has been… a while since we last held proper conversation outside of work.”

Virgil feels something in his chest grow heavier. Instinctively, he grabs a pastry from the plate, leans back against the chair, and takes a bite; a false display of laxness and soundness. “Thanks for the concern, pocket protector, but I’m doing a-OK. Honestly don’t know why you’d ask that.”

“Maybe I asked it because you are obviously not.” There’s much more of a bite now in Logan’s tone, and Virgil knows him well enough to be wary when his voice shifts in this manner.

“What are you talking about, Lo? I’ve been attending the meetings, I show up fine when summoned. Hell, I’ve never missed one of Pat’s little ‘family nights’--”

“Let me rephrase the question, then.” Logan clears his throat and the quickest burst of emotion flashes through his features; gone as quick as it came. “How are we fairing?”

The pastry stops short of his mouth, and the song reaches another verse. “Pardon?”

Logan visibly breathes, chest rising and falling asynchronously to Virgil’s personal jukebox. “Virgil, if you need space, then that is respectable. If you wish to have time for yourself then I cannot say or do anything against it.” Logan’s hand goes to his tie, moving as if to adjust it but ending up crumpling it in his grip. “My only request is that… if I have done anything, anything at all that has caused you this distress, anything that may have caused you to disengage from our usual routines together, please tell me.”

Logan keeps face, but the slight gleam in his eyes gives him away. The energy of the song ruins the moment but it doesn’t make the emotions between them any less real.

“Logan… it’s-- it’s not that--”

“Then what is it, Virgil? The easiest course of action for me to take would be to accept your answer, rid myself of unnecessary guilt, and let you be. But these previous months I cannot help but notice how your approach towards me has changed along with a decrease in our customary activities together. I’ve noticed how you have been avoiding me, Virgil, and if I have done anything erroneous at all to bring upon your behavior then I ask that you tell me, so I may make my amends.” Logan’s lips tremble after his words and he waits for Virgil to speak.

Virgil merely stares right back, heart about to beat out of his chest and temples about to burst from throbbing. “Logan, you’ve done nothing wrong, I swear--”

“Then what can I do?” His voice shakes and the neutrality of his features are gone, his most raw emotions lain bare for Virgil to see. “I want what is needed to be fixed, fixed. I want to help you, Virgil. I want us to be okay. I want you to be okay; because I--” Logan pauses, then visibly gulps. “--I am your friend.”

There it is. Friend. The word mocks him, reminds Virgil of his place. He feels a piece of his heart shatter while the song blares even louder, a possibility he wishes never existed.

“Is this not, by definition, what friends do?”  

A sticky concoction of emotions and panic lodges itself in Virgil’s chest, and his next words slip out of his mouth before he even has the chance to think about it twice. 

“No. Friends are supposed to not snoop around and milk answers to wash the guilt out of his hands. Friends are supposed to understand when the other doesn’t want to say shit. And friends leave the other alone when he wishes him to.” Virgil barely hears himself over the thunderous tune, but he is aware of how much he is shaking, sees how uncomposed and trembling Logan is in front of him.

It doesn’t suit him.

So I'll be on my way

“Do you… do you wish for me to? Do you want me to leave you alone?”

No. Virgil’s head and heart both scream “no,” but he is reminded of the dangers, of the pain he might cause both of them if he drags this on any longer. His lips move on its own accord.

“Yes. Please.” It’s barely a whisper, but the pain in Logan’s eyes tells him that he was heard. 

A single tear rolls down Logan’s cheek, but he irons out his features, acting as though the answer doesn’t hurt him. He stands up, smoothes the creases of his tie and shirt, and takes one last look at Virgil. 

“Then as your friend, I will gladly oblige. Don’t forget to send Patton and Janus your thoughts on the confectionary. Good day, Virgil” Logan is out of the door in a few quick strides; pastries and drink forgotten on Virgil’s desk.

So I'll be on my way

The panic finally dislodges itself from Virgil’s throat, and he lets go. He shakily moves to his bed and hugs his knees close to his chest, breaths painful and heaving, cries bouncing off his walls. He regrets every word he said as it replays in his mind, an incoherent mix of his own and Alex Clare’s words fighting for dominance in his head. The music continues to mock him, his hands coming up to once again claw at his scalp and pull at his hair in the midst of his attack.

He knows he was wrong. Oh, so wrong. But it is too late now to do anything. He’s too far gone. The derisive replays of both the events from earlier and the fucking song tortures him, digging figurative daggers into his brain, leeching the sanity out of him. He does not even notice when he begins banging his head against the wall, eyes closed, jaw clenched tight, groans and screams falling out of his lips.

He only stops when he opens his eyes to see red on his bedroom wall. 

It takes a while for the panic to settle down and even longer for him to be coherent enough to tend to his wound. 

As images of Logan flood his mind, the song ends and starts again.

And it feels like I am just too close to love you

They never talk again after that, save for when the circumstance gravely requires it. Eventually the amount of scabs on Virgil’s scalp, head, and face along with the grave repetitiveness of the music make it near-impossible for Virgil to come out and face anyone. He spends most of his time hysterically trying to drown the musical noise from within him. The bags in his eyes are enough to fool anyone into thinking it as eyeshadow, his pallor a ghostly white, cheeks sunken, and eyes deeply haunted.

He whiles away the hours pacing his room, lips mouthing the lyrics, fingers picking at the threads of his jacket, feet tripping over each other as it treks through his wrecked quarters. He hopes, wishes and prays for it to stop. He’s grown addicted to the few seconds of silence brought about by the song’s ending, slowly fading out into tranquil nothing, and he finds himself chasing it ‘till it restarts. 

He cannot remember the last time he’s slept, eaten, or opened his door for anyone. If they had knocked at his door, he would not have known. He hears nothing else anymore; nothing but the music’s unending harmony.

There's nothing that I can really say

In the violent waves of his cursed melody, he still sees Logan. Often he lays in bed, staring at his black ceiling fan, allowing his memories to play out as movies before him. His exhausted form luxuriates in images of the two of them laying in Logan’s room, watching the constellations on his ceiling dance above them. He relives how Logan named each one, telling Virgil of the myths behind them and the stories they bring. He remembers how he’d tease Logan with astrology, waiting until Logan scrunches his nose in distaste of such “fallacious predictions.”

Often in his maddened state, his thoughts tread further. He thinks of how he wants to keep his hand in Logan’s, how he longs to card his fingers through his soft locks, aches to count every dip of his face and every spot on his skin, wishes to lie side-by-side and face-to-face, forms locking together like jigsaw pieces, yearns to memorize the feel of Logan’s lips on his own.

He misses him, cares for him, wants him, needs him. He loves him.

His tangled thoughts bring him back to when he first read about his condition in the library. There are only two ways to end this loop. Either Logan reciprocates his love, or he shuts down the very source of the music -- himself. One of those two are more improbable, more impossible than the other, and Virgil dreads to think that it might be the former.

I can't lie no more, I can't hide no more

He’ll be lying when he says he hasn’t thought of it before. There have been multiple days where his brain cracks under the pressure of the song’s torturous tones, where the invitation is all too tempting, the thought of release too sweet to resist. But he’s stood strong, still here and alive with countless scars and painful memories to prove it.

He doesn’t know how much longer he can stay that way.

It’s a daunting thing to realize that this song may stay in his head forever, that he may have to live with this for all of Thomas’ lifetime. But he’s so, so tired. He just wants the song to end. He wants the instrumental to fade out into nothingness for one last time and to never hear it fade back in again. Is it too much to ask? 

Now, as Virgil fruitlessly fights to claw the chorus out of his skull, there are only three things in his mind. The motherfucking song, the love of his life, and how badly he wants to end everything.

He drags himself to the mirror with a pained sigh and runs his eyes over himself. He traces every wound, scab, and scar on his face and body with his hands, fingers moving along to the relentless beat. Tears flow from his eyes yet he laughs. Virgil cackles as he counts every mark dotting his sickly skin. His nails drag across every one as he giggles and gasps out the lyrics, body swaying out of rhythm, arms reaching up to the imaginary constellations in his ceiling. He keeps his head tipped back, eyes straight north as he loudly sings along. 

Got to be true to myself

He twirls, and twirls, and twirls until he falls onto the ground, a non-existent phantom of Logan catching him, lifting him up and setting him down onto his bed. He feels wetness seeping out the back of his head and remembers when Roman brought them all into the Imagination, where Virgil had pulled Logan out of the shade and into the rain. Logan had taken his hand and led him into a dance, and they laughed and spun ‘till the sunset shone through the droplets.

The manic laughter dies down slowly, and in its place he’s thrown head-first into the first real taste of fear he’s had today. His thoughts veer into dangerous territory yet again, and Virgil finds himself staring once more at the steady spiraling of his ceiling fan. His gaze drifts off and lands at the top of his cabinet, where a roll of rope peacefully sits.

Fatigued and deep into the inky depths of insanity, Virgil breathes; then he makes himself a deal.

If the song starts again, that’s his final straw.

A dazed smile creeps on his face as he sings the last chorus, waiting for the inevitable way the last bit of instrument dies down. He closes his eyes and listens. It fades in, then--

You know I'm not one to break promises

His eyes snap open, and he snickers. The snicker turns into a giggle, and soon he’s cackling, chortling to the emptiness of his room. That was his signal. It can finally be over. Logan should be proud of him for coming up with this solution on his own.

He leaps up and almost falls out of balance. He mouths the words as he drags a chair to his dresser, climbing up and grabbing the rope. Before he does anything else, he pulls out a letter pressed between the pages of his and Logan’s favorite book. It’s creased and not so purely white anymore from how many times Virgil had considered ending his suffering, chickening out at the last minute every time.

But not this time. He is a man of his word. He places the envelope with a neatly-written “Logan” decorating it back down on the book.

The next steps are easy enough, and the killer tunes make everything much more fun. He feels silly placing his head through the clumsily-tied noose while standing on a rolling chair. He closes his eyes, conjures the beautiful image of Logan to the front of his mind, and kicks.

And it feels like I am just too close to love you

So I'll be on my way

The rope is rough on his neck, itchy and uncomfortable. The panic settles in quickly, just as fast as the breath is knocked out of his lungs, denied a way of re-entry. He spasms and fights for air, body looking for anchorage he’ll never have. 

Knock knock knock.

His eyes widen when he hears it, almost missing it through the unbearably loud chorus playing in his head. He shoves his fingers between the rope and his neck, a final fight for life just to know who it is.

“Virgil?”

So I’ll be on my way

He gasps as he recognizes the voice. The knocks continue its ministrations as Virgil’s vision blurs further and further around the edges. His lungs begin to burn, punishing him for the lack of oxygen as his legs continue to struggle for footing.

The knocks grow louder and more frantic but the door stays closed. He’s too late, Virgil thinks. He whispers an apology to his room, hoping it might relay the message to Logan for him once he’s gone.

A tear falls from Virgil’s eye as he feels the last huff of breath leave his lungs, vision going black and eyes rolling to the back of his head. He closes his eyes to the dazzling imagery of Logan’s smile, the sound of knocking, and the fading of music.

So I’ll be on my way

It doesn’t start again.

~~~

Finding Virgil’s body was the most horrifying experience Logan could have ever subjected himself to. He had cradled Virgil’s lifeless form back then, his fingers horrifically running through every uneven mark littering his ghastly skin, tears falling onto Virgil’s hoodie and cries billowing around the room.

It’s Remus who had handed Logan the letter with a sorrowful look on his face. Logan had torn it open then and there, with Virgil’s hauntingly light form still limp in his arms. All reservation for emotion had been thrown out the window once he finished through it, his chest aching and entire body trembling once Virgil’s entire explanation, story, apology, and confession had been laid out for Logan to take in.

Virgil loved him. Virgil suffered through that maddening condition because he loved him. Virgil is dead because he loved Logan.

He’s dead because he thought Logan did not love him back.

And for a while Logan thought the same thing. For so long he had denied his capacity for emotion, pushed down any and all indications of romantic affections, made way for objectivity and logic.

But he loved Virgil-- loves Virgil; and he was too caught up in his role to admit it. He was too late.

He supposes he deserves the pain he’s harboring now. Virgil in his letter had told him never to blame himself, that he’d come back to haunt him if Logan ever does. And Logan tries. He does not succeed all the time, but it’s a valiant effort. 

He is still Logic, and so he does what he knows best -- he plans. The next best step would be to move on from the depressing event and carry on with their respective responsibilities. It’s a difficult task to execute given how his memories with Virgil invade his every sleeping and waking moment, but he desperately convinces himself that he has to.

It’s what the others would have told him. It’s what Thomas needs. It’s what Virgil would have wanted. 

They all wait. Anxiety is still a crucial part of Thomas’ personality, and it is only a matter of time before the mindscape conjures up a persona to take Virgil’s place. Logan thinks it’s better this way. This will be an entirely different individual, one he holds no emotional attachment to, one that will not discredit his unbiased facet, one that is not his best friend, not Virgil. 

Logan does not know whether it’s a good or bad thing that the new Anxiety comes late at night, when Logan goes to refill his coffee mug, standing awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen. Logan’s breath comes out shaking as he drinks in the same jacket, same purple shirt, ripped jeans and purple-laced shoes. The facet meets Logan’s gaze, looking lost and scared, and Logan swallows when he sees the same black eyeshadow under his eyes, the same tufts of hair that fall in front of his face, and same terrible posture.

But his pallor looks a healthy color, not a single mark mars his skin, and there is no recognition behind his irises. Logan reminds himself that this is not his Virgil, evens his breathing, and does what is expected of him.

“Salutations. I’m Logan, Thomas’ logical side.” Logan begins his introduction, cautious to keep his distance from the obviously confused side. “Apologies. It appears you have materialized at a late hour, when everyone else is asleep. May I… may I have your name? If you feel comfortable doing so, of course.”

The side twists his fingers in his hoodie strings, an action that screams too much of Virgil. It takes his entire willpower not to break down then and there.

“I’m Virgil, Thomas’ Anxiety, I think.”

The name has Logan’s breath catching in his throat. Suddenly, he’s filled with the overwhelming urge to cry, to envelope this side in the tightest hug and not let go, to tell him how much he loves him and mutter unending apologies ‘till his lungs hurt. But his rationality still takes the upper hand, and he exhales, adamant on keeping his professionalism, set on carrying out his duties.

“Welcome, Virgil. There is already a room set for you in the corridor. I can escort you there right now if you wish to. After all, rest is a requirement to maintain optimal heal--”

“I’m, uh, actually not tired right now,” Anxiety says, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. “I dunno if this is an effect of just having been born but uh, yeah. I don’t feel tired at all.” The side huffs out a single laugh and looks at Logan.

Logan wants nothing more than to retreat into his room and prepare himself for the surely torturous days he will be having ahead of him; but he knows to be courteous and dismisses his own selfish desires. “Ah, of course. Then would you like to remain here for the time being? I, myself, am not feeling fatigued yet.” Logan pauses, watching as the new side hops up on the counter, swinging his feet and looking around at his new environment. “In fact, I was just about to make another cup of coffee. Would you like some?”

Anxiety’s eyes light up and he nods. Logan obliges and makes drinks for them both. He doesn’t realize that he’s just made Virgil’s exact coffee mix, brown and creamy with just the lightest bite of bitterness. The mug is already in New Anxiety’s hands before Logan can realize the fact. 

The side thanks him, takes a sip, and closes his eyes with a hum and the softest smile on his face. He leans back until his head rests against an overhead cupboard before taking another sip out of the concoction.

“Logan, right?” He asks, one eyebrow raised.

“Correct. How’s the drink?”

“It’s perfect. Just how I’d like it.”

Logan does his best not to choke on his own mug. 

They slip into light conversation after that with Logan remaining standing, hip leaning back against the counter only a few inches away from where Anxiety sits.

As the hours drag on, Logan internally gasps in anguish at how achingly Virgil this new side is. He’s got everything down to his smirk, his manner of speaking, choice of words, the way his hand clasps over his mouth in laughter and how his voice drops lower in teasing.

Every second he spends with the new side twists the figurative stake already lodged in his chest. They talk for as long as they can hold their eyes open, going into topics he and Virgil once talked about under the starry night sky. For a second, Logan thinks this may be his Virgil, yet he’s reminded by the way this side has no memory, no knowledge of the library’s awaiting secrets nor of the constellations’ mythical stories that he is indeed, not.

It hurts, but Logan stays. He stays by this facet’s side until he is tired enough to settle into his room, leaving Logan to gasp for air in his own quarters; mind going haywire at the prospect of him having to deal with a Virgil he can reach with his very fingertips, so painfully real and close to the love he once knew, but never being able to touch him.

Logan misses him, and this new, living, breathing reminder that he is still very much in love with someone he cannot have burns him like a hundred lightning strikes at once.

You know I'm not one to break promises

I don't want to hurt you but I need to breathe

At the end of it all, you're still my best friend

But there's something inside that I need to release

The song starts.

~~~~~

I hope y’all can forgive me for that. Don’t hesitate to hit reblog and hmu if you want to be added/removed from the tag list! Keep hydrated and safe, loves! <3

Tag list:

@pixalysparkelz-blog @cinquefoilelove @randomslasher @ladynikita @thestoryofme13 @fandomsandanythingelse @asexual-trashbag @fandomsofrandom  @moonlace @nyxwordsmith  @freepaperie081 @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @jughead-is-canonically-aroace @areyousirius-noheisdead @fandersides @sincerely-a-dork @lizziepopanime @emo-nightmare @justmeandmygayships  @elizabutgayer @robinwritesshitposts @booklover223 @nadiestar @quackerz-creations @halfwaytoqueens @madly-handsome @im-a-creepy-cookie @anotheregofanficblog @wisherbysharlight @momalkav24 @merlinfreya27 @sweet-hibiscus-tea-art @did-he-just-hiss-at-me @bella-in-a-bag @apatheticlogic-internet @the-fetus-in-the-blender @angsty-gay-writer-bitch @emiliopiccolo @private-snippers

Did a live stream with a friend and drew Roman and Virgil as Sans n Papyrus 🤣

The beasts trying to "corrupt" y/n

I cant help but think of the opposite lmao

Love Letters

Fandom: Sanders Sides Pairing: Dukexiety Characters: Virgil, Remus, everyone else mentioned Notes: Day 14 for @tsshipmonth2020​ - dukexiety Summary: When Virgil wrote done his feelings for Remus it was the explicit intention to shred the letter after.

He knew he was forgetting something

AO3

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To Remus,

I’ve been having feelings.  The worst kind of feelings. Super affectionate, really lovey-dovey, terrible feelings.  You’d probably laugh in my face if I told you about them.

In fact, you’d definitely laugh in my face.  Which is why I’m writing this and not like, talking to you.  Because I’m a coward who can’t deal with the fact you’ll reject me.  

But I also can’t move on.

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Hi 👋, can I request a self aware Smilk & reader, where he’s the only one who knows of their existence, and the reader can sometimes take control of him which causes some confusion to other cookies.

(You can choose whether it’s a one-shot or headcanons)

Yess self awareness time

.......

After trying and trying again, you finally pulled Shadow Milk Cookie from the gacha, thrilled that he finally came home!

Now that you've understood all the hype surrounding him and how crazy powerful he can be after clearing his Beast Yeast episodes, you had all your star jellies, toppings, and a legendary beascuit saved just for him.

But ever since obtaining him, you've noticed some...oddities with him that made you assume it was part of his programming/AI.

When you see him walking around the kingdom or working at a station that's not the toy store, he's looking at you a lot.

Of course, some cookies may glance at you occasionally, with even fewer breaking the fourth wall (like Black Sapphire and Devil Cookie), but that's just what the devs added as a funny joke.

Shadow Milk...is different. He doesn't follow their script to a T.

The way he talks and waves at you, shows off during battles and making himself the last cookie standing in difficult arena fights, and doing his juggling trick when he knows you're looking at him.

Then he actually responded to you after you made a remark about where to put his statue...and at first you're startled, bc no way could that have been a coincidence...

In reality, he had an "awakening" of his own--in that his knowledge suddenly extended beyond CRK's borders.

Somehow, he can see and hear you, becoming 100% aware that he's in a video game.

But you assume his new antics are part of his programming...until one day the charade falls apart and he straight up tells you that he knows the truth. He even says your username, the device you're playing on, and the day you started CRK as proof in case you think he's lying.

You're stunned at first, but then you think it's actually pretty awesome....until he claims that he's the only one who knows and felt like it would've been better if he didn't.

Of course, the master of deceit would rather ignore the truth and live out a lie, like all the other cookies are....but he's stuck with this earthbread-shattering truth that's only his to bear.

In a way, being "trapped" in this game reminds him of the witches and the time he spent in the silver tree, believing he escaped one prison only to end up in another.

After you leave the game to tend to some real life matters, he tries sowing chaos in the kingdom by revealing this to other cookies, thinking they'd "wake up".

Yet none of them know wtf he's talking about. Not even the Beasts or Pure Vanilla, who thinks he's just trying to trick everybody again..although he admits that what Shadow Milk is saying sounds most outlandish.

Typically, he'd be able to conjure up some kind of "evidence" and manipulate wide masses into believing any word he says.

But you're untouchable, and he has no way of obtaining tangible proof of your existence to show the other cookies...and once he realizes this, he gets frustrated.

"Who do you think fulfills our wishes at the tree???? Who do you think indulges us with star jellies????? Keeps this kingdom from crumbling to pieces?!! We are ALL the puppets to an even bigger puppet master!"

Anyone who hears this yap from him just thinks 'is he alright? like genuinely?'

The next time you log in, Shadow Milk is gravely upset that he has to carry this burden and decides to take it out on you.

Suddenly there's lag spikes when his ability is on cooldown (so you can hardly use them in battle and lose your ranking in arena), he avoids you trying to pick him up in the kingdom (much to other cookies' confusion, as from their pov, he's fleeing something that's invisible)...and he even corrupted his own stats to make it seem like any promotions were gone and his level dropped back to 1.

You ask him why he's causing you all this trouble, and his next rant was more or less....a reasonable crashout.

"I was a god...or at least that's what I thought. But no. I've been lied to. A master of deceit...has been lied to again!! What cruel irony! This world...this life of mine....it's all been one big game from the start! And nobody knows but I!! HAHAHA!! Tell me, [username]..what's it like being the true god of this world? Do you enjoy toying with our lives? What makes you think you deserve my power?! Damn you....and damn this prison!! YOU'RE NO BETTER THAN THOSE WITCHES!!!"

Other cookies just see him screaming at nobody in particular, although his rage forms rifts in the ground, from which the other-realm creeps out to attack anyone close to him.

You end up closing the game out of fear, leaving it alone for the next several hours.

While initially scared to reopen it, you did understand why Shadow Milk lashed out like that--he thought he was in control, and couldn't comprehend the idea of it being somebody else.

You don't know why he, of all cookies, had to be cursed with this forbidden knowledge, but what could be done about it now?

Nothing.

So you returned to the game and found a plushie of him somewhere after looking around for a few minutes, and after clicking him, he turns back to normal and scowls.

"What? You've come back to toy with me more, stupid god? Or were you just worried that I did something to your precious kingdom?"

"No, and no." You say, explaining to him that while you'd never fully understand what he was feeling--and couldn't help him explain your existence to other cookies--you wanted him to see you as a friend, not a puppet master or a witch or some untouchable god like he accuses you of being.

To show him you're serious, you bought all of his decor and gave him his own little castle/spire-like area, where he can indulge in his hobbies or just retreat there whenever he wanted to.

For some time, Shadow Milk is silent as he inspects everything and for a moment...you thought he reverted back to his NPC programming...

Then he looks at you and grins a little. "Jeez, if only you put this much effort into the rest of the kingdom."

"Yeah, well...I'm working on it." You chuckled. "Black Sapphire and Candy Apple Cookie think it's "dull" and doesn't compare to your spire, but-"

"I'll deal with them later. This...is acceptable."

It's fair to say...he's content.

He seems to finally accept his new reality, as he doesn't corrupt his stats or sabotage your gameplay anymore, allowing you to use him as your strongest magic cookie again.

Now if you start shifting your focus towards pulling Awakened Pure Vanilla, however, he might stir up some trouble to make the process take even longer