Harassed (New Version)
I honestly can’t believe you guys liked and reblogged the other fanfic I wrote yesterday, or as I like to call it: my piece of grammar trash. Long story short, Tumblr decided to scrunch up the whole thing to one chunk of paragraph. You can imagine how that made my perfectionist self feel. I tried to fix it, but because there was school the day after (or today), I had to go to sleep, stressed and embarrassed out of my mind.
So, I’m pasting it again from my notes, because I already learned I absolutely can’t trust Tumblr with writing in general, what with the glitching, the crashing, the lagging, etc. Here it is, and I hope you enjoy!
@pastel-virgil @archon-they-them @acecutiecharlie @wikkedwolff @mylyricaldeath @bogey1206 @otakuudere666 (?) @vampyrsarah @cayannamon @gabelle6123 @bennidoesart @strange-dark-son @falling-panic (?) @daymeetsnight @emupoppyjay @princeyandanxiety @xix-leiloves-xix @analogicalisreal @trotty-smithy-hornby @runningwithscissorsandstuff
In the Mindscape, Roman and Virgil were on the couch in the common room. The former was sprawled over it and taking most of the space, listening to Evanescence on his headphones, while the latter sat at the other end, looking into his hand mirror and frowning, and fixing his hair every ten seconds. It was relatively quiet and, if you didn’t know better, peaceful. Well, at least it was, until—
“Ugh, today was /horrifying/!” cried Roman with a nasal voice.
Virgil was startled out of his dismal reverie, somehow the shriek louder than his blaring music. He took his headphones off with a huff. “Do you mind?”
Roman scoffed and glared, but the actions lost their effects when he sniffed. Not like it mattered. Virgil hadn’t even glanced at him. “Not really. Though I /am/ very grateful that you hadn’t voiced your despondent thoughts, I’m not sure why /you/ hadn’t as well.”
Virgil deadpanned, then looked away to his phone. “I’m not into screaming into the universe about my feelings. So you’re sick. What’s the big deal?”
“You’re just going to dismiss what /else/ happened today?!”
Virgil finally maintained eye contact with Roman. He was baring his teeth at him. Virgil sighed. “Yeah, the guy was an asshole,” he admitted. He raked his hand through his hair, then shoved it back into his pocket. “You know, I have an idea. Why don’t you just watch a Disney movie and leave me alone?” he added sarcastically.
“Well, they can be distracting,” the other mumbled. He was probably speaking to himself. He kept quiet, and Virgil grabbed his headphones when he resumed speaking.
“Patton hasn’t made a sound… Is that worrying?”
Virgil mentally damned Roman. He was /this close/ to forgetting and ignoring about the invading thoughts. “I think so… Yep. It is.” He rubbed his face with both of his hands, then sat up.
“Do you think his emotions were wounded?”
Virgil deadpanned once again and Roman raised his arms in defeat. “We were all… offended by what that asshole said to us. You think Patton would just ignore what he said?”
Roman huffed. “I’m not the clever one. You know who is.” He paused. “It is normal for Logan to isolate himself, isn’t it?”
What was it with Roman worrying? Virgil shoved his thoughts— He wasn’t hurt from that, right?— down, knowing that he wasn’t nearly as fragile as the other. “Yeah. He’s probably just doing a psychological evaluation about why people are jerks in there.” He thought for a while, until he decided to ask Roman.
“You think we should check on Pat, or leave him alone?”
Roman looked to the ceiling. “We all know how easily desolate he becomes. I believe the former.”
He nodded. “Yeah.” He just realized they were both actually having a civilized conversation, and smirked slightly. But it immediately fell when the harsh words came back. He shook his head to snap out of it. “We should go to Thomas, I think.”
Roman stood, not as theatrically, but his body lilted somewhat to some mental song that seemed to be playing in his mind non-stop. “Well, we mustn’t haste. Let us hunt for Thomas!” He swung his arm to the distance, which was the wall.
Virgil cringed. “You make it sound like we’re gonna slaughter him.”
Roman groaned, his arm lowering. “Just when I was feeling more like myself, Chester Brennington.”
Virgil was on his feet in an instant. “Have some respect,” he hissed.
Roman cleared his throat, stepping away. He lowered his gaze. “I apologize. That was uncalled for.”
“Damn right.” His nostrils flared as he forced himself to breathe. “Let’s go before I punch you.”
They popped up on their host, who was watching The Office, sprawled in exactly the same position Virgil was earlier. He picked in the remote and paused the episode.
“Yeah…?” he drawled. Yes, definitely there was something up with Patton. Thomas was not acting like himself.
“We believe that not only Stressed and Depressed,” he swung his arm over to Virgil for emphasis, “is the cause for you suffering, but Daddy Dearest as well.”
Thomas frowned. “Really?” They nodded, and he sat up, turning off the TV. “Patton?” he called.
Thomas sighed. “I think you’re right,” he muttered. Then he raised his voice again. “Logan?”
Said aspect appeared on cue, a laptop on his arms. He glanced at the others, who stared back at him, and then he shifted his attention back at the console screen. “Is there anything you need, Thomas?”
Virgil cut to the chase. “We think it hurt Patton’s feelings. He’s not showing up.”
Logan didn’t need anymore explanation. He shut the laptop and placed it on the coffee table. “Ah… Right.”
“What were you doing there?” asked Roman, hands on his hips.
“Is it any of your business?”
Virgil’s eyes widened at the same time the overdramatic gasp resounded.
“Woah, okay,” interrupted a scowling Thomas before it became a full on argument and/or rap battle. “I am not ready for /three/ sassy sides of myself, so calm down, alright?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Alright. So Patton isn’t here. Is he in his room?”
Logan sighed. “We’re going to his room,” he stated dully. “That’s what this is about.”
“Oh, hush,” snapped Roman, obviously still angry at the other for that… surprising comment. “I could live if you two could express a bit of sunshine, even if it’s only in his demesne.”
Virgil scrunched up his face in utter confusion. “What?”
“He means ”territory”. Demesne defines into territory,” Logan clarified. “Back to the point at hand; ”sunshine”,” he wagged his fingers like apostrophes, “means unbiased information. Can I leave you to it?” He directed that last question to Thomas with a fake smile, which really was as much pleading as he could muster.
“Nope,” said Virgil, smirking a little. “We’re all going. Patton would want us all there.”
Logan tisked. “Fair point.”
“So, we all good, right? ‘Cause I’m taking us all there,” warned Thomas.
The aspects answered with varying degrees of “yes”. Then they all sank together.
Immediately, Virgil noticed that Patton’s room was too bright, and he squinted, wincing. Even with the blinds shut and the lights noticeably dimmed, it was too much for him.
As soon as his eyes could adjust, the first thing he noticed was the walls. They were painted blue but sometimes covered with colors of the sunset, interrupted by clouds. In a corner of the living-room-looking chamber was the sun. The ceiling was sprinkled with stars that would glow in the night. He wondered how Patton could sleep with such blinding illumination.
Despite how… beautiful the walls looked, there was a whole wall covered with artwork: there were childish creations (Patton’s obviously), and there were slightly talented ones, and then there were those, almost professional-looking. It was all about Thomas and themselves. Virgil hadn’t known how much there was dedicated to him.
He lowered his gaze to the coffee table, where there were various frames with pictures of them all. Most of them were ruined by Virgil’s evasion and hiding when it came to pictures, Roman’s extra pose, and Logan’s stiff muscles and blank expression while Patton hugged him. Yet they were still there, on display.
But there was one, that was absolutely /perfect/. It was the day they won the Shorty Award for Best YouTube Comedian. He felt so valued that day, and Roman was /fanboying/, and Patton kept gushing about how proud he was of all of them, and Logan admitted he would probably never feel more accomplished with all their work.
As soon as they entered the apartment, exhausted by all the euphoria, Patton demanded a picture. They all sat on the couch, with Thomas at the middle, and Patton made the /worst/ dad joke that made Roman (who was already suffering from the ”laughter attack”, as Logan decided to call it), cackle. This caused Thomas to follow suit.
At the left of the couch, Virgil saw himself smirking at the camera. Roman spread his arms over Virgil and Thomas’ shoulders, looking happier than Virgil had ever seen him (not even when Thomas was a guest star at a Disney show was Roman as overjoyed). Thomas had shut his eyes, and if Virgil focused, he could see tear tracks caused by the laughter on his cheeks. Patton had done the same as Roman did, radiant. And Logan’s posture was no longer perfect nor rigid at the touch on his shoulders, and there was a ghost of a smile on his lips, but his eyes sparkled with pride.
Virgil suddenly realized he had picked up the frame and looked into it as if it had the answers of the world, and immediately put it down, but gently. There was a mysterious clogging of his throat. It wasn’t caused by anxiety. He wasn’t sure what it was.
He looked over his shoulder, and Logan stood two feet away, still staring at the picture now at the coffee table.
“I had forgotten that day,” he admitted noncommittally. “I’m not sure how I could.”
Virgil noticed something was wrong about him, but he wasn’t sure what. He decided to ignore it and chalked it up to paranoia. He glanced at the others, who still appeared to be marveling over the artwork and the walls.
“Okay,” he started. “Where's—”
“Hey, guys!” Right on cue.
Everyone jumped at Patton’s sudden greeting, then stared at him. He grinned at them, oblivious to their worries.
“Patton, where were you?” asked Thomas, when he realized the others had quieted. “I summoned you, but you didn’t come.”
“I guess I fell asleep when you called,” Patton said, shrugging. There was something about Patton that was off, too. It frustrated him to no end to not know what it was.
“Friend,” called Roman, which was strange. He never called anyone ”friend” unless he benefitted from it. “Are you well?”
“Yeah!” But his smile strained. “Why do you ask?”
“After what transpired today,” Logan tried to explain. “We thought you were not… all right.”
His smile brightened a small amount, but then dimmed. “I appreciate it guys, but I’m fine, really.”
“I think I speak for everyone when I say I don’t believe you,” said Virgil, then covered his mouth, not sure why that came out without his usual warring thoughts on wether to say it or not.
Patton stared at him, then smiled again, as bright as before. “Why? Where did this come from?”
But now, when he compared it to the gorgeous picture, Virgil could see the forgery, the perfect façade in that one smile. He’d seen it for years. His stomach dropped. How could he had believed that that was his real smile?
Roman must have noticed too. He had tilted his head, frowning, his eyes… odd. He placed his hand on his chest, but not as dramatically as he usually did. “Are you certain you don’t know what we’re saying?”
Logan had the same bizarre glint in his eyes. “We were all… affected by what that man said, Patton.”
“Yeah, but I got over it,” he kept grinning. Fake, fake, /fake/.
Thomas apparently had enough of his crap. “Talk.”
“Is it so hard to believe that?” his voice broke at the last words, and that made Virgil’s heart twist in his chest.
The grin was now a grimace, until it /crashed/. Shoulders sagged. Brows furrowed and eyes dimmed.
/That/ was it. The emotion he saw on the other two’s eyes.
“It’s really n-no big deal,” Patton stuttered, stubborn. Virgil had never seen this side of him, and he never wanted to again. “I’m not alright,” he spoke suddenly, but smiled wobbly /again/. “I’m half left.”
The dad joke caused everyone (but Thomas), even /Logan/, to giggle, but their eyes were betrayed otherwise. Logan immediately covered his mouth, his eyebrows furrowing further.
Virgil felt his heartbeat quicken. His face heated up. “Could you stop? For once?”
Patton blinked rapidly in response.
Virgil’s chest tightened. “Sorry,” he mumbled.
“Morality.” Patton looked to Thomas, the others following suit. It is rare for him to call Patton that. “I said, talk.”
Patton’s face twisted, and he placed his palms against his face.
Roman stepped forward instantly, his arms stretched towards him, his hands opening and closing erratically. He was the only one who dared move from his spot. He took Patton’s hands in his and lowered them, showing the tears treading his cheeks.
“Why would you hide from us…? Do you not… trust us?” The last words were almost whispered, Roman’s voice cracking slightly. Virgil saw how his moves were gentle instead of harsh, trembling instead of strong. Was he that hurt from that?
Patton looked away, sniffing. His mouth opened, but no words came out. He closed it, then tried again.
“He c-called us f-faggot and b-b—”
“We realize—” Logan cleared his throat when his voice broke. “We realize that.”
“No.” Virgil shrunk in his hoodie, loathing everything about this. “Let him.”
“I thought he would stop,” continued Patton, his voice shaking as much as Roman’s shoulders. “I thought we could just walk away. F-forgive him or something.” He choked on a sob. “I couldn’t. I /can’t/.”
Another sob, and then another, until they racked his body, and Roman and Thomas embraced him at once. Roman started sobbing as well.
Logan turned away, took his glasses off, and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. His shoulders hunched over.
Virgil sat (or collapsed) to the floor, the weight increasing and becoming too much. He remembered every single detail of everything he had done wrong. Every sign that the others could be hurting that he completely ignored.
He had failed.
He bit his fist, trying to block out the pathetic whimper that came out, but there was Roman, spreading his arm toward him. Reaching for him. Through the brimming tears, his cheeks widened into a smile, and he took it. Roman immediately pulled him to them.
And for the first time, he melted into the many limbs that held him, sighing. Too many feelings to count swirled through his mind, but the only thing that made sense was the embrace. He decided to focus on that.
Until he couldn’t. Thoughts invaded, and they weren’t the anxious, paranoid ones. Those he could handle.
No. These were everything that made him simultaneously smile and sob, and that’s what he did. A headache formed and bile rose up in his throat. He pulled away, Patton and Thomas asking for him, but then he heard a bloodcurdling scream.
He opened his eyes, only now realizing he had closed them. Roman gripped his hair, not caring for his appearance. Sweat brimmed on his brow. And out tumbled words Virgil never even /dreamed/ he’d say.
“I’m so sorry.” He hiccuped, moaned. “I’ve done disgusting things to all of you. I’ve been cruel and /evil/—”
“Stop,” pleaded Logan. Manic laughter suddenly escaped his lips, but they just as quickly turned to sobs. “Just stop.”
Patton cradled himself, looking even more lost and guilty than before, and Virgil shuddered severely. If he saw any more pain in any of the others, he might as well pick up the knife and slit a vein.
“I’m getting you the hell out of here!” yelled Thomas, his eyes wide, pupils dilated.
They sank out in a flash.
They literally collapsed on the floor of the living room once they came. Virgil didn’t feel as desperate to… do /that/, but he still trembled, tears slipping out. He crawled away and curled on the floor, breathing heavily, trying to calm with the warmth provided by the hoodie.
He heard a distant voice. “… not working!” The voice was freaking out. He didn’t remember why.
“You forced them o-out, kiddo… You needed to…ently.” Kiddo… /kiddo/. That word…
There was a whine. “I… such a fool… Virgil?”
Something snapped. That was his name. They cannot leave their rooms that fast. That forced transition along with the corruption disturbs them even more. And Roman had called him.
He opened his eyes, tears blurring everything he could see. “…Yeah?”
Patton crawled over to him. “I’m so sorry, kiddo. Why’d you do that for me?”
Virgil heard a weak scoff, and although he was too weary to, he would have voiced the same thing. “I asked you the same thing once,” he mumbled.
Patton’s own eyes watered at that one sentence, and he curled besides him. “I can’t believe you guys think I’m worth all that.”
“You are,” insisted Thomas, who rubbed Roman’s back. Now that the tears subsided a little, and Virgil could see clearly, he saw how disheveled Roman really was; his hair askew, his attire crumpled, and his face flushed. He clutched his chest as if his heart would fail from all the pain. Virgil could relate.
He looked over to Logan, who sat with his knees against his torso, his arms limp at his sides, his eyes empty.
Virgil sat up lethargically. “You okay?”
His eyes slipped to Virgil, but he didn’t answer. His lips formed another lifeless grin.
Virgil looked away. Seeing Logan like this was horrifying.
“Come here, guys.” Thomas smiled feebly, spreading his arms.
Patton complied immediately; even though Roman was two inches away from Thomas, he was second to embrace him. Virgil stumbled over and hugged them without the shame from before.
And finally, Logan came, his posture a little more controlled than before, and he sat with them, leaning his head on Roman’s back.
They stayed like this for what seemed like forever.
But it was nice. Peaceful. If a jerk was the cause of something that warmed Virgil’s heart, then he supposed he should feel a bit grateful.