Chapter Text
Virgil was an orphan. He was one years old when he had been left at the doorstop of the orphanage. There were many reasons as to why a child would be abandoned but it wasn't until there years later that the orphanage understood why. They lived in a world where everyone had a power, able to be used since birth, yet the young boy had shown no signs of having one. Other kids were levitating the toys, flying up the walls and -most stressful- breathing fire. Yet Virgil sat alone in the corner, colouring in his book.
Of course the caretakers were worried, being powerless was one thing, but his naturally shy nature had pushed away many willing to adopt. Virgil had been returned twice now. Rejection and bullying had taken a toll on the poor boy. Other kids called him useless, that he'd never achieve anything.
One night, he was asleep in his shared dorm. His roommate, a round faced boy with a constant snark on his face, had gotten to his personal belongings. He stole his colouring books and in bright red pen he wrote 'USELESS' in bold capital letters across each page. It was the only word that boy knew how to spell. Who knows what other insults would be written if he knew more. Sometimes he would hear them across the hall from his bed. Laughing, taunting him from behind his back. Virgil would never sleep the same again.
When the next desperate couple came in, Virgil didn't get his hopes up. He didn't have any to raise, they had been crushed as soon as he arrived. Alone in his corner of the playroom with his vandalised book. He saw them peak in from the window in the hallway. That was a mistake. Electric blue eyes framed by thin black glasses meet his own brown ones. Turning away in embarrassment, he hid his face in the oversized jumper he received from the orphanage.
Watching as kids were taken from the room by caretakers then brought back. Each time they stood too close to him his breath would hitch, worry that they'd take him. His young heart had been broken too much already, he wasn't ready to have it broken again.
"Virgil?"
Today was not his day. He got up and walked towards the door which was being held open by the caretaker. Glares stabbed into him like knives, keeping his head low to try and block them. Gently, a hand was placed on his back pushing him forwards towards the interview room. Many times he had entered this room and each time had resulted in misery.
The room was small, the walls painted a light cream. Photos of adopted children with their new parents adorned the walls. A space was empty from where a frame had been taken down. There was a light wooden coffee table that sat in the middle of two black leather couches; one of which was occupied by a pair of men. The same man he saw with the light eyes, beamed at him. The polo he wore matched his eyes, over his shoulders was a grey cardigan. He looked like an overly stereotypical dad. His voluminous hair was a medium brown, fringe swept to the side and rosey cheeks looked as though they had before frowned. The man beside him had very a similar stature. He too wore a polo, but it was a deep navy and had a light blue tie around it's collar. However, his hair was a deeper shade of brown, swept back with a minimal amount of gel. His face was sharper than the man who sat beside him, more accustomed to a frown. Behind thick black glasses were deep blue eyes, they glowed with wisdom.
Virgil's shoulders tensed. Slumping onto the couch, he shrunk into himself is much as possible. There were voices but he blocked out what they said; the door slammed and he assumed the caretaker had left.
"Hello, sweetheart. What's your name?"
The boy dared to look between his messy blonde fringe. He was greeted by the wide smile of the lighter man as he leaned towards him.
"Mine is Patton," he gestured to man who sat straight beside him. "And this is my husband Logan."
Logan gave him a small yet sincere smile. These men seemed nice. The four year old wanted to relax around them; he really did. But the fear was still ever present. He remained silent.
Patton titled his head and leaned back against his husband.
"It's ok if you're shy, you don't have to tell us if you don't want to."
The boy peaked from behind his arms that wrapped around him.
"We are aware you were born powerless," Logan's words caused Virgil to shrink back in.
"But they wouldn't make a difference, powers do not define a person, it's what you do instead."
Virgil turned wide eyed at the man.
"I- We are aware that your life has been hard so please-"
"Let us make it easier on you." Patton finished, grasping onto his husband's hand.
Giving glances to each other, they held their breath in wait.
"Why?"
The squeak of a voice made Patton's head snap towards him.
"Wh-what?"
"Why me?" Virgil said with more confidence.
"Because you're the first kid not to squeal and bounce as soon as they saw us." Logan replied bluntly.
The couple left alone at the end of the day but as Virgil slide into bed there was a smile on his face. Maybe, just maybe, this time it would work out all right.
Over the next week the couple came to visit Virgil everyday. They sat in the interview room and slowly he began to open up to them.
"What have you got there?" Patton was sat to the left of Virgil, peering to the book that was tightly grasped in the boy's hands.
"It appears to be a colouring book. May we see it?"
Logan was blunt when he talked but the four year old didn't mind. He nodded, lowering the book from his chest so the men either side of him could see it clearer. He turned the first page. He heard Patton gasp beside while he felt Logan tense.
There one the first page; 'USELESS' in chicken-scratch writing.
"Oh honey... Can-can I hug you?" Patton asked, his voice shaking. In sorrow or hatred, Virgil didn't know which but this man seemed incapable of such dark feelings.
Virgil had yet to say a word, breathing increased slightly. The boy nodded once again. As arms wrapped around him gently, his breathing calmed. For the first time in his life he felt the warmth of another person; tears brimming in his eyes. When a second pair joined, Virgil sunk in. Letting the tears fall from his eyes.
Finally, Virgil knew what love felt like. He never wanted that feeling to go.