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Never enough.
Logan Crofters is never enough.
That was a fact of life he accepted at the age of four.
He tried his best. He never talked to the other children, never wasted his time on ‘useless emotional relationships’. No, Logan stayed in the corner and studied. He built and researched and competed in so many competitions he lost track.
In his first science fair, he places second. Not first. Not good enough. His parents send him to his room without any meals for the day. He spends the time trying to improve, but he knows he will never evade a fact of life.
When Logan’s six years old, his parents miss his spelling bee. Probably working again. They’re always working. He’s the son of a very successful lawyer and a well-renowned professor. He hates that he’s surprised. Anxiety wells up in his stomach. His vision blurs slightly but he remains in his seat as he desperately tries to focus on the judges. His name is called. He misspells ‘ignominious’. He thinks he might throw up.
When he gets home, his parents look disgusted. Second place means nothing. If you aren’t the best, you’re nothing. Shame fills him and he stares at the floor as his parents repeat the same things.
“You lost. Again.” He knows. He’s so sorry.
“We expected better from you.” He’ll do better next time, he swears.
He has to.
Days blur together. Reading, school, work. Science fairs, spelling bees, math competitions. He gets first place. It’s still not enough. It’s never enough. He works harder.
Logan Crofters is nine years old when it happens.
They’re in the car, driving to his father’s work event. He detests these ‘celebrations’. It’s an excuse for his parents to show him off just long enough for a coworker to brag about their child and an accomplishment he hasn’t done and give his father another reason to yell at him later.
His window’s open. It’s snowing. The wind is cold, but he welcomes the feeling. He stares blankly out the window, allowing himself to zone out.
It happens so fast, he barely processes what’s happening. Later on, he’ll only recall flashes of details. He’ll be glad for that.
His mother screams something. He blinks. His head pivots forward. Blinding light fills the car, a horn blares.
A split second of realization. A sharp intake of breath.
Impact.
He’s thrown forward. The seat belt burns against his chest painfully. The sound of breaking glass. Someone cries out. Gravity leaves.
He’s later told the car was pushed off the ledge and flipped down a hill.
He curls into a ball instinctually as he slams into the hard ceiling. The seatbelt snaps. He feels himself flung out his open window. He hits the cold snow roughly and rolls like a ragdoll before ending up sprawled on his back. His glasses are gone. The world is fuzzy.
Something wet drips down his face. He doesn’t reach up to wipe it off. The pain bleeds together into a buzzing in his body and he stares numbly up at the sky. It’s white. Cloudy. It looks soft. He wonders if it is.
Sirens. Sirens. Louder.
Words are suddenly filling the air and snow crunches but he can’t make sense of any of it. Logan doesn’t look away from the sky. Someone steps into his view. They’re wearing some sort of uniform. A paramedic, maybe. Logan blinks. They’re speaking, but he’s underwater. He can’t understand. He doesn’t say that.
Another person appears. Others rush past. They’re checking him over. Pain. He does not react. His father once told him crying over pain was weak.
Logan is not weak.
He’s lifted onto a stretcher and he glances at the snow under him. It’s red now. He sees the bottom of the hill. The car stopped when it hit a tree. His vision’s blurry but he can still see the bright metal twisted and bent in the white snow, and it’s almost beautiful. Some of the snow is stained there as well. He thinks detachedly that his parents are in the car. He thinks he should cry. His father told him many times that emotion was also weakness.
Logan is not weak.
He doesn’t cry. He doesn’t really feel anything. Everything is cold. He stares at the sky. It morphs into the inside of an ambulance. There’s more murmuring. The world goes darker. He blinks slower. The paramedics seem panicked and speak louder. Reality drifts away. Logan thinks to wave goodbye. He does not think he succeeds.
He wakes up in a pure white hospital room. The first thing he thinks of is the sky.
After a few minutes, a nurse comes in. She seems surprised that he’s awake. Her voice becomes pitying. Logan’s secretly glad he doesn’t have his glasses anymore. He doesn’t want to see her face.
‘Don’t be weak, Logan.’
His father always said that.
His father’s gone.
Logan’s alone now.
He feels numb.
He’s glad for it.
He doesn’t want to be weak.
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It’s been a year since the incident. He’s been put in an orphanage. He finds it odd. To be honest, he hadn’t realized orphanages still existed. Since then, his life has changed dramatically, and simultaneously hasn’t.
His old bookshelf in his room is gone, but he still reads every day. He doesn’t have any of the equipment his mother had for her classes, but he still likes to build. His parents aren’t here to tell him so, but he knows he’s still a disappointment. He doesn’t have their pressure, but he still doesn’t have any friends.
Most people don’t seem to notice him. He’s been able to mostly slip by unseen, and sometimes it works too well. Sometimes he forgets he’s there, or he starts to question if he still is. But it’s only eight more years, and then he’s legally free.
There is one unfortunate flaw in his plan.
That flaw is named Declan Calumnia.
He’s the same age as Logan, but he was already in the orphanage by the time he was brought in. For reasons Logan can’t quite comprehend, Declan hated him immediately. Hardly a day goes by where Declan doesn’t push him around or mess with him. Somehow, the adults don’t notice. Or maybe they just don’t care.
It’s shaping up to be a relatively average day when the kids are called into the common room. They usually come here for ‘free time’ when people come in to check out the orphanage or to consider adoption. Logan sits in the corner with his book.
When he was little, his favorite books were from the series of Sherlock Holmes. He knew he was supposed to be too young to understand them, but he’d pored over them again and again until he understood every word. After the incident, he didn’t keep many of his items. As a small child, he didn’t have much claim to it, nor would everything fit in an orphanage. Still, he got to keep one of his Sherlock books. He was given The Hound of Baskervilles, and he must have read it a hundred times over the past year. That book means the world to him, serving as his one reminder of the family he once had. It might not have been picture-perfect, but it was his. And if he had been better, maybe they would’ve been kinder to him. Now he’ll never know. It was all ripped from him in a matter of minutes, and this book was all he had left. Sherlock Holmes. He’d never really admit it, because it felt illogical to be so emotionally attached to something so silly like a tattered old book, but that book really was everything to him. Sometimes he thought it was the only way he’d managed to survive the past year alone in this place.
That’s the book he’s reading now as he hears a murmur break out among the other children. An announcement was made. A new child is coming. Logan doesn’t think much of it and returns to the comfort of the book in the position he found next to the small bookshelf.
In fact, he forgets about the new arrival completely until he hears the door swing open. From the corner of his eye, he sees a bright dress that tells him it’s the head of the orphanage, Ms. Thompson, probably ushering in an unfortunate child. He returns to his book, paying them no mind as the adult speaks to the boy and proceeds to walk out.
However, a few minutes later, he hears snickering a few feet away. Declan. He glances up warily, fully expecting to see him and his cronies staring back mockingly. To his surprise, he is, for once, not the object of their aggression. No, this time it’s the newbie. Logan follows their line of sight over to a kid who’s practically drowning in a baggy dark purple hoodie. His hood’s up and Logan can’t see what he looks like, but he can tell the kid doesn’t realize what’s about to occur. Logan’s gaze snaps back to the bullies, who are whispering to each other.
Usually, Logan doesn’t like to get involved in things that don’t include him. There’s no reason to. Putting himself into unnecessary trouble is completely illogical. But something about this kid feels important to him. Maybe it’s the frustration of a year of Declan’s assholery. Maybe the kid reminds him of himself. Maybe he’s tired of being in the background.
He gets himself involved.
Not how you’d expect though. Before he even really knows what he’s doing, he grabs a handful of legos left over from other kids a few feet away from him. He pieces together a base at lightning speed, stacking it higher in the middle and checking the structure. He keeps glancing up to check the progress of the conflict unfolding.
Declan’s approaching New Kid.
Logan finishes the base and carefully positions a book from the shelf slanted onto it. He grabs the nearest object and places it on the lowered side of the book, keeping it there with a spare lego.
Sneers and mean words float over to him from where the others are.
He shoots up from the ground, stealing a remote car from the toy bin. It takes a few seconds to position it correctly on the bookshelf, directly above the raised part of the book, but he hurries as much as he can.
The sound of a dull thud jerks his attention to New Kid. He’s being pushed against the wall. They’re escalating faster than Logan had calculated. New Kid seems to be saying something but judging by the face of the bullies, Logan assumes it’s what’s causing the escalation.
He tries not to gather attention as he grabs his book and the remote and strides over to the other side of the room, in the corner across from the bookshelf and farthest from the others. It’s right next to a dying potted plant no one ever actually bothers to water.
New Kid cries out.
Logan hides his hands behind his back, pushing the control stick on the remote to trigger the car. It moves right off the shelf, and Logan watches it hit his makeshift catapult with a rush of satisfaction. It works perfectly.
The object goes flying, launched off the now flipped book. It soars through the air silently before smacking Declan right in the back of his head. The look on his face as he whips around in the direction of the bookshelf is priceless. This is the best Logan’s felt since he arrived at this godawful place.
His friends turn around as well, confused at what happened. Declan’s furious, and he starts cursing loudly and stomping his feet angrily.
Ms. Thompson comes back in, drawn by the racket.
“What’s going on here?” She’s already irritated. She’s not a fan of having to actually interact too much with the kids. Sometimes Logan thinks she only took the job because she gets to boss others around.
“I was attacked! I could’ve died!” Declan screeches, and everyone watches him in confused disbelief.
Ms. Thompson looks at the others, who shrug.
“Who attacked you?” She asks, clearly not convinced.
“It came from there!” Declan replies immediately, pointing at the bookshelf. After a second, even he realizes there’s no one there. He scans the area desperately, but all he sees is a pile of legos, a car, and a book. Probably a mess left by one of the other kids. He looks around, and no one else seems to care about their issue. Except Logan, who he sees watching them intently.
Upon realizing Declan’s spotted him, Logan discreetly drops the remote into the potted plant and scrambles to open his book again, pretending to read.
“Him! He did it!” Declan points directly at him, and Logan does his best ‘innocent shock’ face as he does so. It works, likely because Declan seems to lie about basically everything. This just happened to be the one time it was the truth.
“Declan.” Ms. Thompson says tiredly. “What did we say about making things up?”
“It’s true! The nerd must have done it! I know he did!” He looks at his friends, but they look unconvinced, staring back at him uncertainly. He even looks at the new kid for back-up, but he just stares back cautiously, hunching his shoulders in a defensive position.
“Logan?” Ms. Thompson asks, and everyone’s attention shifts to him. He swallows, pretending to look upset.
“I don’t know what he means, Ms. Thompson. I swear I was just reading my book, like always. How would I have thrown something from the direction of the bookshelf if I’m here, across the room?”
“He’s right.” To Logan’s utter shock, it’s one of Declan’s cronies who says this. Declan looks hilariously betrayed. “It did seem to come from the bookshelf, didn’t it?”
Ms. Thompson studies Logan for a moment, but he stares right back until she sighs and turns back to the issue at hand.
“Declan, stop accusing people of everything. Go to the dormitory.” She walks out, and Declan stomps off angrily, shooting Logan a death glare. Feeling a bit too cocky, Logan sticks his tongue out at him as he passes, reverting back to confused when Declan’s friends glance at him.
The few kids who noticed their argument go back to playing, and Logan hesitates for a moment before going over to New Kid. He doesn’t say anything. He just sits next to him, leaning against the wall and crossing his legs as he proceeds to read once more.
It’s quiet for a few minutes, and the kid watches him suspiciously as he hugs his knees and breathes heavily, shaking. Clearly, he doesn’t trust Logan, but he has no reason to, so Logan doesn’t take offense.
After some time, the boy finally breaks the silence, still struggling to control his breathing.
“What do you want?” His voice is low and harsh, and he shrinks back as Logan turns his head to observe him, finally seeing what he really looks like. He notes with interest that the boy seems to be around Logan’s age.
“Pardon?” He responds simply, adjusting his glasses, and the boy frowns.
“I don’t want your pity.” He says after a moment.
“Nor would I give it to you.”
Once more, the boy seems at a loss for what to say, and Logan wonders if this will be a pattern. He returns to his book. The other’s expression softens somewhat into curiosity, but the anxiety and suspicion is still clear as day.
“Did you…. see what actually hit that asshole kid?”
“Of course I did. It was me.” Logan doesn’t even bother looking up this time as he answers. The kid does a double-take, his mouth opening in disbelief.
“Weren’t you on the other side of the room? I thought that guy was just spouting garbage.”
“Oh, he usually is.” Logan says matter-of-factly. “This time I just built a catapult out of the legos and the book, then triggered it with the remote automobile.”
He waits for a moment to see if the boy will say anything. He doesn’t, he just stares. Logan looks back at his prized book but doesn’t continue his reading.
“Declan’s a jerk.” His voice goes soft against his will, and he tries to swallow it down.
New Kid looks him over, seemingly trying to tell if he’s genuine. After a bit, he clears his throat awkwardly and sinks into his hoodie.
“Virgil.” It’s said reluctantly, as if he expects Logan to laugh. It’s so out of nowhere, it takes a moment for Logan to realize that must be his name.
Logan’s actually quite surprised. He didn’t actually think ‘Virgil’ would keep the conversation up, let alone open up in the slightest.
“Salutations, Virgil, pleasure to make your acquaintance. Logan.” He sticks his hand out expectantly, but Virgil just stares at it until he retracts his arm.
They spend the rest of the free time like that, silently sitting next to each other. Logan reads his book, and Virgil eventually takes out a pen from his hoodie and starts doodling on his arm.
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This becomes an automatic routine. The kids often have chores and such to do, but when they have free time in the common room, Virgil and Logan sit wordlessly next to each other, each invested in their own thing.
They don’t talk much, but eventually, building up day after day, there’s a comfortable silence between them.
Maybe they would have stayed quiet acquaintances, too, if it weren’t for one specific night, about a month after Virgil’s arrival.
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Small feet hurry across the hardwood floor, diligently avoiding the louder, creaky spots. He can hear the yelling somewhere behind him, pushing him to go faster.
He shoots forward and slips silently into a closet, pushing his back against the wall across from the door and sliding down. It’s pitch black, he can’t see, he can’t see.
He squeezes his eyes shut.
He prays to whatever might be out there somewhere that he isn’t caught, and he tries to control his fearful shivering. He doesn’t even dare breathe, doesn’t trust himself to make it quiet enough.
Feet stomp angrily outside, pounding down the hall, and he hears him getting closer.
The footsteps pause outside the closet door.
He feels his heart stop. At this point, he couldn’t breathe even if he wanted to. His entire body is absolutely frozen, nothing in the world could make him move.
The door slams open, and his dad’s standing there, looking completely furious. The stench of alcohol burns the air, and the boy feels his stomach lurch painfully. His dad steps closer.
Without even realizing it, he starts blabbering apologies desperately, pushing his back further into the wall behind him. The expression of the man’s face doesn’t change.
“Virgil!” He snarls, and the boy’s words hesitate at the sound of his name. He feels dizzy.
His dad repeats his name, and suddenly he’s crouching down so they’re eye to eye and he’s reaching out and oh god oh god I’m so sorry please don’t hurt me please I don’t-
“Virgil!”
Someone’s touching him.
Virgil shoots up in bed, a choked sob getting mangled in his throat. The boy moves his hands off Virgil’s shoulders and he moves back a little as Virgil pants, trying to get his mind together.
Logan.
It’s just Logan.
He’s in an orphanage.
Virgil lets out a shaky laugh, covering his mouth as it turns into another sob halfway through. He glances at Logan, who was evidently shaking his shoulder to wake him in the middle of the night.
He clears his throat unsuccessfully and surreptitiously wiped his eyes, cursing internally when his voice still comes out croaky and tearful.
“Did you need something? D-did I wake you?” As he whispers, his eyes scan the room, lined with beds where other boys lay sleeping, but no one else seems to be awake. The only empty bed is the one directly to his right. Logan’s.
“No.” Logan shifts his weight and seems to consider his answer for a moment before speaking. “You were having an upsetting dream? A nightmare?”
It’s said as a question but they both know the answer, and Virgil folds his arms across his chest protectively.
“Just go to bed, Logan.”
But he doesn’t.
Logan stares back for a moment before straightening up from where he’d knelt next to Virgil. For a split second, Virgil feels an odd mixture of relief and disappointment that he’s actually leaving, but all of this is quickly replaced with confusion when Logan instead sits on the end of the bed, crossing his legs and looking back at him expectantly.
“Go away.” Virgil snarls, curling more into himself, unsure of what was happening. He hates that his attempted sharp tone is significantly dulled by the after effects of his tears that make his voice weaker. Logan’s face doesn’t change, but his eyes run over Virgil as if trying to analyze him. Virgil doesn’t understand. “What are you doing?”
“Sitting.” Logan says this as if it’s obvious, and Virgil scoffs in response.
Once again, they look at each other silently. At first it puts him on edge, but it suddenly resembles the more tranquil part of their daily routine, and the familiarity and safety of it very slowly calms Virgil until his breathing returns to normal. With that issue solved, Logan gets up, and Virgil watches him without saying anything. Again, Logan surprises him, and instead of slipping into his own bed, he reaches under it and pulls out a book before returning to his previous position on Virgil’s bed. He opens it to the first page despite the bookmarked page further on, and stops to glance up at the other. For a moment, Virgil feels like Logan’s trying to understand him, like he’s solving a riddle or considering a theory.
Then, Logan takes a breath in, and begins to read out loud. It’s said in quiet whispers in an attempt not to wake other kids, but Virgil can still make out the words. He’s baffled at first, but as he watches the other boy’s eyes travel across the page and focuses on listening to the words he’s saying, he finds himself sinking back into the pillows without realizing it. Logan keeps going, reading page after page after page. It’s an oddly soothing moment for both of them. It’s around the middle of the second chapter when he hears soft snores come from in front of him, and he looks up to see Virgil passed out on the bed.
Satisfied with his results, Logan smiles to himself and pads tiredly back to his own bed, placing the book back under it and letting himself drift off again.
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The next day, when Logan settles in next to Virgil and begins to read, the other doesn’t start drawing or anything. He sits there tensely and stares forward, and Logan decides to wait for him to speak first.
“Why did you do it?” Virgil blurts it out like he was dying to ask but didn’t know if he could. He sounds almost angry in his defensiveness. “Why did you help me again?”
Logan closes his book and mulls it over in his mind before answering.
“That’s what friends are for, is it not?”
Virgil blanches, and Logan studies the shock that takes over his features with interest.
“Oh.” Virgil chokes out, and then he hugs his knees.
It doesn’t come up again that day. In fact, Virgil doesn’t say anything to Logan at all, or even acknowledge him. Nor does he the next day. Or the next. Logan starts becoming concerned that he stepped out of line or misunderstood the base of their relationship, and that in fact Virgil had never even tolerated him at all. Clearly, he had in some way overstepped his bounds.
Oh well, Logan told himself. Maybe it really was for the best to not get close to people.
It was stupid to think he could.
A few days later, Declan strikes again. Of course, he’d been hassling them the last month or so, but it had lessened. Logan had a theory that their apparent combined company somehow intimidated him into being more cautious with some of his actions. However, now that Virgil apparently couldn’t look at Logan anymore, and had even gone so far as to sit somewhere else, Logan sits alone against the wall, and Declan takes the opportunity to make his move.
His friends are off doing a few extra chores as punishment for something else, but he knows Logan is easy prey nonetheless, so he approaches him with a malicious glint in his eyes. Logan sees him coming and seems to consider an escape to a more populated section of the room, because he purses his lips and scans the room as he stands. But Declan’s too quick for him. In a second, he’s got him cornered against the wall, and Logan glares at him expectantly.
“What, don’t have your emo little friend anymore? Did he realize what a fucking loser you were?” Declan laughs, but Logan’s unamused. His glare doesn’t waver.
“Don’t you have some other delinquent activity to be doing right now?” He replies, and Declan scoffs. This new kid must have had some sort of influence, because Logan usually just ignores him or doesn’t react.
He must have let the pause drone on too long, because Logan cocks an eyebrow. Anger renewed by the apparent sass, Declan shoves him back against the wall roughly. Logan winces as the wind is knocked out of him.
“Do you want to die today, nerd?” He says, moving to take a step closer.
To Logan’s complete surprise, Virgil slides in between them in one fluid motion, arms out defensively, and Declan automatically takes a step back instead.
“What the fuck?” He spits out, glancing back at the bewildered Logan behind Virgil. “I thought you two losers were done with each other.”
“Well, you thought wrong.” Virgil snaps, bringing his attention back to him.
“Excuse me?” Declan says lowly, balling up his fists.
“Oh, sorry, it must be hard to understand simple sentences when your brain’s the size of a half-eaten walnut.”
“Listen, freak, I wouldn’t say that if I were you.” The bully sounds furious, and Logan holds his breath. “You seem to be asking for a beating.”
“Really?” Virgil responds immediately, raising an eyebrow and making a show of looking around. “Because from what I see, you’re alone right now. No matter how ‘weak’ you think we are, two against one still spells out issues for you. And I don’t go down without a fight, I swear to god I will bite your disgusting arm until a chunk comes off.”
Declan looks horrified before attempting to school his expression back into anger, but he still glances around uncertainly as he suddenly realizes this may not be worth the trouble.
“Whatever.” He huffs, straightening his shoulders and looking at them derisively. “I have better things to do than bother with freaks like you two anyways.”
He stalks off, but there’s obvious tension and anger in his form. Logan knows he’s going to pay hell for that later, but he can’t help the disbelieving and relieved laugh that spills out of his mouth, and he immediately shoots up a hand to cover his mouth as Virgil spins around, as if just remembering he’s there. Virgil shuffles and looks at the ground, clearing his throat.
“Uhm, are you alright?”
Logan nods slowly as he lowers his hand, and Virgil bites his lip as he nods back in understanding, messing with his own hands.
“I don’t understand.” Logan feels the need to ask, especially given the recent circumstances of the past few days. “Why did you do that?”
Virgil hunches his shoulders and coughs awkwardly, playing with a loose string on his hoodie as he looks anywhere but at Logan.
“W-well, uhh.” He mutters out, looking suddenly unsure of himself. “That-that’s what friends are for, right?”
Logan feels a rush of joy filling him at his words, but he tries his best to hide his elation on instinct as Virgil finally glances at him to see his reaction.
“I suppose you’re right, Virgil.” He says, and they share a small smile together.
That’s how they both got their first friend.
This becomes a constant for them as they grow closer. Every time one of them runs into any sort of trouble or something’s wrong, you can bet the other one is there to do anything to fix it. They still get bullied and the orphanage still isn’t a great place to be, but it feels a lot better now that they have someone else to share it with, and things get a little more tolerable.
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Despite their friendship, Virgil never touches him until they’re both 11 years old. They’ve been friends for approximately a year, and it’s the day Declan finally goes too far.
Virgil’s asleep in his bed, and he’s feeling pretty good for once.
“NO!” A sudden shriek causes him to twitch in his half-awake confusion, but he doesn’t open his eyes.
“Logan?” He mutters sleepily, trying to wrap his head around why his best friend is screaming first thing in the morning.
It takes a moment for the realization of what this means to sink in. When it finally does, his eyes shoot wide open.
“Logan.” He repeats with more urgency this time, as he darts up automatically and turns to look at Logan’s bed.
Logan’s empty bed.
“No, no, no, no, no.” Virgil finds himself mumbling on repeat, as if he were stuck on a loop.
He forces his heavy legs off the side of the bed and shakily manages to stand, wobbling a bit before steadying himself. He doesn’t usually get up this fast, but he’s pretty sure this is important, so he stumbles as best he can out of the room and into the hall, trying to find the source of the scream. He’s right around the corner from the bathroom when he hears ragged breathing and cruel laughter. Virgil’s attempt to pick up his pace doesn’t work well in his not-yet-fully-conscious state, and as he quickly turns the corner and skids into the bathroom doorway, he fails to completely stop himself in time. His side collides with the edge of the doorway in a clumsy sort of way that would probably look amusing in any other circumstance.
Not this one.
Virgil’s really not a morning person, so it takes a little longer than he’d later like to admit to process what he’s seeing. Declan stands closest to the door, his smug look temporarily replaced with surprise as he whips around to look at Virgil. Two of his cronies are holding Logan back, and Logan’s face, marked with a few new bruises, is almost terrifyingly blank as tears silently stream down his cheeks and he stares at something on the ground. Virgil’s eyes follow where he’s looking, and he sees a bunch of torn papers on the ground. Not too far away seems to be the destroyed cover of what used to be a book, now robbed of its pages. Virgil squints to read the title. It’s-
The Hound of Baskervilles.
Oh.
Shit.
Logan hasn’t fully explained it to him, but he knows it’s really important to him. Something to do with his parents or childhood. Among all the other books Logan reads, he still read that one every now and then just to take comfort in it.
Speaking of Logan. Virgil suddenly remembers the situation at hand.
“What.” Is unfortunately all that comes out as he looks back up at the other boys.
That seems to snap Logan out of his daze, who turns his red-rimmed eyes to his only friend.
“Virgil.” He pleads in a small, pathetic voice that makes Virgil’s stomach flip painfully. He doesn’t even know what Logan’s pleading for him to do, but he knows he has to help somehow.
Abruptly, as if he’d just awoken for the second time, he fully absorbs what’s happening as he pieces together everything he’s seeing. And he’s pissed.
“Let. Him. Go.” He’s proud that he keeps his voice and expression steady, because the irrational, impulsive part of him is begging to jump on these kids and scratch their eyes out.
Despite this, he doesn’t want to attack them, he really doesn’t. The thought of human contact makes him cringe, and he hates the way his blood boils with the need for violence. He won’t be like his dad. He refuses.
“Or what?” Declan’s recovered from the surprise and is back to his usual cocky expression.
“Or I’ll call Ms. Thompson and you’ll get the shit beaten out of you.”
“Ms. Thompson’s away for the week, and her stupid replacement wouldn’t bother leaving her office if the building was on fire.” Declan smirks, and Virgil inwardly curses as he realizes he’s right, the adults in here tend to be particularly useless. Still, he pushes on.
“Maybe so, but what exactly is your plan here, hm? The adults may be bad at their job but they’ll still have to put it on your record if you’re reported for serious assault. They’ll be too lazy to review your side, they’ll just take a look at the proof you’ve so kindly created for us right here and get it over with. Trust me, you don’t want that, because no one wants to adopt a kid who’s prone to assaulting others, and I want you gone just as much as you do. You don’t want this on your record, and you better let him go, because I don’t want murder on mine.”
Declan studies him coldly for a minute before striding over to Logan. He looks at his cronies before glancing back at Logan, there’s a brief pause.
He slaps Logan across the face.
The sound echoes through the bathroom as Logan’s head jerks to the side. Declan kicks him in the abdomen and his cronies take the cue to roughly push Logan to the ground, kicking him as well. Virgil instinctually lunges forward to stop them but the others are too fast for him, slipping around him as he reaches Logan. As Declan passes by him, he whispers something into his ear.
“Don’t ever threaten me again.”
Virgil tries to hide his shudder as he flips him off angrily, kneeling beside Logan.
“Are you okay?” He asks, but he knows it’s a stupid question. His hands hover over his friend, never landing anywhere.
Logan’s perfectly still for a moment, and Virgil almost thinks he passed out. Then, he wordlessly moves to sit up, wincing at the jerky and painful movement. He stares at the ruined remains of his book as more tears well up in his eyes again.
“My book.” It comes out weak, and Virgil watches him anxiously. “Virgil, my book, they destroyed my book.”
Virgil sighs helplessly, fighting back his own tears that threaten to spill out.
“I know, buddy. I know.”
“It’s gone.” Logan whispers this breathlessly, as if he can’t quite believe it. His hands reach out desperately and he grabs a few loose papers off the ground. “Do you-do you think we could fix it? Can we…”
He doesn’t even finish the sentence. They both know it’s a lost cause.
“I’m so sorry.” Logan says mournfully, and Virgil gets the feeling he’s not talking to him anymore.
Logan repeats himself once more before falling silent, slowly hugging his knees to his chest and burying his face in them. Virgil can hear soft sobs spilling from his best friend. He’s at a complete loss for what to do. He’s helped Logan through a few hard times before, and they’ve both had more than their fair share of bullying, but this is more than that. This is a whole new level of hurt, and Virgil isn’t quite sure how to fix it. After a few minutes, Logan speaks again.
“Why do they hate me?” It’s said so quietly Virgil almost doesn’t realize the other boy even spoke, especially considering his voice is still muffled by his knees. “What am I doing wrong? I don’t understand, Virge. What’s wrong with me?”
He sounds so terribly sad and broken, and nothing like the Logan he knows, and that scares the hell out of him. He feels so many things all at once, all bad, and the rush of emotion this evokes leaves him frozen. He takes a deep breath and his hand twitches for a moment.
Logan sobs again at Virgil’s silence, but his breath hitches sharply as he feels a hand land hesitantly on his shoulder. Everything’s still for just a second before Logan looks up at Virgil, who stares back.
Virgil has a thing about physical contact, he knows this. Sure, he’d touched other kids in the orphanage, but only if they brushed against him or went out of their way to attack him, and it had always ended in Logan trying to use his knowledge of anxiety to talk Virgil down from a panic attack. He’d never voluntarily touched any of the others, despite all his threats against Declan, and consequently had never touched Logan, who’d made a point to never touch him if he didn’t want him to.
It’s just a hand on the shoulder, but they both understand the weight of this moment.
Virgil struggles to keep his breathing steady, but he doesn’t move his hand away.
“There’s nothing wrong with you, Lo. If anything, there’s something wrong with them.” He says instead, trying his best to show his sincerity despite every part of him rebelling against the thought of being vulnerable. “And I could never hate you. You’re my best friend in the whole world, I promise.”
“Thank you.” Logan breathes out, smiling shakily, not being able to stop himself from leaning into Virgil’s touch, enjoying its gentleness in contrast to the violence of before. He still looks admittedly horrible, but he’s at least managed to calm himself down a little more.
“Come on.” Virgil says softly, lightly grabbing his arm to help him up. Part of him feels happy at the physical contact, but his anxiety of it still eats away at him painfully, and he doesn’t dare touch Logan any more than he already is. “You should go to bed, I’ll clean this up and tell people you’re sick today. Want me to bring you a banana or something for breakfast?”
Logan shakes his head and says he’s not hungry, but Virgil doesn’t really believe him. After they go back to the dorm and Logan curls sadly back under his sheets, Virgil goes back to the bathroom, blocking others from coming in so he can peacefully gather all the lost pages and the cover, taking it back to slide it under his own bed. He doesn’t think he can fix it, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try. In between chores that day, he also slips a banana and half of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich next to Logan’s bed, though he’s glad to see his friend sleeping soundly.
Over the next few days, Logan’s a little more quiet and withdrawn, but Virgil makes sure to be there for him so he knows he cares. Eventually, Logan heals a bit and begins to smile again. Meanwhile, over the course of the next few months, Virgil allows himself to get used to small touches here and there, building up to more normal contact. Logan never explicitly mentions it, because he knows Virgil would feel awkward and uncomfortable, but Virgil also knows he appreciates it, because he always gets a small happy smile in return. They grow even closer than before.
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Their biggest fight comes when they’re 12 years old, two years after they met, and on what otherwise would have been a great day.
The sun is shining, they’re both feeling good and fully fed for once, the air conditioning is finally working, and they have some free time. They’ve already finished everything they have to do, and the day is put aside mostly for potential adopters anyways. At this point, they’re both fully comfortable with each other, and are sitting side by side against the old wall where they met. Virgil’s leaning against Logan, because though he still doesn’t like contact with other people, once he got used to it with Logan, surprisingly he finds he can’t get enough. He likes to have a point of contact at most times to reassure himself that Logan’s there. But the best part of the day?
A couple offers to adopt Virgil.
They’ve been here a few times before, and they’ve done the rounds and met the kids, and they seemed intrigued in Virgil’s perceived shyness. Today, they whisper to each other and Logan notices them watching before they finally come over to tell Virgil.
“No.” With that, Virgil goes back to where he’s sketching a picture of a dragon.
Logan, who’d been overjoyed for his friend, drops his book in shock as his eyes widen in horror.
“I assure you he doesn’t mean that.” He says, plastering on his most charming smile as he grabs Virgil’s arm tightly. “Please give my friend and I a moment to speak in private.”
He drags Virgil into a corner a distance away and turns to him expectantly.
“What the hell was that?!” He cries, waving his arm in the direction of the couple, who have distracted themselves with another child who had approached them.
“What d’you mean?” Virgil asks, stuffing his hands in his hoodie and looking way too lax in Logan’s opinion.
“What do I mean?” Logan scoffs incredulously. “I mean why would you say no?!”
“Simple. They’re not adopting you.” Virgil shrugs. At Logan’s confused look, he rolls his eyes. “It means I’m not going without you, idiot.”
Logan pauses for a moment before shaking his head lightly and continuing, shooting an anxious look at the couple across the room.
“You’re being irrational, Virgil. This is your chance to have a family! You’ve waited years for this!”
“Stop it.” Virgil’s voice is suddenly lower, more serious.
“Why?” Logan huffs angrily. “I’m being serious here, Virge, you can’t just throw away the opportunity to have family just because-”
“Damn it, Lo, you are my family, alright? At least, you’re the closest I’ve ever fucking gotten.” Logan doesn’t say anything and he continues in a quieter voice. “Besides, I’d kinda like to think you’d think twice about abandoning me alone here if given the opportunity.”
Logan’s still silent, because he knows it’s true. He’d also refuse in that position.
“That’s different.” He says instead.
“Why?” Virgil can feel himself getting defensive, but he lets himself get riled up.
“Because no one wants to adopt me.” Logan states as if it was obvious, and it’s Virgil’s turn to scoff. “A situation should not influence an outcome if that situation will never occur.”
“Enough for once with all your constant crappy logic, Lo. That’s bullshit and you know it.” Virgil almost regrets his words at the hurt way Logan steps back.
“Well.” Logan spits the word out, and Virgil’s never heard him so angry. Not directed at him, at least. “If you want to foolishly waste this opportunity and ruin your life, that’s fine. But I want no part of it, so don’t you dare blame me for this. You can turn down this couple, Virgil, but I hope you realize that some of us don’t have that chance.”
With that, he turns on his heel and starts walking away. Virgil wants to call out, to say something like wait or I’m sorry or please don’t leave me, but none of those come out.
“Oh, screw you.” Comes out instead, and he storms right past the couple and into the dorm, even though they’re technically not allowed to be in there when adopters are here.
They successfully avoid each other for a week. It’s hell, and the other kids take advantage of it to try to mess with them, but neither really wants to be the first to admit just how lonely it is without the other’s company.
It ends when Logan comes to sit next to Virgil, who’s sitting alone in a corner. He doesn’t get too close this time, and there’s a foot and a half of space between them. Neither say anything, and Virgil hugs his knees. Logan notes bitterly that it parallels their first encounter two years prior, right down to the spot in the room.
“I apologize for yelling at you, Virgil.” He sounds terribly formal, and Virgil watches him from the corner of his eye. “I allowed my emotions to control me, which I should not have. I just…” He pauses and takes a deep breath, as if unsure of how to continue. “I… find myself caring a great deal for you, and I want you to be happy. I truly thought that having a family would be best for you, and would allow you to achieve that.”
There’s no response at first, but then Virgil sighs and looks at him directly.
“I meant what I said. You’re the closest thing to family I’ve ever really had. You’re… kind of a brother to me.”
Logan smiles to himself and looks down at his lap, where he plays with his hands.
“You’re my brother, too, Virge.”
It becomes quiet again, but it’s back to the comfortable quiet they share. Logan breaks it.
“What really kills me though is that a part of me did selfishly want you to reject them.” He laughs self-deprecatingly. “Isn’t that awful? I wanted to deny you the one thing every kid in here dreams of just so I wouldn’t be alone again. Not a very good brother, now, am I?”
Virgil doesn’t know how to respond. Logan speaks again anyways, but his voice is breathy and barely audible.
“I’m so, so sorry, Virge.”
“Don’t be.” Virgil says, shrugging one shoulder. “I would’ve felt the same.”
There’s a brief moment of hesitation, and then Virgil scoots closer so that their sides press up against each other, and they share a small smile.
“Nerd.” Virgil scoffs playfully, and Logan laughs as he rolls his eyes.
Life is hard, and sometimes they have their doubts, but…
Yeah.
They’re going to be okay.