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Virgil was made for thinking.
He came from a family of thinkers. They were always creators, people who went past the norm to rise to the very top of the social tower since he was a baby. They built, learned, innovated, and fought hard for what they earned. They made sure every dollar they had was all because of the blood, sweat and tears they put into their livelihoods.
Virgil grew up in that energy, leeched off of it. Instead of learning how to say “dada” as an infant, his first word was “coupon”. Before he had mastered the art of crawling, he got on his feet and ran so fast his mom stared at him in shock. At thirteen, Virgil was a Freshman in high school, excelling in all of his classes at a level the other students envied him for.
In the high school years, he learned to tinker. He learned how to make metal do whatever he wanted it to do. He learned how to think outside the box, coming up with elaborate blueprints for new inventions that he believed could change the world. By fifteen, Virgil was testing out his machine meant to project mental images into something tangible, making the creative process infinitely easier.
And when that machine went up in flames, frying his brain while the contraption was still strapped to his head, Virgil learned how to control his new power. The power of making illusions that he could make anyone see. From that, he eventually became Nightmare, the superhero who could make monsters appear from thin air.
The enemy didn’t need to know that monsters, even his, aren’t real. It’s what helped them win.
But with a mind as full of ideas as Virgil’s came a price. He worried. He worried about his teammates, about their safety, his safety. About SLEEP malfunctioning and how to prevent that best he could. He worried about what others were saying about him, if he was giving enough to the public or was he only a mockery no matter how hard he tried? What invention would be needed next? Did he have everything to make sure the people around him were safe? Were the creations he’s missing going to end in their demise? How can he stop the inevitable? What is the inevitable?
Virgil called his worrying being prepared. He called his thoughts the mind of someone ready to face challenges no one else could. His therapist called it a “severe anxiety disorder”.
Which wasn’t wrong, sadly. Virgil’s always had anxiety problems, and the older he gets, the worse that anxiety seems to become. When he was a fifteen year old messing around with strangers by making them hear bees, he didn’t need a high-technology mask in order to speak to people who didn’t know sign language. But damn, being thirty gives you time for plenty of weird shit to change.
For example, when Virgil was fifteen, if he was tired he would just go to sleep. Then he would wake up and go to school.
And God he wishes he could still do that now. Just be tired and go to sleep, no strings attached. That could be the end of that. But now he has a thousand insomnia remedies just to make sure he doesn’t sob in frustration at 5 AM.
He never lied in his bed unless he was planning to sleep. He ran on a treadmill for 20 minutes every night, took a shower, then took his insomnia meds and lied in bed until they kicked in, not touching his phone and keeping a deep breathing pattern until he successfully went to sleep. It was a pretty good system most nights, definitely better than what it was a few years ago.
But then there were nights like these. Nights where Virgil sat on the roof of a building in his Nightmare gear and watched the stars, hoping that a supervillain would come to his side and knock him out cold.
It was well past 3 AM now. Not even the most evil of people seemed to be out at this time, the streets were quiet give or take a few cars and some teenagers sneaking back home from parties they shouldn’t be at. Everyone seemed to be at peace except for Virgil.
Which fit with most of his life, honestly.
He didn’t seem to have anyone to pummel. The last person who seemed to be causing trouble was at 11, and even that was only a late night dispute about something ridiculous, he couldn’t even really remember. Maybe the lack of sleep was getting to him.
Or maybe his memory was just shit in general. Both equal possibilities.
But other than that, the only noise Virgil could hear was the buzzing of electronics in his own suit. It was calming tonight, which almost never seemed to happen anymore in this city. On the one night he actually wanted trouble, the world had none to give.
That didn’t make him any less restless. He bounced his legs against the side of the building he was sitting on, but eventually decided to stand up and stretch a little. If he couldn’t punch out any energy, maybe he could just run it out. Then Patton and Logan could find him face down on the roof of a coffee store and drag his sorry ass back home.
The embarrassment was a future him problem. Present time Virgil just wanted to sleep.
Virgil took a couple steps back, then when he was mentally prepared, he jumped over the gap between buildings and to the next roof over, grateful that if he fell, he had a grappling hook in his suit just in case.
That’s what he loved about his suit. It was prepared for everything . His powers weren’t made for jumping across buildings or knocking people out cold with a single punch. The only real thing he could do was scare . He could take a peak in a person’s mind and find out how to use their darkest thoughts against them. He could make them believe that a species unknown to this world was right behind their trail, ready to swallow them up into nothingness. But once you took that away, Virgil had nothing. Just a scare tactic.
The suit, however? It could do anything that Virgil couldn’t . The suit made him more resistant with its armor, made him faster with tiny rockets in the boots that gave him a needed boost. The mask was protected using various kinds of protection software, including only being able to be taken off by being unlocked using the fingerprint indents in his gloves. If worse came to worse, he could contact his personal security AI, protected in his million-dollar penthouse. He felt invincible in this suit. Even if its parts have malfunctioned plenty of times in the past.
Virgil shot up his grappling hook and flew up to a building a couple stories taller than the one he had landed on. Small moments like this are what gave him confidence. Yup, he thought. Practically invincible.
He knew that wasn’t really true. He’s been left battered and coughing up a lung on his living room couch too many times to count, even with all the gear. But the security was still nice.
It made him feel safe enough to turn off his brain a bit. Just not enough to relax and go to sleep.
Stupid fucking brain. He thought, I should have become a neuroscientist and found a way to give myself one that fucking works.
He was thinking about everything but nothing at the same time. His body was so tired but his brain couldn’t seem to get the memo. No matter how many monsters Virgil seemed to be able to take on, the one monster he could never face was the one that lived in his own head.
Virgil lied down on the roof of the building, staring up at a sky with hardly any stars. It was almost 4 AM. He was still restless.
Then suddenly, Virgil heard the angered screaming of a man from under him, and selfishly hoped that this was what he needed in order to sleep.
Virgil looked under him at the man making all the ruckus. It was some random guy dressed in black, pointing a gun at another guy wearing scrubs, yelling something about money as the one being mugged held his hands up with no expression. In the dark night, it takes Virgil longer than he’d like to admit to realize that the one in scrubs is Logan.
Fuck.
Virgil jumped down from his spot at the roof, landing a couple feet behind the mugger with a tired stumble. The mugger didn’t react to the noise, seemingly too distracted to notice, but Virgil sees Logan’s eyes widen slightly at him. He nudges him with the gun.
“Everything. Now.”
Logan doesn’t say a word. He lowers his hands slowly to reach for his wallet, but before he can take it out, Virgil punches the mugger square in the back of the head, grabbing his hood and pushing him down to the floor. The man’s face goes white when he sees who is looming above him.
Virgil kicks him in the stomach like he’s squashing a bug, then grabs him by his feet and throws him over his shoulder like a ragdoll. Considering how pathetic of a fight this is, Virgil assumes it’s just another man desperate for some extra cash and takes it a little easy on him. He sprays him in the face with something attached to his suit’s utility belt, and the man goes limp, completely knocked out cold.
Logan sighs. “I was handling that just fine.”
“Bullshit, I saw you reaching for your wallet.”
“I was reaching for my pocket knife.”
“...Fair enough.”
Virgil looked in the direction of the police station. “Want to follow me and lock him to the post outside?”
“You’re only saying that so you can walk me home.”
Virgil didn’t respond for a while, then he just shrugged. “I’ll just lock him here then, damn.”
Logan gave him a look. “You’re insistent on following me, aren’t you?”
“Duh. Just deal with it, I don’t want some random dude who can’t fight to be my problem for the next thirty minutes.”
“If you insist, I suppose.”
Virgil tied the man to a telephone pole and decided that would be a message enough for the police, considering this isn’t the first time they’ve done this. The Core Four wasn’t exactly known for having idle chit chat with others—police or not—while on duty.
He gave the ties a tug and made sure they weren’t so easy to escape, then gestered Logan to follow him into an alley. When he followed, Virgil gave the streets another check, just in case , and turned to talk to Logan. He crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows at Virgil. “What on Earth are you doing at this time at night?”
“I could ask you the same thing, dude.”
Logan pointed to his navy blue scrubs, still keeping the color aesthetic even at his work, apparently. “I was doing a night shift tonight. My car broke down a few days ago, so I’ve been walking to work and back recently. It’s not a long walk.”
“A short walk at 4 AM is still long enough to get mugged.”
“You and I have both seen worse than a man with a gun.”
“Fair.” Virgil looked up into the sky, almost like he was trying to tell the time with the moon. Though, considering other things he has known how to do, Logan wouldn’t be surprised if he could read sky positions. “You should still be getting home though. It’s late as shit.”
“I’m fully aware, and honestly exhausted. Which you should be as well.”
Virgil shrugged. “Shit happens.”
Logan wasn’t good at reading body language, let alone the body language of someone fully decked out in gear. But based on what Logan knew about Virgil and his absolute insistence on going to bed at 10 PM on the dot every night, Logan could tell something was wrong. “...Would you like to come back with me?”
“What?”
“You could accompany me back to mine and Patton’s house. I figured you may enjoy the company, at least somewhat. I know our house is more...simplistic than yours.”
Virgil smiled, even if Logan couldn’t see it. “You can say my house is expensive as fuck, it’s okay.”
“Do you want to come or not?”
“I’ve got nothing better to do.” Especially if I’m not gonna sleep no matter how hard I try.
Logan turned the corner of the alley and motioned for Virgil to follow him without looking back. The walk to the Sanders household was short, but also slightly awkward on Virgil’s end. It’s not that he’s never been to their house before—he hasn’t gone often , but he’s been inside a fair number of times—it’s just weird . It’s a completely different environment from his fancy house with a bunch of floors and a whole ass hospital and lab. Plus, their house is always loud, thriving with people when they’re not away doing superhero stuff. Virgil’s house is full of quiet. Only the noise of SLEEP walking around and the occasional 80s song disturbs the silence there.
But here, it was a home. It was full of a family , not a superhero den. There was no such thing as empty rooms or quiet hallways. There was bacon sizzling in the morning, the sound of a foster child sneaking out the window at night. And all through the day, genuine family laughter.
It’s not a place for Virgil. You’re intruding and making your problem Logan’s. You’re disgusting.
Virgil ignored his thoughts, just this once. He focused more on avoiding looking like he was casually walking to a house in the city while still decked out in full Nightmare gear.
When Logan walked up the driveway, Virgil jumped off a roof and hid in the bushes. Logan rolled his eyes, even if he understood somewhat.
He unlocked the door and held it open for Virgil to quickly run into, closing it behind him as he let out the tension in his body in relief. Even at 4 AM, trying to keep the facade up is stressful.
He looked around at the living room of the house. The wooden floor was clean but cold, an old brown couch only a few feet apart from a TV that was probably half the size of Virgil’s. On the couch, Patton was dead asleep, snoring like an elephant with his arm dangling off the side. Logan moved his arm onto Patton’s stomach for comfort, taking a soft blanket from the back of the couch and covering him. If Patton wasn’t being the loudest person on Earth with his dad snores, Virgil would almost call it cute.
Logan motioned him quietly to follow him upstairs, the floorboards creaking under their steps and making him nervous. Is this loud enough to wake up everybody?
Logan didn’t seem worried about it, so Virgil merely followed his lead. On the left of the hallway, there was a door covered in different painted doodles of crowns, as well as a small gay and ace pride flag. Logan peaked around the corner to see if Roman was still awake (which was very likely. His powers only require him to have 4 hours of sleep, so he’s usually up for a while), but instead looked to the left and saw Roman with his head on his desk. Under him were some more doodles and some nice colored pencils that he’d gotten as a Christmas present, and Logan was glad to see he was drawing for fun before he fell asleep, not for some art project. He still didn’t like Roman doing schoolwork so late at night.
Logan slightly shook Roman awake for just a moment, long enough for him to murmur out an incoherent question. He seemed confused when he woke up, grabbing at his colored pencils and trying to remember what he was exactly doing. Logan gently took them out of his hand and picked Roman up, placing him down in his twin bed covered in stuffed animals, draping the covers over him and holding on his arm until Roman fell back asleep, without ever remembering he woke up in the first place.
Fuck , Virgil thought, I’m not domestic enough for this shit.
He really felt like he was invading this time.
When Logan turned around, Virgil was out of the doorway, opening random doors in the hallway until he found what he assumed to be Logan’s room, given the map on the wall and Doctor Who posters. He sat on the bed and bounced his knee in favor of bothering Logan doing his thing, wondering if he should take off the suit or not.
The only mask I have on me is in my suit. He focused heavily on wringing his hands in his lap. How am I supposed to speak without a mask?
“Virgil?”
He jumped up slightly and looked at Logan in the doorway, pointing down the hall. “I’m going to change and take a shower. Feel free to get comfortable in the meantime, though I do ask if you go downstairs, to turn on the kitchen light instead of the living room ones. I don’t want to risk waking Patton.”
Virgil blinked. “...Yeah, sure. You do your thing man.”
Logan nodded and walked to his drawers, rummaging through them for a moment. He grabbed a pair of pajamas and left the room, closing the door silently behind him. Taking this as his chance, Virgil unlatched his mask and took in a breath of fresh air. As much as he loved the thing, it got stuffy as fuck in this suit sometimes.
He started picking apart the rest of the gear too, disconnecting the torso and pants from each other so he could pull off his shirt. He yanked off his boots with a struggle and threw everything into a giant pile on the floor next to the bed, now only sitting in a white tank top and his suit’s camo pants, considering he only had his boxers on under them. He still unassembled the armored cover of the pants so they were more comfortable, and hoped that future him wouldn’t be too pissed considering it was a bitch to reassemble.
Virgil lied down on the bed and stared at the ceiling for a moment. It was weird being in a twin bed. He hasn’t slept in anything smaller than a queen size since he was, what, twenty two? Something like that? It felt strange not having the option to lie comfortably sideways in bed. But it wasn’t exactly uncomfortable either. The pillow was probably recently replaced considering how fluffy it felt, and the mattress wasn’t stiff, it just obviously didn’t cost four thousand dollars. The blanket was nice to lay on, it made him want to crawl under the covers and go to bed. But that’d be weird. And also impossible.
At this point, Virgil was convinced he’d be awake for another day.
He wanted to cry, honestly. He wanted to let out the anxiety and frustration and smack the pillow like a toddler until he exhausted himself. He wanted Logan to come in and smack him upside the head until he passed out on the floor. At this point, he’d take anything to have even just a half hour of sleep .
Maybe he’d go outside and run around again. Maybe he’d search their basement for a treadmill and run so fast he inevitably falls and breaks his nose. Maybe he’d just slam his head into the wall for a while. Just for fun.
Virgil heard footsteps approaching the room, and immediately jumped into his pile of gear with an adrenaline rush, searching frantically for the mask that got piled under it. Before he could find it, Logan walked into the room, dressed in black pajamas and running a hand through his damp hair.
Virgil looked at him like a deer caught in headlights. It’s not like the others have ever seen him without his mask before, even the black one that only covers up half of his face. It’s not often, but it has happened, and he never cared then, so why does it seem like such a big deal now?
Because your brain is going a mile a minute. Everything matters right now. You’re jittery and anxious about everything, no matter how irrational.
...Shit.
“Virgil? Are you alright?” Logan started slowly approaching him, like he was afraid that he’d just jump out the window to avoid this situation. Virgil held up a finger to signal one second before frantically going through his gear again, searching for his mask and sighing in relief when he found it. Before he could slip it on, Logan tilted his head like a confused puppy. “You are aware that due to Patton being hard of hearing, I am fluent in ASL, correct? We can communicate just fine without your mask.”
...Fuck. I forgot.
Virgil felt his entire body shake for a second before he slumped down in defeat. He turned to Logan and signed “ Yeah, just a bit on edge today. Don’t worry about it.”
“I can certainly tell.” Logan sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at Virgil. “I know I am…not the best at providing advice, especially for emotional matters, but if you wish to discuss what is bothering you, I’m all ears. Figuratively.”
Virgil smiled softly, and for the first time, Logan actually saw it. “ I just have a fucked up brain. You can’t really fix it or anything.”
“What makes you think you have a ‘fucked up brain’?”
Everything. Virgil looked down.
“Virgil?”
He could feel Logan’s eyes on him, even when he wasn’t looking. He didn’t want to bother his friend, but Virgil knew what Logan was like. He was as stubborn as Patton, and he wasn’t going to get out of this so easily just by looking the other way. Reluctantly, Virgil faced Logan and signed so quickly and sloppily that Logan had to think about what it translated to.
“ ...I haven’t slept in two days.”
“...You haven’t?”
He could feel his throat closing up, but Virgil was determined not to cry. Not in front of him anyway. “My insomnia meds ran out and the earliest I could get a refill was for ten this morning. But I need those fuckers to sleep, so I’ve just been hoping some bastard will take mercy on me and slam my head into a wall.”
He didn’t wait for Logan’s reaction. Instead, Virgil curled himself into a ball and hid his face in his legs, letting a few tears fall where Logan couldn’t see. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and almost flung himself away at his brain’s sudden danger alert. Logan felt him flinch anyway, and took his hand off of him. For a moment, they sat on the floor of Logan’s room in tense silence.
“...Would you like to take a shower?”
Virgil lifted his head up and gave Logan a confused look, but he was purposely avoiding looking Virgil in the eye. Instead, Logan looked at the door and continued. “I assume that, even if you did take a shower today, that being outside for hours has made you feel gross again. I think if you try again, this time, you’ll at the least relax. And relaxing is better than nothing, considering your body still gets some rest.”
Virgil seemed to be thinking about it, and Logan kept talking to fill the silence. “I can get things prepared in here while you do. And if you would like more comfortable clothes...then take whatever you need. Just keep in mind that it will be quite...large on you.”
Logan had a point there. Although Virgil was average height for a male, Logan was tall as shit. Anything he had would make Virgil look like a baby, but it still...kinda sounded nice. It’s probably better than just running around the city anyway.
... Fuck it. Virgil was going to hate himself in the morning for this, but he was fucking tired and he’d take all he could get. Without a word (or a sign) to Logan, Virgil started rummaging through his drawers, grabbing the first shirt and pajama pants he saw (but he refused to even consider taking a pair of boxers). He didn’t look back at Logan’s reaction, just walked out the door and decided he’d find the bathroom on his own.
It wasn’t too hard, honestly. Patton and Roman’s doors were both decorated, and the bathroom had a full body mirror on the door, so Virgil stepped in and locked himself inside. The bathroom sink was a mess, covered in combs and toothbrushes and face wash, and the toilet seat seemed a little small compared to his bathroom at home. But Virgil didn’t question it. He laid the clothes on the toilet seat and got undressed, getting in and letting warm water hit his face for a long time without actually washing. He would have stood there for longer if he didn’t remember that this was Logan and Patton’s money paying the house bills.
He took what he assumed was Patton’s shampoo, since it was scented like strawberries and had a cute little design on the bottle, and did a quick wash-off with the first body wash he saw. When he got out, Virgil stood there with his face shoved in the towel longer than he’d like to admit. Either because of mental fatigue or did I just seriously fucking shower in my teammates house, he didn’t know.
Getting dressed was a slow process, but it eventually happened, stepping out of the bathroom and taking a look at himself in the mirror on the bathroom door. The shirt went far past his hips, and he had to fold up the cuffs of the pajama pants so he wouldn’t trip on them. The pants were covered in the phonebooth-thing from Doctor Who (TARDIS, was it?), the shirt with a weird angel statue covering its eyes in its hands. Great. Now he looked like even more of a nerd than he already is.
Virgil felt like an idiot doing this, but he ended up just throwing his towel on the floor of the bathroom, not knowing where to put it and not caring enough to ask. He went back to Logan’s room instead, and hoped that he didn’t look too much like an idiot.
When he opened the door, Logan had created a blanket nest on the ground, with a couple winter blankets and extra pillows from his closet. Virgil’s gear had been moved to the corner of the room instead of just at the edge of the bed, but he relaxed when he noticed that nothing had been tinkered with. On Logan’s bedside table, two mugs were placed next to each other, still steaming slightly.
If Logan felt even the slightest bit strange about any of this, about all the hospitality and the fact that Virgil was wearing his pajamas , he didn’t show it. He simply grabbed one of the mugs and handed it to Virgil, taking the other for himself. “I figured you might appreciate having a mattress, so you can sleep in my bed tonight, if you can. I also made some hot chocolate as well. It helps calm Patton down when he’s especially anxious, so I thought it would be worth a try.”
“... Thanks.” Virgil signed, blowing on the hot chocolate and taking a sip to distract himself. Logan didn’t respond, just sat on his blanket nest and let them both drink in silence. Not that Virgil was speaking from the beginning anyway.
Once the cups were emptied and Virgil felt himself getting a little more comfortable on the bed, Logan placed the cups back on the bedside table and allowed himself to be more negligent in cleaning up his dishes, just this once. One night couldn’t be too drastic of a change, and he was more worried about Virgil’s comfort than anything else. Hospitality was always important, especially when your visiting friend was in clear distress.
“Do you mind if I turn off the lights now?” Logan asked, looking at the clock in horror when he saw it was a little after five in the morning.
Virgil shook his head, and Logan turned off his floor lamp, making the whole room dark except for the moonlight coming through the blinds. In another hour or so, the moon would be replaced with a sunrise.
Virgil tried to lay down anyway. He knew Logan was right about resting in bed being better than no sleep at all, but it sometimes felt like torture, just sitting in the dark and not being able to do the one thing he wanted more than anything. Please , he thought. Just let me sleep for at least a little bit.
Virgil lied in the dark with jumbled thoughts for a while, hoping and trying not to cry as the minutes ticked on the clock.
But eventually, with the comfort of his closest friends in this cozy home, his brain gave him some mercy just this once and let him sleep for three hours.