Work Text:
The office was warm and cozy with the curtains drawn closed to block out the snow, and the desktop lamp glowing gold. The room was small, barely big enough to hold a corner wedge desk, a small bookshelf, and a chair. But this wasn’t bothersome. Secluded, quiet, it was all you could ask for in a makeshift home office. A steaming mug of coffee sat on the desk, it was two-thirds drunk already, but still comforting and thawing. A black liquid ink pen swirled and spiralled across the printed articles laid out in small stacks before the holder.
Sixty pages, one-sided, twelve point font-- Times New Roman, of course. A twenty-thousand word paper plus a bibliography. That’s what he needed for his college thesis. The paper was two dozen pages long by now, and he was spending his Sunday morning researching for the next dozen. He reached for his coffee cup absentmindedly, not lifting his eyes from the news report he was annotating. Pressed to his lips, the steam fogged up the base of his glasses as he took a sip. The caffeine shot through him like serotonin.
“Hey, Logan? Can we make cookies after this, do you think?” A voice as soft as autumn wind drifted down from his shoulder. Logan was too used to hearing it by now to be surprised. He didn’t even pause his reading.
“Why? I don’t think we even have flour,” Logan replied.
“I dunno. Just for fun?”
He was nearing the end of the paragraph he was on, underlining and circling things as he went. He could probably take a break soon. There were only a couple of lines left. “Maybe after this article.”
“Yay, okay!”
Logan felt a light ticklish sensation descend down his arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. He glanced over just in time to see the tiny apparition slide off his arm to stand on the desk. The apparition had big, doe-like eyes behind frames reminiscent of halos and hair like the rays of the sun. It was colder today, so he was wearing a miniature cardigan with the sleeves pulled down over his hands. He had a yellow aura and emanated the same warmth and comfort as a cuddle. Logan watched him wander over to sit beside the paper in front of him.
“What are you doing, Patton?” Logan asked him. Patton was the name that Logan had given his positivity when he was younger after Patton had insisted that he and Logan were friends.
“Nothing, just waiting,” Patton said with that gentle little voice of his. He stuck his feet straight out in front of him, tapping his toes together as he leaned his weight back onto his hands. Even with his legs outstretched, Patton could have sat comfortably in the palm of Logan’s hand.
And Patton did wait, remarkably patient, as Logan finished up reading. He wasn’t distracting. He never was. If anything, his presence made working easier, an extra light and heart in the office. When he was finished, Logan set down his pen with a satisfying clatter, and Patton’s interest was piqued. He looked upwards at Logan excitedly. Logan chuckled and shook his head, offering his hand open-palmed to the apparition.
“Come on then.”
He didn’t need to be told twice. Patton stood and clambered up onto Logan’s hand. “Can we make gingerbread?”
“It’s only November.”
“So? They’re so yummy, and it’s snowing. That’s close enough. Please?”
Logan couldn’t help the small smile that played at the corners of his lips. He rolled his eyes, but his tone was fond. “Why not?”
~ ☀ ~
The cold had bitten Logan’s nose by the time he made it back to his apartment. The walk from the bus was especially long today, and he’d been fighting against the wind all the way here. After a long day of walking halls and climbing stairs at school, he was ready to sit down and let his legs turn to jello.
But the storm brewing in Logan’s mind was growing harsher and stronger than the blizzard outside. His week consisted of a printer that refused to work, a failing grade on a midterm, a coffee spilled across his nice winter jacket when the bus swerved harshly across the ice, skipping lunch for more time to study, and it was the second week in a row of stormy weather inside his chest. His glare shot lighting at his mittens as he threw them off, and his chair scraped the floor with thunder as he sunk into it.
“...Do you want to make hot chocolate? It might warm you up,” Patton suggested as he poked his head out of Logan’s sweater pocket.
“He’s not five.” A second apparition of similar size-- this one with a blue aura --climbed out of Logan’s hood to sit on his shoulder. “We should just have a nap.” His voice was sharper and more agile than Patton’s, like the shadows that crept under doorways or passed through windows.
“You know he can’t do that, Virgil. He has to finish that reading assignment before class tomorrow,” Patton said as Logan lifted him out of his pocket and settled him on his opposite shoulder.
Virgil hadn’t been a big part of Logan’s life since his early teenage years when his childhood safety bubble was popped by the prodding needle of the real world knocking on his bedroom door. Virgil had become Logan’s best friend then, his safety blanket. The two were inseparable; wherever Logan went, Virgil did too. When Logan turned fourteen, Patton had completely gone away for a while. Logan hadn’t even noticed at first because Virgil was so quick to sit where Patton would have sat, speak when he would have spoken, and back then Logan couldn’t tell their voices apart. But after taking new supplements in the mornings and trying to turn his life around, Patton had returned. He’d come back stronger than ever, and eventually, Logan didn’t see Virgil anymore. Sometimes he’d poke his head in for a visit in the late hours of the night, when everyone else – even the angels that watched over him – had all gone to sleep. But for the most part, Virgil had returned to being nothing more than a whisper on the wind, a tear against his cheek, a sigh beside his ear.
But since this past Monday, Virgil had decided to prolong his stay beyond the day. The reunion was awkward and a little stiff, but Virgil was good at making himself at home, and had soon found a comfortable place to sit in the crook of Logan’s neck and the darker corners of his thoughts.
“It’s been a long day, Pat. He deserves to relax.” Virgil said, his tone as fluffy as wool pulled over eyes. “Don’t you think?”
That did sound lovely...
“Of course he does! We’ll relax by making some hot cocoa – it’s for adults too. Then he can curl up on the couch and read… thebookhewasassignedforclass. But-- he loves reading, right Lo?” Patton asked, and Logan could feel the way Patton snuggled up against his neck because of the tingle of pins and needles that Patton always gave him.
“Stop it, that tickles,” Logan gently swatted at Patton with his hand, knowing it wouldn’t hurt him. He heard a sparkling giggle as Patton shuffled away again, resituating himself in the dip of Logan’s shoulder. Logan scratched at his neck as he stood, wandering over to the stove, where he set up a kettle to boil water. “Do we even have anything to make hot chocolate with?”
“There’s some mix in the cupboard, I think!” Patton said chipperly.
“Are you sure? I don’t see it,” Logan said as he checked the shelves of the pantry. “Do you?”
“No, I thought for sure we had some left over from last year.” Patton said before asking to be put on the top shelf so he could get a better look at the back for them.
“Last year? Why would he want to drink that even if we did still have it?” Virgil piped up from where he sat, legs dangling, on Logan’s shoulder.
“Hot chocolate never goes bad!” Patton’s voice called out from behind a row of soup cans on the uppermost shelf. “It’s impossible.”
Logan shook his head. “Well, that’s not true–”
“Yes it is! Or, it just takes a long time. It’s still good. Now, c’mon, where is it? ”
Logan could feel his fuse shortening, and his shoulders slump. “Nevermind, Patton. It’s fine. I’ll just make some tea or something instead.”
“No, no, don’t worry. I’m sure it’s here--” There was a crash as Patton pushed a box of cereal off of the shelf by mistake, sending it, and its contents,all over the pantry floor. Logan could feel Virgil’s nails dig into his shoulder as he jumped at the noise.
Logan swore.
“Oh no, I’m so sorry, Logan,” Patton said as he looked down over the edge of the ledge at the damage he’d caused.
“It’s fine,” Logan said through a tightened jaw.
“It was an accident, I promise. I was just trying to-- I didn’t mean to--”
“I said, it’s fine .”
Patton fell silent after that.
He was still quiet after Logan had gotten the broom and dustpan, and cleaned up the mess. Patton just sat, head bowed on the edge of the top shelf, avoiding Logan and Virgil’s returning gaze. So, Logan said something first.
“Here, let me help you down,” he offered, holding up his hand to the little apparition.
“That’s okay, Lo. I think I’d like to stay in here awhile.”
Logan frowned, drawing his hand back a bit. “Are you sure?”
Patton nodded.
“Okay then,” Logan said. “I think I’m going to go lie down for a bit. I’m getting a headache.”
By the time Patton was ready to come out of the cupboard again, with a package of hot chocolate mix he’d found in hand, Logan had long since given up on the day; he was fast asleep in his bed with Virgil curled up on the pillow by his head.
~ ☁ ~
Logan’s phone beeped from the pocket of his coat as he stepped through the front door of his apartment. It was nearing the end of the semester now, and was still as cold as ever. He pulled his cellphone out to check it, and the notification turned out to be from his calendar.
Coming Up: “Thesis Paper Due”
Logan’s stomach filled with stones, and he shut off his phone quickly. He stuffed it away into his pocket and left it there even after stowing his jacket away in the mudroom cupboard. He didn’t want to think about it. He couldn’t handle thinking about it.
He dropped his bag and kicked off his boots, not bothering to line them up neatly before making his way to the kitchen. His head ached. Throbbed. With so much pain it felt like it had a heartbeat. He slugged around the kitchen as he went about making coffee. He’d need it if he hoped to stay awake at all.
He was filling up the pot when he felt arms encircle his waist, a body drape over his like a blanket, and a head nestle into the crook of his neck like it was returning home. “Hey,” the word was muffled by the cloth of Logan’s turtleneck.
“Hello, Virgil.” Logan said, allowing his own head to lean to rest upon Virgil’s.
“I missed you.”
“You saw me earlier.”
“Not since before Dr. Picani’s class. You know I can’t go in there with you, there’s way too many fairy lights and stuffed animals in that room for me, thanks,” Virgil said with a sigh, his hair soft against Logan’s cheek and his arms secure around his torso. Virgil’s biggest fear was ending up alone, Logan knew that. And after years of being apart, Virgil longed to spend time soaking in the light of their rekindled friendship for as much time as he could. He didn’t want to face losing Logan again. These were things that Virgil had confessed to Logan in the hours late at night when they were huddled up in bed, and Logan couldn’t sleep even after feeling exhausted and drained all day.
“Do you want dinner?” Logan offered. He’d gotten home a little later than he usually did after dragging his feet a little too long on the blustery walk to the bus. It was now about the time that they usually ate.
“Nah, not really hungry,” Virgil said.
“Me neither.” Logan hadn’t felt hungry at all lately, he hadn’t even had breakfast this morning. He poured himself a cup of freshly made coffee, mixing in a bit of milk and sugar. He offered Virgil a sip first, which the apparition accepted with an appreciative hum.
They wandered over to the couch in the modest conjoined sitting room. They sat down together, and Logan was pulled into the vortex that was Virgil’s arms, where hours felt like seconds. He tried to force the creeping thoughts of deadlines and stress from his brain as Virgil asked him to relax. The apparition began to massage his shoulders a bit, working out the knots of nervousness that had been accumulating more and more lately.
“I do need to probably get some work done tonight.”
“What work?” Virgil sounded disappointed.
“My thesis is due on Friday.”
“Oh, boo. Boring.”
Logan laughed a little. “I know. I don’t want to do it either. But, I have to.”
“Well, you don’t have to,” Virgil countered, “Your grades are high enough as is that you could fail it and still pass.”
“I suppose, but not by much.”
“C’s get degrees,” Virgil said jokingly, voice as alluring as a siren’s.
“Okay, how about a compromise,” Logan suggested, a phrase that was all too familiar on his tongue. “I will write my paper, but I’ll do it tomorrow.”
“Sounds like a deal.”
~ ☁ ~
Tomorrow turned into the day after that, and then into the day after that, and then eventually it was Thursday evening. It was the night before Logan’s thesis was due, and he hadn’t even looked at it. The prospect of having to hand it in the following morning was making Logan’s heart twist and his stomach writhe. The overwhelmingness of it all made him want to do nothing more but to hide in Virgil’s embrace, where it felt like nothing could hurt him. Virgil could even put his chin on top of Logan’s head now, so he was protected in an envelope of shadow.
Virgil needed him, wanted him. It was a much nicer feeling than the dread of the invasive knowledge that his paper sat unfinished on his computer harddrive. Especially after the lonely month of winter storms, when it had only been him and Virgil against the world. They were sitting in Logan’s home office, Logan in his chair and Virgil on the floor, rereading the Harry Potter books again, some of Logan’s favourites when he was a young teen. They were bonding over the memories they shared of the characters and the magic. It was a beautiful escape from the prodding needles of the real world, that stood waiting just outside the door.
Then, for the first time in a while, Logan felt a feather-light tingling sensation on his shoulder.
“Hey, do you guys remember that Harry Potter colouring book we used to have?” said a voice as soft and as warm as a sunlit autumn afternoon. “Lo used to love colouring in it when he was little. I think we still have it in here somewhere.” Patton, as small as ever, climbed down Logan’s arm and pointed to a cardboard shoe box on the bottom shelf of the bookcase. He stepped onto Logan’s hand, and he was warm to the touch. He turned around and waved at Logan. “Hey, you. I missed you.”
“Where have you been?” Virgil asked, from where he sat crossed legged on the carpet.
“Trying to get back here,” Patton said with a grin. He pushed himself off of Logan’s hand, so he was holding onto and dangling from one of his fingers, before letting go and dropping onto his knee. Then, Patton carefully climbed his way down Logan’s pant leg. He scampered across the floor, until he stood before the shoebox on the bottom shelf. He wrapped his small arms around one of the corners and pulled with all of his might, trying to get it to move. But, of course, to no avail. He strained with the effort, before toppling over backwards when his hands slipped. “Ugh, Virgil, can you help me?”
“Why? What are you doing?”
“I wanna colour!”
“...Again, why?”
Patton glanced upwards at Logan briefly. “It’s Harry Potter! You like Harry Potter, right, Virge?”
With a sigh, Virgil reluctantly agreed. He pulled the colouring book out of the shoebox and opened it up to a fresh page for the other apparition. After realizing he had nothing to colour with, Patton asked if they could use Logan’s highlighters instead. After Logan, although perplexed, had agreed and provided him with the ones off of his desk, Patton was almost all ready to colour.
“Heya, Logan?”
“Yes?”
“Can we make hot chocolate? There’s some mix in the cupboard.”
Apparently, it didn’t take Patton long to get right back into the swing of things, even after his month-long hiatus. Logan just stared at him, confused.
“Please?” Patton added. “It’s for adults too, you’ll like it.”
“I-- I mean, I don’t see why not.” Logan said, numbly as he stood up, and squeezed past Virgil to reach the door. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
“Don’t forget the marshmallows!” Patton called after him.
“Why on earth would I have marshmallows, Patton?” Logan called back.
“Oh,” Patton said.
There was a moment of silence before Patton walked across the page of the colouring book to grab hold of the yellow highlighter. It was almost as big as he was. “Colour with me, Virgil!”
“Uh-- no thanks.” Virgil said, apprehensively. He was fidgeting, uncomfortable without Logan there.
Patton shrugged. “Alright then, suit yourself.” He uncapped the pen, with some struggle, and began to colour. It was hard to control at first, considering the size of the highlighter in proportion to himself. However, he eventually got the hang of it. He coloured in silence for a bit, with Virgil having gone back to reading, before he spoke again. “I missed you too, you know. Not just Logan.”
Virgil’s eyes flickered over to the other, but he said nothing. He instead watched as the apparition with the yellow aura filled in Ron’s hair with bright orange ink, one swipe of the pentip at a time. It was sort of satisfying, watching the lines get filled in gradually like that.
Patton seemed to notice him staring, because he was smiling at him now. “Looks fun, right?”
Still, Virgil said nothing.
“You wanna try?” Patton asked, offering the highlighter to him.
By the time Logan got back with a mug of hot chocolate, Virgil had the colouring book and Patton in his lap, and was leaning over the page. Patton ran across it, dragging a pen behind him with the same level of enthusiasm as a little boy pulling his sled back up the snowy hill for another slide. Virgil himself was carefully filling in the details of Harry’s wand. Logan stepped around them, and sat back down in his little office chair. He simply watched them quietly for a little while, not wanting to interrupt. However, after the hot chocolate was two-thirds drunk, he spoke up. “Hey, do you two want any of this?” He said, holding out the cup to them.
“Oh, uh-- sure, I guess.” Virgil said, taking the mug from Logan. The apparition now needed both hands to hold the mug securely, and even then his fingers couldn’t wrap around far enough to meet on the other side. He took a sip of the cocoa, letting the steam warm him from the inside out.
He handed it back to Logan, who then in turn offered it to Patton. But Patton said, “Oh no, that’s okay Lo. It’s for you,” before returning to his colouring.
~ ☀ ~
By the time the late hours of the evening rolled around, and everyone – even the angels that watched over them – had gone to sleep, Virgil and Patton each had a pen in hand and were wandering around the page. Virgil was more shuffling across the page than walking, and he was meticulous when trying to control the pen. Patton, on the other hand, was still sprinting about gleefully, spouting giggles with every turn.
Every now and then, Virgil would feel a little lonely, and Patton would put down his pen for a while. They’d cuddle up together for a bit until Virgil was ready to start again.
The office was warm and cozy, with the curtains drawn closed to block out the snow, and the desktop lamp glowing gold. The air was filled with heart and company, and the sound of clicking keys underneath fingers that tapped away at a keyboard.
Logan ended up making his deadline. Just barely.