Chapter Text
Logan didn’t believe anything was ‘perfect’- there was always space for improvement, no matter how miniscule, and settling for anything less with the claim it was already as good as it could be just seemed, as far as he was concerned, lazy.
He pointed this out every time he heard the word, yet it didn’t stop his parents from using it to describe him. The perfect son. Booksmart, eloquent, impeccable manners. But there was always more to learn, and though ‘perfection’ was in itself subjective his social skills could certainly use some work. He, like everything else, wasn’t perfect. His parents didn’t especially appreciate the observation.
The frustrating thing about being ‘perfect’ was you didn’t make mistakes. You couldn’t. Expectations were high and, for the people who put a roof over his head and clothes on his back, Logan refused to disappoint them. So he spent his days studying, learning as much as he could to live up to an expectation he, realistically, knew was unachievable.
It was only natural he spent most of his time in their library, surrounded by dead peoples words. He didn’t mind that much- people were difficult to understand, but books told you exactly what they meant. They weren’t perfect, either, but they were ideal for learning, curling up in an armchair and forgetting about everything and everyone until you’re torn back to reality.
“Logan!” A shrill voice cried, doing just that. He gently shut his book and set it aside.
“Yes, father?”
“Oh, there you are- so small, that’s hardly a gentlemanly way to sit’ now, is it? I could barely see you. Sit up’ now, sit up- there’s my boy!” He doted, Logan’s back instinctively straightening at the command.
“Now… Your mother and I have something to talk to you about.”
Logan scanned over his shoulder, a small frown setting onto his face.
“I don’t see her.”
“Oh, darling- That’s because I’m doing the talking!” His father exclaimed with a chuckle, seeming to have thought that was a joke. The laugh felt a little patronising, if you asked Logan, and he had no idea why he’d say it’d be a conversation involving someone who wasn’t present, but he nodded like he understood anyway. Experience showed that was easiest.
“Well, we’ve got you a match!”
Logan blinked. His father looked at him expectantly. His frown returned.
“What would I do with a match...? I’ve told you tobacco makes my lungs feel constricted, and it’s generally Amy's job to light the fireplaces-”
“Oh, Logan!” He laughed again like he’d said something ridiculous.
“A romantic match, silly. A fiancé!”
“Ah.” Logan’s eyes flicked back to his book. He’d been reading about constellations before, and though learning of their origins was somewhat less academic than his other studies, it was a passion of his. “Will that be all?”
“You… don’t want to know about him?” His father prodded in that way that signalled he had been meant to ask for details. Logan shook his head anyway.
“I know I’m around that age, and I trust you to choose an adequate match- so long as I live with a library, I cannot foresee any issues.”
There was a beat of silence, for a minute, before his father seemed to come to terms with his answer. He let out a delayed squeal, squishing Logan’s face uncomfortably between his hands and pressing a kiss he had to fight not to move back from to his forehead.
“There’s our boy!”
Logan offered him a smile, hand already reaching back for his book.
-
Virgil groaned loudly, tearing a page from his sketchbook and crumpling it up in his fist. He threw the balled up paper at the bin... and watched it bounce off the lid, onto the floor with all his other attempts. He slumped and hit his head on the table. Nothing he drew was good enough. Seemed to be a pretty consistent theme in his life, actua--
“I’m home!” He heard his brother yell, almost like the self deprecation had summoned him. That happened a surprising amount, and Virgil was beginning to wonder if he had some kind of sixth sense for wallowing.
“What’re all these?”
Virgil peered up to see Patton scoop up some of his discarded paper and huffed.
“Shit.”
“Hey, language!” Patton scolded, unfolding one. Virgil knew better than to protest because, either way, there was nothing he could do to stop the incoming onslaught of validation. Pretty rude of his brother, if you asked him, breaking in like this and ruining his lamenting.
“Kiddo, this is amazing!”
“Kinda loses its meaning when you say that about everything, Patt.” Virgil grumbled, pulling his hood up.
“It’s covered in mistakes- I kept having to rub them out but it happened so much the paper just looks messy and flaky, but I kept fu- screwing up and-”
“There’s no such thing as a mistake.” Patton scolded lightly, not wanting to let him fix onto something so negative. “Just-”
“If you say ‘happy accidents’ I’m setting the apartment on fire.” Virgil warned, hiding a small smile.
“You know me too well.” Patton replied with a deep sigh, slipping into the chair opposite him and not quite meeting his eyes.
“In other news, though... I’ve got news. Oh! I said ‘news’ twice.” He giggled, and Virgil rolled his eyes- before he registered what ‘news’ meant. It meant something new, which meant change and, yeah, they didn’t exactly have the money to keep going as they were in this shitty expensive flat without any work but where else would they go? Were they homeless now? Was the news that they were being kicked out? He knew they were overdue but they had time, still, surely--
“Kiddo! Kiddo, I’m sorry, I should’ve been clearer.” Patton gently pulled him back to reality, the guilty look on his face enough to make Virgil feel terrible for spiralling. He didn’t admit that, though, because it’d make Patton feel worse, and then they’d just be in their own spiral of upsetting one by upsetting the other and he did not have the emotional stability to deal with that.
“I have a job!”
Virgil was pretty much a master in nerves, and he could spot them a mile away- especially in his brother. The wringing of hands and avoidance of eye contact wasn’t exactly subtle. Why he’d be nervous about getting work when they needed it so desperately, though, didn’t seem right. Was he a criminal? Were they going to get arrested?
“That’s… good?” He offered, before he could jump to any more awful conclusions.
“It is!” Patton nodded eagerly, latching onto it. “Just…”
“Just...?”
“It’s on a boat.”
Virgil's throat went dry.
“We can’t swim.”
“I know, but most of the crew can’t, it’s really safe, and we’ll have our own room and it’ll be warm and-”
Virgil shook his head quickly.
“We’ll be surrounded by miles and miles of sea and we can’t keep afloat by ourselves and if it sinks we’re fucked and-”
“We… don’t have much of a choice.” Patton reminded him softly, and they both involuntarily looked over at the red envelopes shoved under the door. Their eviction notices.
“Anyway, cheer up kiddo- they say it’s unsinkable!”