Chapter Text
As soon as he stepped out of the airport, two revelations sunk in for Virgil Hale. The first one was that, after three years, he was finally home. His friends, who had to keep contact through letter-writing, were still around knowing he’d arrive at any minute (but he hadn’t decided who to contact first yet). His mother was right behind him, having met him as soon as he came out for his luggage, and his father was outside waiting by the car. Most of the landmarks and stores he knew were still around, his room had been cleaned in preparation for his arrival with everything left in the place he’d kept it, and everything just felt... right for a moment.
The second revelation was that he had not missed Florida’s weather at all. He winced as he walked into the wall of heat and humidity that manifested the second he stepped out of the airport.
“Is it too late to go back?” he asked. His mother chuckled.
“C’mon, honey, we’ve got everything ready for you.” She gestured to the car parked near the curb. His father had already gotten out and opened up the trunk to hold the two full suitcases and carry-on Virgil had brought back with him. “Front seat or back?”
“....front?” Virgil couldn’t quite keep the anxiety from his voice, but his mother seemed pleased with his decision regardless. Why wouldn’t she, when four years ago he had refused to enter any car, citing statistics about passenger fatality rates in accidents provided by a well-meaning Logan? Considering how much more dangerous the front passenger seat could be, it already spoke volumes. He wasn’t planning on taking the front passenger seat again anytime soon anyhow. He may as well do it now. He pulled himself into the car, while his father loaded the heavy suitcases and his mother hopped into the backseat. He flinched with the heavy slam of the trunk lid, and caught his mother biting her lip in the rearview mirror. “I’ll be fine - just - been a while.”
“Alright, dear,” his mother said as his father got into the driver’s seat and started the car. Virgil managed a weak smile before focusing on his breathing, willing himself to remain calm. “Do you want to talk or listen to music?” It was an interruption, but a well-meaning one.
“Uh, music. Just, my ipod ran out of battery-”
“Got you covered.” His father held up a CD, silver with Patton’s handwriting listing various songs. Somehow, it figured that Patton had yet to abandon the concept of the mix tape (though considering the age of the car, not like he could’ve made a playlist). Virgil nodded as his father slipped in the CD, and the speakers began to play My Chemical Romance. He closed his eyes and willed himself to relax as he settled into the seat and his father began the drive home.
--
When his parents asked if he wanted help unpacking, Virgil turned them down and carried his suitcases to his room alone. He closed the door behind him and took a moment to survey his room (God, 14-year-old Virgil was such an edgelord - who, if anything, was going to find a way to be even edgier now). He then dropped his suitcases onto the floor and threw himself onto his bed with a groan. Unpacking was hardly something he enjoyed, but after nearly four hours of being cramped into a metal tube that circulated bacteria in the air with a bunch of strangers, the sheer agony that had been airport security, and about three years of minimal privacy in a mental hospital, it felt amazing to get some time alone. According to his clock, he stayed that way for half an hour before he got up and worked on emptying his suitcases. His closet hadn’t changed much - though he’d forgotten about that hoodie. Hm. He held it out, compared it to his all-black hoodie, and decided to change. The purple patches added some color, and admittedly it was just a lot softer. The paperbacks and plushies he’d accumulated ended up on his bookcase, and he frowned at some of the darker elements. Yeah, there were going to be some changes, though at least none had been made without his consent.
Finally was his phone, sitting on his desk, still attached to a charging cable. Virgil picked it up and turned it on. 100% power - and a flood of old notifications. He cringed and deleted them all without reading - he’d gotten, well, honestly pretty bad for a while there before ending up in the emergency room, and right now he didn’t want to relive those memories. Nope, now was the time to start planning a get-together.
...actually how? Should he call? Set up a group chat? Was all his contact info still accurate? What if someone had changed their number? What if they all had?
Virgil forced himself to focus on his breathing for a minute before he noticed - his most recent text was yesterday, from Thomas. He selected the conversation and scrolled down to the last message.
‘Hey Virge! Heard you’ll be home soon - just letting you know this is still my number. If you need anything, just text me, and I’ll reply ASAP! Or at least within 24 hours.’
Good ol’ Thomas. Virgil felt himself smiling.
‘Thanks man. Is there a current group chat you can add me to? I really want to see everyone again.’
He set the phone back down to resume unpacking. He’d finally finished when his phone buzzed: a notification from Thomas.
‘Sure thing. You ready?’
‘As I can be.’ Well, that sounded resigned. ‘But I really do want to talk with everyone.’ Better. It was a few minutes before his next notification: he’d been added to a group chat. Buzz after buzz sounded through the air as his friends enthusiastically greeted, and Virgil felt his smile turn into a grin as they set up a meeting at Roman’s house in two days.
It was good to be home.
--
He batted vaguely at the offending sound, hoping to turn off the alarm for whatever it was. The sound of his phone hitting the floor shocked him into awareness more quickly than any alarm could hope to accomplish. He sat up and leaned over the edge of his bed to grab his phone.
‘In one hour: meet with friends!’
He whipped his head to face the innocently-blinking alarm still on his nightstand. Really? He’d forgotten to set his alarm? Who was he kidding, of course he had! That was why you triple-checked things!
Virgil only had time really to take a quick shower, change into clothes, and grab his phone. Even with Roman’s house being the closest, that was still easily a 40-minute walk using the shadier shortcuts. The threat of being late overrode his fear of getting robbed and, with his parents out (buying groceries? Catching up with friends? Contacting a new school without warning him?), he left the house locked up after him. His shoes slapped against the concrete sidewalks and alleyways. He could do this. He was going to-
-crash into someone, falling on top of them. There was a thump and audible grunt of pain, and Virgil tried to scramble off of them. He felt his knee hit against their thigh and his hand press too firmly against their forearm. Bad moves, Virge. He pushed off to the side, rolling over and feeling his right arm land in a puddle. Alleyway puddle - disgusting. Who knew what it was carrying.
“I am so sorry,” he said as he managed to stand, making black spots dance in front of his eyes with the speed of his movement. “I didn’t mean to - I mean, are you ok- holy shit!” He finally laid his gaze on the person he’d knocked over, and the angry red-violet coloration on the left half of their (his?) face leaped out at him. “Oh my god, are you ok? I can call an ambulance, that really looks - I am so, so sorry.” He held out both hands to this stranger, unsure of whether to help him up or look for wounds, as the words flowed meaninglessly from his mouth like rain along an old riverbed.
The stranger rubbed gently at the back of his head and then looked up at Virgil. In his panic, Virgil couldn’t process much more about the stranger than his look of confusion.
“Um... well, it’s alright. Just hurts a little, but isn’t that bad.” He squinted a moment at Virgil and then both eyes widened and he snickered. “Oh, my face - it’s alright, that wasn’t from you. It’s just a birthmark. My mother always called it a port wine stain.” His expression brightened. “I suppose thanks for the concern, though. Now, you didn’t get hurt either, did you? Concussion or something? ... um, hello?”
Virgil couldn’t reply. Normally, he was told, he’d get something wrong, someone would correct him, he’d feel awkward but ultimately less worried, and life would go on. This time? He had just told a stranger, right to his face, that his birthmark looked like some horrific bruise or other injury worth calling an ambulance for. Too bad Florida wasn’t prone to earthquakes, because Virgil could really go for the ground opening up beneath him and swallowing him without another word. He’d almost forgotten that it was possible to be so mortified.
“Excuse me. If you could?” The stranger held a hand over Virgil’s. His words briefly snapped Virgil out of his worsening thoughts. Virgil only managed a soft ‘oh’ and grabbed onto the stranger’s gloved hand, helping him to his feet. Right. Remember what the therapist and his fellow patients said: if no one is making a big deal of if, you probably don’t need to. To distract himself from the angry pit in his gut, he tried to look over this... honestly, sort of odd-looking stranger. The birthmark, as he’d called it, was certainly the most obvious trait, but as Virgil watched him regain his balance, still holding hands, it struck him that he had no idea what to make of his attire. Like Virgil, he too owned a hoodie in the heavy humidity of Florida, but he had seen fit to simply drape it over his shoulders, tying together the hood drawstrings to hold it in place. The bright yellow gloves probably would’ve looked more at home on a kitchen countertop with their oddly plastic texture, the newsboy cap looked like it had seen several owners before meeting this one, and the lavender button-up used threads of multiple colors to keep said buttons in place. The jeans and sneakers, as worn-down as they looked to the point that the latter had duct tape securing the sole to the front end of the shoe, were normal in comparison. Slung over his shoulder was a duffle bag, its label unmarked. Virgil wondered briefly if he was looking at a runaway who had been traveling without shelter for some time and immediately felt guilty for his thoughts on his outfit. This encounter was just going so well. Then the stranger looked back up to Virgil and he realized one final unique trait - while the stranger’s right eye was brown, the left was hazel, almost golden.
“Thank you.” The stranger’s smile looked crooked as he finally let go of Virgil’s hand. “Apologies, I wasn’t paying as much attention as I should’ve been, I guess.” He rubbed the side of his neck. Virgil swallowed, unable to form a proper verbal response still. “It’s my first time here, see, still trying to get my bearings!” Oh.
“Are you lost?” Virgil almost cringed at the way he just blurted out the question. He couldn’t help it though - it was easier to deal with anxiety if it was in the name of helping someone else.
“No, just... sightseeing.” The stranger coughed. “Without a map. Or landmarks.”
“Got it. And where’s this sightseeing supposed to end?”
“....the Days Inn.” Virgil inhaled at the answer. He knew that place in passing - his parents had driven by it enough times. It was still open? Go figure.
“I know where that is. Do you need directions?”
“It would be appreciated...” The stranger’s voice trailed off. When his expression turned expectant, Virgil realized he was probably awaiting an introduction.
“Virgil. My name’s Virgil.” Yup, that sounded awkward. He then noticed the stranger raising a hand to his mouth, clearly trying to suppress giggles. “What?” Virgil could feel the way his shoulders tensed and he hated it. He was the one who’d crashed into this guy and insulted him, and he was still finding reasons to be mad at him. Seriously. Way to go, great person, Patton would be proud.
“Oh, well, you mean, like, the poet?” The stranger seemed to compose himself.
“Yeah?”
“That’s - that’s quite the coincidence, then. I’m Dante.” Dante finally let out a few giggles while Virgil processed this new fact. Virgil and Dante. Ok then? “So, Guide through Hell, which way should I go?” Oh. He chuckled weakly.
“Ah, yeah, that - that is kinda funny.” His shoulders dropped, and he felt better for it. He glanced to the mouth of the alleyway, going over his mental map of the city while still feeling Dante’s gaze on him. Quick, be witty. “You know, with the heat here, it could be Hell. But harder to navigate.” That got a snicker out of Dante and, though Virgil felt the ‘joke’ had been weak at best, he managed a smile as he looked back. “You don’t have a map, right? What about a phone?”
“Died on the bus, sad to say. For how much a ticket costs, you’d think the busses would keep their charging ports working.” Dante rolled his eyes. “That said-” He reached into his hoodie pocket and produced a scuffed brick of a phone. “My parents said as long as it works, I don’t need to upgrade.”
“Good luck - that thing looks built to last.”
“It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“So-” Virgil coughed, more out of nerves than necessity. “-where are your parents anyways?” He remembered his speculation about Dante being homeless, though he wondered if he should revisit the runaway part. Dante didn’t seem hostile at their mention.
“Couldn’t make it yet - their bosses are the worst. They’ll arrive in time for the funeral, at least, even if they can’t make the viewing.”
Virgil knew he had to look stupid as he stared at Dante, who only offered a mild expression in return. Dante then seemed to realize what a bombshell he had dropped as he pocketed the dead phone and continued, “My mother’s side of the family lives around here - they mostly came to visit us, not the other way around. A few days ago, we were on a family vacation, and my mother’s brother called to tell her my grandfather had died. My father ended the vacation a day early, but when they asked for more time off, they were told not yet. Then again, my father’s a nurse and my mother’s a teacher, so I suppose it makes sense - too sudden to get coverage. It still sucks.”
“...but they sent you.”
“Better one of us than no one, my parents thought. Besides, it sounded like my uncle wasn’t coping too well, so he needs all the support he can get.”
“Oh.” Virgil blinked. He wondered why the uncle wasn’t taking him in, instead of putting him up at a hotel. Dante clearly wasn’t an adult, after all. Then Virgil mentally slapped himself for wanting to pry further in what was clearly a personal matter. “Uh, that.... Sounds really bad.”
“It is.” Dante shifted his duffel bag. “Uh, so, Virgil, about those directions?” Virgil thought, and then Dante piped up again. “Actually, could you just show me? Like I said, I don’t really know the town and I don’t have a map.” That made sense, if Virgil was being honest. As his panic finally fully receded, a new wave of anxiety seized him.
“I’m supposed to meet with my friends.” Virgil took out his own phone and did the mental math. He was already going to be 5 minutes late if he just left Dante now - probably another 5 to 10 minutes if he gave Dante directions.
“Oh. I suppose I should’ve asked what you were doing out this way myself.” Dante sighed. “I hope I’m not making you late. Who wouldn’t want to be hanging out with friends on a nice day like this?” Virgil grimaced. There was no hint of sarcasm or anger or even hurt, but somehow the wistfulness and resignation in the other teen’s voice managed to strike at him even more harshly.
He inhaled. If Thomas were here, he’d be telling Virgil to take deep breaths. If Patton were here, he’d be encouraging Virgil to ‘do the right thing’. If Logan were here, he would point out that they would all understand Virgil being late to help someone and in fact probably praise him for willingly interacting with a stranger and refusing to let his anxiety shut him down.
He pulled up the group chat and texted: ‘gonna be late - guy needs help finding hotel’. He hit ‘send’, reread, panicked, and added, ‘he’s around our age’. Hit send. Paused. He could see Dante watching him quizzically. ‘I might’ve knocked him over so I pretty much owe him’. Hit send. The chat lit up with a message from Thomas before his message loaded, and he could see Patton typing. He pocketed his phone before he could process Thomas’ words and Patton could reply. “Well, told them I’ll be late. I mean, I was going to be late anyways, so, may as well help?”
Dante’s grin was dazzling.
--
For how the walk to the hotel went, they could’ve been longtime friends. Virgil knew it wasn’t true, but he and Dante had just sort of settled into casual conversation once they’d started walking. The first five minutes had been silent, but when Virgil noticed one of the bookshops had been replaced by a jewelry store and complained, Dante seemed able to read between the lines. Virgil danced around the exact reason he had left the town, but Dante sounded more interested about how things had changed anyways, and there was rarely a lull between them.
(“Did that place ever sell pizza?”
“Pretty sure they didn’t.”
“Ah. As I said - usually them visiting us. Maybe I’m thinking of someone from my dad’s side.”)
Virgil knew that the walk to the hotel was easily half an hour, but it felt more like 20 minutes, maximum. Both teens stared at the drab structure.
“Well, Virgil, that was enlightening.” Dante flashed him another grin. “Maybe sometime this week we could explore, see what else has changed for you?”
“Maybe.” That sounded almost like a date. He could be misreading him, though. “Yeah. Though... I mean, your phone number?”
“...honestly, I don’t know when I’ll get to charge this. Could I have yours? I could call you from my room.” That made Virgil’s gut churn.
“I - uh- I really couldn’t-” He broke off into an embarrassed mumble. Dante at least seemed to take it in stride.
“Well, we ran into each other once already. We can manage it again. If nothing else, we’re rather distinctive, aren’t we?”
“Or your room maybe?”
“If I knew what it was, perhaps.”
“Oh.”
“Regardless, my Guide, it’s been a treat talking with you.” Dante gave an exaggerated, though somehow sincere, bow. Virgil rubbed at the back of his neck, mumbling ‘ditto’. “Have fun with your friends.”
Fuck.
Virgil bolted in the direction of Roman’s house without another word to Dante.
--
In the end, Virgil was almost an hour and a half late. His anxiety had ratcheted up even with Patton and Thomas’ reassurances. When he had knocked and it was goddamn Remus who answered with an ear-piercing shriek and an abrupt, far-too-tight, reeking embrace, Virgil swore he was just going to give in and curl up into a tight ball right in the doorway.
“Remus, down!”
Thank god for Roman.
Remus giggled as he left, possibly to his own room, possibly to sneak out back and find new bugs to add to his collection. Roman sighed as he helped Virgil brush himself off and then gave some distance.
“Welcome, our dear Shadowling.” Roman bowed with a flourish. “I see the rumors were true.” Virgil froze. “You did learn how to properly apply eyeliner.” Oh, ok. He grinned, skin feeling a little too tight still. He’d get over it, he told himself.
“Yup. I can teach you too.” More of the tension eased itself from his frame as Roman gasped in mock offense.
“My makeup is always on point!”
“Keep telling yourself that, Princey.” They both left the front door in favor of going to Roman’s room, where the credits of Big Hero 6 were rolling.
“Ladies, lords, and nonbinary royalty! (“Roman, we don’t have-” Hi, Logan.) “I present to you, Sir Virgil Hale!” Roman took a deep bow as he stepped out of Virgil’s way. Virgil raised his arm in a half-wave.
“Sorry I’m late?”
He was none too surprised when Patton squealed and launched himself off one of Roman’s bean-bags towards him. “Oh, it’s so good to see you!-” He stopped mid-stride and took a second to rebalance himself. “Hugs still on the table?”
“Eh...” Virgil pondered. “Air hug?”
“Sure thing, kiddo!” Despite only having a year over him, Patton had always called Virgil that. Virgil had taken it personally until he realized Patton used it for everyone, even other students older than him. Patton stretched out his arms and hugged the air in front of Virgil. Virgil was about to return the gesture when he noticed-
“Oh - nice nail art, Patton.” He stared at the weirdly-decorated ring on Patton’s finger, along with the baby-blue heart that somehow seemed tattooed under the nail. It really was nice, but it had never struck him as Patton’s thing. “Where’d you get it at?” Immediately, he saw the minute way Patton’s arms tensed. Crap, he’d said something wrong - but what?
“It was about two years ago, I think?” Thomas answered for Patton. “Sorry, I guess we should’ve mentioned it sooner - we just all got used to it.”
“Wha- I’m not judging! I really think it looks cool!”
“Easy, Shining Night.” Roman approached his side. “We’re all here to watch some movies - and maybe I can paint something on your nails if you want?” Roman displayed his own nails - while Patton had the design on one nail, Roman had managed an absolutely gorgeous gradient of red-to-yellow on all 10. Virgil just barely managed to contain an impressed whistle, instead just raising an eyebrow.
“Well - maybe not the first day of school for me? I mean...”
“Understandable.” Logan nodded and leaned back in his seat on Roman’s futon. “Did you want me to go over some of the material from the past few years? I received the impression you had been allowed some tutoring.”
“Ugh, do we have to talk about school right now?” Roman flopped onto his bed dramatically. “I thought we were hanging out, not studying!”
“It probably would be a lot, kiddo. I think it’d help Virgil more if we unwound today?” Patton beamed, bringing his arms back to his side as he dropped the air hug.
“I suppose.” Virgil wasn’t sure if he imagined Logan’s irritation. He didn’t get a chance to question it, though, before Thomas asked what movie was next: Snow White, Tangled, Black Cauldron, or Up.
“Black Cauldron. Duh.” Virgil smirked. “Futon or bed?”
“I won’t mind sharing,” Roman replied as he sat back up. “And I suppose we’ll do Black Cauldron, but only if Snow White’s after it.” Thomas nodded, getting up to switch the movies. Virgil took a breath.
“Um, Patton.” Patton looked at him. Virgil steeled himself and then held his arms in front of him, returning the air hug.
“Oh, Virgil-”
“Oh my god, please don’t start crying-”
--
Virgil forgot how much he hated walking alone at night.
Back at the hospital, that activity just meant wandering the halls of his unit, slowly over time building rapport with the longer-lasting nurses and hiding out of sight from fellow patients. It was safe, routine, understandable.
Here, with shadows looming from tall trees and only the distant sounds of cars and crickets chirping, walking alone at night felt menacing. Who knew who was hiding behind the next tree? What if someone was following him and mimicking his footsteps perfectly? He should've said yes to Patton, but then what if they got attacked because someone wanted to hurt Virgil? Or even hurt Patton? No, it was better not to drag Patton out into danger. Just himself, he guessed. It did mean though that if he was stabbed, no one might know for hours. Too-close footsteps made him freeze, and the tension did not leave his body even when he saw it was just a man walking his dog along the intersection coming up. If he'd wanted to hurt Virgil, he'd been so close. Virgil was still recuperating from his overly-long stay and the anxiety attack that'd been pooling in his stomach for the last several hours. He couldn't outrun him. He couldn't outrun anyone. He knew he'd been better at dealing with this, once upon a time, able to calm himself down and conserve energy for a true threat, but the increasing fear of the world around him seemed to wear down that skill. He was a sitting duck, anyone who meant him harm could get away with it, he'd bleed out after getting stabbed because he didn't have any money to hand over, they'd never find his body because it'd get taken and hacked apart for organs to sell on the black market and jesus fucking christ he was spiraling, he was spiraling hard and fast-
When the ground unexpectedly turned soft, he stumbled forward and fell. He'd barely gotten the thought 'what if you crack your skull open' processed before his chin met - something soft and scratchy?
What?
He tried to rise past the growing dizziness to get up on his elbows and look at the ground beneath him. It was no longer concrete - strands of yarn criss-crossed the ground. He looked around, letting his gaze take in the decidedly-unfamiliar landscape. Vast fields of wooly yarn replaced the grass lawns, trees gone with pieces of fencing in their place. No longer were there houses, but instead distant hills as far as the eye could see, wooden wheels and - was that a giant ribcage? Just to reinforce the alien feeling, even the sky was unfamiliar. Ignoring the fact that the few constellations Virgil knew by heart were now gone from the dark sky, there were distant white lines - probably more yarn - splitting the sky into segments, with massive opened zippers crossing those segments. Virgil tried to look away from the murky green mist and eyeballs that moved within the open zippers.
Virgil didn't have a history of hallucinations, he knew that much. No matter how bad his anxiety was, he avoided seeing and feeling things that weren't there. Even then, if he was, what were the odds that his first-ever hallucination would give him such an expansive view of a dimension designed entirely by LSD users?
Nope, he jumped immediately to unconsciousness or death. Somehow. The rapid heartbeat had been a heart attack, not the warning signs of a panic attack, and now he was keeled over, dying if not already dead. That sounded about right.
There was a rustling of fabric behind him. He turned, pushing himself up to his knees. What was there was... not quite? It was weird, like somehow looking at a hole cut into the scenery around him to show what laid underneath. What laid underneath were... scraps? Fabric scraps? They all had different patterns, pieced together into some faceless humanoid that wore a ragged cape and carried a wooden-looking staff in one hand, and a goat’s horn in the other. Virgil stared. He didn’t know if it was staring back. The infinite silence lasted maybe ten seconds at most.
The humanoid raised the horn to where its face should’ve been, and one loud single note echoed across their surroundings. Virgil’s eyes widened when no fewer than five horns responded in kind.
“Shit!” He scrambled to his feet and ran as fast as he could over the soft, uneven ground. The humanoid was following - he could hear the steps against the fabric underfoot, and he pushed himself harder. His chest ached too much to keep entertaining the possibility he was dead. No, he was in real danger, somehow. He had to get some distance. He had to get out. He had to find his way home.
He had to He had to He had to he had to-
The panic attack kicked back in at full force, threatening to suffocate him even as he tried to run. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes - he couldn’t stop but he couldn’t breathe. What the hell was going on? What was he supposed to do? Fear settled over the panic like the world’s worst weighted blanket. In his blurring vision, there was some sort of wooden wheel coming up to the right. Another round of horns went off. Shit. He dived behind the wheel and pulled his hood up harshly over his head, trying to pull it over his face. He was going to die, he was going to die and no one would know what happened to him, who knew what those things would do when they caught up to him, but every cell in his brain screamed it was going to be awful, whatever it was. His constricting throat at least muffled his sobs, but they’d find him eventually, they knew this place, wherever the fuck it was, way better than he did, if not by the sound of his strangled weeping, then by simply waiting him out until he had to eat, fuck, even if he wasn’t caught, it didn’t look like there was any way for him to survive here. Goddammit, this was where everything ended. The illness, the recovery, his friends, it’d all been worthless in the end-
A blur appeared in his vision and he cringed, hiding his face in his knees. It didn’t quite look like the thing he saw, no, too much black and yellow and purple for that, but he only saw one. There’d been others. This was it. They’d found him. Something touched his shoulder and he recoiled, slamming back against the wooden wheel. Just let him go, or let him pass out, don’t make him endure it any longer, please. There was something muffled - not a horn, thank fuck, but that didn’t make him safe, that didn’t make all this go away.
Then, he heard a voice, clear as a bell.
“Virgil. It’s going to be alright. You can calm down.”
The voice was familiar, though his panicking mind couldn’t latch onto why. Instead, it latched onto the words themselves. They’d been spoken confidently, a promise of truth in them and a genuine sort of force that would back them up. Maybe... maybe he could?
He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision. Things started coming back into focus. There was indeed someone in front of him, someone dressed in black and purple with yellow accents dotting the outfit. This one had a face. A face with a reddish-purple blotch over the left side.
“Do you remember me?” Dante asked, hand hovering just above Virgil’s right shoulder. He managed a nod, though a sob kept him from talking. “Good.” He frowned. “I’d rather not do this, but if I help you escape, this witch’ll just find another meal, and if I go fight her alone, her familiars will probably find you. Can you get up?” Virgil blinked, breathing slowing to a steadier rate - it must’ve been from seeing a familiar face, one who at least seemed to agree that something around them was terribly wrong, since he hadn’t tried even one of the calming techniques yet. Dante managed a smile. “Virgil, I know you can do it.” He really believed that, as he shifted his hand from above Virgil’s shoulder to in front of him. Virgil barely thought as he just grabbed Dante’s hand (glove, really, yellow silk gloves covering his hands and all) and let the other teen haul him to his feet. His legs felt weak and black spots danced in his vision, but Dante kept him upright. It was now that Virgil noticed some very different details about the other teen. The bowler hat was a little funny on its own, but the rest of the outfit was almost entirely different. The hoodie he’d kept draped over his shoulders was replaced by a yellow-trimmed black capelet, and the shirt and slacks replaced by a long purple dress, a bow tied at his back just above the waist and yellow once again outlining the trim. Something glinted at his neck, and Virgil briefly realized he was looking up at Dante’s face - looking back down revealed black stockings and heeled shoes. Still not able to quite speak, he gestured uselessly. Dante chuckled.
“I’d ask Kyubey to patch you through, but we need to take care of this now. I need you to keep up with me.” Dante put his other hand over Virgil’s, both hands now carefully clasping his. “We should focus more on staying alive, right?” Virgil wondered who Kyubey was, but nodded. Dante’s other hand let go and rested on the wheel. When he pulled back, yellow thread was now tangled amongst the wheel spokes and around Dante’s fingers. “So let’s begin.”
Dante ran.
Virgil stumbled to keep up at first, before that confidence from Dante’s words - it’s going to be alright - seemed to set into his muscles and let him push harder, now keeping up with the other teen. Dante let out a bark of laughter, and then his voice came back: “See, I knew you could do it!” Virgil’s lips twitched downward as Dante focused ahead. He swore Dante’s mouth hadn’t moved. What was that about?
He turned his head to see one of those humanoids and bit back a yelp. Dante just ran faster. “Left!” Virgil managed to change directions with Dante as he threw a loop of golden thread around the humanoid, binding its arms before it could raise its horn. Virgil didn’t have long to stare as fear prickled at his skin. He looked forward, seeing more of the humanoids rising over the hills of fabric. That little voice that sounded exactly like Dante kept yelling directions, keeping him in sync with the other teen’s movements as he wove a golden web around and through the humanoids, binding them. They tried pulling free, and Virgil couldn’t help but watch with morbid fascination as one’s threads were pulled too tight and it fell apart into pieces. Dante yanked at the thread, retightening it as they headed towards what looked like a large wooden fence, the kind associated with farms and livestock. Between the planks, Virgil could see the massive creature. It resembled a sheep, in the loosest sense of the word ‘resembled’ - like the humanoids, it also somehow didn’t look like it was there, though, instead of fabric, it looked to be made of layers of wool. Around its neck was a collar of some sort - not like a pet’s but like an older dress sort of collar. The term escaped him. Weirdest of all was the abnormally-large head, with no less than four eyes (Virgil thought he saw a few more peeking through the wool). Dante finally skidded to a halt before they could hit the fence, and let go of Virgil’s hand.
“I’ll be just a minute. Call me if-” He paused. “Actually, Kyubey?” There was that name- Virgil didn’t get time to finish that thought, a startled shout ripping from his burning throat as some strange white-furred creature suddenly materialized on Dante’s shoulder. “You call me if any familiars show up.”
“Of course.” And it talked. What the hell? It jumped from Dante’s shoulder to the ground by Virgil’s sneakers and sat down, big fluffy tail twitching. If Virgil wasn’t still overwhelmed by panic, he might’ve tried asking how it knew Dante or even if he could just hug the tail for a bit. Dante smiled.
“I’ll be back. It’ll be alright.” There was the confidence again. Virgil wiped at his face, the hammering of his heart now feeling more like the results of that sudden run and not the result of pure terror coursing through his veins. Dante hopped between the planks, looping the thread around the lower plank as he went.
As soon as Dante stepped in, the sheep-monster jumped, four eyes open. It wildly looked around and then let out a terrifying shriek before charging at Dante with its horns. Virgil watched with trepidation - and a bit of undeniable excitement - as Dante easily stepped out of the way. The sheep crashed into the fence, shaking it and the ground nearby, and Dante easily threw a loop over one of its horns before yanking it off its feet and onto the ground. The sheep bellowed and Virgil noted the scissors on its underside. A sweep of its head sent fluff flying, obscuring the scene within. Virgil hesitated before leaning close to the gap in the fence. There was another shriek, thankfully still the sheep’s. The fence rattled, and a gust of air swept away both Virgil and the cloud of cotton. Dante had gotten in two more loops, around the scissors (shutting them, Virgil noted with some relief) and around a hind leg.
It bellowed again, and a mouth tore open just below the visible eyes. Dante didn’t even blink, feinting left and then leaving the sheep to chomp down on a bundle of thread. It screamed, stuffing leaking from its mouth. Virgil blinked and looked to the thread still nearby, connecting the web of familiars to the web growing in the sheep pen. He touched his finger against it and pulled back to see a spot of blood - it felt like it’d been lined in crushed glass. No wonder it sliced that humanoid apart and was making the sheep scream. Dante landed in front of him, still inside the pen, more threads criss-crossing within. The sheep roared but didn’t get more than a few yards before the teen pulled on the thread and the sheep was hauled off the ground, the thread tightening. Virgil jumped back from the sudden sound as the thread outside tightened as well. Dante was still staring at the sheep. He then simply nodded and jerked the thread one more time. It cut through the sheep (and, Virgil knew, the humanoids as well), sending wool pieces flying before they melted against the shimmering sky. In fact, everything was shimmering.
Virgil watched as the threads and surroundings faded out of view, leaving him almost exactly where he’d begun spiraling. He blinked, but Dante was still there (albeit in his previous outfit), kneeling down to pick something up, and the white furry creature was trotting back towards him.
All the panic and exhaustion caught up to him, and Virgil barely managed to avoid passing out on the sidewalk - mostly as he’d twisted to land on the nearby lawn instead.
--
Consciousness hit him the same way a bird might hit a glass door - nothing seemed wrong and, suddenly, everything was. Last he recalled, he’d been outside traveling along a dark road in a residential area. Now, suddenly, fluorescent lights beamed down from overhead and he was leaning against a wall, sitting in a booth at what looked like some little cafe. On the table in front of him sat a cup of coffee and a cookie. He blinked, looking around, but there was already so much to take in.
“Whoa, hey - you’re fine.” He looked across the table to see Dante and the little white critter sitting across from him. The critter was eating some sort of chocolate cookie while Dante appeared to be nursing a cup of coffee for himself. “Calm down- uh, you know anything for that?” It was funny how the confidence that ran through Dante’s words before was now all but gone, replaced by uncertainty and concern. Virgil took a gasp of air before he remembered the breathing exercise - in for four, hold for seven, out for eight. While he didn’t verbally reply, Dante didn’t seem to push him, instead refocusing on his coffee while Virgil calmed himself down. Once his breathing had slowed without needing to count, he exhaled. “Where are we?”
“Some sort of late-night bakery? I admittedly wasn’t paying much attention.” Dante fidgeted with his cup. “What’s the last thing you remember?” He paused. “Uh, not too loudly.” Virgil took another look around. The shop, while brightly lit, was largely empty save for a few employees behind the counter. On the wall was a clock: 11:53. He blanched, and Dante seemed to notice.
“It’s fine, really. I mean, your phone was vibrating for the past hour-” Virgil paled as Dante continued, “-but not like I knew where you lived, right? Or who to call? So I found the most-brightly lit place nearby and figured you might want some coffee and sweets.” Virgil fumbled for his phone. “The coffee’s decaf, you seemed already too tense, didn’t add any sugar or cream, wasn’t sure what you’d like. Cookie’s just a sugar cookie. Seemed like a safe bet.” He only groaned as he looked at the missed calls from his parents, Patton, Thomas, and even one from the Prince household (probably Roman). “I’m feeling a little overlooked, you know.”
“Yeah, well, looks like I scared everyone shitless.” Virgil slumped forward, careful not to knock over the coffee or crush the cookie.
“Well, you’re alive to do so at least.” Dante’s mood seemed to have soured a bit before he swallowed a gulp of coffee. “I suppose call whoever you need to, but we really do need to talk about what you remember.” Virgil looked over to the white critter, who kept that catlike smile present between bites.
“Yeah.” Virgil took a sip of coffee - still warm, at least, and better black anyhow. “I mean - thanks. I’d rather be here than laying on the sidewalk. Or-” His throat threatened to close up. “I need to make a call.”
He tried getting up from the booth and his legs shook before he collapsed back on the seat, banging his elbow as he fell. Dante kept both coffee cups from spilling.
“Looks like you’re calling from here.”
“But I don’t even-”
“I’ll check, alright? I’d be crushed if I put on that performance and you died by splitting your head open in a cookie shop.”
“You wanna run that by me again?” But Dante had already pushed past - Kyubey, that was what he kept calling it- him- and was walking over to the entrance to get the store name and address (he hoped). Virgil cleared his throat. “Uh... Kyubey?”
“Virgil,” Kyubey replied without moving his mouth. Virgil gaped. “Dante already told me your name, of course.” Right, right. “I imagine you have a lot of questions if you do remember much. After all, most humans don’t return from a witch’s labyrinth without a puella magi nearby.” Virgil blinked again.
“Ok, I understood, like, the first six words of that, and nothing else.” Dante came back with a small brochure.
“So it turns out they do delivery, by the way. I might have to come here again.” He triumphantly slapped the brochure down next to Virgil with a loud thump before mirroring Virgil’s flinch. “Ah. Right.” He slipped back into his seat as Virgil dialed his home.
The slightly-hysterical greeting, he expected. He let his parents go on for a solid minute without interruption after his brief greeting of ‘I’m ok, Mom and Dad’. Dante seemed to be attentive in that way people are when they don’t mean to eavesdrop but they’re right next to the conversation and too curious to block it out. When they finally calmed enough to ask what happened, Virgil froze. “Um...” How was he supposed to explain what happened? He hadn’t gotten that far mentally - he’d just wanted to calm everyone down. “I- well-” Dante casually plucked the phone from his hand and pulled it close before Virgil could react.
“Sorry, are you Virgil’s parents?” Virgil couldn’t hear a reply. “I found your son - I think he must’ve been having some sort of episode?” Virgil flinched at that last word. “He was having trouble breathing and he passed out. I didn’t know where he lived and his phone was locked, so I simply took him here - it’s a bakery?” He reached for the brochure and read off the name and address. “He only woke up five minutes ago, and all he could think of was how upset you must be.” Virgil couldn’t make out individual words, but his father’s tone sounded very... awkward. Then again, while the words themselves had been harmless, Dante’s tone had been saturated in guilt and implicit shaming. And he thought Patton knew how to put people on a guilt trip. “Sorry for taking the phone so suddenly, he just looked so worried. I thought maybe he didn’t know what happened either - I had barely gotten a chance to ask before he was trying to call you.” Virgil idly wondered what would happen if Dante and Patton met. Then again, given how smoothly Dante had spoken the lie about how he’d found Virgil, maybe Patton wouldn’t like him. He could tolerate some lying, out of fear or to maintain a surprise, but someone so practiced would bother him. “I’ll be waiting with him until one of you show up. If something else happens, we’ll call, alright? For now, we have a few other people he wants to call too, and he’s still more than a little stressed.” More words. “Oh, just doing what anyone else would’ve done.” More words. There was the slightest edge of discomfort in Dante’s expression. “Really, it was nothing. Just come get him?” Dante almost hung up before Virgil snatched the phone and cut off his dad mid-sentence.
“It’s ok, Dad. Really, though, I didn’t mean to worry you and Mom.”
“We’re just glad you’re safe, Virge. Your mom’s already heading out to the car - I think it’ll be fifteen minutes.”
“Thanks. Love you, Dad.”
“Love you too. See you in a bit.”
“‘Course. Bye.” Virgil hung up and exhaled. “Any special reason you stole my phone?”
“What, and have you make up the lie? You were obviously floundering.” Dante grumpily sipped his coffee. “Besides, now you can honestly say you didn’t lie to your parents about what happened if anyone asks.” Virgil groaned. There was a logic in that statement he didn’t much like. “So, if you don’t mind-” Dante lowered his voice. “-what do you remember?”
Virgil frowned, but now at the table as he focused on his memories. “I mean... most everything, I think.” He related his experience up to Dante helping him up, and Dante nodded without interjection. “..and, well, you pulled, everything vanished, and I think that’s when I passed out.”
“So, almost everything.” Dante nodded as Virgil sipped at his coffee to wet his throat. “You just don’t know when you got kissed.” Virgil froze.
“Excuse me?” Wait, had - had Dante actually-
“The Witch’s kiss.” Dante nodded, as if in total ignorance of the implications of his words. “You had one on your neck when I found you. A Witch’s kiss makes humans more susceptible to influence and even control by the Witch, as well as to draw them into their barrier.”
“You gotta start over.” Virgil shook his head. “What’s a witch?”
At that point, Kyubey spoke up, again without moving his mouth. “I believe I can link us all directly so nothing else needs to be said aloud.” Dante huffed, resting his chin atop his hand.
“And only now do you do this. Typical.”
His lips hadn’t moved, but it was his voice. Virgil freaked out internally.
“Wait, what the fuck!” Or maybe not. Even though he hadn’t felt himself move, he heard himself speak.
“Telepathy. We can share thoughts that we have particular focus on.” Dante’s explanation almost sounded bored.
“Is there a problem?” Kyubey asked.
“Besides your tendency to steamroll over what most people would consider reasonable boundaries? No, not at all,” Dante snarked. Virgil felt a bit lost.
“You didn’t seem concerned for his in the labyrinth.”
“Emergency.” Dante’s gaze flickered to Virgil with something akin to guilt as Virgil’s confusion clouded the link. “Later.”
“...so. Witch?” Virgil tried to get the ‘conversation’ back on topic. There was a brief flash of images Virgil couldn’t follow before Dante winced and the flood ended. Kyubey took on the task himself.
“A Witch is a creature born of a curse - of hatred and hopelessness, and she seeks to draw humans down into her misery.”
“She?”
“They’re always female,” Dante replied too casually. Virgil kept the thought that he sounded like Logan now to himself.
“However, Witches are usually fairly weak. To compensate, every Witch starts with three elements to help protect them. There are the familiars, servants who assist them with gathering humans and feeding.” The humanoid figure flashed in Virgil’s mind, though he suspected it hadn’t been his thought. “Next is the labyrinth, where the Witch and her familiars live. It keeps the Witch hidden and safe, as well as hopelessly confuse humans who enter.” The world of fabric rose to the front of Virgil’s mind. “And finally, the barrier, which holds the entrance to the labyrinth.” The image that Virgil saw confused him: a cream-and-brown swirl, odd shapes ringing the circle and threads interwoven. He looked to Dante, who leaned forwards again.
“Was that her barrier?” he asked, and received a nod in response. Then there was a new image, and Virgil saw himself, curled up against a wheel and clearly falling apart. He flinched at seeing his panic attack from the outside, but the image focused on his barely-exposed neck, where a smaller version of the swirl existed.
“That’s a Witch’s kiss - something they use to mark potential victims. Humans,” Dante hastily amended as Virgil cringed into his seat. “Mark humans. Usually ones who share their nature.” When Virgil didn’t have a reply for that, Dante pushed further. “Her nature was of insomnia - of anxiety and fear.”
“Oh.” Virgil couldn’t restrain that simple thought. He’d spiraled, pulled himself into her influence-
“Fortunately, you weren’t hurt. That’s more than most people can say.” Dante’s thought was firm, and Virgil wavered between feeling bad for freaking out when worse happened to others or feeling good for making it out. The conflict must’ve been clear on his face since Dante added, “Just count your lucky stars that I was nearby. When the alternative is dying, you shouldn’t waste time feeling bad for everyone else. You can’t take their place, and you can’t change their fate.” Virgil didn’t know what to make of that, so he pushed on to the next topic.
“So, I’m hearing a lot of ‘humans get killed by Witches’. You look pretty alive to me.” He tried the sugar cookie. While not his favorite type, it was pretty good.
“Oh, that’s because I’m not human.” Virgil nearly choked.
“Excuse me, what?” This time, he spoke aloud, inadvertently drawing the cashier’s attention their way. Dante offered him a polite nod while Virgil tugged his hood over his head.
“Do you know a human who makes razor wire out of thin air?” Dante refocused on Virgil and arched an eyebrow. “That’s why I’m not human anymore: humans can’t use magic.”
“He is what I call a puella magi,” Kyubey spoke up. “They are born of wishes and hope-”
“Yeah, yeah.” Dante’s thoughts were suddenly nigh-deafening, drowning out Kyubey’s explanation. “This bastard makes a contract with a human. Human gets one wish granted within reason, and in return it turns them into a puella magi to hunt Witches.”
“The wish granted, of course, relies on one’s potential, but there have been few wishes that couldn’t be granted.” Kyubey’s voice remained level once Dante had stopped.
“Trust me, Virge - can I call you Virge? - it’s not worth it. It just means you get to die in a pretty dress with no one knowing what happened to you.” Dante drank from his cup as if he hadn’t just described one of Virgil’s worst nightmares.
“You did fine.”
“That Witch was easy. For a puella magi.”
“But yes,” Kyubey continued, “a puella magi can use magic. In addition, a puella magi heals much faster than a human can and has increased reflexes, in order to help them cope with their battles against Witches, and they can see and track barriers in order to find Witches to fight.”
Virgil bit his lip. “...I mean. That doesn’t sound too inhuman?” He was suddenly assaulted by another series of flashing images, littered with gore and blood that settled on the visual of a spike through his chest - it had to have pierced the lung at minimum, left side, maybe the heart, it hurts - before they drew back and Dante likewise pulled away once more, pushing against the back of his seat and pulling his cup closer to his chest. Virgil took a gasp of air.
“All these enhanced abilities make it possible for a puella magi to live quite long lives,” Kyubey continued, clearly unfazed by the images. Virgil couldn’t quite focus, especially since, well, while his vision had been blurry and chaotic, he did recall Dante’s outfit being purple with a black capelet. Just like the one in the images.
“It’s not worth it. Trust me.” Dante now spoke aloud, and Virgil felt a sudden empty space - the connection had shut down. “If you want to see more, I’ll bring you on other hunts if you really want. But there’s probably nothing that’s worth becoming one.”
“...then why’d you become one?” Virgil was grateful, of course. The offer to follow sounded... interesting admittedly, and he was beginning to wish he could spend more time around Dante because, ok, he wasn’t always great so far but he at least seemed genuinely concerned for Virgil and willing to carry conversation without being pushy. On the other hand, though, he sounded so jaded about the whole thing. Things Virgil thought amazing, he dismissed. Things he found horrifying, equally dismissed. Kyubey said puella magi were born of wishes and hope before Dante cut him off with the far blunter description, but he had confirmed that wishes were part of the deal. So what was his? Dante didn’t answer, instead stretching his neck to look past Virgil.
“Pardon, I need to use the restroom.” He got up, grabbing Kyubey by the scruff, and walked to the back of the store. Not even a minute later, the door opened and Virgil’s mother walked in.
“Mom!” Virgil abandoned the snacks and rushed to hug her. She pulled him close.
“Oh, thank god, you’re safe, you’re ok!” She glanced around. “Where’s the person who found you?”
“He had to go.” Maybe not ‘had’, but Virgil had seen through the pitiful excuse. “I think he was just nervous.”
“Oh. Your level or-”
“I dunno. We didn’t talk for that long.” And admittedly, how was he supposed to reach Dante again for those ‘hunts’, now that he thought about it? Not like at any point, in either of their meetings, did Dante offer any sort of contact info. He didn’t even know his room number.
“Alright.” She gave him another squeeze. “You must be exhausted, Stormcloud. Let’s go home.” He nodded and let her lead him out. The empty cup and half-eaten cookie laid abandoned on the table.