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Prompt: was rereading Tactical Retreat and I think it may just be time for that *conversation* with patton. he must have some kind of perspective here! I love your writing so much like you are an icon when it comes to writing- like you've taught me so much! <3!!
“Pat, let’s go get L something to drink.”
“But—I—“
“It’s too much for him, Pat,” Virgil says softly, “with all of us here, he’s getting overwhelmed. Let’s go and then we’ll come back, yeah?”
“O-okay.”
Patton grips the counter as Virgil opens the cupboard. His glasses threaten to slide off the end of his nose. He can’t let go. He’ll fall.
“Pop Star?” Virgil’s hand appears on his shoulder. “Pop Star, breathe, come on.”
He manages to swallow, ducking his head to try and follow Virgil’s instructions. The hand stays on his shoulder, rubbing slow circles.
“That’s it, Pop Star, just breathe, you’re okay.”
Something twists in his chest.
“I know,” Patton grinds out, “I know I’m okay.”
Logan is the one who isn’t okay right now. And that—is that his fault too?
“Hey, uh uh.”
Patton frowns, looking up as Virgil tugs on his sleeve. Virgil’s brow is furrowed as he stares down at him.
“Don’t do that,” Virgil chides gently, “don’t blame yourself for this.”
“But I didn’t notice—“
“Neither did the rest of us,” Virgil breaks in, forcing the glass into Patton’s hand so he can fill it up, “except for Remus. And Remus took a long time too.”
Patton’s tongue swells.
“It’s not on you,” comes more reassurance, and doesn’t it feel weird, “we’re all to blame here.”
“We should’ve known,” he mutters, focusing on not spilling the water all over the kitchen.
“Maybe. But we didn’t. And we can’t change that. We just gotta focus on what we can do now.”
“I know that,” Patton grumbles, “I’ve said that to you guys more times than I can count, why—why am I struggling with this?”
“You just found out that someone very close to you is hurting themselves,” Virgil says, “you’re upset.”
“I know that too!”
“Uh-huh, then you know that it makes sense that you’re not processing things as easily as you normally would.”
He knows that too. Patton sighs and scrubs a hand over his face, pushing his glasses back up his nose.
“He ate some at dinner, he should be alright, let’s just get him the water.”
“Great.” Virgil glances around. “We should probably get, uh…other stuff too.”
Right.
Right.
Before they can leave, however, Janus and Remus appear, dark looks on their faces. Patton’s heart sinks.
“What’s wrong? Do we need the first aid kit?”
“He’s got one in his room, doesn’t he?”
Janus nods. But he’s not looking at either of them. Patton frowns, looking over at Remus, who looks about two seconds from smashing apart the fridge.
“…kiddos?”
Remus snarls.
Virgil strides forward and takes Remus under one arm, bending close to mutter in his ear. As Patton watches, some of the tension goes out of Remus’s shoulders and he lets out a slow breath. He turns to Janus.
“Is Roman still…with him?”
Janus nods sharply. Something twists his mouth.
“Janus, what happened?”
“Roman is taking care of him,” Janus says quietly, his voice even, “we’re…here to check on you two.”
Patton frowns. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”
“Correct.”
“…so tell me?”
Janus glances up at Remus. Remus turns away from Virgil, obviously just having been asked a similar question, and shakes his head firmly. Janus looks back at Patton apologetically.
“Not mine to tell.”
“Remus?”
“No.”
The dark weight in Patton’s chest expands. Only when Janus calls his name quietly does he realize he’s trying valiantly to break the glass in his hands. He sets it quickly down on the counter and wraps his arms around himself.
“Sorry.”
“You’re upset,” Janus mumbles, “we all are.”
“So what’s going on?”
Janus sighs. “Our resident nerd appears to be…trapping himself in logical paradoxes and attempting to resolve them in…unique ways.”
“Let’s never call it that again,” Virgil growls. Janus nods in agreement. “What do we do?”
“I don’t know.”
“Lie.” Virgil scoffs when Janus looks up at him incredulously. “Come on, dude, I lived with you.”
“I’m not going to tell you.”
“Why the fuck not?”
“Because it’s not my secret to tell,” Janus snaps, wincing at himself a moment later. Virgil waves him off. “Logan deserves that privacy.”
“Yeah, ‘cause you two were so concerned about privacy like…half an hour ago.”
“Yes, and that couldn’t be because the priorities of that situation were entirely different.”
“Enough,” Patton says firmly. “This is the opposite of what we should be doing right now.”
He picks up the glass of water.
“Virgil, where are the weighted blankets?”
“In the hall closet. I can—“
“I’ll come with you.”
Janus follows Virgil back up the stairs. Patton takes another deep breath and looks over at Remus. Remus doesn’t meet his gaze.
“...Remus?”
“Yeah?”
“Come with me back to Logan’s room?”
“Sure.” Remus follows a few steps behind. Patton can feel his gaze almost boring through his back. “Don’t spill the water.”
“I won’t.”
They arrive at the door and wait, listening for Janus and Virgil down the hall. Patton turns to see if they could be coming the other way only for Remus’s piercing stare to freeze him.
“What?”
Remus tilts his head and remains silent.
“Remus, what are you doing? Is there something—what’s wrong?”
“I’m trying to figure something out,” Remus says and the softness of his voice sends a chill down Patton’s spine, “and what I should do about it.”
Patton swallows. “Remus, whatever it is, I’m sorry.”
“Hmm.”
Before Patton can answer whatever just happened, Janus and Virgil appear, carrying the weighted blankets. Patton spares one more look at Remus before reaching out to gently knock on the door.
It’s a little bit of a blur after that. They walk in to see Roman cupping Logan’s face in his hands, having changed him into a soft shirt and bandaging his legs. Patton crouches down to help Logan drink and wraps him up in a protective cuddle as soon as Logan says it’s okay.
They sit there like that for a while, long enough for both of Patton’s legs to fall asleep and not long enough for the ache in his chest to dull. Logan’s sobs trail off into Roman’s shoulder as he strokes his hand through his hair, still murmuring softly. He’s not sure when he gets the courage to reach and gently ask Logan if he can take his glasses off, but if the sleepy way Logan butts his head against his hand, it’s been a while. Poor Logan is exhausted, all but falling asleep on Roman. They get him into bed slowly, bit by bit, leaving just as gradually. Roman is the last one to leave, shutting the door quietly behind him.
Patton makes his way to his room and goes through his getting-ready-for-bed process on autopilot. His walls are grayer than normal, the sun long since set, leaving the room dark and muted. He climbs beneath the covers, sets his glasses on the nightstand, and turns off the lamp.
The dark feeling from earlier finally makes it to his head.
How did he never notice?
It’s not like Logan was a master at hiding the fact that he has feelings, surely the amount of times his voice softens when addressing them is proof enough on its own. And surely they all knew that he denies it so often that it’s not a question of how he feels about that.
So why did he never notice that it wouldn’t be hard for Logan to decide that he needed to get rid of them, at any cost?
He turns over in bed, burying his face in a pillow.
Is that why Remus was mad?
Remus being mad at him is not a comfortable situation. Remus is so uncaring about so many things—not that the kiddo doesn’t care! He absolutely cares about some things, his work, the others, Roman, goodness, so much—but when it comes to emotions and responses and good versus bad, well, Remus’s standpoint is normally…no.
So why is Remus mad? Because he wasn’t doing his job and taking care of Logan? Well, Patton’s mad at himself for that too, but…
He frowns, turning back over and staring at a spot on the wall.
That doesn’t feel like that’s why Remus is mad. If Remus were mad at him for not taking care of Logan, he wouldn’t have hesitated to call him out on it. He would’ve cussed him out right there in the kitchen, not caring about what Virgil or Janus would’ve said. It would’ve been much harder for Virgil to calm him down—presumably, even though Virgil is very good at his job—and that certainly wouldn’t explain why Janus was acting strange, too.
Janus is keeping something from him. Nothing new there, but this…this is different. He can feel it. Normally Janus would deny that he was hiding a secret, but he insisted that it wasn’t his to tell and…seemed to look to Remus to get that confirmation?
Oh.
Oh.
Oh, no.
Roman.
Something’s wrong with Roman.
Patton’s chest grows cold and he hunches over his blankets, eyes going wide.
Roman is so good at helping. Roman is so good at helping. Patton can’t remember the number of times he’s walked in on Roman helping one of the others or Roman walking in on him helping someone else and immediately offering to help too. Letting Roman help Logan was the right choice, especially when Patton was already too upset to be useful. But…but…
If Remus and Janus came downstairs to ‘check up on’ him and Virgil, something must’ve happened, and Roman—oh, Roman—
Patton frowns.
Logan is hurt. Very, very badly. Roman is helping him. But now…is Roman hurt too?
What happened to Roman?
Patton shuts his eyes and buries his face in the blankets again, trying valiantly to suppress a whine.
Logan is hurt and they need to take care of him and they know that the only way they’re going to help Logan is if he tells them what he needs.
Logan is talking to Roman and Janus and Remus. That’s good. Maybe he’ll talk to Patton too, then they could all help.
But with Roman…
Patton doesn’t know what’s going on. He goes to sleep and wakes up and still doesn’t know.
He knows how to help Logan. Logan talks to them and tells them things now, or he’ll come seek them out, after that night, just to sit and be and make sure he’s not left alone in his room. He sits down with Patton one day and explains what’s been happening. Patton wells up, because of course, he’ll help, nothing’s wrong with Logan, he’s doing wonderfully, and yes, he can always come get reassurances if he needs them.
That’s what Logan needs from Patton.
He doesn’t know what Roman needs.
At least…not until Remus knocks on his door and asks him to come to the Imagination.
There’s a house. A very simple house. Remus knocks on the door and Roman’s voice calls from inside. Remus pushes open the door and ushers Patton inside.
Roman sits at the table and stands when Patton walks in. He smiles softly and nods to Remus in thanks. Remus nods back, gives Patton a look that says he’s not going very far, and shuts the door behind him.
“Hey, Padre,” Roman says softly, “come sit?”
Patton sits. Roman doesn’t meet his eyes, staring at a spot on the floor. Patton swallows.
“Roman?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you…okay?”
Roman laughs under his breath. “No, Patton, I’m not.”
Patton knew the answer to that. It still hurt.
“Can I help?”
“I don’t know.” Roman finally looks up at him and the second he does part of Patton wishes he’d look away again. “But I need to talk to you about that.”
“M-me?”
“Yeah, Patton. You—“ Roman sighs— “you and I have a lot to talk about, I think.”
Oh. It’s this conversation.
“Yeah,” Roman murmurs, “are you—do you think you can have it now?”
Does he?
“…yeah,” Patton says after a moment, “yeah, I’m ready.”
“Good.”
Patton sits up a little taller in the chair and folds his hands in his lap. Roman catches it and a small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.
“You don’t have to do that, Patton.”
Patton tilts his head. “What?”
Roman waves a hand at him. “That. Sit up straight like I’m about to tell you off.”
“…aren’t you?”
“No. And even if I was, you don’t have to do that.” Something darker flitters across his expression. “Learned that recently.”
Memories of every time Roman’s stood up taller when someone is talking to him flash across Patton’s mind. Something in his gut twists. But he makes an effort to speak anyway.
“But you…” he swallows, “you’re in charge right now.”
“I don’t want to be.” Roman holds up a hand to stop him. “That doesn’t mean you have to be in charge either. This is a conversation, Patton, at least it has to be if we’re going to do anything, which means equal footing. No one’s in charge, no one has more power than anyone else.”
Oh. Okay. Patton takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, making an effort to relax into the chair.
“Thank you.”
Silence. Roman’s back to staring at the ground. Something’s coming. Something big is coming and Patton doesn’t know if he can handle what it is.
As it turns out, he was right.
“I self harm too.”
A thunderclap. Patton’s breath catches in his throat and he only knows he’s gasped by the way his throat hurts.
“Oh, kiddo, I’m—“
“Don’t,” Roman says softly, too soft, why does he sound this calm right now?— “let me finish, please.”
Patton slams his mouth shut. Roman doesn’t look up at him.
“I self-harm for a different reason than Logan does,” he continues, “but we both do it because we think it’s right.”
His gut twists again.
“I’m Thomas’s hopes and dreams,” Roman continues, “I’m his Ego. I want what he wants and I’m supposed to help him get it.”
One of Roman’s hands twitches.
“But my wants aren’t important. Thomas’s wants are important. I’m supposed to be happy with what Thomas wants—with wanting what Thomas wants—and what I want doesn’t make Thomas happy.”
He closes his eyes and takes a breath.
“What Thomas wants—what the rest of you want—is for me to play the role. I am the Ego, I am arrogant, I am cocky, I am loud, I am annoying. I am soft enough to cave to your demands and to be poked and prodded in the right direction until I finally do what Thomas wants. I’m not supposed to want for myself, I’m supposed to want for Thomas, and when I don’t—“
He cuts himself off. Swallows heavily. Opens his mouth again.
“When I don’t, I am rejected. I am only wanted if I can produce work good enough for Thomas, if I act right, if I want what Thomas wants. To do that, I have to play the role. I have to feel the things I need to feel to do the work. A-and to do that, I need to…” he swallows again, “remind myself.”
Somewhere, far away, something crows.
“There’s no sainthood in satisfaction. Selfless is safe. Whenever I want something, I’m supposed to give it up to make Thomas happy. That’s what’s important. That’s why I do it.”
Patton feels sick.
Not just because what Roman is saying is enough to tear his heart out and leave him a sobbing, broken mess, but because he knows where most of it came from.
“R-Roman,” he manages when Roman comes to the end of his speech, “oh, Roman, I’m so—I’m so sorry.”
Roman huffs a laugh. “I know you are, Patton.”
No. No, no, no, he remembers that tone of voice. Remembers Roman sinking out a moment later, his face as horribly resigned as it is now.
Remembers the question he asked Janus at the end of that awful, awful day.
“Do you think there's a limit on how many times someone can say sorry before you have to admit that they're just bad for you?”
Roman huffs again. “I don’t think I’m the best person to ask to judge when someone’s bad for you.”
Oh.
The thing in Patton’s gut twists again.
“What can I do,” he mumbles, “what do I do to make this better?”
“I don’t know.”
“You can tell me,” he pleads, “tell me what to do and I’ll—“
“No.”
“But, Roman—“
“No, Patton,” Roman says again, “I can’t tell you what to do. One because I don’t know what would make this better, and two—“
He cuts himself off as he scrubs his hands over his face.
“Two, because I know what will happen if I try.”
“…what?”
“I’ll give in. Because I always give in,” he mutters sardonically, “because seeing you upset hurts, more than pretty much anything else, and it doesn’t matter what I have to do to make you stop hurting.”
Patton’s chest throbs.
“So I can’t tell you what to do,” Roman finishes, “because it’ll be a lie.”
And Patton knows he’s right.
Because the sight of Roman, right now, is enough to make him want to cave to just about anything to see him be alright again.
“..can I hug you?”
“No,” Roman whispers, “for the same reason.”
Patton aches.
“Why—“ he swallows and tries again— “why can’t we do this? Why can’t we help each other?”
“Because we care too much,” Roman says softly, “we care too much about each other and too little about ourselves.”
Something in his tone darkens.
“…or at least we think we do.”
Cold. Patton is cold now. Colder than ice. It burns.
“God, Patton, do you even know how much I’ve sacrificed for you?”
Roman’s anger, sudden and fiery, burns straight into Patton’s chest, muting him as Roman’s fist tightens in his lap. His glare threatens to scorch a hole in the floor.
“I gave up everything for you, just to make you happy, I gave up the callback, I gave up my songs, I gave up my entire worldview for you, and you—you—“
He jams his knuckle into his mouth for a moment and bites. Hard.
Patton can’t even make a noise of protest.
“I was never good enough for you, Patton,” Roman says after a moment, “there was always something else I needed to fix, something else I was doing wrong, something else I had to apologize for. And then you just stood there. After everything I’d ever done for you, you didn’t even stand up for me. You just looked at me like I should’ve known it was coming. That I…deserved it.”
Guilt roils in Patton’s gut, pressing against his stomach, his throat, his mouth, his head, but one word lingers at the tip of his tongue.
“…worldview?”
Like someone flipping a light switch, Roman’s expression clicks into a softer fury. He sits back in the chair and for a moment, he looks as if he’s about to reminisce about something pleasant. What comes out of his mouth is anything but.
“I wasn’t just afraid of Janus being accepted meaning I wasn’t,” he murmurs, voice far too gentle, “I was afraid because I remembered the last time the two of you agreed on something.”
Oh.
Oh.
Oh, no.
Growing up and seeing messages about one man, one woman.
Growing up believing that people who didn’t feel that love were destined for something awful.
Growing up seeing the isolation, the fear, the hatred, the violence.
Watching Roman start to fantasize about boys.
He remembers.
He remembers Deceit—because he was only Deceit then—coming to him and telling him that under no circumstances can they ever act on these feelings. He remembers telling Deceit that they aren’t having these feelings, that they wouldn’t have those feelings, because they were wrong and Thomas was not wrong and so they would stop.
He remembers the two of them hounding poor Roman about daydreaming about boys, wanting boys, wanting to make Thomas happy by imagining a future with a boy.
Never mind that it wasn’t wrong.
Never mind that it made Thomas miserable.
Never mind that it was Patton that had the feelings first and Roman was just following Patton’s lead.
Roman just nods.
Patton opens his mouth to try and say something, anything, but he can’t. The guilt has eaten away his tongue.
“But I can’t blame you for everything,” Roman says instead, still not looking at Patton—has he looked at him since he sat down?— “I was the one who looked at you as the unquestionable pillar of authority. I was the one who shoved that onto you when you didn’t ask for it. I was the one who made those choices. I’m as much to blame for this as you are.”
“No.” Patton shakes his head firmly. “No, Roman, you’re not.”
He takes a deep breath.
“I...have a lot of influence over Thomas. I have a lot to do with how he reacts to things, how he sees the world and how we determine how to respond to it.” He sneaks a glance at Roman, whose gaze is still turned away. He tried to pretend that doesn’t hurt as much as it does. “And if I remember correctly...you tried to do something once to make me and Thomas happy because you wanted it too, and we...we told you off for it.”
“With...?”
Patton nods. “With...him. And I remember you refusing to take the wheel after that.”
“I did,” Roman says softly, “because I realized I truly didn’t know how to make you—any of you—happy.”
“I put myself in a position of authority as much as anyone else did,” Patton says, the tears—finally, he was wondering when they were going to show up—start to roll down his cheeks, “you’re not to blame for wanting to follow that, especially when I—when I told you that it was the right thing to do.”
His glasses start to fog. He takes them off shakily and wipes them on his shirt.
“But I’m done with that.” He puts them back on firmly. “I’m gonna figure out how to do this right, I promise, I’ll—I’ll redeem myself, I’ll be a good person.”
Instead of Roman smiling softly and saying he looks forward to it, or Roman saying he doesn’t have to, or even Roman glaring at him and saying he’d like to see him try, Roman just huffs.
“I think we need to get rid of the whole redemption arc thing too.”
What?
What?
“What?”
“It’s—“ Roman waves his hand— “it’s you saying you need to what, throw yourself at our feet? Repent? Atone for whatever wrongs you’ve done so we’ll welcome you back with open arms?”
Patton nods in confusion. “So you’ll forgive me. So I can be good.”
“Okay, but why is forgiveness a necessity for you to be good?”
A pause.
“Like, yes, working out how to stop doing bad things is something that I get, but why—why do we—why is forgiveness a crucial part of that?”
“Because I’ve hurt you, and if I’m going to make it up to you—“
“But that’s giving me power I didn’t ask for!”
Roman pinches the bridge of his nose.
“Look, forgiveness—in this case—is me granting your salvation, or something, or passing a judgment that absolves you of guilt, saying that you showed that you’ve changed and I judge you and then I agree that you’re enough better than you were, right?”
He nods.
“I don’t have that power! What gives me the right to sit there and say I have final say in whether or not you’re a good person? I’m not morally infallible! I’m not morally impartial! I’m not even Morality!”
Roman throws his hands up and barks out a laugh.
“And the idea that I could?” He shakes his head. “I have enough problems to worry about with that.”
Patton’s eyes widen.
He’s…he’s right.
Goodness, he’s right.
“B-but…” he swallows another wave of tears, “will you…you won’t love me if you don’t forgive me.”
“Who told you that? Never mind,” Roman says, holding up a hand, “I know the answer to that.”
He takes another deep breath.
“Forgiveness and love are not the same thing, Patton,” he says softly, “I don’t have to forgive you to love you. I can love someone without forgiving every single wrong thing that they’ve done.”
“You can?”
“Virgil has hurt you. Logan has hurt you. Remus has hurt you. Janus has hurt you. I’ve hurt you.” Roman pauses. “Do you still love us?”
“Yes,” he says immediately, “of course I do.”
“There you go, then.”
“But—“ he blinks to try and clear away the tears— “but what—if I’m a bad person—“
“I never said that.”
“—but bad people don’t deserve—“
“Patton,” Roman cuts in sharply, “forgiveness and goodness aren’t the same either. I don’t need to forgive you to be a good person. Just because someone doesn’t forgive you doesn’t make you a bad person.”
He softens.
“And being a bad person isn’t as easy as you make it out to be.”
“…what?”
“What is courage?”
Patton blinks.
“What is courage,” Roman repeats, “tell me?”
“It’s, um, bravery.”
“Does that mean never being afraid, ever?”
“N-no, it can mean being afraid and doing it anyway, because the reason you’re doing it is stronger than your fear.”
“Then perhaps,” Roman says softly, “being a good person isn’t the absence of bad things, but choosing to do good things, over and over and over again.”
The dark thing twists one more time.
“So no, Patton,” Roman finishes, his eyes closing, “you don’t need to redeem yourself. You don’t need me to forgive you. And you’re not a bad person.”
“How—“ he swallows— “how did this turn into you comforting me?”
“Because that’s how this works, Patton.”
“Not anymore it’s not.” Patton glares through the tears. “You did so well, Roman, right now, you told me everything and you didn’t give in, even when it was really hard for you and I know it was.”
Roman is quiet.
“You stood up to me and you stuck to your points, you let yourself get angry and you told me what you thought.” He swallows. “That was hard and so brave and I’m so proud of you.”
He blinks furiously again.
“I know you may not be a big fan of the word ‘deserve’—“ Roman huffs— “but you deserve to know that. That I’m proud of you. I’m so proud of you.”
“It’s funny,” Roman says, his voice strangled, “but for all my talk about you not needing my forgiveness, I…I—“
Patton tears his glasses off to wipe frantically at his eyes and jam them back on.
Oh.
Oh, Roman…
Roman is crying too. His face is shining, wet with tears.
“…you know I’ve forgiven you already.”
The dark thing in Patton’s chest shatters.
“Can we be done,” he pleads, already reaching across the table, “can we be done, can I hug you now, please?”
Roman looks at him.
For the first time since sitting down, Roman looks at him.
“…please?”
There isn’t a word for the noise that tears itself out of Patton’s throat as he rushes around the table and just about tackles Roman into a hug. They fall to the ground, thankfully onto something soft, their arms wrapped too tightly around each other to tell who’s who. They’re both sobbing, apologies, promises, reassurances, everything, anything, words fumbling over and over each other until it’s just noise.
It won’t be easy.
It isn’t easy.
But it’s okay.
It’ll be okay.