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The light of Virgil’s desk lamp flickered out. He smacked it absently and it flickered back to life. He pressed his hand to his temple, trying to focus. He needed this job interview. He couldn’t afford another failure.
What would you qualify as your biggest weakness?
“My crippling unmedicated ADHD and depression…” He mumbled to no one, tapping his pen against his desk rhythmically, before scrawling down “perfectionist” like he had on every interview so far.
Granted, he was far from it, but that’s what these people wanted to hear. That or “working too hard”.
Job hunting was fucking hard. This was the seventh grocery store he was applying to this month. The seventh! Not even including the four pet stores, two car washes, and twelve restaurants. He had a psychology masters for gods sake, and he couldn’t get hired at a damn Publix?!
What is your greatest strength?
He sighed loudly, spinning around in his rolly chair and rubbing his hands down his face. He checked the clock. 4:37 PM. Logan was meant to be home just after 5:00. Maybe his boyfriend could help him. He liked nerdy shit like forms. Maybe. Probably. He’d be better at it than he was anyways.
He flipped his pen absently between his fingers like a drumstick, before standing and pacing the room, half lost in thought.
What was his greatest strength? He wasn’t empathetic like Patton. He wasn’t smart like Logan. He wasn’t a leader like Roman. He wasn’t cunning like Janus. He wasn’t confident like Remus. He didn’t actually have much to offer.
He dropped his pen and swore, bending over to pick it up. He grabbed it, feeling his binder pinch his ribs. He really needed to take that off soon. When did he put it on again? He didn’t know honestly. Jay would kill him if he kept this up.
He walked to him and Logan's room, reluctantly pulling off his binder, avoiding looking at the bruises he knew would be scattered purple across his ribs. He accidentally brushed his hand over one and winced, pulling his hand back with a hiss. He could practically hear Logan’s voice in his head lecturing him about binder safety.
He pulled on a sports bra, glaring at himself with disgust. His hips were too wide. His face was too round. His eyes were too wide. And of course, the obvious. He pulled one of Logan’s baggier hoodies on, messing with his hair in the mirror, as if that could fix everything else too.
He fell back onto his bed, spread out like a starfish. He stared at the ceiling fan, watching it go round and round and round. Like his mind.
I will never be a real boy, therefore Logan hates me, therefore Logan’s going to leave, because I’m not a real boy, therefore Logan hates me, therefore Logan’s going to leave, because-
He flipped around, burying his face in his pillow. He needed to get out of the house. That’s what Picani would say anyways. Maybe his licensed therapist had a couple good ideas.
He slipped on his converse, checking the window. Was it raining? It wasn’t meant to till 5:00. He reached for his umbrella, then decided to leave it. He’d be back by then anyway so he could annoy Logan at the door.
The forest outside their apartment complex was a nice place to wander. It was one of the last places with real nature this city had. Leaves crunched beneath his feet and he smiled slightly. One of life's great joys was crunchy leaves. And crunching his fingers to piss Logan off.
Virgil laughed at the memory. His boyfriend whining about how creepy his hypermobility sounded, hands over his ears like a toddler. He wondered if he still had the tickets from the movie they’d seen that day. Maybe he could put it in his memory box.
He tossed a rock into the trees, watching it skitter to a stop in front of a stump. He picked it up, tossing it again. This time it thunked against water, sinking like a body.
“Damn it. That was a nice rock too.” He mumbled to himself, shoving his hands in his pockets. He checked his phone. 4:56. He should probably head back before the sky opened up. It smelled like rain already anyways out here. He breathed in the scent, slow and long, letting it bring him comfort.
Virgil’s favorite smell had always been rain. Specifically, the smell of an oncoming storm. Patton’s was baking vanilla, Roman’s was the cleaner his theatre producers used, Logan’s was “cold” (nobody believed him that that was an actual smell, but he was insistent), Remus’ was the forest, and Janus’ was lavender.
There was just something about the rumbling, far off thunder, barely visible lighting in the distance, cool wind coming off the ocean as new clouds came in.
It smelled like his childhood. Sunday church in the misty Florida mornings. Rainy beach days spent diving under waves. Hiding under his bed with his sister, comforting her from the thunder and lightning as they played cards and dolls. New beginnings.
And endings a voice in his head much like his father’s whispered, and he shook off the sensation. His dad wouldn’t get to take this from him too.
He walked for longer, losing track of time. It wasn’t until he felt small drops on his head as he walked he started to turn around, realizing how long it had been. More drops started to fall, drip dropping against the bushes. He started to speed walk trying to speed up to outrun the storm. Thunder crashed, only for lightning to flash a couple seconds later.
“Shit.” He whispered, now breaking into a sprint as the rain came down. This was Lo’s hoodie, he didn’t wanna ruin it by accident with his stupid nature adventure. The sound of rain against concrete filled his ears, the smell of fresh rain and gasoline mixing with the pain of sprinting deep in his chest.
Wait, gasoline?
“Fuck fuck fuck fuck!” He shouted, running into his apartment and slamming the door behind.
His hands trembled and his vision blurred. He only made it a couple steps in before collapsing on the ground in a heap, arms wrapped around his knees, tugging them close to his chest and burying his face in his legs.
Rain on concrete. Gasoline. Mom’s cinnamon incense.
Rain on concrete. Peony flowers. Chest aching with bruises.
“You’re worth nothing to me, Victoria! You hear me? Nothing! Repent for your sins or so help me-”
“That’s not my name and you know it! It’s Virgil, dad!”
“I don’t have any sons, I never have!”
Crash.
The smell of iron.
Blood.
“Get out of my house you fucking tranny! Never come back!”
“Dad, please!”
Slap.
The spot on his face where his father had hit him had burned. So did every bruise on his chest. Fingerprints on his neck.
Sirens as he ran.
He’d sat on the curb of the gas station in the pouring rain for 5 hours, praying for the situation to be fixed. Praying to a god he didn’t believe in to fix him. Praying for his parents to come back.
They never did.
His favorite smell, ruined by the worst night of his life.
Click.
“Virgil?”
He looked up, eyes blurred with tears, watching the form of his worried boyfriend kneel beside him, cupping his face in his hands.
“Virgil, what happened?” Logan asked, brushing the tears away from Virgil’s face softly. He could practically see the gears working in his head trying to figure out what happened as his eyes roved over his soaking wet boyfriend huddled on the floor.
Virgil opened his mouth to speak, but found no words. Instead, a small, broken sob escaped his lips. He buried his head in his knees, shoulders shaking.
He sighed deeply, standing and walking away. The sound of Logan’s dress shoes echoed, a door opening and closing as the sound began to fade.
Gods, he must’ve looked so pathetic if his own boyfriend had left him. Logan didn’t even like emotions. He wasn’t good at them. And now Virgil had subjected him to his worst ones. He couldn’t possibly be a worse partner, a worse person, a worse-
He felt a warm towel wrap around him as his body was slowly lifted from the ground, before being sat carefully on the couch.
He looked up, seeing the man sitting across from him quietly setting down familiar laminated communication cards in between the two, alongside his weighted vest and headphones. The gesture was enough to bring another round of sobs from him.
“Can I touch you?” Logan whispered, keeping his voice intentionally low so as to not overwhelm whatever was happening. He nodded, eyes still downturned to the couch.
Virgil felt a warm hand grab his, before his fingers were carefully splayed out against Logan’s heart. Logan breathed deeply and intentionally, letting his panicking boyfriend feel his heart beating. His chest rising and falling.
Slowly, his wracking sobs turned to sniffles, and his breathing slowed back to normal. He squeezed softly, letting his boyfriend know he was okay now.
“First off,” Logan said, voice still low, but no longer whispering. “Why are you wet? Did you get caught in the rain?”
He nodded.
“Are you hurt?”
He shook his head.
“Are you safe?”
‘Am now.’ Virgil signed, his hands trembling.
Logan let out a breath of relief. If his boyfriend was coherent enough to sign, they were already off to a good start. He left the communication cards out though, just in case.
“What happened?” He asked after a beat of silence, quietly hoping it was something he could fix.
‘Bad memories.’ He signed, keeping his eyes downturned and far away from the too sharp gaze above him.
Understanding dawned in Logan’s eyes. He knew about how his boyfriend’s coming out had gone. The disaster that had ensued. It had been a while since his last flashback though. He’d assumed Virgil had been improving, but it appeared the progress wasn’t exactly linear either.
From there, the solution was easy. He made Virgil take time on his own to shower, knowing he’d be happier if he felt cleaner. While the water ran, Logan warmed up their favorite frozen pizza he’d been saving in the freezer and made his boyfriend his signature lemon ginger tea. He always assured the brunette there was nothing special about the way he made his tea, but Vee was insistent.
He set the snacks and drinks on the clear coffee table, pulling up Nightmare Before Christmas and leaving it paused, before laying out Virgil’s weighted blanket.
Logan looked at the setup and felt himself smiling softly. He always prided himself in knowing very well how to comfort Virgil’s anxiety attacks and flashbacks. It was one of the first skills he’d learned upon meeting him.
He slipped into his favorite sleep shirt and changed his slacks for loose joggers. To Logan, it always felt downright sloppy, but Virgil always insisted this was what most people considered casual.
He waited on the couch patiently for another five minutes, before hearing the water shut off from the bathroom, and seeing Virgil emerge in what Remus had dubbed his “dysphoria hoodie”. His eyes were still red from crying, and his hair was still damp and disheveled. He was without his usual dark makeup he always hid behind like a shield.
Logan stood, wrapping up the shorter man tight. Virgil nearly collapsed in his arms out of relief. His head sat on his shoulder, face buried into his neck.
Pine cologne. That was an untainted scent. A scent he adored. Logan’s scent.
“I’m sorry..” A small voice whispered, barely audible from the scratchiness of crying for so long.
Logan’s eyes flared with anger. Not towards Vee, but towards his horrible parents. For making him think he needed to apologize for.. what, having a panic attack? He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from shaking with rage. Instead, he just held him tighter.
“There is no need for you to apologize, Virgil,” Logan whispered, “You have done nothing wrong or worthy of an apology.” He led him to the couch, unpausing the movie and wrapping them both in the heavy blanket.
“You’re such a nerd.” He said wetly, letting his boyfriend pull him close. He had his head against Logan’s chest, feeling his heart beat slowly, arms wrapped tightly around his waist. He felt their breaths match in sync.
Logan just smiled, running a hand through Virgil’s hair. He didn’t care what anyone had to say. His boyfriend was amazing and perfect just the way he was. Trans and all. And his parents figuratively kick sand if they didn’t like it.
They both watched the movie in comfortable silence, simply listening to the songs.
‘And sit together, now and forever, for it is plain as anyone can see, we’re simply meant to be.’