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theatresweetheart · 4 years

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Okay, this isn't exactly a dialogue prompt, but! In your parental royality au, what would happen when Virgil does find out that everyone knows about his tally journal?

When Things Aren’t Okay

Warnings: Shouting, swearing, heavy angst, accusations, running away, fighting, arguing, fear of parental rejection, crying.

Pairings: Brotherly Analogical, Romantic/Parental Royality, Familial LAMP

Characters: Logan, Virgil, Patton, Roman.

Word Count: 1789 words

Continuation/AU: Tally Marks, Untold Notebook Secrets

A/n: This is some heavy angst, so please be warned of that! However, this AU isn’t all heavy sadness, there is comfort coming!

——————————

“Logan, do you think I’m a disappointment?”

Logan’s attention flickered up from his homework and turned to face the thirteen-year-old sitting on the window sill, his knees tucked up into his chest.

Virgil wasn’t looking at him. Logan was positive he would continue to not look at him.

Though, before he had the chance to respond, Virgil was speaking.

“Mr. Wood told me I‌ was a disappointment today,”‌ he said, letting his chin rest against his knees, staring out into the fading light of the day. “I‌ mean, I‌ get why he said it, you know?‌ Not like I disagree really.” He puffed his cheeks up with air before letting it out with a soft sound. “Mrs. Wood even agreed, but in that way where she says it like she doesn’t mean it, but it’s telling that she really does believe it.”

Logan’s brows pulled forward, concern etching itself across his face. The fact that Virgil wasn’t even disagreeing with the people that spoke down to him was not sitting well with Logan.

“I‌ just–” Virgil’s voice stuttered and his breathing hitched, but he didn’t turn to face Logan. “I‌ just want to hear it from you. That I’m… that I’m not a disappointment.”

Because then, maybe he’d believe it.

——————————

A few nights had passed after Roman and Patton had found Virgil’s tally journal. And there was a feeling of constant worry that seemed to hover over their shoulders; an anxiety that Virgil would figure out that they knew and then all hell would break loose.

Patton had upped his usual kindness with Virgil, but it wasn’t that noticeable. Patton had always been loving and doting on the seventeen-year-old, so it was nothing new. He wanted to get him involved in family things, when they had movie nights or played a board game together. (Which usually lasted about an hour before Virgil got bored and Logan went to finish his homework.)

Roman’s change was a bit more obvious, but not to the point where it was like a flashing light. Whenever he looked at Virgil, his eyes were sadder, more subdued– as if thinking about everything the boys had faced before coming into their home. He was still as much an overbearing and overwhelmingly warm presence as before, but there was just something more diminished. Quieter.

If this had been the case with both parents beforehand, Logan would have been inclined to do some digging himself. However, since he knew the cause of this distress, he waited in silent agony for the moment Virgil found out the truth.

It was quiet one night, he and Virgil were finishing up with the dishes from supper.

“Do you think Dad and Pa are acting weird?” Virgil said, taking the final plate from Logan and drying it off with the dish towel.

Logan hummed, expertly hiding his surprise behind a quirked brow. He pulled the drain from the sink. “How so?”

Virgil shrugged his shoulders, opening the cupboard and putting the plate away. He slung the dish towel over his shoulder in an idle and thoughtless motion. “I‌ dunno,”‌ he admitted, his eyes flickering toward the stairs, leading to their bedrooms. In turn, where Roman and Patton had disappeared to only a few moments prior. “They’re just acting…different. Like, Pa is always asking if I want to join him and Dad for movie nights. And Dad is always wanting to know about my day and things I‌ like and stuff, but more then they do usually. Y’know?”

“I‌ have to say I haven’t noticed anything,”‌ Logan told him, turning to face the other boy, mirroring Virgil’s leaned position against the counter. “They seem normal to me.”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “You can’t seriously tell me you don’t see them sharing these concerned looks over my head.”

Logan paused, looking briefly surprised. That little slip-up was what caused Virgil to narrow his eyes suspiciously. He stepped forward.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” he accused. “Don’t you?”

“Of course I‌ don’t.”

“You’re a really shitty liar, Logan,” Virgil snorted. “Mr. I-See-Everything-and-then-snitch. You know that Dad and Pa have been acting weird, you just don’t want to acknowledge it.”

“Well, so what if they have been?” Logan said defensively. He snatched the dish dowel off of Virgil’s shoulder before using it to dry his hands. He tucked it back onto the oven’s handle before leading out of the kitchen, intending to leave this conversation behind. “It’s none of our business.”

“No, it very much is.” Virgil was quick to follow him out, brushing past him and stepping in front of him. “Because this only started a couple days ago. After Pa told us to put our books into a pile so he could donate them.”

It was almost as if after Virgil had said those words aloud, something in the air shifted. A‌ shadow overcame his baby brother’s face and his eyes darkened slightly, but only in the way that said he was thinking about something.

“…you don’t think–” Virgil’s voice was quiet, contemplative.

Logan tucked his hands into his pockets, a concerned look painting across his features at the soft words. It was obvious Virgil wasn’t talking to him, but to himself. Though, that didn’t stop Logan from pushing slightly further. “Don’t think… what?”

Virgil’s eyes flickered up to meet his own, this time startled. He didn’t say anything as he turned on his heels and zipped up the stairs.

Logan felt a rock sink into his stomach. It was uncomfortable and heavy and it made his chest seize up. He was quick to follow Virgil up the stairs, turning the corner and seeing his younger brother had left his door open and was tearing through his bedroom.

Looking for something that wasn’t there.

Guilt flushed forward when Logan heard the soft panicked noises.

He stepped forward, intending to say something, but Virgil’s eyes turned up to meet his own instead. The words died instantly in Logan’s throat when he registered the glassy look in Virgil’s eyes, how they were swimming with tears. But there was panic behind that gaze, wild and heady. He looked like a scared and cornered animal.

“Do you think they found it?”‌ Virgil asked, his voice growing hoarse.

Logan decided it was better to play as if he didn’t know better. “Found what?‌ Virgil, what are you talking about?”

“My notebook!”‌ Virgil’s voice was sharp, but on the cusp of shattering. “I know you know what I’m talking about!‌ You really think I didn’t know?”

Logan’s mouth went dry, feeling as though he had been caught with his hand in the metaphorical cookie jar. He blinked, feeling as though he was the one cornered when he in fact had the option to leave without another word. “I‌.. I‌ don’t–”

Virgil’s eyes hardened. They were dark and accusatory, but that didn’t take away from the fact that they were wet. “Tell me honestly,‌” he grit through his teeth, hands clenched at his sides. “Do they know?”

Logan didn’t have the chance to answer, the door down the hall opened. It took no time at all before Roman and Patton were standing behind Logan, both looking equally worried. Virgil’s attention flickered between both of his parents before falling back to Logan.

And Logan felt such an overwhelming amount of guilt at that broken look.

“Fuck you.”

The words were poison. Logan had to turn his gaze away.

For once, neither parent jumped to say anything to Virgil about his bad language. Instead, Roman stepped forward, past Logan and into Virgil’s bedroom. Virgil matched that step forward with a step backward, looking like he wanted to get out of there as soon as possible.

Like he just wanted to run. And keep running.

“I didn’t mean to find it,” Patton told him earnestly, his voice soft as he stepped forward to stand beside Roman. “I didn’t even know what it was. It still doesn’t make a whole lot of sense now.”

“It was a private thing,” Virgil said, as if they didn’t understand that. “You were never meant to find it in the first place. You were never supposed to know what any of that meant and Logan, for some god forsaken reason, thought it’d be okay if he told you what it was!”

“The only reason he told us was because we asked him to.” Roman knew this backlash had been coming, but it was worse then he had expected truthfully.

“But he still told you!”‌ Virgil’s voice cracked—either from anger or un-shed tears, it was hard to see. “That was my thing! If I‌ wanted you to know, I‌ would have told you!”

“And we understand that you’re upset,” Patton told him quickly. “You have every right to be, but just because we know, it doesn’t change anything.”

“But it already has,”‌ Virgil spat back, “you and Roman share these pity looks over my head. You’ve upped your kindness and try to get me involved in more family things, Roman’s making more of an effort than ever before to try and get to know me. You think I don’t notice? You think all of that is just going over my head?”

He’d managed to shock them all into silence.

Virgil nodded his head, lower lip quivering dangerously. He sucked it in and bit down into it, wanting to still it. “That’s what I thought.”

He moved forward and ducked around his parents, dipping his shoulder out of the way when Patton tried to reach out to him. He stuffed his hands into his pockets, hiked up his hoodie further and escaped down the stairs. Their parents followed him down the stairs quickly, talking over each other as if that would stop the teenager from leaving.

Logan stayed glued to his spot on the carpet. Feeling numb and cold.

There was some shouting from downstairs before the front door opened and slammed shut. Logan heard the door open again. He could hear Patton and Roman calling for Virgil to come back, they’re voices were muffled through the floor and walls.

——————————

“You’re not a disappointment, Virgil,”‌ Logan told him firmly, shutting his textbook before setting it to the side. He was giving his brother all of his attention, even if Virgil wouldn’t look at him.

There was a soft hiccuping breath from in front of him. Virgil’s head tilted just enough to the side to allow Logan to see his face. “Really?”

Logan couldn’t have said it more firmly than that. He needed his baby brother to know that he was the furthest thing from a disappointment. “Really.”

Virgil sucked in another stuttering breath, using the sleeve of his hoodie to wipe at his eyes.

Because if Logan said it, then it must be true.

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wendylewis-blog · 4 years

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05.01.2020 /The Weekend

I feel more animal. I sleep when it’s dark and get up with daylight. I forage my house for food when I’m hungry and often, let myself feel that hunger without satiating it. I’m more acutely aware of what’s around me—wandering the woods, walking the river, sitting in the dry prairie grasses. The wind, pollen scattering from the trees, birdsong, chattering squirrels, elegant deer and awkward turkeys. Hoards of gnats swarm in tiny tornados near the water—I wonder if they hold a consciousness about their purpose here. I wonder if I do.

I talk to people much less than I did in the beginning. Everything has been said too many times over. Exhausting and erosive. It’s becoming more personal now; taking each other’s spiritual temperature, reconnecting with some ppl I’ve lost over time, like a woman in NYC and another in San Franciso, both with new babies. Sometimes, we’re cynical, sometimes laughing, sometimes weeping. I’m quieter than ever and if you know me, I’m not prone to silence. It feels like getting to know a part of myself less explored. Not a bad thing. Listening more, talking less.

This morning’s soundtrack.

There is rain moving in. I’m sitting in my dining room facing the south side of the yard watching the sturdiness of trees against a grey backdrop. They wave their branches a little. I’ve looked at these trees out this window for twenty-two years. They give me a false sense of permanence but unless virulent summer weather takes them down some time, I will lean into that ruse.

It’s the first day of May. My oldest daughter Hannah will turn 34 in a week. She and her husband Geoffrey and g-bb Ezra came down to our house last Saturday. I hugged them both with a bedsheet between us. I had so many conflicting feelings seeing them after almost two months and keeping prescribed distance for the afternoon—the full range existing between joy and grief. I suffered an emotional hangover the next day. It’s so hard to explain. It’s surreal to watch them from across the yard while the dogs romp together and not get gob-smacked about this new reality we are saddled up into—how this contagion (and the ones that will surely follow) will distort/contort, forever changing our intimacies. I’ll have to think more about this.

We have always been such a tactile family and this is taking time to get used to and it’s only just begun. I’m gonna give myself all the time necessary to acclimate. It was so incredible to see them after so long, if bittersweet.

I had similar feelings when daughter Kitty and her roommate Anna came down the following Monday to gather kindling, take a walk and stay for dinner. I spent a couple hours prior to their arrival instigating a yearly ritual—opening the porch! We put all the leaves in the table to properly distance ourselves. I thought about how to share the food. I ladled the soup into the sitting bowls, split the French bread loaf in half and wrapped separately, gave them their own dish of salt and plate of butter. We made mistakes—shared the pepper grinder and all touched the tubs of yogurt and sour cream. Ohhh well—we washed our hands afterwards. We also talked and laughed our asses off until dark. When they were leaving, Kitty and I looked at each other and suddenly hugged without the sheet, turning our faces away, not breathing. The next morning I woke up and had a moment of subdued panic until I remembered that every time I leave my house and go to the grocery store, it’s a risk.

These are the inescapable truths we are all being forced to reckon with in one way or another. In that moment, the gain was well worth the risk. I am gonna get more used to this eventually and do my best taming the wild range of emotional geography to something less painful and more often flushed with gratefulness that we are all alive and love each other. Pull it together, Lewis!

I’ve been trying to order seeds on line for weeks. Most of the organic sites were filling commercial orders in lieu of home gardeners’ requests, stalling us until May. Now, most everything is unavailable, especially herbs, which are expensive to buy in the produce section. I guess I have to take a deep breath and roll with it. There’s a lot we all have to roll with. I’m not an avid gardener anyway but I did love how the bush beans grew last year and fed us all summer long, planted in succession.

I’ve emerged, at least for now, from the hopeless/helpless place I’d been in last week. I decided to curb my drinking habits, which had become something of a crutch a couple weeks ago that collapsed under my own weight and fed my sad monster. I’m going to need all my available faculties to get to the next day and the next one, not fall victim to laziness or inflamed feeling, already tender. So, cutting back. It’s been pretty easy so far.

Meanwhile, there are important issues to focus my anger and intention towards when it rears up—an endless stream, most recently; Pence not wearing a mask when he visited the Mayo Clinic in Rochester MN, Trump suggesting ultra violate rays and disinfectant injections as a cure and then later saying he was being sarcastic (!**/?!#@%!!?), joining up with Stacy Abrams out of GA and the Fair Fight organization to protect our voting rights and democracy in the upcoming election. I also watched (Michael Moore presents) Planet of the Humans written/directed by Jeff Gibbs. Warning: brutal, informative, a li’l craycray (fact checking review here as ballast).

Also, watched a Frontline piece on Amazon’s Jeff Bezos. What a supreme, soulless dick! Yikes! I knew, kinda, but have never gone in for the longer story. I know—it would be difficult for some, because—so convenient—but what if we just stopped ordering from that megalomaniac, ceased to fill the pockets of the richest man in the world whose mistreatment of his workers is legendary? He would be the best first place to start reorienting our rote thinking about capitalism. Done with him.

What if we supported our local stores, local restaurant take-out, local clothing and sundries stores (most sell online now) or shopped directly to companies online instead of going through the infamous Amazon? What if we used this time to begin to unhook from the corporate rank and file consumerism we have all been brainwashed with, and started supporting each other and small businesses? Hearing that Tyson is suffering an enormous rise in workers infected with Covid due to cramped and unsafe working conditions (!!!) what if we supported local co-ops even part of the time? I know they are a little more expensive, but if you go local and not Whole Foods, you’ll do better. I did hear that Farmers Markets may open soon and those offer the most affordable options to Cub or Rainbow. I’ve lived and shopped this way for a long time and never made much money so I’m just sayin’, you actually can afford it.

Every time we spend our money, we are casting a vote, so this is a good time to explore and support the neighborhood both near us and small companies online instead of supporting the giant corporate machine. They are not helping us as much as they make it appear. Other than Costco (my only big box store), who pay their workers a living wage with good benefits and safe work environments (in addition to offering remarkable dry goods, produce, meats and cheeses, the rest are forever off my list. They offer so many organic options and I save so much $$ there. I admit, it’s not much fun to go there—especially right now in terms of exposure—but when I’m out of paper towels and coffee or need a bag of lemons for $6 and organic ground beef, they are my go-to.

This week’s movie recommendations. Kitty brought The Midnight Gospel, an animated, spirited, crazy, philosophical ride on the human condition from the makers of Adventure Time. You don’t have to be a Dylan fan to enjoy No Direction Home, a documentary that centers on Dylan’s trajectory (copious interview time with him and others around him) from late 50′s-70′s and beyond. If that’s not your cup of tea, check out Ricky Gervais’ AfterLife in which he deals with the fallout of grieving his beloved wife in that sweet/irreverent way he is known for—the second season now available. Also, Devs (recommended by Al Church) is really good, but if you can’t do violence, steer clear. All of these are streaming on Netflix.

Last post, I was thinking hard about employing more acceptance and open-mindedness. I’m still there and working on it as I wrestle my uncaged sometimes savage emotions. I check in on many of you via our only source of communication and it seems we are all on the same rollercoaster. It’s a rough ride—hang on and, when you’re fed up or feel brave or are awash in a weird kind of joy, raise your hands off the bar and into the air.

While we may be isolated, we are not alone.

Lovelove.

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