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andtheyreonfire · 2 years

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when you’ve laid your hands upon me

pssst. pssssssst. @borrowedblue . a manic twink dressed like a cross between freddy mercury and oscar the grouch told me it was ya birthday. heard u like scary man, so.,

Like I said on Ao3, this is kinda a song fic! Start the song at “the giant pressed play” for an enhanced experience :0

Special thanks to @bilgisticallykosher for helpin me with this fic! i have been waiting all day to read urs girl.,

Word Count: 4168

Ao3 Link

Warnings: Fearplay, consensual fearplay, references to body mutilation, Remus-typical POV, and cursing.

A gust of breath launched the straw wrapper in Remus’ mouth to the other side of the room.

It fluttered, looped, glided through the air in something one could almost call beautiful. Flew through a sliver of dull light shining through Remus’ blinded windows. Turned green in the neon light radiating from his beloved Frankensteined Furby’s eyes, shimmering from its spot on his desk. The straw wrapper crinkled, almost ethereal in Remus’ piss-colored lighting, like a lost soul drifting back to the netherworld finding peace.

The straw wrapper hit the back wall, and fell to the floor like the flaccid piece of paper it was.

Remus groaned.

There were no side commissions to complete. No work in the middle of spring. No inspiration for a project bubbling up out of the blue, and the materials for his current ones were on their way. Rummaging around in their garage was too much work. Getting up only to sit down at his shitty computer felt like a waste.

Remus was, in every sense of the word, bored as fuck.

At times like these, the human would find his way over to Logan, drape himself over his boyfriend’s shoulders and ask normal questions like how long would it take someone to bleed out after having their dick ripped off by a lion? and on a scale of 1-10, how fuckable are giant squids?

But Logan was doing adult things, like taxes and filing taxes and chugging almost giant-sized cups of coffee. As cute as the furrow of his boyfriend’s brow and concentrated pout were, being disturbed was the last thing Logan would want.

Remus scratched a stain on his Fish Want Me, Women Fear Me tee, gaze drifting around the room. It landed on the painted guitar pick—bigger than his head, like most of Remus’ stolen goods gifts were—mounted on the wall.

Looking at the swirling landscape of a prairie in a hurricane, a grin spread on Remus’ face.

What were two boyfriends for, anyways, if not for twice the amount of Tomfuckery?

Remus catapulted himself off his bed, ignoring the music scale of pops his back released. A quick jog down the human walkways along the walls, a cheerful wave to a Logan perched on the literally giant-sized couch, and Remus found himself at the door of his other boyfriend’s room.

Well. Human-sized door.

Remus barged in, because knocking was only something door salesmen came up with to sell more doors—just like how shitting was only invented by toilet salesmen to sell more toilets.

Sure enough, a massive, macab-dressed form was hunched over a tangled, all-too expensive sound system; wires and cords strewn around like tentacles from a god of the void. The giant was bobbing his head, strains of a guitar faintly protruding from bulky headphones. He drummed a beat out with colossal, black painted claws.

Remus trotted forward.

He could tell the moment the giant noticed him. Cat-like pupils flickered towards him, locking onto his movements like a predator staring down prey. It was hard to tell if the lightning that struck his nerves was from instinctual fear or...something else.

Not many humans had the balls to live and breathe near giant-dominated areas—or giants at all, for that matter. Remus and his former-friend-turned-partner were the exception, of course.

And yet, the rockstar in front of him seemed to bring out something different in people. Despite being one of the scariest motherfuckers you could find on a stage, humans and giants alike still flocked to him like moths to an inferno.

Because his music brought out that instinctual, stomach-plummeting fear and honed it. Used it. Celebrated it.

Remus screamed himself hoarse during his first concert, alight with adrenaline and sweat and terror as he was drowned out by speakers ten stories tall. Craning his neck back to see a performer that could hold him in his hand growl out a booming melody. Feeling his knees shiver as vibrations threatened to send him sprawling to his feet.

Remus had known since that first instant he was in love.

He wasn’t even the one that had found his way in the performer’s hand during one of his—ah, audience interactions. The rockstar would parade around a lucky soul like a toy, showing them off and riling them up and scaring them shitless, showing the world the monster he was.

That was all Logan.

Wasn’t like the nerd didn’t sign the proper wavers, they may have just...been shoved away before he could read them. Really, Remus oughta give Janus a medal for getting Logan in the front-row venue.

Remus waved, leaning over the railing he knew could splinter so easily in the giant’s grip. He heard a flash of blaring guitars as his partner slid off his headphones, before he shut off the program with a single click.

If anything, Remus’ partner certainly knew how exhilarating he could be.

The giant grinned, rows of massive, sharp teeth shining in his gay-ass fairy lights. “Hey, Remus.”

That fondness—the quiet, almost teasing lit he gave to someone roughly the size of his finger—was almost enough to send a ball of hellfire careening through Remus’ chest. “Hey, Virgil. What’s fucking?”

“Just runnin’ through the track we recorded last week.” Virgil Tempestas—a stage name, mostly—offered out a palm as long as Remus’ body. The human wasted no time catapulting himself into the soft flesh, jerking upright as the giant brought Remus to his chest. “The instrumental is mixed, which means we’ll probably hit our deadline, but...”

Remus craned his neck back, looking up at Virgil’s face. “But?”

“It just—the vibes aren't right.” His boyfriend huffed, running a hand through a shock of purple hair. “Like—the feel is underdeveloped, or overdeveloped, or the tone isn’t right. I don’t know. I want to be able to perform this live, and it doesn’t...flow. Here.”

With a few clicks, a drumbeat burst out from the sound system. Remus paused, letting the sound wash over him. Guitars joined in a few beats later.

He closed his eyes, imagined giant combat boots stomping around on a stage as big as a city block. Imagined a low, rumbling voice echoing far above him. Imagined fear pumping through his veins, hyper-aware of the powerlessness that pinned him in place and sent him screaming.

Remus imagined what of sound an angel made of chains and strings and churning metal would make, and opened his eyes.

“Bass-boost it, I want my ears to bleed.” He crawled over and leaned against the thumb—the thumb that probably stopping him from throwing himself off the giant’s hand. Virgil’s gaze flickered down to him, and Remus shrugged. “Other than that, sounds good to me. Top ten songs to get your shit kicked in to, definitely.”

Virgil snorted, but slid his headphones back on after a nod from Remus. The human took that moment to latch onto Virgil’s thumb and try to wrestle it to the center of his palm.

He failed—especially when Virgil demonstrated his ability to pin all his limbs down with one hand—but it was a valiant effort.

After some fun and riveting times squirming under fingers as long as Remus was tall, the giant removed his headphones. Remus perked up as his appendages were freed. “Alright. How ‘bout now?”

Virgil pressed play. Deep, booming cords reverberated over him, through him, thrumming in his core. A shudder passed down his spine. Remus grinned. “It’s perfect. Gonna be a hit, I can feel it—Oh, c’mon, what’s got your dick in a twist?”

Virgil bit his lip—which wasn’t fair because that was Remus’ job thank you very much—as Remus frowned at the rockstar’s furrowed brow. The human was about to crawl up to Virgil’s beautiful face and force it out of him when he blurted, “I didn’t practice anything for a concert, I didn’t think to. I usually have a specific act in mind but things didn’t really work out so I don’t—feel like I know the song? And I can’t put on a show if I don’t even know what I’m trying to sing?” The giant sighed. “Yeah.”

Remus leaned back, considering. “You want an act.”

“Yes.”

The human stared up into eyes bigger than his head. “Then let’s make one.”

Those eyes widened, cat-like pupils dilating. “...You sure? We haven’t done that in a while.”

The human’s heart fluttered at the hint of petulance in Virgil’s tone. Seemed the giant enjoyed their cat-and-mouse game as much as Remus did. It wasn’t harmful, just a bit of good, old-fashioned mortal terror and blood-pumping for the soul. Mostly, Virgil did it to test out new show bits or review an old trick, because Virgil was a prep who wanted practice with scaring the shit out of people.

Remus was the only one in their house who could stomach it. Wasn't his fault the looming, the growling, and the reminder of how helpless he was in the face of a monster setting his heart pounding with more than terror. They yearn for what they fear for and all that.

Well—he was pretty sure Logan did enjoy it, even if a few minutes of a game let him out of breath, stuttering, with his face flushed and voice a squeak. He seemed to prefer Virgil’s softer, snarkier side to even the just-for-pretendsies looming danger.

Remus once broke his arm on purpose on their backyard’s brick wall trying to see if he could fit his fingers into his shoulder socket, so.

“Are you kidding? Fuck yes.” Remus wriggled in Virgil’s palm, stopped from toppling off by a gentle claw pressing down on him. “Put me down so you can slam your hands next to me or whatever.”

Virgil snorted, but lowered his hand down to the desk anyways. Virgil’s work desk was massive, even for giants; just a vast expanse of dark wood. His set-up barely filled half of it. “I haven’t even started the music yet, chill.”

Remus slid off the palm, before crossing his arms and pouting up at his boyfriend. “C’mon, I wanna see your fangs, pretty boy. Set upon me like a flock of vultures on a rotting corpse or whatever—”

Virgil leaned forward, setting his forearms on either side of Remus and looming over him. As a shadow fell Remus, he craned his neck back, only to catch sight of massive fangs splitting into a sharp grin. “It’s cute that you think you can tell me what to do,” Virgil Tempestas purred, voice reverberating down and through Remus’ core and fuck, fuck. “Patience, little morsel.”

Virgil leaned back. Remus’ heart lurched forward with him. He took a moment to try to shrug off the flush on his cheeks using his face alone, stopped only by Virgil snorting at his expression. The giant raked his hair back with his claws, stretching to grab a hair tie to put it back. Remus couldn’t help but shiver. Oh, this session was going to be fun.

With a click, the giant pressed play.

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” Virgil asked, laying a hand flat against his desk. Any growl was absent from his voice, a patently sincere look the only thing toward Remus.

Remus lunged forward, splaying his body across Virgil’s palm yet again. He blew a raspberry. “Duh. I got no reason not to be.”

Virgil watched him wriggle in his palm, and Remus resisted the urge to cringe away from that cat-like, predator gaze. The time for blue-balls was later, goddamnit.

Nothing left to do but enjoy the show.

The beat was nice, steady, a heavy drum pounding through the quiet of the room. Remus stretched as a guitar joined in the mix. He looked up, up, up into his giant’s eyes, and the human’s crinkled at the loving look Virgil directed at him.

The drums slowed, thrumming out a staccato rhythm, and—

Remus found the palm below him gone as Virgil tossed him up.

The guitars surged, fast and sending daggers piercing through his ears, no doubt drowning out the half-delighted shriek Remus let out. The human flailed, catching a glimpse of the ground so far from him, and his stomach lurched like a container of fucking pickle juice.

The back of his shirt caught. Remus twisted around to see two massive claws pinching it, dangling from a comparatively thin layer of fabric over a fatal fall. The fingers moved, and Remus grasped his shirt collar before it could choke him. He stopped in front of the giant’s face.

Virgil’s mouth twisted into a scowl. Remus’ heart pulsed like someone shoved a screwdriver through it.

And the giant began to sing.

Virgil’s voice was deep—it always had been, apparently. Remus couldn’t imagine anything but those low, crooning tones, pounding through his core like the world’s sharpest drums.

The giant’s fangs were on full display. They shone in the afternoon light, slid against his lip like a sheathed sword, etched closer as the giant leaned in to purr a line in Remus’ face. Wicked-sharp, almost as long as Remus’ forearm, and very, very powerful.

Little morsel, the owner of those fangs had called him, hunched over Remus’ tiny form and looking at him like he was nothing more.

Little morsel, Tempestas had called him, and, well, wasn’t he right?

As the giant’s voice turned soft, he brought Remus away from his face. Those inhuman eyes crinkled into something almost like grief. Remus stilled as Virgil moved a massive claw up to his cheek, and the cool, sharp tip trailed down tiny, vulnerable flesh.

The grip around Remus was iron, but under the stare of something so massive, the attention of someone his mind called a predator, Remus found he couldn’t move if he wanted to.

Virgil leaned in, and Remus’ body vibrated with that low voice. The giant’s gaze slide away, and Remus’ heart stopped as Tempestas’ face shuttered closed.

The guitars exploded, and the giant moved.

Blaring bass, pounding drums, Virgil hunched over him, snarling lyrics to the human in his hand. His voice boomed, but Remus could scarcely hear anything over the roaring in his ears. He glanced away, only for an instant, and his gaze snapped back like a rubber band as Virgil’s shadow engulfed him.

Is this what storm chasers felt, staring down the eye of something so much more than you? The booming of thunder in your core, the crackle of lightning in the distance, craning your neck back overhead to see clouds, a gathering storm, a disaster in motion? Helpless to do anything but sit back and watch the rain pour?

It was certainly what Remus felt, staring up, up, up at Virgil. Staring up at his love.

Remus laughed, slightly manic, and hoped the giant didn’t hear it over the thrumming of the music—

Only for it to turn into a grimace as Virgil dropped him on the table. The human scrambled back, on his feet and staring up as Tempestas launched into the second verse. Virgil tilted his head, slow, almost deliberate, running his eyes down the prey in front of him. Remus swallowed.

Tempestas took a step to the side, standing tall and pinning Remus with his gaze. His claws flexed. He prowled around the desk and—well, wasn’t it funny, how Remus almost felt like the one on a stage, putting on a show to the giant looming over him?

The rockstar leaned forward and tilted his head. Remus couldn’t do anything but stare back as the giant ran a claw down his shoulder. He leaned in, closer. Closer. His gaze turned soft. The dark clouds parted.

Something flickered, and Remus jerked back as the giant closed the final gap with a snarl. He slammed a hand next to the human, and—

The giant’s face filled his vision, his hands practically wrapped around him, his heat seeping into his skin. The sharp smell of peppermint wafted from Tempestas’ mouth. He was so close to him, almost making up his entire world.

Tempestas leaned back, gaze flickering away, and the iron grip around Remus’ heart tightened. Massive claws rapped a beat on the table.

When Tempestas peered down at Remus, he didn’t smile, but was a near thing.

“You can feel it, can’t you?” the giant asked, voice sliding in-tune with the bass. The music blared on, and Remus’ heart leaped as Tempestas moved back to loom over him. “Of course you feel it. Why wouldn’t you?”

Remus craned his neck back, shivering as the giant’s shadow engulfed him. His eyes drifted to the claws so close to him, only to jerk back as something warm and sharp ruffled his hair. The giant smiled, fangs glittering.

“Thrumming, thrumming, thrumming.” His voice was low, that special sort of rumble that only emerged in performances. “The bass, your heart, the vibrations from my voice, up and in you and all around you." Tempestas leveled him with an expecting stare. “You feel that thrumming, that pounding?”

Remus nodded, adrenaline setting his nerves alight, and those massive eyes crinkled. “Thought so.” Tempestas hummed. “Let me ask you something more.”

Tempestas moved, standing over Remus from a diagonal angle. One way clear, it seemed: across from the giant and forward. No hiding spots on the expanse of the desk, but it would take the Tempestas time to reach out. Enough time to run.

If Remus’ legs didn’t give out before he could escape.

“Can you hear my voice?” Tempestas crooned. “It must be loud to those tiny, sensitive ears of yours.” The giant's claws stopped, flickered to point in the air. “Can you hear the pounding of the drums? If this were a real concert, your voice would be drowned out by them so effortlessly.”

Tempestas leaned forward, chest five times as wide as Remus was tall pushing up against the desk. The storm tilted his head. “Can you hear the beating of my heart?”

Remus paused, ice flooding through his veins. The giant purred, “Listen. It shouldn’t be hard.”

And—he could. Blocking out everything except the natural disaster in front of him, he could hear it. It was slow, and so, horribly, loud. As big as a whale’s, pounding, pounding, pounding.

An amused breath of air sent Remus’ hair askew. Tempestas’ voice dropped low, reverberating through the human’s body like a swarm of locusts. “Can you feel anything but me?”

A claw ran down Remus’ back. The pad of the finger pulsed with a massive pulse, surging with the beat. “Can you hear anything but my sound?”

That claw travelled to Remus’ chest, and bits of the human’s tee caught on its small, jagged edges. It slid under the human’s chin and lifted it up. Remus shuddered at the cold tip of it against his neck. “Remus,” Tempestas hummed. “Do you know how helpless you are?”

A blush burned Remus’ cheeks. The giant grinned, fangs shining like chainsaw teeth, and the human’s knees threatened to buckle. “I know what you’re feeling right now.”

The threat under Remus’ neck retreated. Remus’ hand shot to his throat, watching the giant examine a line of claws, each one almost as big as Remus’ head. “Maybe it’s a shiver down your spine. Maybe it’s the hammering of your tiny, little heart. Maybe it’s the blood running through your veins.” The giant’s gaze flickered over him. “You’re vibrating right now, Remus, and it’s not from excitement.”

Remus held a hand in front of his face, watching it shake like a leaf in a hurricane. He was, wasn’t he?

The giant leaned back, and Remus craned his head up, up, up. “You feel it.” He laughed, a sharp, booming thing. “Why wouldn’t you?”

The monster peered at him, gaze wide and unwavering, the gaze of a predator. “Do you feel the urge to run?”

The drums hissed, lightning-quick. The guitars surged like the booming of thunder.

Remus bolted.

The pressure in his legs abated, burning as he pumped them faster, faster. Alarm bells blared, the music roaring in harmony with the static in his ears. A thin sheen of sweat crept down his forehead. A cackle behind him tore through the black noise in his head. Remus pushed himself faster—

He tripped, fell, went sprawling with the edge of the table an arm’s length away. He stumbled forward on his hands and knees, whining. It was right there. It was right THERE—

A massive hand slammed in front of Remus. Claws curled in on him like splintered branches.

Too late.

The human lurched back, whipping around to see the monster looming over him. The giant practically screamed the next lyrics. Remus’ cheeks darkened as he filled up his vision, overwhelming Remus’ ears with pounding music, snarled singing, the thrumming of a massive heart.

Remus’ breath caught in his throat. He had to run. He had to run, get away, move, do anything to escape the behemoth before him. He couldn’t, he couldn’t, why was he frozen, why was he was trapped, why he couldn’t he move move from the predator he’s goiNG TO—

“Virgil?” Came a distant, quiet voice. “Oh. Am I interrupting something?”

The music stopped. Remus creaked open his eyes—when had he closed them? —as the giant in front of him rumbled, “Nah, we’re just having fun.” The massive hand around him squeezed, gentle, yet firm. The human’s heart fluttered. “What’s up?”

Silence. Considering, analyzing silence. Not judgmental, but sharp enough for you to wilt anyways. Remus could recognize Logan’s presence anywhere. Finally, their boyfriend said, “I was considering ordering Chinese shortly. Do you want anything?”

Virgil’s gaze flickered down. His fangs were hidden, gaze open, no trace of the thing of nature present just moments before. He spoke, and it was like the gentle patter of rain. “You want your usual?”

Remus nodded, adrenaline still clogging his vocal cords. He leaned back into Virgil’s palm, letting the warmth seep through his skin. “Vegetable Chow Mein for Remus.” A massive claw ruffled his hair, and Remus made a noise like a deflated balloon animal. “I wouldn’t mind some sushi. Don't care what flavor. Thank you, love.”

“You’re welcome.” Remus could hear the smile in Logan’s voice. He considered throwing a hand over Virgil’s hand to wave after him, but...it was so warm. After a moment, Logan called out, “Try not to overwhelm Remus before dinner.”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Virgil breathed. His gaze flickered down towards Remus, slight panic in his eyes. Remus gave a thumbs up, sticking his tongue out for good measure. Virgil deflated a little in relief. Really, how could Remus ever be scared of such a massive dork?

Heh. Dork. After distant footsteps retreated, Remus sprung up from Virgil’s hand. “You found your bit?”

Virgil glanced away, almost like he was scared to look at someone the size of his finger. Pussy. “Uh, sure. You good, Re? I know I got carried away—”

Remus waved a hand. “I’m fine, you tall drink. You barely answered my question!” The human put his hands on his hips, trying for his best stern gaze. “I’ll climb up there and pull you down myself if I need to, bitch.”

The being who could overpower him with barely a thought snorted. “I don’t doubt it—but, uh, yeah. I got it.” Virgil smiled, his genuine one that was more eyes than teeth. “Thank you, really. You gave me a lot to work with—Well. One problem.”

“Yeah?”

“It is...a lot. Not really something I would consider doing spontaneously, especially with a stranger.” Virgil leaned in, folding his arms under him and setting his chin on top. “I can’t help but think it would be better to do it with, say...someone I know.”

Remus’ heart spasmed. He resisted the urge to clutch at it, in the process resisting the urge to bite down on his fingers and see if he was dreaming. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Virgil’s gaze turned soft, open, eyes shining like amethysts. “Obviously, it’ll be different. And only if you want to, of course, I don’t want to force you or anything—”

“I’d fucking love to.” Remus stumbled forward. He nodded, nodded again, looked up at Virgil with a fire in his eyes. “Yes, I want you to toss me around like a limp fucking French fry. Yes—”

“Hey, chill, I haven’t even released the song yet. My next concert ain’t for a while, either.” Virgil’s gaze turned sheepish. “I’ll tone it down a bit, too. Don’t want you to collapse before the show ends.”

Well, rude, but Remus didn’t mind. He surged forward, throwing himself against Virgil’s lips, and shuddered as he felt the giant let out a small gasp of surprise.

He was technically doing the opposite of ‘chilling’, grasping at whatever small bit of skin he could put his hands on and nipping the top of Virgil’s lip. But as that impossibly soft mouth pressed against his body, Remus figured that Virgil didn’t mind, either.

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delimeful · 5 months

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the end of being alone (6)

remember how this installment was mostly fluff up until this point? we'll get back to that!

... just not this chapter <3

part 2: how does a kid end up stranded in space, anyhow?

warnings: bad self care, illness, panic, child in distress, minor injury, non-consensual drug use, trafficking, unethical imprisonment and treatment of prisoners, child endangerment, implied offscreen minor character death, ambiguous character fates, this is a heavy tearjerker chapter but it does have a hopeful ending, lmk if i missed any

Virgil’s condition hadn’t improved.

They’d tried as many non-medicinal techniques as they could, struggling to figure out what would help and what would harm an unpredictable biological system that they barely understood.

Nothing had helped. Nothing was working.

And each time Virgil woke up to the sight of the ship around him, he wept and struggled and shouted, burning through his meager energy and only worsening his health.

He didn’t respond to heartfelt pleas from any of them, rarely even seeming to understand they were in the room with him. His stare was distant and terrified, his mind somewhere else, and each time it happened, Logan wanted to understand how to help so badly.

So, after several cycles without sleep and with the pressure of increasing desperation weighing heavy on his head, he finally succumbed to the deeply unwise impulse to start a Vidi.

He’d only wanted to understand what Virgil was yelling, try and grasp the reason behind his fear in the hopes that they could abate it, even slightly.

The moment he’d made contact, however, his mind had been dragged into a memory with intense force, the metaphorical handles of the Vidi ripped away, leaving him unable to steer and barely able to move.

His fingers twitched with the urge to pull away, but he stopped himself. It could hurt Virgil, and he’d endured plenty of traumatic memories before. He could handle this.

With a blink, he was looking through a much younger set of eyes.

—

The ship came during the summer.

Virgil remembered, because he’d been reviewing holidays and important events with his class before the break, and his half-birthday was coming up in a week!

His birthday was in winter, so his half birthday was in the opposite season, summer! He’d said as much before trying to debate his way into a trip to the park with his friends, and failing miserably.

So, he’d snuck out. And gotten himself lost between one turn of the neighborhood and the next.

He’d run into one of his neighbors, who’d been more than a little concerned to see him wandering around alone, especially because there had apparently been some people disappearing lately.

“Where did they go?” he’d asked, and gotten an uncomfortable reassurance, which definitely wasn’t an answer.

He’d frowned, tried to ask again, but his neighbor had gone quiet and grey-faced, staring at something over his shoulder. Before he could turn to see, there was a sharp thunk, and a bright bolt of pain in his shoulder.

There was a high, crackling scream, which was bad, but Virgil couldn’t keep his eyes open long enough to figure out where it came from. A pair of warm hands caught him when he staggered, and then he was out.

He barely recalled what happened next, the memories fragmented like someone had taken a hammer to them. He didn’t want to think about them, but he kept the pieces close and tucked away anyhow, knowing they were important even though they hurt.

He felt flickers of awareness, the sensation of eyes rolling against heavy eyelids, a rapid pulse pounding away in his ears like a big drum, angry and fearful shouting barely audible beyond the clamor.

And then: the barest glimpse of the docking port of a ship from the inside, the entrance ramp folding up and sealing away the green trees and blue sky on the other side. Replacing the brief vision of home with cold metal and unearthly lights.

There weren’t any warm hands holding him, now.

His whimper turned nearly soundless on the way up his throat, but it drew the attention of his captors regardless.

A rush of unfamiliar language above him, another flood of numbness spreading through him, but even from that one fragmented moment, Virgil understood that they were taking him away.

Another blank period, like dipping one's head briefly underwater, and then he was waking up again.

“Easy, baby,” a familiar voice said, a hand stroking through his hair, slow and gentle. “You’re okay, you’re alright.”

“Miss Susan?” Virgil asked, and his voice came out small and crackling. He coughed, trying to force his crusted over eyelashes apart with a growing sense of panic.

“Hey, I need some water for the kid!” Miss Susan called lowly, before setting a hand against his back and helping him shuffle upright. “Take it slow, baby, don’t choke. There we go.”

Virgil opened his eyes and got his first look at the room he’d be stuck in for the next several months.

It was dimly lit, and smelled bad. The floor was metal, with a few thin stripes of grating, like a shower drain. The walls were made of tinted plastic and covered with sharp-edged wire netting, and there were a whole bunch of people inside with him and Miss Susan.

They all spoke to him at one point or another, but he only remembered some of their names. The thought made his stomach twist painfully, and he clamped down on the sensation.

He couldn’t be sick. Being sick was bad.

The time shifted, Miss Susan still at his side but her hair longer and her skin sallower. They were all seated, tired from the cold and the dark and the gross food that he wasn’t allowed to throw up.

Mister Ben was coughing, hard and rasping and wet, one after another. A few people were crouched near him, talking to him in hushed voices as they tried to coax him into stopping, but his body curled in and convulsed like he couldn’t control the coughs at all.

Before long, there was a clang, and a spraying sound like that time a fire hydrant down the road had been busted open. A few people stood between the door and Mister Ben, but the room grew more and more hazy with the thick air that made his legs go all numb, and they were swaying with the effort of staying upright.

Virgil knew by now what happened next. He turned and pressed his face against Miss Susan’s side, and she drew him close and held him tightly as the suits came in.

The aliens were always wearing them when they came into sight. Thick rubbery suits with dark-tinted visors, each with an electric zapper in hand. They’d drag the sick one out, and Virgil would never see them again.

“Leave him alone!” Miss Susan cried, joined by the rising voices of the rest of their roommates. “Don’t touch him, you leave him the fuck alone!”

Virgil kept not looking, but he said it too, into the worn fabric of Miss Susan’s blouse. “Leave him alone, don’t touch him, leave him alone, don’t touch him, leave him alone…,”

It didn’t work. It never did. The aliens didn’t listen to them, and they made them weak and floaty if they tried to intervene.

His voice cracked as he kept repeating it, even as the door clanged again and the hiss of air stopped. If he didn’t look up, he could pretend that Mister Ben was still there, only quiet because he was all better from his cough.

"It's okay. I know. It's alright, honey." Miss Susan’s hands shook as they stroked carefully through his hair, soothing him to sleep through the last of his hiccuped sobs.

Everyone who spoke to him was kind, even when they were unhappy. When Miss Susan slept but he was awake, Mister Aaron would invent word games to play or Miss Kelsey would challenge him to push up contests, and they would all take turns trying to think of the worst possible combinations of foods to compare to their mush food.

The best was Miss Susan, though. When he was bored, she would tell him stories about her nieces and nephews, and the farm she grew up on, and silly people at her job before they got taken. When he couldn’t sleep, she would hum whichever parts of lullabies she could remember.

Even when he got sad and didn’t want to move or talk at all, she would hold him close and poke at his side and gasp about seeing the firefly that had snuck onboard with them, until he had no choice but to wiggle free and inspect every corner for its light.

The other adults would spot it every once in a while, too, and try to point it out to him. He never saw it, which he would report back to Miss Susan every time.

“Just because you can’t see it doesn’t mean it’s not there,” she’d tell him, waving at the dark ceiling of the room. “Glowbugs can’t be bright all the time.”

“Why not?”

“Well, they’d get too hot and sweaty. They’d have to go swim in the ocean, and then they’d probably all turn into anglerfish,” Miss Susan said, even though she hadn’t known what an anglerfish was until Virgil had told her everything he could remember about them.

“No way,” he said, laughing despite himself. “Bugs can’t turn into fish!”

“Maybe they just get too tired, then,” Miss Susan said, ruffling his hair. “It must be exhausting, being so bright.”

She went quiet for a moment, and Virgil leaned into her touch, squinting at the dark corners and willing the bug to show itself.

“Even when they’re blending in with the dark, though, they’re still there,” Miss Susan finally continued. “So don’t give up. You’ve just gotta trust in it, and eventually, you’ll spot it.”

“I want eventually to be now,” Virgil had responded, petulant as he flopped against her side, eyes growing heavy.

Miss Susan pet his head, humming quietly until he was almost asleep. She let out a big sigh, and when she spoke, her voice was quiet. “You and me both, kid.”

And then it was the last day.

He knew because Miss Susan’s hands were carefully cupping his face, coaxing him into waking up with a careful tap to the nose. They never woke him up on purpose, because 'growing kids needed their rest', except for the last day.

Virgil felt his brow scrunch with confusion even before his eyelids started fluttering, and Miss Susan chuckled and pressed her lips to the crown of his head for a moment.

“Come on, baby, wake up. It’s important, okay?”

He forced himself to open his eyes and keep them open, a little unease running down his spine.

Everyone had been scared, lately. Their group had shrunk in number, their room had been moved onto a bigger ship, and there were distant sounds of crowds at all hours, making his skin prickle with nerves when he was trying to sleep.

Some of their roommates were really smart, and they’d started puzzling out the words of the alien language from the ship directions that were given over the intercom and the overheard conversations of those passing by or rudely peeking in at them.

They’d taught Virgil some of them, whenever he was awake enough to remember. The words they whispered now weren’t ones he’d learned yet, though.

‘Transfer’ and ‘auction’. Everyone disliked them, felt too upset or angry about them to explain, even Miss Susan. Or maybe they just didn’t want to explain them to him, like they wouldn’t tell him what the aliens did with people when they got taken away. There had been a lot of arguing and shouting in low voices, trying to keep him from overhearing.

But now, they were waking him up.

Virgil let himself be coaxed to his feet, following Miss Susan over to the corner where everyone stood in a huddle, the tallest of them on the outside.

“Okay, sweetie. I need you to listen to me very closely, alright?” she told him, turning him to face the corner where they usually kept extra clothes in a pile. “You’re going to have to be very brave for me, okay?”

The clothes had been moved. There was a hole in the wall, where the netting had been peeled back. The edges of it were rough and curved like they’d been made with fingernails, like it had been painstakingly carved through one scratch at a time.

It was a small hole, barely the size of a vent, or a cat flap. Virgil could probably fit through it, but he was the only one.

“No,” Virgil shook his head immediately. “I don’t want to! I’m scared.”

Miss Susan squatted to be level with him, holding his hand in hers. “I know, honey. But it’s important, okay? We’re going to get out and find you, but you have to go first and stay safe until we do. I’ll send our little glowbug with you, and it’ll light the way in the dark.”

“What about your dark?” Virgil asked, rubbing harshly at his stinging eyes.

Miss Susan softened, pulled his hand away and smoothed a thumb over his cheekbone. “Oh, baby. I’ve seen that glowbug a hundred times, here with you. I’ll be okay without it for a little while.”

Virgil turned to look at the hole again, imagining a little firefly crawling through with him so he wouldn’t be alone.

“Do you promise?” he asked, and Miss Susan pulled him into a hug so tight, it felt like it squished all the air from him.

“I promise,” she said, and her hands shook a little but her voice was steady. Virgil smushed his face against her shoulder for the last time.

“Okay. I’ll— I’ll go.”

The barrier of bodies around them seemed to relax, just slightly, though it still took Miss Susan a few moments longer to release him.

They told him everything he needed to know, everyone chiming in. That he had to run, as fast and as far as he could, and be sneaky and quiet when he was too tired to run. That he should find hiding places and hole up in them, wait until nobody was around to keep running.

That he should always hide from aliens, even if they weren't wearing the suits. That he should never let them see him, because they hated humans. That if they did grab him, he could do whatever he needed to do to get away.

“Just like stranger danger, right, buddy? You can bite, kick, scream, whatever you need to do.”

Virgil nodded, trying to push down the sick, stressed feeling in his gut, and when there was finally no advice left to give, he turned to the gash in the wall.

Wiggling through it was hard, because there were still sharp, poky bits that scratched at his skin and the inside of the wall was dark and stifling, but every time he wanted to stop, he could hear the encouragement of everyone else, who was still stuck inside.

There was a little bug with him, he reminded himself. If he closed his eyes and froze up, he wouldn’t ever be able to see it glow.

Finally, he squirmed free of the last few inches, dropping onto the floor of a very small dark room with shelves in it, like a linen closet. He turned back to face the hole, calling out, and Miss Susan reached an arm through.

He grabbed for her hand and pressed his face to it, clung to her for a long moment, his breaths stuttering as she cradled him the best she could.

There was a muffled clang, and Miss Susan ran her wavering thumb over his cheekbone one more time before pulling away.

“Run, Virgil. Now. Run!”

So he did.

He ran and hid, just like they told him, but he picked the wrong place to hide because it was part of another ship, and it took him far away. He kept running, pulled himself into tiny little nooks on spaceship after spaceship, snuck food wherever he could get it and only ever whispered to his invisible firefly.

Eventually, he left a ship and there were no other ships around to board, only the wide landscape of a different planet, full of weird trees and weird animals and a weird town that he fled from. No more ships came, and that was fine because he didn’t want to run anymore. He wanted to stay and wait for them to find him.

He laid on his back and faced the sky, searching for a sign that they were coming. He was hungry and tired and lonely.

The stars above looked just like fireflies, hundreds of them. Enough for all of them to watch together. Except there wasn’t a ‘them’. It was only him.

Virgil felt his face growing hot, his throat closing up at the thought. It was too frightening to be alone.

No, he wasn’t alone. He wasn’t. He had their firefly with him, somewhere next to him in the grass.

“Just because I can’t see them, doesn’t mean they’re not there,” Virgil said to himself sternly, and rolled back to his feet.

He would find something to eat, somewhere to sleep, and he would wait. They would find him. They would find him. They would…

—

When Logan finally eased the mental connection closed and pulled himself free, he found there was a low, buzzing keen building in the back of his throat. The sort of sound he hadn’t made since he himself was a child.

Virgil still lay there unconscious, but his cheeks were shiny and damp with tears. Logan reached out, ignoring the heat radiating from the pupa’s skin, and gently smoothed a narrow finger over his cheek, wiping the wetness away as best he could.

It didn’t do much, but the crinkle in Virgil’s brow seemed to ease just slightly at the sensation.

Roman paced by again, pausing at the sight. “Specs? Is the kid alright? …Are you alright?”

Logan wondered what Roman would think about the fact that Humans and Crav’n had more in common culturally than he would have ever guessed. That an entire group of Humans had given up their only boon for the slim chance of getting the only child present to safety.

No time to waste, now. That conversation would have to wait until they’d launched.

“Let Patton know we’re leaving, and meet me in the navigation area,” he instructed, already turning to leave. “I’m going to clear our landing area for departure.”

“What— I thought we agreed it was a bad idea to actually leave?” Roman asked, glancing between Logan and Virgil with visible worry.

“It’s a worse idea to sit here and wait,” he replied firmly, and then he was down the hall and out the hanger door, ignoring the shiver of secondhand trepidation that Virgil’s mind had left in his.

He circled the ship, placing the warding discs that would keep their launch area organism-free down one by one, and then paused at the sight of a familiar creature standing by the main entrance hatch.

It was a Humlilt, one with a distinct little white splotch on its head. Logan was fairly certain that it was the one who had stood between them and Virgil during their second meeting, the most loyal of the bunch, only proved further by the way it had been waiting outside the ship since Virgil had been taken aboard.

Logan was also fairly certain that Virgil had named this one Susan, after his neighbor. The Human who’d taken care of him, in those memories.

“You’ve taken care of him, too, haven’t you?” he asked, still far too affected by the painful sympathy that had washed over him post-Vidi.

The Humlilt stamped a hoof and trumpeted at him warningly as he neared, still obviously holding a grudge at them for stealing Virgil away.

Logan attempted to rationalize himself out of the decision he was about to make, and utterly failed.

—

It took some digging and reaching out to a few of Logan’s less savory contacts, but the ship was on its way to a waypoint station that was rumored to have a Human expert in residence. It could have been a trap, a lie meant to lure interested parties into an attack, but they were going to have to risk it.

The three of them had all agreed to the plan. They wouldn’t be able to live with themselves otherwise.

Now that they were in transit, Logan sat down with his two closest friends, and began to explain just what he’d learned about their kid.

A few rooms down in the medical bay, a half-conscious Human reached out a feverish hand and found a small, fluffy presence curled up at his side.

The Humlilt crooned a few notes, sounding just like the aimless lullabies its namesake used to hum.

For the first time since boarding the ship, Virgil breathed a little easier.

#wibar #ts logan #ts virgil #ts patton #ts roman #space au #humans are deathworlders #teoba #the end of being alone #mind the warnings #writing #my writing

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