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pencilpat · 6 months

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Sanders Sides College AU: Prologue

A short set-up for my college kid AU of the sides! This is a lead-in to Remus's arc, and a beginning-in-the-middle of a storied friend group. Very little mention of college for the beginning of a college AU, lol. Here are the character sheets for everyone!

2,660 words

CW: undiagnosed psychosis, distress and panic attack, implied neglectful parents, swearing, slightly unsympathetic Patton, drug mention, fight/confrontation

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His head hits a wall.

His fist hits his head.

A hand hits something that is him but not him.

His body is barely his own. Teeth bared; he knocks his head against the oak wood of the floorboards, sprawled on his side with his back pressed tightly to the wall. A scream sounds in his skull and an accompanying one threatens to tear from between his clenched teeth. He grips his fist against his mouth, a restrained squeak leaving him as he clenches his eyes shut.

He shakes himself out, tries to sit up on shaking arms. A hand grabs his ankle; nothing is there. He curls in a ball with his legs against his chest, breathing, trying to breathe. There are Hands, black and wiry, strangling at his skin. Another sob threatens to rip his teeth open, when a different sound breaks the cacophony.

“Remus?”

His brother’s voice and knocking. At that, a sob does leave him. Even if this is part of the episode, he jumps at the chance to be comforted by Roman. He crawls on all fours towards the door, and falls against it, letting himself cry finally.

“Roman!” he cries his name, and his twin opens the door, slipping through as not to knock Remus on his ass. Roman is on him instantly, gripping his shoulders softly and muttering concerns. “Roman, are you here? For real?”

“Yeah- Yes. For real.” Roman hugs him to his chest, both shadowed by the lamp that provides the only light in the room. Remus collapses into his hold, trembling. “Are you okay? Mom heard you shout earlier, but she said not to- I came anyway, I am here, that’s that.” Roman hugs him tightly, his face creased through with worry.

“I don’t know what’s happening to me,” Remus cries, perhaps a bit too loud as Roman startles against him. Roman’s hands are warm and solid compared to the wisps that coldly grasp at him. His breathing calms just slightly, panting instead of hyperventilating as he grips at his twin’s pyjamas. “Roman- Roman, I’m scared.”

“I- I know, Rem. I am too. But it’s ok, it’ll be ok, even if I’m scared, I can put it aside right now,” Roman soothes, setting a hand gently on top of Remus’s head – that hair usually brings him embarrassment with it’s tacky cut, but right now, that is just his brother. And he holds onto him tight, tight, tight. They are curled around each other, as though if Roman holds him tight enough he can hide him within himself entirely. The idea makes a shaky, high-pitched laugh worm its way out of Remus.

“Rom,” he sniffs, shaking knuckles red with how tight they hold him. “What’s happening? I don’t under-“ He pauses and gasps as a man’s voice whispers against his ear, jolting even closer to his brother. “I don’t understand! It’s been weeks, I know dad said it’s nothing, I don’t believe him. Please, I need it to stop.”

“I- I don’t know how to fix it. I’m sorry.” Roman says it like a pledge, as though it’s his fault somehow. Shadowed and curled, they look as young as they are at 18, Remus gaunt and hollow as he’s become over the past few months. Roman brings him food, and finds it untouched hours later. Roman makes the staff bring him food and water so often one of the maids scolded him, chastising that Remus doesn’t touch it anyway.

“We’ll… We’ll figure out what’s happening. Somehow, even if it must be behind dad’s back!” Roman says, with shaken confidence in the man supposed to care for him. “I promise I won’t let this go unchecked, ok? I love you.”

Remus breathes out shakily. “You sound like a movie character, prince charming. Love you, too.” Roman gasps in mock offence, immediately falling back into a faux rivalry at the signs of Remus calming down. He doesn’t retort in his own defense though, bumping their foreheads together at the light patch where they share a birth mark.

“You will be ok. Even if you have to have me bring you food forever. I’d do it, y’know!”

“I know you would. Bringing bread to the poor pauper, eh, princey?” Remus laughs properly now, sniffling away the last of his tears as his gripped fists relax slightly. He grins up at Roman, who smiles back at him tauntingly.

“Let me care about you without being insulting for once in your life, Rem.” Roman pulls out of their hug, sitting across from him on the floor, both looking small as children in the large bedroom of their parent’s manor. Remus rubs his own arm, feeling the tickling and gripping of hands subsiding.

“I’m not an idiot, Roman. I know you’d always take care of my ass.”

“No matter the cost! I promise.”

“Ok, drama king.”

---

Knocking on his door jolts Remus out of a trance. Hands tug at him, but he brushes them off into nothingness and dissolving shadows as he sits up and walks to the door. “In a minute!” He kicks aside a box and a few clothes to make a path for himself as he goes. The door opens onto two of his housemates, one being his twin, and the other being the newest of the bunch. Remus took to simply referring to them as “Pastel” to compliment the “Emo” of his and his twin’s final housemate, their childhood friend Virgil. Pastel has a very hardened look, uncanny on their soft face. Remus glances over their expression, trailing over to Roman’s, which is held taught and drawn.

“Er- Is something going on?”

“Um,” Roman goes to start, stumbling over himself. “Your- your dealer showed up again.”

“Ugh, seriously? I told him not to come to your house anymore, bro, I don’t know what to say. I’ll text him again but-“

“How much money do you owe him?” Pastel speaks up, their voice cracking awkwardly. Remus pauses and blinks at them. He quirks an eyebrow at them, taken aback. “Remus…” they speak as though a beartrap will sink into their flesh if they say the wrong thing. “I know that you- you need that stuff to feel ‘normal’,” the air quotes make Remus roll his eyes, but they continue undisturbed. “But I’ve asked so, so many times to at least not tell those creeps this address!”

“Patton, it’s ok,” Roman cuts in, setting a hand on their shoulder despite them towering above the both of them. “Really, Remus said he can text the weirdo again. I assure you, things will-!”

“Roman,” Patton says, a warning in their voice that makes Remus flinch; as demeaning and scolding as a father to a 3-year-old. “We- we talked about this,” Patton mutters, as though Remus isn’t right there. Roman glances at them desperately, then glances to Remus.

Remus laughs uncomfortably, scratching his calf with his foot. “What is this? What’s happening?”

Roman’s face pinches up again, a sharp breath leaving him. “Remus, Patton and I have talked about the- this whole issue with your dealers coming around. Look, I know… I know that you feel you need those things for your hallucinations, but- just what do you think would happen if they showed up when dad visits?!”

“Uh, they wouldn’t,” Remus laughs.

“You don’t know that! Gosh, it’s enough that you’re staying here under their noses! Remus, you’re going to get one of us hurt!” Patton’s fists are balled, and they keep shutting their eyes as though flinching at their own words. “You need- you need to take this somewhere else. I can’t have you putting Roman and Virgil in danger!”

“What?! They’re not in danger!” Remus is already shouting, even as he watches them both flinch. He holds his hands out to the sides in disbelief, staring open mouthed at his brother. Roman doesn’t counter Patton’s points though, just stands still with his lip trembling just slightly. “Roman? Roman, c’mon, they’re talking crazy!”

“Remus,” Roman pleads. “Look, you have a job and savings… You make enough to get your own place. You-“

“What are you talking about?” Remus shouts, high and strained.

“Please quiet down!” comes a taught, anxious yell from another room in the hall. Footsteps, and then the final roommate is peeking his face out at them. “Guys, it’s freakin’ midnight. What are you screaming about?”

“Oh, I don’t know, apparently how I’m a big boy now so I should fuck off to my own place so these two don’t have to look at me anymore!”

“Remus! That’s not what either of us said!” Roman tries to protest, not quite shouting but not quiet.

“It’s what ‘Pastel’ over here means,” Remus spits, venom dripping off what he used to use as a friendly nickname. Patton’s mouth slams shut and they tense up, their eyes watering.

“Remus, you’re scaring them,” Virgil warns, sliding up beside Patton to hold their hand. All Remus sees is a wall being formed. All he sees is three sets of stone-cold gazes shunning him out. He balls up his fists, heavy, hot breaths leaving him. He cries out, kicks the frame of his door with bare feet, and slams his door on their faces.

“You fucking promised!” he shouts through the door as he kicks the box from before into the wall. Roman flinches hard on the other side, drawing himself up like he might respond, before he turns tail and takes off towards the living room.

Virgil stares back and forth between him disappearing and Patton. “Geeze, guys, that was rough,” he whispers scoldingly. Patton is still tense, eyes closed and breathing uneven. Virgil notices, and holds their face gently, tutting at them. “Hey hey, you know shouting gets at you.” He leads them to their shared bedroom, only sparing one glance back to Remus’s door.

---

Remus seethes, laying face-first on the floor, panting into the nice carpets. He feels like puking. He feels like screaming more. He feels like killing everyone in this house- No, no he doesn’t. He shakes away the images of knives and blood beneath his hands, pressing his palms into the carpet to ground himself.

The only one left, tumbles and falls into the pile of dominos that represent everyone who decided he wasn’t worth looking at. Roman? Roman, his twin? Kicking him out? It’s not something he even considered, not once, not even when he began staying here under their parent’s noses. Their parent’s sneering, poked up in the air noses. He briefly pictures their smashed faces, before shaking that image away as well. He takes a deep breath. It’s that stupid Pastel soft kid – it has to be. They’ve twisted it somehow! His dealers aren’t even scary ones, they just sell weed! And- and a few other things, but they aren’t dangerous! Even- even if he’s starting to owe them in the thousands and that one with that dumb jacket has showed up outside their house about five times. Or ten.

Remus rolls over onto his back, staring hard at the ceiling. He drags a hand down his face. He is dangerous. He is putting them in danger. He can’t stop himself from punching his own forehead at the realization. Remus bites down on his knuckle, chewing at the skin. He’s always going to put people in danger, isn’t he. He groans and sits up, moving finally to his bed- or what was his bed. Who knows what idiot they’ll bring in to replace him. He settles heavily against his sheets, picking up his phone. He scrolls mindlessly through his contacts through blurry eyes.

Surely someone can let him couch surf. There’s Remy from the tattoo shop. They’re always nice to him, even if it is out of some weird pity. Remus bites down on his boney knuckle again, stressed. Remy already had three roommates, and he doubts they need any more with as much as they complain about the cramped space. He scrolls through two previous dealers, through random people he hasn’t spoken to in years and nameless numbers. At the very bottom of his numbers is a halfhearted Christmas wish from his mother, and a contact that hasn’t been texted in actual years.

He sits up slightly, brain turning. The contact’s name is just a green apple emoji and a heart, but he knows it instantly. He opens the texts, a chuckle leaving him as he reads through his high school self’s banter with an old friend. Her spitfire replies are all sent within seconds of his initial messages while his own replies sometimes have days between them. He smiles, slightly, cradling the phone without realizing.

He falls back on his pillow, sighing. The text box comes up, and he begins to type. Fuck, what do you say after three years? After all that happened?

Dooky: heyyyyyyyyy jan

Yeah, he can’t think of anything better. He presses send without thinking any further. He shakes out the anxiety with his arms, wiggling against the sheets that will not be his in the morning.

🍏🖤: Well, well, well.

Her reply is only a few minutes delayed, to his shock. He sits up straight in bed, hunching over his phone with a grin. She still has his number saved?!

🍏🖤: Virgil’s earworms finally wriggle out of your brain Carmona?

Remus giggles, nerves and excitement at speaking to her again behind the other’s backs clashing together in his brain like metal pots.

Dooky: if I tell u theyre getting rid of me too wld u believe me?

The dots come up, the typing bubble rising and falling for long minutes.

🍏🖤: What do you need Remus?

He can’t decipher her tone. Is she angry? She has every right to be. He takes in a shaky breath, brow furrowing up in stress.

Dooky: i need a couch to surf >x(

Yeah, casual and silly, just like in high school. She always loved how goofy he was. The bubbles don’t come up though, and he stares at the screen until it darkens. He gnaws on his lip anxiously, just waiting. Waiting for a deserved rejection. Waiting for her to assign to him the vitriol that their shared friend dished to her years ago. He’s so focused on the ‘maybes’ that her text scares him.

🍏🖤: Ok. You're a lucky man. I happen to have a free couch.

🍏🖤: Hope you like bedbugs and mold.

🍏🖤: Here’s the address.

He shriek-laughs with surprise and delight, and spams so many heart emojis at her that he’s sure she turned her phone off. Reinvigorated, he starts shoving things in bags and boxes. He has a lot of clothes, but enough bags and trunk space in his beat-up truck to get downtown with all his stuff. He pauses with a handful of junk half stuffed in a bag. He doesn’t want to see them. He stumbles on his own feet, staring at the door as though, just maybe, Roman will knock and promise to protect him. As though he’s 18 and not 21, as though he’s in that stupid manor full of people that hate him with a single comfort in his whole world. A stupid pauper being brought bread under his parent’s monarchy.

He sighs out a held breath. No. Roman won’t be coming to the door this time. And he doesn’t want to see him either way.

“Fuck this,” he whispers under his breath. He will wait until they’ve all gone to sleep, and he’ll be gone in the dead of night. Fuck this. The least he needs is another wall of dominos crashing in on his shoulders to crush him under their judgement. An old friend to fall back on has given him confidence, however shaky, and if these assholes want him gone then he will disappear like the Great Houdini. He puffs out his chest, and finishes his packing.

He chucks his entire life into the back of his rusted blue chrome truck, and he is gone. When his twin wakes up, he will be gone. Exactly like he wants.

#college au #sanders sides #sanders sides au #tss au #remus sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #janus sanders #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #my writing

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