Chapter Text
"Gaslighting begins with a lie,” the professor drones, and every fiber of Virgil’s being snaps to attention.
The subject of gaslighting is one of the many, many reasons Virgil signed up for Introduction to Ethics. He’s been looking forward to gaslighting in particular, however, all semester; something inside him begs for proof, an excuse for what he did, what he didn’t do… and he really, really hopes this class is going to give him that.
And then the bell rings. The professor looks almost relieved, which isn’t all that surprising when considered alongside the sorely disinterested and/or trouble-making expressions of the majority of his students. “We will continue with the topic of gaslighting on Tuesday,” the professor says, and Virgil feels a part of himself die. Tuesday.
The students flood from the classroom, flying down the wide steps and nearly pushing the poor professor over in their wild sprint for freedom, and Virgil wonders how they can pay so much money for something only to avoid paying an ounce of attention to it. He’d bet his life--not that it’s worth an awful lot to him--that most of the students at this university have off-puttingly rich parents. Virgil’s not exactly impoverished himself, but he worked hard to get to where he is today. He’s proud of himself for that.
Or, at the very least… he used to be.
Virgil breaks out of his daze just in time to see the local know-it-all helping the professor gather his books off the floor. Usually, Virgil is the last to leave the classroom, scared as he is of getting caught in the surging crowd of sleepless students, but, he thinks to himself, a friend is never a bad thing to have.
Virgil misses his old friends. The ones that were always there for him, always… until Virgil shut them out. Until he entered stage left and convinced Virgil he shouldn’t see his friends anymore-
But that’s a dangerous road of thought to travel down, and Virgil knows it. Anyway, he still has his sister, and he knows she isn’t going anywhere anytime soon.
Virgil blinks a few times to clear his thoughts. Stay in the moment. Don’t let yourself get lost in anything but now. He’s been trying so hard to live by those words. So…
“Here,” Virgil says, and it’s barely audible but at least it’s there. He’s handing the know-it-all a stack of folders before he can even realize his own actions, but Know-It-All just gives him a terse smile and passes everything over to the professor.
“Thank you, both of you,” the professor says, infinitesimally more expressive now that class has ended, and Know-It-All’s chest puffs out minisculely. “I appreciate it.”
“It was no trouble,” Know-It-All says cooly, and Virgil can’t help but narrow his eyes at the mismatch between words and body language. Then again, Virgil doesn’t know the guy all that well. He’s just never acted like the type to play hero…
“Oh, uh, yeah,” Virgil stammers, snapping back to attention. Know-It-All is giving him a scolding sort of glare, and the professor looks bored again. “Yeah, no problem, sorry.”
The professor nods once, twice, a third time just for good measure. Finally, he speaks up. “Please leave my classroom now.”
“Oh! Right, yeah, uh- Right, sorry,” Virgil murmurs, and his feet are carrying him to the door before he can even stop to think. Damn it, he wanted to talk to the know-it-all! His traitorous feet deposit him outside the door to the building and then freeze, evidently finished with their autopilot, and Virgil is suddenly overwhelmed. Was he too awkward? Oh, god, he stuttered, like, every other word. Know-It-All probably hates him now, and the professor’s gonna be more harsh on him after seeing what a failure he is-
“You shouldn’t apologize for helping someone,” says a deep voice, and the tone of it, the lowness, the calm exterior--the familiarity of it nearly sends Virgil to the ground. But he manages to catch himself before that can happen, and he’s left having just recoiled ridiculously far away from Know-It-All’s voice.
“Excessively apologizing, flinching away from unexpected variables within or even hidden from your line of sight--these are all textbook symptoms of abuse, you know.”
“Of- Of course I know,” Virgil snaps, spinning around to face the Know-It-All. “I’m in the class, too, aren’t I?”
“Ah,” says the man. The low voice still gives Virgil chills. “You’ve found your voice, then. Is your stuttering strictly conditional? Was it the presence of an authority figure that triggered your lapse in vocabulary?”
“I- Man, fuck off,” Virgil says, crossing his arms. He tries to be subtle in the way he rubs his skin together, trying to provide some feeble sense of comfort. He wishes his hoodie wasn’t in the wash. He wishes he was brave enough to go out for the weekly Monday sales at the local clothing department to buy extras. “I’m not your personal- your science experiment. Go find yourself a rat. I’m sure your presence will be enough- it- your presence will be plenty to give it anxiety all on its own, and you can study that.”
“Well, you needn’t be rude,” Know-It-All says, and there’s a hint of amusement in his tone that Virgil despises.
He sounds just like him.
“I ‘need be’ whatever the hell I wanna be,” Virgil practically growls, and the man’s eyebrows fly up under his poorly-contained sidebangs.
“Of course. I am… sorry if I crossed a line with my questioning. I recognize that this may have been insensitive.”
“Oh, you think so?” Virgil scoffs. But then he sees the squint of the man’s eyes, the nervousness held in the fidgeting of his feet, and the regretful tip of a frown on the man’s lips, and he works hard to reel in his snappiness. Know-It-All says he is sorry. Virgil will give him the benefit of the doubt (stupid stupid stupid) and believe him. “Sorry. It’s, uh… Don’t do it again.”
“Certainly,” the man says, nodding earnestly and dipping into an odd sort of half-bow. Virgil raises an eyebrow. “I am Logan,” he continues, and then he pauses and waits expectantly.
Oh, right. “Virgil.”
“Spelled like the Roman poet?”
“No, spelled with an ‘i.’”
“Oh.”
“Sorry to disappoint.”
“No, no-” Know-It-All- Logan winces slightly, covering it up with a cough and a well-timed tie adjustment. “I didn’t intend to portray disappointment. I am simply a fan of Latin literature, that’s all.”
“Oh, yeah. Uh, no problem.”
There is a momentary silence that cuts right through Virgil’s resolve.
“Okay, gotta go,” he says quickly, spinning on his heel, and he can’t stop the yelp that slips out of him when Logan grabs his arm.
“Apologies,” Logan says, furrowing his eyebrows but releasing Virgil’s arm nevertheless. “I simply- Ah, I would like to request… a study session? I’ve seen you in the upper seats of this class rather often, and you always seem so attentive, I…”
“Okay,” Virgil says slowly. He can do this. Remy’s always telling him he needs to make friends, anyways, and she’s all kinds of right. So if he can just get past this awkward phase… “Okay, yeah. Do you wanna- Uh, now?”
Logan’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly, but then he schools his expression back into something controlled. “That would be satisfactory,” he says, pushing his glasses up, and Virgil wants very, very badly to call him a nerd, but he thinks it might be too early for discouraging nicknames.
“Great. Do you have a place in mind? Or, uh, your house or mine or-”
“Oh! Of course, apologies,” Logan begins.
“You apologize, uh- excessively.”
For a moment, Logan seems too stunned to reply. But then his face sort of contorts for a moment and adjusts itself into something of a normal expression, and Logan straightens his tie one more time and pushes those glasses even further up his nose and smiles and says, “I suppose I do.”
Virgil lets himself get excited as Logan leads the way.
☼☼☼
“Oh, boy,” Virgil mutters when they finally arrive. It was a short walk, only a couple of minutes from campus, but the name of the coffee shop is all too familiar-- Deja Brew.
“Is this not adequate?”
Virgil startles, having mostly forgotten Logan’s company. The man is so quiet when he isn’t asking questions--it’s eerie, almost. Chilling. “No, it’s fine,” Virgil forces out. “I just- My sister talks about this place a lot. She and her friend are regulars.”
“Well, if she’s anything like you, I’m sure she’s pleasant company,” Logan says calmly, and he only flushes when Virgil’s eyes go wide. They both freeze just inside the door to the shop. “Er- I didn’t mean to initiate any-”
Virgil can barely ignore the flush of his own cheeks as he urges his feet to carry him forward towards the counter. “It’s, uh, that’s okay. And she’s actually not all that much like me,” he says, forcing a laugh to carry the conversation on. “She’s always ordering these complicated drinks, whereas I’m more of an espresso kind of guy.”
Suddenly, Logan pales, and Virgil wonders if he’s said something wrong--though he has no idea what that wrong something could have been. But then Logan whispers, “Complicated drinks… coming in with her friend… regulars.”
“I mean, that’s probably a pretty common set-up for coffee-goers, huh?”
Logan tilts his head in a sort of so-so motion that makes Virgil tilt his own head in confusion. “I suppose you are correct, but- Well, there are two certain customers I have in mind,” he grinds out, and Virgil can’t help but flinch back at the tone. Logan doesn’t notice, instead devoting his attention to the counter gate, which he quickly unlatches. Virgil’s eyes go wide.
“Uh, are you allowed to be back there?” he calls nervously. He shoves his hands rather unceremoniously into the pockets of his jeans, trying to stim himself into some semblance of comfort.
“I’m a co-owner!” Logan practically shouts as he pushes through an employee-only door with a large smiley face painted onto it, and Virgil fights to keep his jaw from dropping. Logan suddenly peeks back through the door. “What’s your sister’s name?”
“Uh, it’s- Remy. Remy M-”
Logan interrupts him with a very loud groan.
“So… she’s the one, I guess?”
Logan slips back out to where Virgil is silently fidgeting. “I can’t believe you’re related to that disaster,” Logan says, and Virgil stills and narrows his eyes.
“Excuse you,” he says, a merciful warning.
“Oh!” Logan visibly swallows, and Virgil glares down at him. “Well, I- I only meant to- Patton, Remy’s brother is here!”
Before Virgil has a chance to really mess Logan up, which Virgil is vaguely aware will definitely wreck the tiny dregs of friendship they had managed to stir up, a short, red-headed man bounces out from the employee room. “Virgil!” the guy shrieks, and as he comes closer (at a rather alarming speed), Virgil notices a splay of freckles across his face. Logan holds out a hand to stop the guy from launching himself across the counter at Virgil, and Virgil decides Logan is at least half-way forgiven.
“How do you- uh, hi,” Virgil stammers, leaning further and further backwards.
“Remy and Roman talk about you all the time!” the bubbly man shrieks, covering his mouth loosely with his hands. “Oh, it’s so nice to finally meet you- Well, where are my manners? I’m Patton, and I know exactly what drink to make you!”
“He is the other owner,” Logan supplies, waving his arm out toward Patton. Patton, meanwhile, is moving uncontrollably from station to station, shoving little yellowed cups under a machine as wide as he is tall. “What, exactly, do you have in mind for him, Patton?”
“A quad-shot of iced espresso!” Patton jiggles a metal scoop full of espresso grounds into the machine and then leans over the counter to whisper almost cospiratorily to Virgil. “Caffeine in its purest, blackest form!”
Virgil’s eyes widen slightly as he appraises the drink’s description. It certainly does sound like something he’d be into… Espresso, but iced and without the decor? Jesus, how didn’t he find out about this drink sooner? Who knows, maybe he’ll end up at this shop a lot more often after this.
“Here,” Patton says suddenly, pushing a short transparent cup into Virgil’s hands. It’s filled about halfway with ice and espresso. “If you take too long to drink it, the espresso will burn, but you don’t seem like you care about that anyways, so take your time!”
“Oh, uh… thanks.” Virgil reaches into the back pocket of his jeans-- terrible habit terrible habit -- and pulls out his wallet. “How much-?”
“It’s on the house!” Patton blurts before Virgil can even finish. The man at least has the decency to blush at his rudeness. “Er, it’s just- Well, Remy’s kind of a V.I.P.--very important pal--and we never got around to making a rewards program, so- Anyways, you seem so nice!”
“This is a terrible business strategy,” Logan grumbles, pinching the bridge of his nose above his glasses.
“The shop is doing fine,” Patton assures him, grinning widely. “I think we can afford to draw in a potential new regular with a tiny little teaser, Lo.”
Logan shrugs helplessly as he lowers his hand, and Virgil raises an eyebrow. “So, is it okay, or..?”
“Well, it’s already been brewed,” Logan sighs. “Espresso doesn’t exactly keep. You may as well drink.”
“Okay, uh, then… thank you. Again,” Virgil says, wincing at himself. Logan’s sharp eyes zero in on the small movement, and Virgil suddenly feels like a disappointing test subject. Still, he follows along as Logan leads him to a cute little booth by the front window.
Virgil isn’t usually a huge fan of seeing crowds of people, but there’s something about being separated, however thinly, without a decrease in vision that calms him, just a bit. Logan gets momentarily distracted by someone in the crowd outside, but when Virgil tries to follow his line of sight, there hardly even is one. The know-it-all’s eyes are flitting from person to person, and Virgil realizes, suddenly, that he is people-watching -- an action that Virgil has been previously been told is useless and creepy. But Logan doesn’t look useless or creepy; he just looks curious. Momentarily, Virgil wonders why that is. Could his “source” have been wrong? Come to think of it, that “source” usually was, and not unintentionally, either.
Virgil is close to engaging in some people-watching of his own, when he is suddenly stricken by the draw of one person in particular… Logan. While Logan stares, unaware of Virgil’s attention, at the mass of sentient movement on the other side of the window, Virgil is drawn to the sharpness of Logan’s features, the coolness of his posture. Logan sits straight, but not uncomfortably so. Logan’s eyes are wide, curious, but not afraid. Logan’s head is tilted, ever so slightly, with his interest.
Virgil is enthralled by the… the, the domesticity of the moment. Then, suddenly, he remembers his coffee and worries it will be cold. He looks down at the iced espresso in his cup and has to snort at himself. “Oh.”
“Hmm?” Logan asks, snapping out of his reverie and looking up at Virgil, and Virgil feels his cheeks flushing with heat.
“Oh, noth- It’s nothing, I was just- Just thinking. Sorry.”
“You apologize too much,” Logan says. “It’s alright.”
Virgil can only nod mutely.
Just as Logan is finally beginning to riffle through his very heavy looking bookbag for a textbook, Virgil spots a flash of familiar color in the slew of people outside. “Fuck,” says Virgil, and Logan looks up at him with eyebrows raised. “Uh, it’s- My sister is- She’s coming inside. I think. And if she sees me with a boy, she’ll just absolutely lose it.” Virgil is already slouching into his seat.
“I’m afraid that won’t do much good,” Logan says, seeming amused as he watches Virgil’s attempts. “Those two usually stay for at least an hour.”
Virgil groans and crosses his arms. Great. Exactly what he needed.
After a round of very obvious bickering in an incredible accidental stage-whisper which Virgil is pretty sure he and Logan both heard perfectly, a short man with semi-broad shoulders and soft features approaches their table. His familiar blond hair is swept to the side, and the same sash he’s worn since seventh grade is draped across his otherwise normal white clothing. Bold move, given that he’s probably about to down an entire coffee. The only other splash of color on the guy is his eye makeup, some sort of gold and red masterpiece that Virgil wishes he could do. “Virgil!” the man says excitedly, slamming his hands down on the edge of their table, and Virgil flinches. The guy’s smile falters. “How was… uh… yesterday?”
“Fuck off, Roman,” Virgil grumbles, laying his head in his crossed arms. He sighs when he feels the booth dip with Roman’s weight, but he grudgingly scoots over anyways.
“... Right. Well, Remy’s on her way,” Roman says, his excitement sounding far more forced now, and Virgil almost feels bad.
“Roman?” asks Logan’s low tone.
“Ah, yes!” Roman pauses. “Of course, you’d already know that, if you ever stuck around when Remy and I approached the register.”
Virgil’s forehead is still pressed against his arms on the table, but he swears Logan is rolling his eyes. “I have my reasons,” Logan says. “I am Logan. Virgil’s friend.”
“Tolerable to meet you,” Roman says, and Virgil can feel him doing a weird half bow while sitting.
Virgil finally lifts his head as Remy and Patton are strolling over to the table, Remy with her swaying hips and Patton with a noticeable bounce in his step. They stop at the table, and Remy runs a hand through her short hair. It’s colored with the gradience of a rainbow, but the brown roots are starting to show. She and Virgil will have another dye day soon. “So this is my big bro,” Remy says after slurping for an inordinate amount of time from her frappuccino. “Virge. You met him?”
“Yeah. Hi, again, Patton.”
“Hey!” Patton says, waving as he smiles, and Virgil feels a smile of his own creeping onto his face against his will. “I didn’t know you and Roman were friends, Virgil!”
“We’re not,” Virgil says.
“Childhood besties,” Roman says dreamily at the same time.
Virgil scoffs into his espresso. “These two are childhood… somethings,” Virgil huffs, pointing between Remy and Roman. “I’m just trying to drink my goddamn coffee in peace.”
“You lost your stutter,” Logan comments, leaning forward slightly, and Virgil fights hard not to let his cheeks flush.
“So,” Remy drawls, sitting down next to Logan and bumping him to the other side of the booth. Logan yelps in surprise and then coughs and straightens his tie. “You on a date?”
“No,” Virgil says, pressing the palms of his hands against his eyes. He can still feel Remy’s eyes on him, so he grumbles lightly and sips his espresso instead. Bitter. Perfect. “We were studying, Rem. So if you wouldn’t mind..?”
“Studying?” she asks, raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “Girl, you show me a textbook and we’ll talk. Until then, you’re gonna need a better excuse-”
Logan plants his textbook on the table, elbowing Remy over a little as he looks her dead in the eye.
“... Fine,” she sighs, lolling her head back and then sipping more from her cup.
After an awkward, fidgeting moment where Remy and Roman still don’t leave but Logan does genuinely begin to flip through the chapters, Patton plops himself down next to Remy, squishing her and Logan both. “How was class!?” he asks, his eyes wide as he taps his fingers against the table.
“Oh.” Logan narrows his eyes, glancing at Patton and then the register. “Satisfactory. Shouldn’t you be at the counter?”
“Well, no one’s in line right now…”
Logan sighs and grudgingly closes his textbook. “Patton. If you would just hire someone, you wouldn’t have to worry about-”
“I’m working on it!” Patton whines, leaning over Remy to make puppy dog eyes at Logan. “I just need time, I swear. I have to find the right person!”
Roman’s eyes light up, and his posture straightens. “Perhaps I could be the one you’ve been dreaming of,” he suggests, blinking demurely, and Patton grins obliviously while Logan looks on in disgust. “I’ve been inbetween jobs, and it’s always nice to have a timefiller between roles.”
“Timefiller,” Remy snorts. “Yeah, and a rentpayer.”
Roman sniffs and ignores her, turning up his nose.
“Well, I’d love to schedule an interview with you! You come here so often, you’d be a shoe-in, I’m sure!” Patton says, darting back up from his seat. “Let me get Logan’s planner…” The bell at the door rings, and Patton frowns. “Hey, I’ll just text you later, okay?”
“Sure thing, puffball!” Roman shouts back, and Virgil tilts his head.
“He has your number?” he asks.
Roman shrugs, making a so-so motion with his hands. “I have his. I texted him once to say hi, so hopefully he saved my number.”
“Why..?”
“Padre wrote his number on Roman’s cup,” Remy explains, twirling her hair in boredom.
Logan narrows his eyes. “Did he realize he was flirting with you?”
“Absolutely not,” Roman chuckles.
“Can we please just study,” Virgil groans.
“Fine, whatever,” Remy huffs, finally standing, and Roman glances at Virgil in a way that can only be described as ‘longing,’ standing nevertheless. Virgil glares at him, and Remy rolls her eyes. “We’ll find another booth. Have fun with your nerd stuff.”
“Will do,” Virgil mumbles, and Logan opens the textbook again.
They make it about an hour, which is honestly more than Virgil expected. He feels like he genuinely knows the content better now, and he makes sure to tell Logan so. Logan looks ecstatic.
“Fantastic! In that case, perhaps we should consider making this a regular outing…” He frowns. “Virgil?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you… in need of rest?”
“No.”
Virgil is drifting off already, despite his words. He’s got his arms crossed on the table again, his head resting on its side on top of them, and his eyes are beginning to droop. The quad-shot was sucked dry thirty minutes ago. Surprising it didn’t keep him up longer.
“Ah… Virgil?”
“Jus’ a sec,” Virgil breathes, and Logan waits for multiple seconds. He waits, and Virgil’s breathing quickly evens out into something more regular.
“The content wasn’t that difficult, was it?” Logan mutters to himself, and then he startles slightly as Virgil’s… sister appears standing beside him.
“He doesn’t sleep on Mondays,” Remy says, looking down at Virgil’s peaceful face in disapproval. “He’s just constantly on edge.”
“Why?” asks Patton, who has just now joined the group, and Logan notices him looking at Virgil with way too much concern. Maybe this will become a regular outing.
“Many things… happened,” Roman says softly as he slowly sits down beside Virgil. Patton frowns and scurries off into the employee’s only room, and Logan glances at his watch. They close in half an hour.
Remy is apparently much more observant than Logan had previously assumed, because she speaks up almost immediately. “I’ll get him home. Don’t worry, we won’t keep you.”
“No, no!” Patton says, barely keeping his tone quiet as he rushes back from behind the counter. He lifts a large, quilted blanket, one Logan recognizes as Patton’s mother’s, and Logan sighs. Well, that’s that. Patton’s attached. This is definitely becoming a regular outing. “He can stay here,” Patton offers, draping the blanket over Virgil’s back and gently tucking it under his arms.
“We live upstairs,” Logan sighs, submitting to the madness. “I can carry him up to my bed and simply sleep in Patton’s room.”
“Definitely not, babe,” Remy says, shaking her head. “Waking up in a stranger’s bed? Yeah, no. He’d go crazy.”
“Well, then he can just rest down here in the shop. Logan and I will camp out down here, too, so he doesn’t get scared when he wakes up.” Patton’s eyes light up, and he turns to Logan. The redhead is nearly shaking with excitement. “Lo, oh my god, it’s like a sleepover!”
Remy isn’t voicing any concerns, so Logan sighs again. “I suppose,” he says, watching the subtle rise and fall of Virgil’s form. “Though I have another class quite early tomorrow.”
“So does Virge,” Remy supplies. “You can walk to campus together.” She runs a hand through her hair, which Logan is beginning to theorize is a subtle sign of stress for her. “We better get going. I need double the time to get back to the apartment before dark, just in case I get lost.”
“And you definitely will unless I walk you,” Roman says under his breath, and Remy shoots him a glare. Roman smiles innocently.
“Then…” Remy looks up at Logan and then Patton. “Take care of him, okay?”
“Will do!” Patton says, his eyes on Virgil, and Remy nods and shakes her cup a little before throwing it into the trash.
“Nice. Roman, you coming?” she asks, already heading towards the door.
“Sleep tight, Virge,” Roman whispers, and then his eyes snap up to follow Remy, and he chases her out the door.
Patton is giving Logan the strangest look.
“You don’t even know him,” Logan says.
Patton smiles.
“We don’t know anything about his life!”
Patton grins.
“He could already have a perfectly suitable job.”
Patton is beaming.
“... What if he doesn’t like coffee.”
Patton giggles and picks up Virgil’s empty cup, shaking the dregs of melted ice in the bottom.
“... Damn it, Patton.”
Patton winks as he throws the cup away, and Logan can’t help but smile, too.