Self-harm - Blog Posts

save us all

[shingeki no kyojin | one shot; 4,892 words] [genderneutral! timetraveler! reader] | gen; no pairings. summary: Every time you see them die. You promised someday, you will save them all. wanings/notes: Time Loop, Murder, Self-Harm, Suicide, Betrayal, Violence, Blood, Mental Instability, Mental Breakdown... I think you know this is going to be dark af. Also, horrible grammar, this is messy af, sorry! ;; inspired by higurashi no naku koro ni!

You didn't know when it all began— it seemed too far away, far from your reach. You felt as if it were years when it all went to this nightmare, this horror. This was far worse than just being eaten by a titan; no, being eaten was mercy.

And what nightmare were you living in? At the time you would have laughed of something so ridiculous— impossible to even think about. But here you are, suffering until the end, if there was any.

Was this purgatory?

Your first memories come back to you, little by little. Remembering your innocence, your life before this... It all seemed normal.

"Hey, [Name]! Breakfast is ready!" You heard Eren yell, coming outside just where you were sitting on a bench, looking at the blue sky. "What are you doing here all along anyways? I thought you were with horse face."

Letting out a laugh, you didn't leave your gaze from the clouds. "Just watching the sky. It's beautiful today, isn't it?"

The brunette frowns, confused by your answer. He always sees the sky everyday; what was different from it today? Looking beneath him, he could only spot the same blue and white. It looked cleared; but nothing out of normal... He returned his gaze at you again, seeing how you are still looking at the sky.

"I don't see any difference, really," he approaches you, looking at you with curiosity, "what's different from usual?"

The small smile on your face doesn't leave— neither does your eyes on the sky. Eren could see as if you were looking at something precious or amazing, a thing he couldn't see.

"I can't explain it. It looks... different. Maybe is the color? Or maybe the clouds? Something is lively, like something is coming."

The titan shifter blinks a little weirded out by your answer. He didn't get any hint like that with just looking at the sky— maybe you were overthinking things? Or you were nervous by the upcoming expedition? It could be. Nevertheless, taking a good look at your face made him notice that you were different. Maybe he couldn't notice the differences on the sky, but he could with you. You were comrades after all.

You looked... at peace. As if nothing in the world was bothering you; just you and him... He felt in a trance.

"We are going to miss breakfast, Eren." Your voice snapped him from his dream, and both of you looked at each other, "Come on, Sasha is going to eat our food." You finished, laughing quietly. He just nodded, still a little out of it, watching you walk to the barracks and waiting for him at the door. He quickly went to your side, taking a last glance at the sky before entering.

Ah, yes... That was the beginning of everything. Or just one of the oldest memories you have; there were too many. Sighing, the upcoming images make you tense, relieving one of the many pasts.

A certain expedition that went horribly wrong; at that time, maybe the sky was really telling you something. Bur no matter how you many things you changed, someone always had to be gone. Always. Your comrades, the Squad Leaders, the Commander... Even if you could keep going with one of them dying, your heart full of guilt couldn't let you. No— they all had to live, for humanity's sake.

"Haha! I bet horse face is going to wet his pants this time!" Eren mockingly says, grinning like a child. Armin besides him lets out a sigh, murmuring "Not again..."

A certain horse face heard that, stopping your conversation and instantly turned his face where the brunette was, smiling. "I heard that, you—!"

Before anything could be uncontrollable, you hissed at the two, "Both of you, stop! We are being watched! Can you at least be decent, for our reputation sake?"

Reiner, who was beside you, agreed with you, "[Name] is right. You two look like children fighting like that." You nodded your head, pouting slightly. Yeah, hearing his fights was funny, but at a time like this, were you are just going to leave the walls, was a big no. "We have to look like soldiers, but I guess with your clown looks... it's hard." He smiled, looking proud. You let out a chuckle, before being silenced by the murderous glare a certain corporal gave the two of you.

"Oi, all of you." You all gulped, looking terrified, "You better shut the hell up or I will punish all of you right now." You hurriedly nodded, sweating. He just sent a last hard glare to you, before returning to his talk with Hange.

You let out a sigh you were holding. It was nice to joke before going outside the walls; you needed to forget the terrors and horrors you will face there. And just by thinking that, your body tensed, you gripped the horse' harness and your mouth was pressed in a thin line. Reiner, who wanted to murmur you something, noticed your state, and tried to help you out.

"Hey, calm down. Nothing bad is going to happen to us. We are on the same squad, right? Look, if anything happens, I'm with you." He reassured, placing his hand on your shoulder, squeezing it. The warm touch and words made you less anxious, but the preoccupation was still there. You turned at him with a smile, nodding. He gave you one of his "hero" smiles and let go of you, returning his attention to the gate when the commander's voice could be heard.

"Open the gates!"

Gates opening, you could see the field; no titans near, but you knew they were there.

And so, the expedition began.

And you hoped for the best.

Red. Crimson. Scarlet.

All across the field; on the trees, the grass. On you.

Where did it go horribly wrong? What just happened? Why were you the last one alive?

Everyone was dead— you could see them all in front of you. The commander, the corporal, Eren, Mikasa, Jean... The sight was gruesome; the smell penetrated your nose fossils, but the sight was more horrifying than the smell.

Some of your friends were bitten; you could see Mikasa's guts all around her. She has an terrified expression on her face, but her eyes were spotted on someone else. That someone else, was Eren. Strangely, his own blade was penetrating in his head; head that was broken and open. His eyes were stuck on the only source of light; an open spot on the trees, letting you see the blue sky.

You didn't want to see in detail how Jean, Connie, Sasha and Armin were... You just knew they were as mutilated as them. You didn't see Reiner or Bertholth here, but your thoughts only made you think they had the same fate as them.

Your comrades, your friends, all gone. Were you the last one remaining of this expedition? You were sure.

How— How that many titans can spot you so easily? And why did all of you got wiped out? How was that even possible?

You remember Reiner's promise, how he smiled at you and reassured you everything was going to be okay. You tried to comfort yourself; but the cries you let out were impossible to hold. At anytime a titan would hear you and end your life, but you didn't care at all. What was the purpose when your friends are dead? You didn't had your horse or any energy to fight.

This was humanity's end.

Crying, you didn't hear loud steps approaching you, until a big hand grabbed you, squeezing your form.

You didn't want to look at it's face; the terrifying eyes the monster would have; the smile it would gave you. You just prayed there was a better place than this hell, where you would reunite with your friends.

You could feel pain, and then, everything went black.

。。。。。。。

" Hey, [Name]! Breakfast is ready!"

Uh?! What? You opened your eyes and frenetically looked around you; you were at the same spot a few days ago!

"What are you doing here all alone anyways? I thought you were with horse face." You heard Eren's voice near you. "What's with that face? You look scared of something, are you alright?" He asked, his face showing worry. He approached you, placing his hand on your shoulder.

Was all of it... a dream? But it felt too real!

"[Name]...?"

Snapping from your thoughts, you looked at him, not sure how to answer the question, You just blinked, until something came out from your mouth. "I'm... alright," you said, "I think I had the longest dream. It felt too real, and it wasn't very nice."

"What was it all about?" he asked, sitting on the bench.

It was weird how easy was to remember the horror; it felt like a memory— something you once lived before. But that was impossible; it was a dream. "I dreamed about how we failed the next expedition..." you answered, feeling anxious about it. You were unnerved at how you could feel the terror, how you could smell the corpses of your friends. You were sure the smell was still around. "We all got wiped out, no one was alive."

Eren didn't find the exact words to give you. Nevertheless, his fighting spirit didn't let you down, giving you the best words he could find. "Dreams are just dreams! Something like that isn't going to happen, I assure you!" Seeing how you were still tensed, he tried to joke, "Look, we all can hear horse face dreaming about being with Mikasa, and that will never happen."

You giggled, feeling a little better. Maybe he was right; dreams are just dreams. Nothing like that will come true— it was just a nightmare.

Sighing, you relaxed and got up from the bench, looking happier than you were before. "Come on, Eren! Sasha will eat our breakfast if we don't hurry up," you took his hands and walked to the barracks, and before entering you muttered a thank you, which he just smiled in reply.

Sadly, you didn't know that nightmare was the hell you were going to live in.

You laughed. How foolish for you to believe that.

It wasn't a dream, it was one of your destinies. A fate you can't escape.

Everything went to hell again; your friends were all killed, either eaten alive or mutilated. It was the exact same image from your nightmare.

And every time a titan ate you, you always woke up on the same place at the bench, hearing Eren's voice near you.

What was the purpose of all of this? How was it possible? You tried every other way to help everybody; but there was always someone dying I front of you— and that wasn't how was supposed to be. You knew all of your friends could live— but how?

You opened your eyes to see the same damn sky. The past went horribly wrong, as always — your squad wiped out, Reiner was gone, Sasha was eaten along with Christa. There wasn't a trace of Ymir and Connie anywhere. You couldn't save them; and your mental health deteriorated when you remembered the amount of corpses on the field; Sasha's mutilated body— only her head and torso remained. Little Christa's head was the only thing you could save of her. How her lifeless eyes stared at nothing when you hold her, crying and screaming.

You began to hyperventilate— you couldn't find how to breathe. You took your head with your hands, not caring of your nails piercing your skin, and let out an horrifying scream a certain brunette heard.

Eren ran to you, scared by your scream.

"What is happening?! [Name] why are you screaming?!"

Your couldn't control your body. It was like a meltdown going on; your brain was melting, you saw the same images again and again. There was a parasite crumbling on your body, getting inside your head— you had to put it out.

out out out out

The horrifying screams never ceased, even when Eren shakes you and tried to get you to snap out of it.

You don't remember anything after that.

Haha, how could you forget the time when your friends murdered you... Something unbelievable to you at that time— comrades wouldn't do that. Only a barbaric animal would. Only a beast could do something like they did.

You just wanted some peace for once, and thankfully, the lake far from the barracks was an option. After several breakdowns, you damaged mind remembered this place— a beautiful lake hidden in the forest's deeps.

Just hearing the signing of the birds, the wind... made you recover some sanity you had once forgotten. Reviving everytime to just see everyone die was consuming your mind; maybe this was your 45th time... how could you be so sure? It maybe was your 100th time. 'Time' was unknown now.

You were relaxing sitting against a tree, well hidden between some bushes, just to not be spotted and irritated if so.

But obviously, someone has to do so.

You could hear steps coming near you— then stopping tight where the lake was. You had a nice vision to the lake, so you spotted right away who was there.

"Bertholt?"

He seemed nervous, looking around. Thanks to the bushes you couldn't be spotted, but you silently shifted and crouched. You were curious— sometimes you always saw Bertholt and Reiner going to the forest in the night, and you always wondered for what.

The one you both were waiting for appeared, with an uncharacteristic serious expression. Are they fighting? Weren't they having breakfast together this morning?

"Did you study the formations?" Reiner asked, arms crossed.

The brunette nodded, a little nervous, "We heard Eren is going to be in the right flank, right?"

"Yes, and the Corporal is going to be at the center, so he is far away from him. Annie should easily get Eren."

What are they talking about? Kidnap Eren? Why...

Sudden memories from Hange's titans came to you— how there was rumored someone killed them.

It—It was Annie! But why? Why they want to get Eren?

"Reiner... Trost District got closed. We have to destroy all the walls for once— it's been too long!"

"You think I don't know that? Once Annie get's Eren, our plan to break wall Maria is on. We have to play this carefully, Bertholth."

No.... nonono..

Break the walls? What do they mean by that? The only monsters who broke them were...

The Colossal and the Armored...

And they are...

Reiner and Bertholt.

They are titan shifters! Annie as well! And they want to get Eren! So the expedition is going to hell because of them— they are the goddamn reason.

You had to get away from them— they weren't your friends, they were just masks. They want to get humanity extinct! You had to inform this immediately.

As silently as you could, you tried to stand up, but a stupid branch had to broke under your foot, making them instantly look at your direction.

You were dead, again.

"Who's there?!" Reiner frenetically yelled, running to where you were hiding. What was the purpose to run? You were going to live anyways.

"[Name]..." The blond murmured your name, looking shamefully at you, "how much did you hear?"

Instantly you replied, "enough to know you are the reason for all of our deaths." You looked hurt, but you were angry and furious.

"You didn't have to hear that." He said, grabbing your arm to get you up, which you comply without complaining. He took notice of your uncaring but upset nature— weirding him out.

When the blond and you approached the brunette, Bertholt's eyes widened, and he was sweating like a pig.

"[N—[Name]!" The taller exclaimed, not believing you were there, caught. "You–We—"

"Save it." you said, "why are you killing us? Aren't we friends, Reiner? Weren't you the fucking 'big bro' from the squad, you piece of fucking shit?" you glared at them— not caring if you were dying by their hands.

"We—We are friends! Don't— Don't look at us like that, [Name]..." the blond said, averting your gaze.

"Then how in the fuck I have to see you? With spark in my eyes? With admiration? You two are the monsters all of us are afraid of!"

They just tensed by your words, like children. But these little children were going to kill you soon, so you just yelled anything you could.

"You killed Eren's mother! Armin's grandpa!" you tightly swallowed, holding your tears, "my family! You are murderers! How do I have to look at you, Reiner?! Tell me!"

"Nobody wants to do this!" Reiner yelled at you, but you just glared fiercely at him. "Do you think we wanted this?! To kill our friends?! Nobody wants that!"

"Then what's the reason?! Why are you doing this?!"

Reiner didn't answer you, so your attention changed to Bertholt, who was tensed and sweating. "Bertholt, why? Why are you killing us? Where are you taking Eren?" but the taller man just averted your gaze like the coward he is. "Look at me, you piece of shit! Answer me!"

But no answer came.

"Mina, Thomas, Samuel, Hannah... all of them died, but for what? By pieces of shit like you?" You began to cry, remembering your friends who didn't make it. "You played with us— you are no big brothers..."

The people you riled on to for years were just fakers. Murderers, people who killed your friends, your family, and you.

"You are our friends— really... We have to do this, [Name]. We can't go back if we don't."

"Go back to where? All about your 'home town' is bullshit. Where is your shitty home anyways?"

"We can't tell you that—"

"Fuck you. You are going to kill me anyways, you big liar."

"[Name]..."

"Fuck you, Reiner. Fuck you, Bertholt. And fuck your hometown too, murderers." You tried to back off, but Reiner got a hold on you, and you knew these were your last moments.

"You can't go, [Name]." Reiner's face changed completely to one you never saw before, he wasn't seeing you as the friend he had to kill; he was seeing the trash he had to take care of, "as my duty as a warrior, I have to take down our targets."

"Warrior? More like a piece of shit, you fucker, get your hands off of me!" you tried to struggle, but he was bigger than you.

You took a glimpse of Bertholt, and the coward was crying and apologizing to you repeatedly.

"I'm sorry, [Name]. We are sorry, so sorry—"

You just let the tears came, and looked at Reiner and tried to look at him as the friend he was, and not the murder he became, but that wasn't possible.

You struggled as best as you could— giving kicks, punching him, but there was no use. He slammed you on the floor, making him get over you.

"This shouldn't have to be like this."

"But it is."

He grabbed your head with both of his hands, and smashed your head against a rock nearby. Over and over— you were sure your skull could be visible, blood coming from your injuries and getting on your face. You only could catch glimpses of someone's tears and hear the apologies from somebody...

And then, they could saw your lifeless eyes.

The dump your body to the hill, where any animal could eat and destroy your rests, so nobody could find you.

Suicide wasn't the answer either.

"I'm helping breakfast today." You said with no enthusiasm whatsoever — you were dead inside.

"Sure thing, [Name]! But, uhm," Christa approaches you, and gently laid her hands on yours, "are you alright? You have been down lately."

You let our an empty laugh, "I'm alright, Christa. Nothing to worry about." You took off her hands and went to the mess hall, spotting Eren, Mikasa, Armin, Jean, Connie... and the bastards too.

The blond titan shifter waved at you, which you only glared at him with all the hatred you could sent, making him surprised and taken aback. Everyone saw the interaction— and they wondered what did Reiner do to you to glare at him like that.

They saw as you went into the kitchen, allowing them to gossip.

"Yoooo, what was that just now?" Connie asked, "[Name] glared at you and almost murders you!"

"Now what did you do? I have never saw [Name] doing something like that to anybody. You must had done something very shitty." Jean interfered, looking interested.

"I didn't do anything! I haven't talked to [Name] lately..." Reiner answered, trying to recall any comment he should have said to make you angry, but nothing came.

"Well, [Name] is pissed." Connie said.

"I don't want to gossip but," Armin spoke, "[Name] has been very upset lately."

Everyone agreed.

"They don't talk much." Mikasa said.

"They don't get out of their room."

"They are paler."

"They are angry every time we talk to them."

"They cry at night."

Everyone turned at the new voice coming in, wich was from the Corporal himself. Everyone stood up and saluted, but relaxed at the command of Levi.

"Surprising you noticed finally, isn't them your friend?" the shorter man asked, sitting down. "It's none of my business but your friend looks like complete shit."

It was true. You looked sick and tired most of the time. You didn't talk much, so they didn't get any answers or reasons for your change of behavior.

"We should do something for them!" Connie said, with enthusiasm all over his voice.

"Like what, baldy? A hug party?" Jean joked, gaining a playfully punch from the short soldier.

"We should do... uhm... I don't know..." Connie mumbled, less excited. What could be a good gift for you anyways? There weren't a lot of options.

"We should follow Jean's advice," Reiner joked, "maybe that could do something."

"This is serious! We have to do something!"

"What if—"

A female scream interrupted the talk, making them turn at the kitchen, where the cry was heard.

"Was that Sasha?"

The screams keep going, but this wasn't one of the normal Sasha's screams she let out jokingly, these were of absolute terror.

The one who instantly reacted was the corporal, flying out of his seat to go to the kitchen. And when he entered, everyone heard what he said,

"What the fuck happen?!" He took the door frame and turned, "someone get Hange right now!", and he entered the kitchen once again.

Armin quickly left the mess hall, taking Levi's order.

Everyone was worried, so they went to the kitchen to know what was happening.

The sight was horrifying.

Blood on the floor— YOUR blood. You were lying on the floor, with a kitchen knife in your stomach. There were countless of deep injuries on your stomach; they could see them thanks to the torn shirt. You were pouring blood from your injuries, mouth and nose, and your eyes were getting unfocused.

"What—What happened?" Jean was the only one who could articulate something with the sight in front of him. Everyone was in shock, some covering their mouths, not believing the scene.

Sasha just cried, trying to explain, "I—I don't know! They—They—" She couldn't finish, she was crying harder and she was gasping for air.

Mikasa rushed to her, trying to be strong and help her. "Sasha, look at me." Mikasa took Sasha's face and made her turn, meeting with her watery eyes, "Calm down, what happened?"

"[Name] just began to stab themselves! Without a reason!!" she exclaimed, "They were helping me with the food, but—but they just did it out of nowhere!"

The corporal tried to stop the multiple bleeding— trying not to touch the knife in your stomach.

"What the fuck, [Last Name]?! What is the reason of this?" The Corporal tried to comprehend, but he just couldn't. You let out an empty laugh, your eyes glued on the ceiling.

"I just... want to... rest..." you coughed, blood dripping your mouth.

The one who were crying their eyes out where Connie and Sasha– Mikasa tried her best to control the two, but they were desperately sobbing. Eren was in shock; the brunette couldn't understand the scene before him. Why did you something so horrible to yourself? He couldn't understand anything.

Reiner and Bertolt couldn't believe it either. The blonde tried to approach you, but the corporal quickly yelled orders to not get near you. Reiner wanted to help you– save you. Just... what was on your mind these past few days?

Bertolt never thought of you harming yourself like that. He always looked upon you because of your determination and braveness— he never in a million years would have imagined this scene in front of him.

Jean covered his mouth in shock; his widened eyes couldn't bear the sight of you, so he just averted it completely. His mind couldn't process the sight, but he tried to calm himself.

Everything was in chaos— sobs and cries could be heard coming out from the kitchen. No one could think clearly, and when Hange and Armin got there, it was already too late.

You remember telling the commander about Reiner's and Bertolt's betrayal, but everything went to shit. The strategy to take them down was a complete failure, nothing could be done against their titans. They killed everyone, taking Eren with them. Like every time, you were the only one left, surrendered by the bodies of your comrades.

"Why... just why? Reiner... Bertolt... why are you killing us...?" you hopelessly pleaded for an answer, crouching on the grass. "What's the purpose of killing us?"

They just stared at you, in shame or disgust? You really didn't care no more. Eren was unconscious on Bertolt's back.

"Answer me!" You punched the dirt, "why are you doing all of this?! Why do you want to erase us from this world!?"

"We don't want to do this!" Bertolt desperately yells.

"Then who is making you?!"

Silence. They never answer– they never say something about their origins, leaving you in the dark.

Reiner speaks, but he isn't the Reiner you know. This one sounds evil, different— vile.

"We have to kill all of your devil race, including you. We can't let dirty spawns of the devil alive– is our task to take all of you down. It's our duty as warriors."

Devils? Warriors? Spawn of the devil?

"Reiner... What are you even talking about? The only devils I see are you both."

Bertolt averts your gaze, the big coward. Reiner looks like he is fighting himself— he crouches in front of you, taking his head with both of his hands. You truly believe something is wrong with him– something deeper than just a game of pretend.

"Please [Name]... please forgive me, I didn't want to do any of this... please..." Reiner looks so pathetic, taking your hand between his', kneeling. Tears came out from his eyes, and he looks desperately at you for forgiveness, something that you couldn't give.

You look at Bertolt for an answer, but he only lets himself look at the floor, ashamed. He looks scared– he is crying too, but his sobs are silent.

These two doesn't look like they just won a battle; they look like terrified children.

"Please [Name]..." Bertolt speaks, "find us."

Somehow, at that moment, you could understand that these two weren't the only responsible for this nightmare. They didn't look like they were enjoying winning— they looked miserable.

You finally understood.

"Someday, I will find us all."

Taking your blade, Bertolt looks worried and tries to take Reiner back, but your actions just shock both of them to the core.

You stab yourself, over and over, and Reiner and Bertolt can't just do anything but watch in horror.

With a last stab, you breathlessly say,

"See you later..."

Nothing worked. Even if you tried to talk to them, it never went well. There was no way for them to cooperate — every time they eliminated you with these regretful looks on their faces. It was a waste of time— they were determinated to not back off from their plan.

You sigh, exhausted. You can't count how many times have you 'revived'. It feels like many years have passed, and honestly, you don't even know how much you can take. This hurts, every time you see your comrades die in front of you, every time your friends kill you... you don't have answers, they refuse to give answers. You are in the dark, alone and broken, but you are the only one who can help you stand and go again.

You look at the sky— feeling peace. Maybe this time will be different. The sky doesn't look the same as before... there's something different.

You try to remember the good old times, but you seem to forgot them. Nightmares replace them, leaving you in pain. There are no more 'good times', and even if you want to finish all of this, it's impossible.

But you promised to find us all.

And a promise can't be broken.

Someday... you will save us all.

"Hey [Name]! Breakfast is ready!"

Do you have any advice for people to be able to help their loved ones who self harm?

I do actually, read here. It’s on my blog x

dont need therapy i need to pick my own flesh off layer by layer in a ritual of purification and catharsis 

heart break

A Little Too Late. Right? (1/?)

Right??

Yes, I had to re-upload this due to internet and spelling errors. I hope you guys enjoy it, but a warning; it’s sad. I also gave it a new title.

If you have recently experienced self-destructive thoughts, or have hurt yourself, please reachout to someone. we all love you, I love you, your friends and family love you, so please don’t hurt or think badly about yourself! If you think you have no one to talk too, then please come to me. I’ll drop whatever I’m doing to help you/get you the help you need. You’re not a burden, and never will be. No matter your age, gender, sexuality, race, etc, you are loved, even if you don’t believe it. so please; reach out to someone, or reach out to me, and I promise, you’ll feel better.

Warnings: Self-Harm Mention, Self-Destructive Behavior, Heavy Angst, Pissed Off Jetstorm, Depressed Jetfire, Forest Fires, and Burnt Bodies (Kinda)

Note: Emergency requests are now open. If you need something written for mental health, those will be the first ones to get done before any other requests.

Molten ash.

      It was all that Jetfire could see through the hazed smoke, faint crackling filling his audio receptors. Where was he? Who was he? What happened? Questions threw themselves inside his pounding processors as he winced sharply. He made no move to get up, not knowing the damage his body had taken. He exhaled roughly, his chest aflame from the surrounding heat. He was going to die here. And…he was ok with that. He hated that he was ok with that, knowing he should be strong as a member of the Elite Guard but, where were they? He saw no sign of them. He didn’t blame them, they probably wanted this. He wasn’t much help, he only caused destruction. What kind of a useful weapon is fire anyway?? Did he cause this? Did he cause his own death? A staticked chuckle pushed itself past his burnt metal lips. He deserved this didn’t he? Jetstorm didn’t need him, he was always great on his own; he didn’t need him. Jetfire’s flickering optics looked around him. He was surrounded by wild flames but past that, he could see trees, or… what was left of them. Tall burnt, shriveled sticks laid where lush green trees used to stand. He laid on a ground of wet mud, as the flames around him melted any remaining snow in the area. His optics dulled. So…he did do this. He could feel coolant try to fall from his wet optics but it would simply evaporate. The flames seemed to rise, knowing his emotions and feelings; after all, he did make them; and they crept closer to his frame. “I”. His voice couldn’t seem to work, making him frown. “I be sorry”. He pushed through the pain of his burning throat, even though it was begging to not be used, begging for recovery. “I be sorry brother”. His Russian accent almost seemed to melt away, taking his voice box with it. The pain was unbearable, but shouldn’t he be used to it? After all the things he had done to himself, why did this hurt the most? His chest tightened around his spark, almost feeling as though it began crushing it. He groaned. It hurt. It hurt so fucking much. But, he knew he deserved it. Didn’t he? He had to, right? It didn’t matter. He was going to finally die, and nothing could stop that. He looked at himself, using all the strengthen left to lift his head up. Both of his legs had burnt cabling jetting out of them, and sparks flying. His hands where as dark as soot, creating black streaks on his body and the surrounding ground around him. All white on his beautiful frame was now a dark, murky, deep grey. And his Autobot insignia. It was melted, fused to his chest plate. On the ground around him was bright pink Energon, some of it even boiling. He was a fucking mess. “I was so sure”. He smiled at the hazy sky before shutting his eyes for the last time.

     His body shook, tears dripping out of his bright blue optics. Jazz held him close, stroking his back comfortingly while glancing at Sentinal Prime, who was looking down; grief lacing his faceplate. “I-“. The Prime hesitated. “I don’t know what we can do”. The crying mech glanced furiously at him, his teeth moving into a snarl. “What?! What you mean you don’t know what we can do?!” Jetstorm clawed at his helm, placing scratches in it. “We don’t know where he went. He was out of control”! The prime persuaded the young bot, knowing anything else he could say wound make him snap. “Brother is out there”! Jetstorm choked oh his dripping tears as Jazz patting his back slightly to help him. Sentinal Prime looked at his cremate, not knowing what to do in a situation like this. “Jetstorm I-”. The furious blue mech interrupted him. “Please…Don’t tell me anything”. His voice was now much calmer as he sobbed openly. “I will go find Jetfire, With or without your help”. He pushed himself away from Jazz and ran out of the ship before transforming quickly and jetting off, as fast as he could possibly go. The air was cold, yes, but he couldn’t give two flying shits. He needed Jetfire. He needed his twin. Jetstorm knew that he would never forgive himself if he allowed Jetfire to offline himself. But…what if he was too late? Despite being in jet mode, coolant still fell from his optics. He sped up, not caring about any of the sleeping humans below. He needed to find his twin. He blasted through the city, advancing to the full forest past Lake Erie.  He didn’t know how far he traveled, but it felt like it took him years just to leave the city. Jetstorm’s thoughts where full of hatred. All words himself. He could have been there. He SHOULD have been there. But he wasn’t. His brother was out there; in the freezing frost; hurt and full of self-hatred. He needed his brother. And his brother needed him.

     The flight was long, too long before Jetstorm could see smoke in the distance, causing his to go at full blast. Before he knew it, a puff of smoke became hungry flames, reaching high into the air. He transformers quickly, hitting the earth hard before looking around at the hissing inferno. His breaths where frantic. This had to be his doing. It HAD to! Coolant stained his cheek as he moved hand up, before sending a powerful blast of a water cyclone at the flames, extinguishing a few of them. He did this a few times, checking every spot he could. He wouldn’t give up, but there was no sign of his beloved brother.  That was, until he stepping something. He slowly looked down and lifted his foot. He let out a chocked sob as pink Energon coated his ped. He set is foot down, and looked around ferociously until his eyes fell on a sigh that he wished he never saw. Jetfire laid on the muddy ground, none of his colors where even recognizable as he was covered in scorched soot. Jetstorm sprinted to his brother and slid on his knees to the burnt frame. “B-brother”? His voice was barely above a whisper as he went to go touch him, but froze, hands above his twin’s chest, feeling the heat radiating off of his frame. “Poor b-brother”. His sobs returned as he laid his helm on his twin’s chest, and sobbed into it. He was too late. He had failed himself but most importantly, he had failed Jetfire. “Brother, I am of the sorry”! He sobbed and sobbed, till he couldn’t sob anymore. He kept his helm on his brother and heaved a quivered sigh as loose tears washed away a bit of soot on Jetfire’s frame. His brother was gone. Gone forever.

Ba-dum

“W-what”?

Ba-dum

Jetstorm froze before placing his audio fin over the center of his brother’s chest.

Ba-dum

Was it?

Ba-dum

It was!

     A spark beat filled his ears, causing him to burst into tears again, but not from sadness. Oh no, not from sadness at all.  Jetstorm pulled his brother’s limp body into his arms and sobbed. He was alive. Jetfire was alive. “T-thank t-the All S-Spark”! The fire that used to surround the twins had died down, now only weak little flames, being extinguished  quickly by the snow that began to fall. He scooped his brother up gently in his arms and used one hand to comm Sentinal. Moments later, a swirl of blue and green appeared, and Jetstorm heaved a sigh. “Brother, we be heading home”.

WHY....just why you made me cry..... God why it's like hanahaki disease whyyyyyy

Unrequited love, any ship, that one where a song starts playing in someone's head once they fall in love and will keep playing until the person goes insane or until the person they fell in love with confesses, but they kill themselves before the other one gets a chance to?

Just an idea

do it or you're white

A/n: Hey, it didn’t take her months after the last one this time! I still apologize though ‘cause I know this was still sent in so long ago. Also I may have gotten carried away uhhh. Safe to say, I loved the prompt and my head and fingers went brrr. I apologize in advance. Hope you like it, fam!

Too Close, Too Late

Warning/s: Major Character Death, suicide, mention of suicide attempts, suicidal ideation, self-harm, figurative mentions of sharp objects, panic attacks, unrequited love, please please tell me if I missed anything

Pairing/s: Unrequited Analogical (Virgil x Logan)

Word Count: 6898 words

Song: Too Close by Alex Clare

~~~~~

You know I'm not one to break promises

I don't want to hurt you but I need to breathe

Virgil drags out a breath as he plops backward onto his bed, eyes closed and headphones over his ears. Thomas has gotten attached to this one particular song lately -- “Too Close” by Alex Clare. Virgil doesn’t understand why Thomas suddenly grew a liking to it. The song was released ten years ago, and it was hardly a masterpiece. But Thomas likes it, ergo, Virgil does too, much to his dismay. 

It’s catchy, though. He’ll give it that.

He’s put his playlist on shuffle for the past few days to try and get the song out of his system, but for some reason the darned thing just keeps popping up, and Virgil never has the will to skip it.

It isn’t that the song is terrible, it isn’t the opposite either. It’s that it reminds him too much of a certain side; a side he’s been avoiding lately, one who’s started noticing.

It reminds him of Logan.

At the end of it all, you're still my best friend

But there's something inside that I need to release

They’ve always been close. Roman and Patton’s undying, exuberant energy was too much for them, while Janus and Remus’ chaotic antics didn’t always sit perfectly with Virgil or Logan as well. They both grew to find indulgence in harmless little debates, peace when they sat in silence on the couch reading books, company in the way they made coffee together, calling each other out for their drastically different tastes. 

He dared to call Logan his best friend, and Virgil was stupid enough to fall in love.

He knew he was truly, deeply fucked when his chest ached in warmth and his eyes stared in wonder every time Logan talked about the universe and the heavenly bodies it contained. He knew it when his breath hitched every time their hands brushed as they hunted for books in the mindscape library. He felt it when Logan left them in Patton’s room once when they were all drowning in nostalgia and no one had listened, the empty space beside him too obvious and too real. 

He realized it when Logan gave him that audiobook gift card for Christmas and they spent the whole afternoon browsing through catalogues and listening side by side. He confirmed it when he stayed with Logan through a stressful week, getting him to smile for the first time in days, keeping the beauty of his laughter all to himself.

He falls in love with Logan a little bit more each day that it hurts to even just be near him; close enough to touch, but never daring to. 

Which way is right, which way is wrong

How do I say that I need to move on

You know we're headed separate ways

Logan is the sun-- dazzling, bright, and radiant in all the magnificence of its rays, but scalding,  deadly, dangerous once one veers close, lest they desire to suffer ‘till their forms are reduced to nothing but ash.

And maybe Virgil is already burnt, walking Thomas’ mindscape as ash, wanting to drift through the breeze if only to graze Logan’s brilliance at a microscopic scale, forever fearing the possibility of disintegrating into anything further.

He wants to stay friends, he really does. Every second he spends in avoidance of Logan is a thorn to his chest, and he pretends not to notice the lack of luster in Logan’s voice when he declines yet another visit to the library earlier that day. He feels awful subjecting his best friend to this isolation, and it feels just as excruciating for Virgil to lock himself away like this.

When he thinks of being with Logan, he thinks of how he relishes in his presence, how he feels so much at ease, how he can be himself, how he treasures every star they’ve counted and every song they’ve listened to. But he also thinks of how much he longs to linger in his arms, how he wishes to cup his face in his hands, how he yearns to link his fingers with Logan’s, to trace every fine line in his features, drink in his every word and cherish his every breath. He thinks of how he wants more than what they have, what they are.

Then, as the song comes to an end, he thinks of how he cannot have that, and he thinks of how it hurts.

And it feels like I am just too close to love you

There's nothing I can really say

I can't lie no more, I can't hide no more

Roman invites him out of his room later that night to join them for dinner. Patton always tries to rope everyone together with different activities. None of them mind the efforts; in fact, some of Pat’s pursuits were well received and appreciated, becoming habitual and routine. It’s just that each of them were all so different, too diverse for these events to come about naturally.

Virgil remembers the last time he declined one of Morality’s little get togethers and has well-learned from it. 

He doesn’t know whether it was by chance, fate, or choice that the empty seat laid out for him happens to be beside Logan, but he notices how Logan’s eyes are locked on him as he approaches, and Virgil decides to be courteous enough to look at him back and shoot him a smile. 

Already he feels the rapid beating of his heart, the overwhelming rush of emotions, the falling of his guard. He reminds himself that Anxiety is not supposed to feel safe. His entire facet pivots around emergency exits, towering walls, jolts of fear, and guards paying vigil. Yet as his elbow brushes against Logan’ sleeve sitting down, he feels the trust and tranquility hidden beneath the friendship and infatuation. He fears it, tries to clamp down the feelings rising in his chest, and eats in silence.

Got to be true to myself

The whole table settles into light conversation. Every time Logan talks Virgil’s cheeks grow the slightest bit hotter, yet he remains unspeaking. Logan tries to spur Virgil into joining the talk, tempting him with mentions of double-edged song lyrics and book titles; but he only replies with halved answers and carefully guarded words. If he cannot distance himself physically, then perhaps he can still do so in other ways. 

And it feels like I am just too close to love you

Then he hears it. It’s soft, and almost unnoticeable, but Virgil hears it. His neck snaps to the side right in the middle of Logan’s sentence, trying to look for the source of that same song.

“Virgil? What’s wrong?” Logan asks, and Virgil’s eyes flit towards him, ears still picking up on the faint sounds of the song.

“Don’t you hear it, Lo?” It feels new to be talking to Logan again like this, but he pushes his former agenda aside, if only to at least find the source of the music.

Logan looks around, fork hovering over the food and neck stretching to listen. “I do not hear anything, Virgil.”

Virgil looks to the rest and finds them listening in as well, only for them to confirm nothing but the sounds of cutlery and breathing. As he takes another glance at Logan’s familiar, worried face, the song seems to resound louder.

So I'll be on my way

“Virge? What are you hearing, kiddo?” Patton inquires, napkin clutched loosely in his hand.

Virgil’s fingers shake around his silver utensils, spooked and confused at the premise of no one else but him hearing the recognizable riff. He considers telling them, but anxiety makes him dread what they must think of him once he reveals his plight, what Logan might say upon knowledge of his ridiculous predicament.

So he doesn’t.

“Sorry, uh… it was nothing, probably. Just thought I heard something from the imagination. Maybe I just need sleep or whatever.”

The line works on most of them, sending them into a cascade of reminders for Virgil to take better care of himself, and a few teasing words from Janus and Remus. Logan stays silent, and from the corner of Virgil’s eyes it’s hard to miss how Logan’s brows furrow, before it smoothes again into the usual stoicism he holds often.

The song comes to an end, and Virgil thinks his suffering ends there.

From beside him, Logan stands abruptly. He thanks Patton for the meal, places his dishes in the dishwasher, and retreats into his room. His absence both relieves and disappoints Virgil, bringing him back to when he’d usually follow suit with a half-coherent debate topic on hand, ready to get verbally beaten by Logan in a light-hearted battle of wits.

He doesn’t expect the song to start again.

You gave me more that I can return

Yet there's so much that you deserve

He’s mostly kept to his room since the dinner. He spent the entirety of that night hunting for the source of the music. He checked his phone, his speakers, his headphones. He ventured through the mindscape to relentlessly hunt for where it was coming from, only to come back defeated, tired, and losing his mind over hearing the song for more than ten times in a single night.

He concluded, as he stood in the middle of his messy room, that it was coming from his mind. He didn’t sleep that night, and he still can’t now. It’s grown a bit louder over the days. He tries to ignore it, blasting louder music to drown it out or occupying himself with watching conspiracy videos and writing half-assed poetry until the sun rises yet again without his knowledge. 

But the song’s ceaseless beats continue its tune, like a broken record left to play for eternity.

Nothing to say, nothing to do,

I've nothing to give

He finds his answer at the one-week mark, after scouring countless of articles on the web and timing his visits to the library at times when no one, especially Logan is around. It’s an odd ordeal being in a library when Alex Clare’s voice is playing over and over in your head at a certain volume. He reads about a thing called Musicalia and how this curse happens when one falls into the unfortunate circumstance of unrequited love, only ending once the love is finally reciprocated. That is, assuming the individual has not lost themselves to insanity yet.

The words brand itself in his consciousness, mingling with the notes and lyrics on-repeat. Virgil shuts the book close with trembling hands and heaving breaths, panic threatening to take him over. He tips his head back and breathes, trying his utmost best to keep a steady rhythm despite the confusing tempo in his ears. Images of Logan find its way into the forefront of his thoughts, memories playing out in time to the song, biting Virgil with every lyric and moment his brain throws at him.

He recalls the number of times Logan had emphasized how he did not feel things and how Virgil always corrected him after, telling him to quit denying the fact and spending whole nights in Logan’s room trying to prove to him that he does indeed have the capacity for emotion. 

Though Logan never believed it, Virgil always did-- still does. However, the prospect of Logan harboring feelings for Virgil? It was more impossible than a rock growing wings. Virgil desperately tries to stop the tears from flowing once he thinks about how Logan may never see Virgil the way he sees him, how there is nothing about himself Logan or anyone can possibly love beyond friendship, and how Logan will only ever see him as that. A friend.

“Too Close” restarts again, and he yells, hoping the echoing of his screams will be enough to scare away its taunting notes. He yells as he thinks about how he might have to live with this song trapped in his head forever. 

He cries as he realizes he may not even have forever.

But he can stay sane. He will stay sane. For himself, for Thomas, and for Logan.

I must leave without you

You know we're headed separate ways

He knows he cannot hide in his room forever, and circumstances where he is forced to leave the comforts of his room are unavoidable. None of the sides can control when they are summoned, so Virgil learns to divide his attention. He trains himself to push the record player to the back of his mind to listen to what the rest have to say. He grows accustomed to hiding the twitching of his eyes, the throbbing of his head, and the gritting of his teeth. He clamps down pained groans in front of the others and manages to hold conversations without looking off into space too often.

He still talks with Logan, albeit professionally. They discuss the advantages and disadvantages of attending a social gathering, right times to hold livestreams, mistakes and inconsistencies in their scripts. Virgil sees how the wonder in Logan’s irises have diminished, how the words have lessened, how the cadence of his voice has flattened. And Virgil aches to reach out if only to see Logan’s smile again, to laugh with him until their stomachs hurt, to wear his tie and have him wear his hoodie, to have things back to where they were before.

But every minute he spends with Logan is another notch higher in his curse’s volume, another hit on the replay button, another shard in his head and a thorn in his heart. So he swallows his yearning and keeps their acquaintanceship as a forlorn shot at dwindling his own suffering. 

Sometimes, Virgil thinks if he should instead go the opposite route and restart the fire; mend their friendship and hope for it to grow into something beautiful, something that will throw him out of this endless loop. But every time the suggestion comes to him, the insecurities and the anxiety attack ten-fold, reminding him that Logan never will, especially not now. And he again chooses to instead see how far he can push the fragile threads of his mind.

How long can he last in this never-ending nightmare?

And it feels like I am just too close to love you

There's nothing I can really say

It gets louder with each passing day.  He is not sure how many weeks or months have passed, but to him it’s been eternity. 

Other times he gives in, hopelessly singing along and tapping his palms and fingers against his desk with nothing to do but ride along the song’s sickening, lively beat. He’s memorized it by now, knowing every rise and fall of the singer’s voice and every pitch of the synthetic accompaniment. He doesn’t even register any longer when the song has ended and when it’s started again. 

Most times he’s frantic and furious, exhausted and desperate to have one minute of silence. During those days he loses his control over his body and he lets rip the loudest, ear-curdling screams into the expanses of his room as he throws everything he can lay his hands on. He digs his fingernails into his scalp as if tearing open the skin there will release the song from its cranial prison. He helplessly runs his hands across his face, nails dragging against pale skin, breaths loud and heavy.

All the while he can only think of Logan, the very virus who caused him his anguish and the only person who can cure him of it. Logan, the beacon in the night he blindly flew into, like a moth drawn into the brightest flame in the sky. 

I can't lie no more, I can't hide no more

Got to be true to myself

He’s on his bed hugging his body tight one night, tear stains still fresh and lips mumbling the godforsaken lyrics when it happens. 

He almost doesn’t hear it over the deafening sound waves of the cursed song, but there’s a knock.

He hauls himself out of bed, does a quick check in the mirror, wipes his eyes and dabs powder over his face to give a semblance of stability, and breathes deep as he opens the door.

The volume hikes up again once he sees who’s behind it, his heart hammers in his chest, and it takes all of his strength not to wince from the sheer loudness of the song.

Logan looks like a deer caught in headlights, as though he was not expecting Virgil to open the door. He’s carrying a tray with a plate of Crofters-filled pastries and two glasses of juice, standing slightly awkwardly in his place. Virgil stands just as rigidly, fingers in a death grip on the door knob.

And it feels like I am just too close to love you

“Oh, uhm, hel--salutations, Virgil,” Logan begins, face back into a neutral expression while his arms shake ever so slightly. “Janus and Patton tried their hand at baking a while ago and requested me to bring some in for you. They’re asking for a sort of ‘peer review’ on their work, if you don’t mind.”

Virgil’s grip on the doorknob tightens while his fight or flight instincts try to kick in. His hands then quickly fly out to quite clumsily take the tray from Logan, the slight brush of their fingers intoxicating.

“Cool. I’ll tell them how it is later. Tell them I said ‘thanks’ for me, Lo.” Virgil begins to move the door closed with his foot. “Now, uh, if that’s all--”

“Wait!” Logan sets a hand on the door from his side, keeping it open, eyes wide and staring into Virgil’s intently. “I have also been meaning to discuss something with you, if I may.”

Their eyes stay on each other through the small opening, the tray shaking slightly as the song continues to blare through his mind, and Logan speaks again.

“Please.”

Virgil swears he hears so much emotion in that one word that he double checks to see if this person in front of him is actually Logan. Despite the loud alarms saying otherwise, he finds his walls crumbling once again in front of this man and before he knows it, his foot is nudging the door open.

“Okay. Come in.”

Logan does, and the emotion is expertly wiped off his face. “Thank you.”

Virgil sets the tray on his desk as he sits on his swivel chair, and Logan silently asks permission to sit on his bed. Virgil gives him the ‘go’ signal in the form of a nod and a pained smile. The moment feels wrong. Both of them are too silent, too distant, yet the music in Virgil’s mind is too loud, too alive.

“So, what did ya’ wanna talk about?”

Logan looks down for a bit before looking back up at Virgil. “I only want to know how you are fairing, Virgil. It has been… a while since we last held proper conversation outside of work.”

Virgil feels something in his chest grow heavier. Instinctively, he grabs a pastry from the plate, leans back against the chair, and takes a bite; a false display of laxness and soundness. “Thanks for the concern, pocket protector, but I’m doing a-OK. Honestly don’t know why you’d ask that.”

“Maybe I asked it because you are obviously not.” There’s much more of a bite now in Logan’s tone, and Virgil knows him well enough to be wary when his voice shifts in this manner.

“What are you talking about, Lo? I’ve been attending the meetings, I show up fine when summoned. Hell, I’ve never missed one of Pat’s little ‘family nights’--”

“Let me rephrase the question, then.” Logan clears his throat and the quickest burst of emotion flashes through his features; gone as quick as it came. “How are we fairing?”

The pastry stops short of his mouth, and the song reaches another verse. “Pardon?”

Logan visibly breathes, chest rising and falling asynchronously to Virgil’s personal jukebox. “Virgil, if you need space, then that is respectable. If you wish to have time for yourself then I cannot say or do anything against it.” Logan’s hand goes to his tie, moving as if to adjust it but ending up crumpling it in his grip. “My only request is that… if I have done anything, anything at all that has caused you this distress, anything that may have caused you to disengage from our usual routines together, please tell me.”

Logan keeps face, but the slight gleam in his eyes gives him away. The energy of the song ruins the moment but it doesn’t make the emotions between them any less real.

“Logan… it’s-- it’s not that--”

“Then what is it, Virgil? The easiest course of action for me to take would be to accept your answer, rid myself of unnecessary guilt, and let you be. But these previous months I cannot help but notice how your approach towards me has changed along with a decrease in our customary activities together. I’ve noticed how you have been avoiding me, Virgil, and if I have done anything erroneous at all to bring upon your behavior then I ask that you tell me, so I may make my amends.” Logan’s lips tremble after his words and he waits for Virgil to speak.

Virgil merely stares right back, heart about to beat out of his chest and temples about to burst from throbbing. “Logan, you’ve done nothing wrong, I swear--”

“Then what can I do?” His voice shakes and the neutrality of his features are gone, his most raw emotions lain bare for Virgil to see. “I want what is needed to be fixed, fixed. I want to help you, Virgil. I want us to be okay. I want you to be okay; because I--” Logan pauses, then visibly gulps. “--I am your friend.”

There it is. Friend. The word mocks him, reminds Virgil of his place. He feels a piece of his heart shatter while the song blares even louder, a possibility he wishes never existed.

“Is this not, by definition, what friends do?”  

A sticky concoction of emotions and panic lodges itself in Virgil’s chest, and his next words slip out of his mouth before he even has the chance to think about it twice. 

“No. Friends are supposed to not snoop around and milk answers to wash the guilt out of his hands. Friends are supposed to understand when the other doesn’t want to say shit. And friends leave the other alone when he wishes him to.” Virgil barely hears himself over the thunderous tune, but he is aware of how much he is shaking, sees how uncomposed and trembling Logan is in front of him.

It doesn’t suit him.

So I'll be on my way

“Do you… do you wish for me to? Do you want me to leave you alone?”

No. Virgil’s head and heart both scream “no,” but he is reminded of the dangers, of the pain he might cause both of them if he drags this on any longer. His lips move on its own accord.

“Yes. Please.” It’s barely a whisper, but the pain in Logan’s eyes tells him that he was heard. 

A single tear rolls down Logan’s cheek, but he irons out his features, acting as though the answer doesn’t hurt him. He stands up, smoothes the creases of his tie and shirt, and takes one last look at Virgil. 

“Then as your friend, I will gladly oblige. Don’t forget to send Patton and Janus your thoughts on the confectionary. Good day, Virgil” Logan is out of the door in a few quick strides; pastries and drink forgotten on Virgil’s desk.

So I'll be on my way

The panic finally dislodges itself from Virgil’s throat, and he lets go. He shakily moves to his bed and hugs his knees close to his chest, breaths painful and heaving, cries bouncing off his walls. He regrets every word he said as it replays in his mind, an incoherent mix of his own and Alex Clare’s words fighting for dominance in his head. The music continues to mock him, his hands coming up to once again claw at his scalp and pull at his hair in the midst of his attack.

He knows he was wrong. Oh, so wrong. But it is too late now to do anything. He’s too far gone. The derisive replays of both the events from earlier and the fucking song tortures him, digging figurative daggers into his brain, leeching the sanity out of him. He does not even notice when he begins banging his head against the wall, eyes closed, jaw clenched tight, groans and screams falling out of his lips.

He only stops when he opens his eyes to see red on his bedroom wall. 

It takes a while for the panic to settle down and even longer for him to be coherent enough to tend to his wound. 

As images of Logan flood his mind, the song ends and starts again.

And it feels like I am just too close to love you

They never talk again after that, save for when the circumstance gravely requires it. Eventually the amount of scabs on Virgil’s scalp, head, and face along with the grave repetitiveness of the music make it near-impossible for Virgil to come out and face anyone. He spends most of his time hysterically trying to drown the musical noise from within him. The bags in his eyes are enough to fool anyone into thinking it as eyeshadow, his pallor a ghostly white, cheeks sunken, and eyes deeply haunted.

He whiles away the hours pacing his room, lips mouthing the lyrics, fingers picking at the threads of his jacket, feet tripping over each other as it treks through his wrecked quarters. He hopes, wishes and prays for it to stop. He’s grown addicted to the few seconds of silence brought about by the song’s ending, slowly fading out into tranquil nothing, and he finds himself chasing it ‘till it restarts. 

He cannot remember the last time he’s slept, eaten, or opened his door for anyone. If they had knocked at his door, he would not have known. He hears nothing else anymore; nothing but the music’s unending harmony.

There's nothing that I can really say

In the violent waves of his cursed melody, he still sees Logan. Often he lays in bed, staring at his black ceiling fan, allowing his memories to play out as movies before him. His exhausted form luxuriates in images of the two of them laying in Logan’s room, watching the constellations on his ceiling dance above them. He relives how Logan named each one, telling Virgil of the myths behind them and the stories they bring. He remembers how he’d tease Logan with astrology, waiting until Logan scrunches his nose in distaste of such “fallacious predictions.”

Often in his maddened state, his thoughts tread further. He thinks of how he wants to keep his hand in Logan’s, how he longs to card his fingers through his soft locks, aches to count every dip of his face and every spot on his skin, wishes to lie side-by-side and face-to-face, forms locking together like jigsaw pieces, yearns to memorize the feel of Logan’s lips on his own.

He misses him, cares for him, wants him, needs him. He loves him.

His tangled thoughts bring him back to when he first read about his condition in the library. There are only two ways to end this loop. Either Logan reciprocates his love, or he shuts down the very source of the music -- himself. One of those two are more improbable, more impossible than the other, and Virgil dreads to think that it might be the former.

I can't lie no more, I can't hide no more

He’ll be lying when he says he hasn’t thought of it before. There have been multiple days where his brain cracks under the pressure of the song’s torturous tones, where the invitation is all too tempting, the thought of release too sweet to resist. But he’s stood strong, still here and alive with countless scars and painful memories to prove it.

He doesn’t know how much longer he can stay that way.

It’s a daunting thing to realize that this song may stay in his head forever, that he may have to live with this for all of Thomas’ lifetime. But he’s so, so tired. He just wants the song to end. He wants the instrumental to fade out into nothingness for one last time and to never hear it fade back in again. Is it too much to ask? 

Now, as Virgil fruitlessly fights to claw the chorus out of his skull, there are only three things in his mind. The motherfucking song, the love of his life, and how badly he wants to end everything.

He drags himself to the mirror with a pained sigh and runs his eyes over himself. He traces every wound, scab, and scar on his face and body with his hands, fingers moving along to the relentless beat. Tears flow from his eyes yet he laughs. Virgil cackles as he counts every mark dotting his sickly skin. His nails drag across every one as he giggles and gasps out the lyrics, body swaying out of rhythm, arms reaching up to the imaginary constellations in his ceiling. He keeps his head tipped back, eyes straight north as he loudly sings along. 

Got to be true to myself

He twirls, and twirls, and twirls until he falls onto the ground, a non-existent phantom of Logan catching him, lifting him up and setting him down onto his bed. He feels wetness seeping out the back of his head and remembers when Roman brought them all into the Imagination, where Virgil had pulled Logan out of the shade and into the rain. Logan had taken his hand and led him into a dance, and they laughed and spun ‘till the sunset shone through the droplets.

The manic laughter dies down slowly, and in its place he’s thrown head-first into the first real taste of fear he’s had today. His thoughts veer into dangerous territory yet again, and Virgil finds himself staring once more at the steady spiraling of his ceiling fan. His gaze drifts off and lands at the top of his cabinet, where a roll of rope peacefully sits.

Fatigued and deep into the inky depths of insanity, Virgil breathes; then he makes himself a deal.

If the song starts again, that’s his final straw.

A dazed smile creeps on his face as he sings the last chorus, waiting for the inevitable way the last bit of instrument dies down. He closes his eyes and listens. It fades in, then--

You know I'm not one to break promises

His eyes snap open, and he snickers. The snicker turns into a giggle, and soon he’s cackling, chortling to the emptiness of his room. That was his signal. It can finally be over. Logan should be proud of him for coming up with this solution on his own.

He leaps up and almost falls out of balance. He mouths the words as he drags a chair to his dresser, climbing up and grabbing the rope. Before he does anything else, he pulls out a letter pressed between the pages of his and Logan’s favorite book. It’s creased and not so purely white anymore from how many times Virgil had considered ending his suffering, chickening out at the last minute every time.

But not this time. He is a man of his word. He places the envelope with a neatly-written “Logan” decorating it back down on the book.

The next steps are easy enough, and the killer tunes make everything much more fun. He feels silly placing his head through the clumsily-tied noose while standing on a rolling chair. He closes his eyes, conjures the beautiful image of Logan to the front of his mind, and kicks.

And it feels like I am just too close to love you

So I'll be on my way

The rope is rough on his neck, itchy and uncomfortable. The panic settles in quickly, just as fast as the breath is knocked out of his lungs, denied a way of re-entry. He spasms and fights for air, body looking for anchorage he’ll never have. 

Knock knock knock.

His eyes widen when he hears it, almost missing it through the unbearably loud chorus playing in his head. He shoves his fingers between the rope and his neck, a final fight for life just to know who it is.

“Virgil?”

So I’ll be on my way

He gasps as he recognizes the voice. The knocks continue its ministrations as Virgil’s vision blurs further and further around the edges. His lungs begin to burn, punishing him for the lack of oxygen as his legs continue to struggle for footing.

The knocks grow louder and more frantic but the door stays closed. He’s too late, Virgil thinks. He whispers an apology to his room, hoping it might relay the message to Logan for him once he’s gone.

A tear falls from Virgil’s eye as he feels the last huff of breath leave his lungs, vision going black and eyes rolling to the back of his head. He closes his eyes to the dazzling imagery of Logan’s smile, the sound of knocking, and the fading of music.

So I’ll be on my way

It doesn’t start again.

~~~

Finding Virgil’s body was the most horrifying experience Logan could have ever subjected himself to. He had cradled Virgil’s lifeless form back then, his fingers horrifically running through every uneven mark littering his ghastly skin, tears falling onto Virgil’s hoodie and cries billowing around the room.

It’s Remus who had handed Logan the letter with a sorrowful look on his face. Logan had torn it open then and there, with Virgil’s hauntingly light form still limp in his arms. All reservation for emotion had been thrown out the window once he finished through it, his chest aching and entire body trembling once Virgil’s entire explanation, story, apology, and confession had been laid out for Logan to take in.

Virgil loved him. Virgil suffered through that maddening condition because he loved him. Virgil is dead because he loved Logan.

He’s dead because he thought Logan did not love him back.

And for a while Logan thought the same thing. For so long he had denied his capacity for emotion, pushed down any and all indications of romantic affections, made way for objectivity and logic.

But he loved Virgil-- loves Virgil; and he was too caught up in his role to admit it. He was too late.

He supposes he deserves the pain he’s harboring now. Virgil in his letter had told him never to blame himself, that he’d come back to haunt him if Logan ever does. And Logan tries. He does not succeed all the time, but it’s a valiant effort. 

He is still Logic, and so he does what he knows best -- he plans. The next best step would be to move on from the depressing event and carry on with their respective responsibilities. It’s a difficult task to execute given how his memories with Virgil invade his every sleeping and waking moment, but he desperately convinces himself that he has to.

It’s what the others would have told him. It’s what Thomas needs. It’s what Virgil would have wanted. 

They all wait. Anxiety is still a crucial part of Thomas’ personality, and it is only a matter of time before the mindscape conjures up a persona to take Virgil’s place. Logan thinks it’s better this way. This will be an entirely different individual, one he holds no emotional attachment to, one that will not discredit his unbiased facet, one that is not his best friend, not Virgil. 

Logan does not know whether it’s a good or bad thing that the new Anxiety comes late at night, when Logan goes to refill his coffee mug, standing awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen. Logan’s breath comes out shaking as he drinks in the same jacket, same purple shirt, ripped jeans and purple-laced shoes. The facet meets Logan’s gaze, looking lost and scared, and Logan swallows when he sees the same black eyeshadow under his eyes, the same tufts of hair that fall in front of his face, and same terrible posture.

But his pallor looks a healthy color, not a single mark mars his skin, and there is no recognition behind his irises. Logan reminds himself that this is not his Virgil, evens his breathing, and does what is expected of him.

“Salutations. I’m Logan, Thomas’ logical side.” Logan begins his introduction, cautious to keep his distance from the obviously confused side. “Apologies. It appears you have materialized at a late hour, when everyone else is asleep. May I… may I have your name? If you feel comfortable doing so, of course.”

The side twists his fingers in his hoodie strings, an action that screams too much of Virgil. It takes his entire willpower not to break down then and there.

“I’m Virgil, Thomas’ Anxiety, I think.”

The name has Logan’s breath catching in his throat. Suddenly, he’s filled with the overwhelming urge to cry, to envelope this side in the tightest hug and not let go, to tell him how much he loves him and mutter unending apologies ‘till his lungs hurt. But his rationality still takes the upper hand, and he exhales, adamant on keeping his professionalism, set on carrying out his duties.

“Welcome, Virgil. There is already a room set for you in the corridor. I can escort you there right now if you wish to. After all, rest is a requirement to maintain optimal heal--”

“I’m, uh, actually not tired right now,” Anxiety says, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. “I dunno if this is an effect of just having been born but uh, yeah. I don’t feel tired at all.” The side huffs out a single laugh and looks at Logan.

Logan wants nothing more than to retreat into his room and prepare himself for the surely torturous days he will be having ahead of him; but he knows to be courteous and dismisses his own selfish desires. “Ah, of course. Then would you like to remain here for the time being? I, myself, am not feeling fatigued yet.” Logan pauses, watching as the new side hops up on the counter, swinging his feet and looking around at his new environment. “In fact, I was just about to make another cup of coffee. Would you like some?”

Anxiety’s eyes light up and he nods. Logan obliges and makes drinks for them both. He doesn’t realize that he’s just made Virgil’s exact coffee mix, brown and creamy with just the lightest bite of bitterness. The mug is already in New Anxiety’s hands before Logan can realize the fact. 

The side thanks him, takes a sip, and closes his eyes with a hum and the softest smile on his face. He leans back until his head rests against an overhead cupboard before taking another sip out of the concoction.

“Logan, right?” He asks, one eyebrow raised.

“Correct. How’s the drink?”

“It’s perfect. Just how I’d like it.”

Logan does his best not to choke on his own mug. 

They slip into light conversation after that with Logan remaining standing, hip leaning back against the counter only a few inches away from where Anxiety sits.

As the hours drag on, Logan internally gasps in anguish at how achingly Virgil this new side is. He’s got everything down to his smirk, his manner of speaking, choice of words, the way his hand clasps over his mouth in laughter and how his voice drops lower in teasing.

Every second he spends with the new side twists the figurative stake already lodged in his chest. They talk for as long as they can hold their eyes open, going into topics he and Virgil once talked about under the starry night sky. For a second, Logan thinks this may be his Virgil, yet he’s reminded by the way this side has no memory, no knowledge of the library’s awaiting secrets nor of the constellations’ mythical stories that he is indeed, not.

It hurts, but Logan stays. He stays by this facet’s side until he is tired enough to settle into his room, leaving Logan to gasp for air in his own quarters; mind going haywire at the prospect of him having to deal with a Virgil he can reach with his very fingertips, so painfully real and close to the love he once knew, but never being able to touch him.

Logan misses him, and this new, living, breathing reminder that he is still very much in love with someone he cannot have burns him like a hundred lightning strikes at once.

You know I'm not one to break promises

I don't want to hurt you but I need to breathe

At the end of it all, you're still my best friend

But there's something inside that I need to release

The song starts.

~~~~~

I hope y’all can forgive me for that. Don’t hesitate to hit reblog and hmu if you want to be added/removed from the tag list! Keep hydrated and safe, loves! <3

Tag list:

@pixalysparkelz-blog @cinquefoilelove @randomslasher @ladynikita @thestoryofme13 @fandomsandanythingelse @asexual-trashbag @fandomsofrandom  @moonlace @nyxwordsmith  @freepaperie081 @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @jughead-is-canonically-aroace @areyousirius-noheisdead @fandersides @sincerely-a-dork @lizziepopanime @emo-nightmare @justmeandmygayships  @elizabutgayer @robinwritesshitposts @booklover223 @nadiestar @quackerz-creations @halfwaytoqueens @madly-handsome @im-a-creepy-cookie @anotheregofanficblog @wisherbysharlight @momalkav24 @merlinfreya27 @sweet-hibiscus-tea-art @did-he-just-hiss-at-me @bella-in-a-bag @apatheticlogic-internet @the-fetus-in-the-blender @angsty-gay-writer-bitch @emiliopiccolo @private-snippers

update

Yay my labs are done so tonight I got to use my new pack of blades:)

Tw sorry lol

man I would love to slit my wrists rn but I can’t since I have to get labs done in a few weeks and I know that they won’t be healed by then. I might just go it on my tights tho but that’s an awkward place to me yk

Tw sorry lol

man I would love to slit my wrists rn but I can’t since I have to get labs done in a few weeks and I know that they won’t be healed by then. I might just go it on my tights tho but that’s an awkward place to me yk

0. Traumatic events Always Weighs down Enough to kill-

_

Chapter.0

You are purple

Batfamily x Teen!Spiderman Reader x Spiderverse

Strictly platonic (for now)

Teen reader will be a neglected in the Batfamily.

The batfamily cares , they know your presence , your name and Awards they just dont care enough to make time for Reader

_____________________

____----______------_____----------_____------------

Reader was a child no older than 10 Who was the youngest child who had an older brother and they both had two Parents, their Mum and dad suprisingly they had a healthy marrige and they loved their two children, all in gotham but on its outskirts.

Life for reader wasnt perfect-perfect sure there were bullies, thiefs, murderers and other what-nots running around. They were in constant fear if ever they were left alone or in the night. Even then their Childhood was eventful but in a good way Reader Had made many friends in their kindergarten and daycare due to their nature of being blunt but sweet and due to their wild imagination and politeness.

In truth Reader were raised to be polite and mannered but that didn't mean they weren't stubborn and were a doormat for people to stomp over them. They were fierce and strong in their beliefs and had an open mind for others thoughts and ideas

Reader was 10 and had a brother who was older than them by 6 years so he was 16. Like any other sibling They got along and they didn't. When one gets in trouble the other one would be there to help out but not always because pettiness sometimes wins many of the times.

Both of them got into arguments lots of times but mostly they made up after awhile and start with playing pranks on eachother with putting ice cubes in eachother's shirt and pants, or making a drink a terrible one at that and giving it to the other 'lying that it tastes good only to record their sibling spit and cough it out while the one recording laugh and hold off the raging one or simply roasting eachother and reader canonically Talking their older brother's ear off even when he was shoving then out or even when he tried to duct tape their mouth shut.

Readers and Their brother's Dad was A strict and Kind Father who took parenting seriously and was extremely understanding and loved spoiling his Wife and two children. He had the abilty to talk to strangers and made them feel comfortable , the self confidence he had made reader wish they had it. He let the reader paint and draw on him , nothing major though if he had nothing to do or go out then yes he would let them do whatever and Eat whatever the reader made in the kitchen as an experiment to see if it tasted good or not. He encouraged Both his kids to pursue their hobbies and made them pick up other things as well like sports , reading,, swimming , music. He didnt force it and he kept the timming s and classes moderate so that Reader and their Older brother could be happy and still have their energies.

Now Readers and Their brother's Mum was everyones favorite as she made extra snacks and school lunches for her kids friends often inviting them for lunch in holidays and for dinner. She liked to sing classical songs and listen to them. She made food taste like a bomb of flavours which was perfect if you could tolerate spice if not everyone still ate everything on their plates. The craziness and unhingedness definately came from her Dna. She liked messing around with her husband playfully and it never made their children gag (sometimes tho).

Their parents did quarrel but they made sure to keep their voices minimum because they wanted their kids to be happy. They knew all too well the effects of arguments on young minds. Both of the parents discussed on problem at a time and resolved. Mum and dad trusted eachother and whenever Dad was away for work , dad called atleast 3 times a day on in the morning, second in the afternoon and third at night. Mum and dad sometimes talked for more than an hour acting like a young couple, a happy one which would make anyone smile.

.

.

Life would never be the same again, Not ever

Fate was cruel

when it took their parents away in a fire, The fire Taunted the readers vission when it engulfed their home, eyes Darting everywhere hoping like any child and person would to spot their family , they could imagine their bodies withering and burning from the fire , their screams and the sharp sound ringing in the readers ears. Yet that day they didn't see them , soon darkness and undeniable Pit formed in the child's heart as they hugged the blanket around them tighter they blurred out the firefighters and everyones voices out , their mind reeling and their breathing stopped they couldn't breathe not when they searched and searched for their Brother , Mum and Dad.

All The child had grabbed was their Lovable Stitch stuff toy and their backpack which had all kinds of odd trinkets and accessories, papers , DVds , colors, and a thick picture album filled with them and their parents and brother. They hugged their bag close to their chest fearing that someone might take it away from them.

................................................................................

Local News: A FIRE HAD BREAKED OUT ON ---_-__- MAIN STREET BURNING AN ENTIRE THREE STORY BUILDING DOWN-------------- THE NUMBER OF Deaths ARE -THREE intotal

1.M/N L/N

2. F/N L/N

3. B/N L/N

LEAVING THEIR YOUNGEST CHILD ALIVE, NO OLDER THAN 9. OUR CONDOLENCES REACH FAR OUT TO YOU LITTLE SURVIVOR.

The camera zoomed in to The child sobbing from fear just calling out for their Mom , Brother and her dad running away from a firefighter lady to search for their family. Unaware of the truth.

No child should ever experiance the loss of their family.

...,............................................................................

Child Reader Was sent to an orphanage due to not having a gurdian to look after them.

The orphanage was Terrible to describe atleast due to this They gave their belongings , their backpack to the counter lady more like they took the keys and hid their in a storage closet under the floor board while sniffling with a runny nose and puffy eyes , but what unsettled most was how mechanical they were and how dead they looked. Their eyes Voidless , not eating , not talking , not sleeping.

They instead gave their food to someone else making Peace with the other orphans to keep them out of their shit and problems.

___________________________________________

___________________________________________

Meanwhile in The wayne's Manor.

___________________________________________

It was just one of those days For the Wayne's where everything was going slow and no one had nothing better to do.

Very unlikely,indeed.

The T.V was on , Local news was playing in the background. Few of the people who were there Focused there attention on to the news focusing on the scene of a fire breakout and how A child was looking everywhere for their family running to anywhere with their Bag pack hauled on their behind , even when the firefighters told and physically stopped them that their family is gone.

___________________________________________

Its been almost three months now, and The child which was in news was still lingering in Bruce Wayne and in few others minds. That what did happen with reader?

Bruce Wayne or Batman the man of the shadows made a decision.

For the. Worst or best?

___________________________________________

For Reader Had made few friends within the orphanage , their names were_-

Felicia a child who is 6 but wasn't adopted due to her being half blind in one eye. She is a brunette and has a brown eye the other eye covered by an eyepatch. A sweetheart and very Curious of the world. She likes listening to You reading outloud The secret garden to her for bedtime

Riley who is 10 , she had a rough attitude to strangers , she is dirty blond and has brown eyes. She cares alot and is very shy and Funny once you become friends. Ooo and she loves making paper planes and playing hopscotch. She too loves story time!!

Margo She is 11, she is the cool and Strog one who keeps everyone safe from the rowdy ones. She loves sweets and playing charades and listening to music, she is the older sister to us.

T h e y all tried to cheer Reader up and it worked few times making them smile and joke around a bit , Felicia Knew that they tried to hide their pain but she knew that it is normal their grief and anger. Reader had significantly lost weight and was severely underweight.

Margo Gave food for reader to eat and coaxed them through it and atleast it helped to keep not malnourished.

Reader got better a little by little yet They still couldnt believe that their family is actually gone , it took alot of willpower for them not to vomit everything out and why?why-why-whyWhy?WHY-?

___________________________________________

And one faithful day- or rather unfortunate more likely

An elderly Man shows up to the Orphanage counter , requesting Reader/Name.

They caught wind of it and went dashing to their friends Not from Joy No from fear and devastation.

They jumped onto Margo as they saw her first, hugging her tightly while crying and repeatedly saying against her-

Reader:- "No no I dont want to go- they are gonna take- t-ake me away. I want to stay Please-pleas- I want to stay Home- im sorry im sorryIm-sorry- i didnt mean too_--"

Margo Hugged her back being set aback but she too hugged back as Tightly as you did , she sniffled as if? She was crying too

Margo:- "Its gonna be okay- We'll go together? Okay?? You ,me and Felicia? how about that? You did nothing wrong- We will see eachother again and we'll play , eat , listen and dance to how much ever music we want, Us against the World all over again"

Margo said , to convince you and her that everything is going to go back to normal like before, Where Riley Never Was adopted First , where Felicia and she wasn't adopted either and You werent either

Reader:- "You and Felicia are going too-?? Yeah-..I want that to happen, So You and felicia know- The place right?- Remember please- because if i can I'll always be there-..Just don't forget Me, You are my best friend anyone could have ever asked for-!"

You cried silently even more now , your words comming out in short huffs and words all in a jumble

------------

The Escort Lady came in knocking sharply on the door having a stern and scowl on her face , she was the worst atleast We'll be free from her presence and bullying , she ruined Our Heartfelt Goodbye.

She strictly Ordered us both to Pack up our things and tidy thyselves up Left.

--------------------------------------–------------------------

Pt.2 coming soon! Please drop constructive criticism and do give suggestions on how i can do better!

And i am confused that should I refer to reader as 'they' 'them' or 'you' 'yourself'??