To The Circus

Non-Hero: Last Chapter

Pairing(s): Platonic Remy/Thomas, platonic Remy/Virgil, platonic Remy/Logan, and briefly mentioned (implied) Prinxiety

Warnings: Strong language, mention of injuries, mention of family issues, brief mention (of implied) abuse, very brief reference at suicidal metaphor, and arguing (?)
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“How’s he doing? Woken up yet?”

Logan, keeping his gaze trained on his book, nods curtly, explaining his interaction with the now sleeping Virgil. Not really too bothered about the specifics, Remy finds himself tuning the tightrope-walker out and sparing the sleeping man a glance. His three minute attention span is at it again. At some point, Remy figures that Logan has caught onto the fact that he’s not listening, so he leans back against the wall of their trailer. Virgil’s bed is actually more comfortable than he thought.

There’s a comfortable silence that fills the room, warming up the ice crystallising in Remy’s chest, possibly in the hole where his heart used to be. After all, once it fell, he didn’t feel it crawl back up again. Wait. “Hey, Logan?”

“Hm?”

“What’s the feeling of our heart ‘dropping’ caused by?”

This question seems to surprise his friend for a moment; he lifts his hand to fiddle with his glasses before allowing his mind to actually come up with an answer. “I believe that sensation occurs when the atria quivers irregularly. However,” he turns the page in his book and Remy’s eyebrows shoot upwards, unaware that the man was still reading, “for your description of a heart dropping, it may actually be unknown. Since the two sensations, though they may feel rather similar, are different.”

Remy hums quietly. “Alright.”

Neither of them say much for a little while, leaving the pair victims to their thoughts. Of course Remy feels guilty for just watching as Virgil fell, but at the same time, he knows it wasn’t his fault. He’s not the type of person to blame himself for everything that goes wrong around him. There’s literally nothing he could have done. His lips twitch upwards as a reference pops into his mind. “Ah, gravity. Thou art a heartless bitch.”

There’s a quiet snort from beside Virgil’s bed, but nothing more.

Silence truly is bliss. And although many would disagree with him on the account of their thoughts being scarier than any sound, Remy can fight off the darkness in his head, but he’s never been too successful in fighting off the darkness around him. Thoughts are just words spoken by a disembodied voice that may not even be real. People are much more dangerous. Whether they say something to fill the silence, or do something.

Despite enjoying the quiet of the trailer, Remy will admit that he’s worried about his spectacled friend. “Were you scared?”

There’s a pause as Logan searches for an answer. “More concerned. Or nervous, perhaps.”

A flip of a page. “Why? Were you?”

“Yeah.”

Even Remy can honestly say that admitting fear isn’t easy. It leaves a person vulnerable, and that is the last thing he ever wants to be. “But they’re both fine, aren’t they? A little broken, but still alive.”

Logan huffs, amusement lacing his tone. “Precisely. Though, I wouldn’t expect Virgil to perform again for a little while.” He flips another page of his book. “Roman may have caught him, but the impact the two of them made on each other was not pretty. Bruises and bumps, but Virgil should recover from them soon enough.”