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Patton has only ever seen his husband cry thrice.
The first was on their wedding day. Logan tried his best to maintain his composure as he relayed his vows, failing miserably to control his tears nearing the end. He begged Patton not to tell a soul about it after, to which he only responded by dabbing a bit of the cake’s white frosting onto Logan’s nose with a giggle, much to Logan’s dismay.
The second was when they adopted Virgil as a tiny one-year old three years ago. Patton swore he saw a tear fall the first time Logan held Virgil in his arms, cradling his small body close to his chest. Logan kept denying the fact, but Patton was sure of what he saw.
The third one was now, in a car parked at the basement parking of a hospital, the most scarce sources of light doing minimal work to illuminate their bodies in an embrace. There’s an open brown envelope lying on the dashboard, the contents of which have already been relayed to them by the neurologist a while ago.
Logan’s been diagnosed with a brain tumor.
It feels like the whole world crashed around them that day. Patton’s mind speeds through the next medical steps Logan will have to take. He shushes Logan like he would to Virgil on his bad days, reassuring him with the very thing his husband finds solace in the most -- facts.
He reminds Logan of how they’ll be scheduling a surgery as soon as possible to rid of the tumor, how there’s still a chance of it being benign, how it’s not as large as the doctor initially thought it would be, and how Patton and Virgil are going to be with him every step of the way.
But Logan has always been on the more stubborn side, and he counters every one of Patton’s statements with facts of his own. He enumerates possible effects on his physical well-being and asserts how much they’ll be spending for this surgery, how there is just as much of a chance of the tumor being malignant, how it could still grow and regrow, how its position in the cerebellum makes it riskier to remove, and how Virgil is still oh, so young to potentially lose a father like this--
Patton cuts him off again with a full smile, reiterating every other little thing there is to be grateful for. He knows Logan is right, but there is no room for both of them to be looking at the darker side of the situation. One of them must stay positive, beaming and comforting in the lighter side of the glass, and Patton really has no choice but to be that.
When they go to greet Virgil later who abandons the babysitter the second they’re at the door, they both maintain the smile and act as though no horrible news was heard.
“What’d the doctor say, Papa?” he asks later, pushing around the last carrot stick on his plate.
Patton senses how the words seem to snag on Logan’s throat. He answers for him. “Papa just has a really bad cold, Virgil.”
Logan shoots Patton an unreadable look while Virgil furrows his brows in thinking. “Is this why his head is hurting a lot?” Patton keeps the smile and nods, pouring more water into Virgil’s cup. “But that doesn’t happen when I get the sniffles,” Virgil notes.
Logan finally decides to hop onto Pat’s little pretend train and fake-sneezes into his hands, rubbing a finger under his nose afterwards. “It’s the really bad kind, Virge.”
Virgil gasps and hops off his seat. He scurries towards Logan and pulls at his shirt. “I know what’ll make you feel better!”
Logan raises an eyebrow and laughs. “Oh, do you now?”
Virgil nods enthusiastically, his bangs falling on his chubby little face. “Uh-huh. It’s what daddy always does when I have the sniffles!” He pulls Logan’s shirt further down, instructing him to bend downward. Virgil reaches to place a quick smack to the tip of Logan’s nose, running off back to his seat after with a proud look on his face. “Now you’ll be all better tomorrow! Right daddy?”
Patton musses up Virgil’s hair and fixes it back in its place. “Mhmm! You did good, kiddo.”
Logan smiles to the best he can. “Thank you, Virgil.”
Virgil beams and finishes his last carrot stick, hopping down again to put his plate on the sink like his Papa tells him to do. Only Patton knows how the smile on Logan’s face isn’t as bright as it should be and how there are numerous worries hiding behind the half-meant upturning of his lips.
For now, the excuse works. Telling Virgil about the surgery is a harder task.
“Daddy and papa are going to have to be away for a few days, Virgil,” Patton informs him, crouching down to his level to run a hand on his cheek. Behind the kid, Janus and Remus, the two’s friends from Logan’s work who are more than happy to babysit, wait patiently and in understanding. Their son Roman attempts to tackle Virgil in a hug but the two stop him before he gets the chance.
Virgil looks up at them in confusion, eyeing the bag in his papa’s hand and the envelope wedged under his daddy’s arm. “Why?”
The couple share a look. They’ve talked about this. It will be easy to crank out another story of a meeting that will require Patton to go somewhere far or of a new flower species Logan has to go discover somewhere in Asia. Virgil always did find fascination in Logan’s work. But they’ve also thought about the worst outcomes and how their lives will look like a couple of months from now. They realized that hiding things from their child won’t make things any easier.
“Remember his sniffles?”
Virgil nods, twisting his little fingers in the hem of his long-sleeved, purple shirt.
“Well,” Pat begins, taking one of Virgil’s hands in his. “They’ve gotten worse, so the doctors are gonna try their best to get rid of whatever’s causing it.”
Logan steps closer too, dropping the bag for a bit to pat Virgil’s head and lean down. “And that’s going to take a while but don’t worry, Roman and his dads are going to be with you the whole time.”
Virgil frowns. “But I want both of you!”
Logan’s face grows soft as Patton goes to pull Virgil close to him in a one-armed embrace. “I know. We’re sorry, Virge. But we’ll be back as soon as we can, okay?”
Virgil nods with a sad smile, a sight that pinches something in Patton’s chest and deepens the creases on his husband’s forehead. Logan plants a kiss on the top of Virgil’s head, showing him a smile and squeezing his arm. “You go and be a good kid to Uncle Jan and Rem, alright?”
Virgil glances at Roman who waves at him with a bright smile, and somehow the gesture gets him smiling too. They can only hope that it stays. “Okay. Don’t worry papa, when you get back I’ll make sure that the house is extra clean so nothing will give you the bad sniffles anymore.”
The couple smiles and says their final “love you’s” to Virgil and a few more reminders for Janus and Remus before they’re off. Patton pretends not to see how quickly the smile is wiped off Logan’s face and how his fist is too tight around the strap of the bag. He ignores the temptation to give in to his own worries and takes Logan’s hand in his, thankful for the split-second upturn of his lips no matter how small.
He doesn’t deny the waver in his voice when he whispers a “see you later, Lo-lo” to a Logan who is about to slip into the effects of the anesthetic later. Logan groggily whispers an “I love you” to Pat before he fully succumbs to sleep.
Left to his own in the waiting area, Patton cannot help but let the fear fester in his chest. He grows more jittery as the hours slowly waste away, the undeniable thumping in his chest too loud to ignore. He counts a total of five times of him calling Janus back at home, voice laced with concern as he asks how Virgil is. The two reassure him every time and scolds him to “please calm down, Pat” by the fourth call. He talks to Virgil by the fifth. His sweet voice telling Patton about how he and Roman are pretending to be knights is enough to deafen the anxious thoughts in Pat’s head.
Even if just for a few minutes.
He cries literal tears of joy when Logan is wheeled out hours after a successful operation and sent back into the room to recover. Though he knows the battle isn’t over yet. They have yet to examine the extracted tumor through a biopsy and have yet to give their diagnosis. Until then, Patton stays beside Logan’s resting form. His eyes walk over the bandage covering Logan’s skull and his fingers weave themselves between Logan’s own. A small part of Patton instinctively finds the humor in the moment. The sure bald spot on the back of Logan’s head where the incision was made is an inviting temptation to poke fun of.
But the heaviness of the moment and Logan’s limp hand in reminds him that nothing about this is a joke. Any hint of a smile that dared creep up on Patton’s face dies down.
Patton takes his time mulling over Logan the second he wakes up the next morning. Logan talks about the experience, the dull ache, and Patton catches him up on Virgil and Roman’s antics. They call Remus and Janus again, only for them to report how the two are still fast asleep, completely tuckered out from their little sleepover.
In the excruciatingly long time it takes for Logan’s results to arrive, the two manage to finally chance upon the two children awake. Virgil, ever the curious little tot, asks a multitude of questions regarding the funny looking thing wrapped around papa’s head and what every tube and button surrounding him does. Roman butts into the call too to ask how all of these are gonna get rid of really bad sniffles. The couple are more than glad to explain everything to them in a manner they’ll understand. It is a welcome distraction, after all; a temporary escape from the sinking dread about to befall them.
It takes almost a full day of postoperative recovery and in-between calls to the kids when the doctor comes in with the results. He says what he needs to say as Logan and Patton listen in with intertwined, trembling hands. One of them nearly cries once the doctor leaves.
This is it. The doctor himself said it. Logan has a stage two glioblastoma.
Cancer.
Once again, Patton’s knee-jerk instinct is to give Logan as much hope as he can give him through stories he’s read online about cancerous brain tumor survivors and possible treatments they can try. Yet, as always, Logan counteracts his argument and enumerates the 36% chance of him living for another five years, and his voice wavers as he says the even lower percentage for living to ten.
They spend the entirety of Logan’s surgical recovery in a sort of daze, both unknowing what to do or feel even as Logan is discharged from the hospital.
Whatever happens, though, they still pull up their driveway with ther unspoken rule, equally hurting eyes gazing at each other before they open the car door. They can talk about this later.
They’re both smiling when Virgil runs into their arms with an excited squeal, yet the look in Janus’ and Remus’ eyes make it obvious that they can see right through.
The long battle has just begun.
~~~
A treatment is set of alternating sessions of radiation and chemotherapy. It takes time but eventually Virgil begins to get used to the schedule, sometimes even being the one to wake both of his dads up for their “important medicine” time. Sometimes the circumstance demands that they bring Virgil along with them. After all, a babysitter is not always available and it’s not like Jan and Rem are open to do this 24/7.
The first time he comes with, Virgil asks a lot of questions.
“Why does it have to go through your arm? Why can’t you just drink the medicine like I do? Does it taste that bad? Does it hurt? You can hug daddy if it hurts, or me! What exactly is going in there? When will you get better?”
Unfortunately, they don’t know how to answer the last question.
Radiation is fairly tolerable at best. The mask they require to put on can be suffocating but Logan is grateful for the fact that it lasts only ten to twenty minutes. Chemotherapy is another story entirely. The procedure is easy enough, though uncomfortable. His first time featured him holding on tight to Patton’s arm with deep breaths as the chemical drained into him. The real struggles come after.
Fatigue easily plagues him and he usually falls asleep the second they’re back in the car, not to be awoken even by Virgil’s playful poking. Weakness and lethargy is also unavoidable no matter how much he denies it. It may not be obvious to Logan himself but Patton is witness to the sluggishness of his movements and the dying down of the usual passion in his voice when he talks.
Then there’s the nausea. It scalds Patton’s heart to see his husband struggle to keep down food, especially when he needs it more than anyone. Many times has he woken up in the middle of the night to Logan suddenly scrambling off from his side to rush to the bathroom. Not always are the sounds of retching accompanied by their dinner coming up, but it’s still as much of a heartbreaking sight nonetheless. He always lets Logan’s weakening body slump against him after, Pat’s hands gingerly wiping the sweat beading at his forehead and the reflexive tears pooling at his eyes.
Virgil is an affectionate child who’s learned to show his love through tactile displays, including but not limited to tackling hugs, peppered kisses, and requests to be carried. Logan was always more than happy to oblige, easily hefting Virgil up with a huff and a laugh. But lately the family has been realizing that the once easy task is now a chore for Logan. Instead, Patton wordlessly but gleefully dives in to do the honors instead. If there’s a twinge of confusion or disappointment in the child, none of them say a word. Not like they have a choice.
It’s Virgil who points out how so many strands come out with the brush when he offers to fix papa’s hair one time.
Patton can’t explain how heart-wrenching it is to see such a young kid worry over a couple pieces of hair on a brush. It takes both of them to calm Virgil down, reassuring him that papa is going to be fine even as he nears crying. When he’s tucked into bed later that night, Patton finds Logan staring at that very same brush, his expression one that mirrors Virgil’s own a while ago.
A decision is made a few more fallen strands later to finally shave the rest off.
Virgil looms quietly by the bathroom door on the day Patton agrees to Logan’s wishes. They don’t notice his presence right away, peeking meekly through the narrowly opened door as Logan’s hair comes off clump by clump. Logan doesn’t point out how badly Patton’s hands are shaking as he grasps the razor, and Patton keeps any observation regarding Logan’s pale pallor and sharper cheekbones to himself.
A soft “Daddy?” is heard when the last bunch falls off. Both their hearts race to jump out of their chests as they watch Virgil slowly shuffle in, eyes wide and gazing at Logan’s new look.
“What did you do to him?” he asks, hesitant to even come near Logan. Patton sees the slight reluctance and fear in their son’s eyes and gently moves to scoop him up in his arms.
Logan turns to face Virgil who still has his hold tight around Patton’s shoulder. “Come here, Virge.” Logan opens up his hands from where he sits. Virgil and Patton share a look and Virgil unclasps his arms for his daddy to seat him on Logan’s lap. There’s an obvious huff of effort when Virgil lands on Logan, but the difficulty is expertly hidden away when he moves them both to face the mirror.
Logan smiles while Patton notes how it doesn’t quite meet the non-existent crinkles in his eyes. “How do I look?”
Virgil tilts his head, looking alternately at Logan and the mirror. “Like one of those mean teachers on TV.”
The couple laugh lightly at the statement. “Oh, but you know me. Do I look like a mean teacher to you?” Logan scrunches up his eyebrows at a fake attempt to come across as menacing and Virgil giggles. They almost forget how long it’s been since they last heard Virgil laugh like that.
“No.” Virgil scrunches up his nose. “You’re not even a teacher. You’re a sciencist!” Patton snickers lightheartedly at the mispronunciation, before the questioning look in Virgil’s eyes comes back once more. “But still... why?”
Logan visibly breathes, thinking of some way to explain. “You know how the important medicine is supposed to cure my headaches?” Virgil nods, leg swinging lightly from where he’s sat. “It can’t do that without a few strands coming off. That’s why there’s a lot on the brush. So to make things easier we just… took everything off.” It’s a slightly tense moment as Virgil looks down to contemplate. Then he looks at Logan again, as if he’s just learned the answer to the universe’s greatest mysteries.
“If you have no hair, then that means the medicine can reach your brain quicker, ‘cause there’s nothing to block it, so you’ll get better faster, right?” Virgil looks up at him with wide eyes, and both Patton and Logan go soft, internally melting at the intermingling wit and innocence of this young boy.
Logan decides that’s as good of an explanation as any. “I suppose that’s correct, Virge.”
Virgil’s eyes light up even more, a smile forming along with it. “Then I love it! You should keep it like that so that you can get better. Then we can go out for long trips again!” Virgil pushes his hands against Logan’s cheeks, pushing them upwards ‘till Logan’s lips get squished into a smile. “And you’ll smile more again, too! See?”
The sentence sits at the pit of Patton’s stomach like a boulder. He watches as Logan nods and hugs Virgil close, trying hard to stop any moisture forming at his eyes. With a heart just as heavy, Patton decides to spare Logan of the difficulty and grabs Virgil back with promises of mac and cheese for dinner. Virgil readily takes the bait.
Alone in the bathroom, Logan lets the few tears fall. His head throbs as his eyes scan over himself in the mirror. He glares at this unrecognizable version of him, wishing nothing more than to have even the slightest semblance of their old lives back. But alas, he and his family are still under the mercy of this terrible disease, hands bound and helpless for who knows how much longer.
Or how much shorter.
~~~
The tumor regrows.
They were both expecting it, of course, but it’s not like they didn’t at least hope or pray for a miracle. Virgil asks them if papa is all better once they pick him up from Jan and Rem’s, and it pains them so to shake their head ‘no.’ Virgil never would have liked it if they lied.
Patton remembers how Logan once told him about the cerebellum controlling a lot of the motor functions of the human body. He always wondered whether the tumor would ever do something to affect Logan in such a way. Eventually, he gets his answer. It isn’t a sudden, big moment or an abrupt tragedy. It’s a gradual decline that Patton discerns over the span of a few months. He sees it in how Logan tightly grips the side table to get up in the mornings, how his hand shakes when he sips his tea, how he trips when he attempts to run to the bathroom, how he has to decline, catch his breath, and sit when Virgil pulls his hand to play.
Logan stops physically coming to work. Walking is too much of a challenge and Patton has to help him get up and get dressed more often than not, so what even was the point? Plus, both Patton and Virgil have been noticing how forgetful he’s gotten lately. Virge still laughs at that one time Logan left his phone in the fridge by mistake, though Patton is more afraid than amused.
The laboratory is kind enough to allow Logan to still carry out his research from home, and Logan does despite Patton's protests. Then Logan reminds him of the expenses and their dire need for income in these trying times and it shuts him up.
As much as Patton notices something new in Logan almost everyday, he notices just as much in Virgil as well. He used to be very vocal about what he wants and/or needs, doing as much as bugging Patton non-stop after class until they stop for ice cream. Now he’s silent, reserved, often curling into himself in the car as his wordy replies turn into single-word answers. The silence extends to the dinner table, staying even as they try to engage him into topics of his interest. His tactile communication methods dwindle as he begins to keep mostly to himself. A sudden but clumsy air of independence suddenly clouds around their almost five-year old as he asserts his ability to do things on his own.
As a responsible parent should, Patton tries to confront their son about this. Virgil avoids his gaze, fingers picking at the threads of his jacket and mouth staying in a thin line. Patton slowly coaxes him and asks him what’s wrong. When he goes to pull the young boy into his lap Virgil only hops off. Once again, Patton tries to get an answer out of him. When he finally does a few minutes later, the answer crushes him.
“Papa needs you more than I do. He’s sick really bad so you need to be there more to get him better faster ‘cause you always make my sicks go away fast.”
“Oh, Virgil, no--” Patton almost breaks down right in front of his son, but he swallows down the rising helplessness in him to make sure Virgil feels otherwise. Patton utters streams and streams of words, hugging him tight and tucking him into bed with his favorite story and a multitude of kisses. Yet Virgil’s expression remains in its neutral state. The look reminds him of Logan, and if he listens closely he might hear the sound of his own heart breaking.
And Patton is tired. Of course he is. He’s lost count of just how many things he has to juggle from work to their home. He learns to ignore the screaming of his body for rest or the yelling of his mind for a break. Someone has to stay strong for his family. Someone has to keep the smile on even when the love of his life and their son can’t find the energy to do so anymore. He never dares show them how hard it is to stay positive when everything seems so dark; never shows up without giving them the hope he’s quickly losing.
Even on Logan’s good days Patton still spends his nights awake, desperately putting to memory the feel of his husband’s lightening frame in his arms. He often just stares at Logan’s sickly, sleeping face, hoping that if he looks long enough maybe his cheeks will gain back its color, maybe his shoulder blades will lose its edges, maybe the tumor will shrivel and shrink.
He tries to be with and have Logan as much as he can before he--
He finds he can never finish that sentence.
~~~
Logan is seated in front of his desk when Patton comes into their room. The lights are off save for the desk lamp illuminating Logan’s feeble form. From where Pat stands he sees Logan cradling his head in his hand, hunched over his desk in a dark blue jacket on top of a loose t-shirt and PJs. He’s always cold nowadays. Patton slowly enters, unintentionally leaving the door still open behind him. If he listens close enough he hears a few pained noises from his husband. A closer look tells him how his features are scrunched up, how his fingers are getting too tight around his scalp, and how his breaths are running deeper.
Patton yanks another seat nearby and positions himself beside Logan. He gently rubs a hand across his back. “Hey, love.”
Logan startles a bit at the touch and sound. He forces one eye open to see Patton and shoots him a pained smile. “Good evening, Pat. How’s Virgil?”
Patton smiles in return, a bit in awe at Logan’s priorities despite the grave discomfort. “All tucked in. Tried to stop me from pulling a blanket over him and demanded just one kiss. Just one! Can you imagine?”
Logan laughs weakly. “I hoped you convinced him otherwise, then.”
“ Oh, you bet I did! You know I’d never settle for anything less.”
Logan smiles and nods, the action cut off by another wince. Patton’s warm expression quickly transforms into worry, hands reflexively pulling Logan’s jacket tighter around him. “Head’s pretty bad tonight?”
The grimace stays as he nods. Logan’s voice goes softer. “Been so for a while now. Perhaps we should mention that on our next visit.”
Patton makes a noise of agreement as his eyes roam the clutter on the desk. He frowns when he sees the pile of reference studies and analytical data jammed over and under the open laptop. Even in sickness, Logan still can’t let go of his work. “I think now is a good time to head to bed, Lo.”
Logan shakes his head, both eyes still remaining closed. “I just need to finish interpreting the data for this one study--”
“Logan, you’re in pain. I’m sure they’ll understand that your health is our primary concern right now. So come on, let’s get you some res--”
“No, Patton.” He forces his eyes open and attempts to straighten his back. “I need to do this.”
Patton sighs and holds Logan’s cold hand, bringing it up and close to his cheek. “Lo, please. What you need right now is rest. You don’t have to do anything--”
Logan brings his hand down swiftly. “But I want to do something, Patton!” A fierce yet downcast look makes itself known in Logan’s eyes. His breaths get louder. “I don’t do anything anymore. I can’t work as much, I can’t cook or even clean or help with anything around the house. I can’t even walk without almost stumbling and I can’t stand without support.”
He pauses, allowing a few more emotions to show across his face. “I miss you and Virgil. I can’t take care of you or take you out on dates anymore. I can’t play Virgil’s favorite games or teach him about geology like he always asks me to do. I can’t even do something so simple as to sit him on my lap--”
Patton scooches his chair closer, leaning towards Logan. “And that’s alright, Logan. I have everything under control, don’t worry.”
Logan looks at Patton, his hand trembling visibly. “You’re exhausted, Patton. I can see it.” He stops to look at Patton more closely, plotting every line and wrinkle on his face and every bag under his eye. “You’re doing so much for us, for me, and it can’t be easy.” Logan watches as Patton tries to hide any and all feelings from manifesting on his features. “I want to help you, Patton. I want to not have you have to burn yourself out like this. I want things back to the way it were, Pat.” His eyebrows knit closer together. “So much. Please .”
Patton internally shakes away any sign of surrender to his emotions. “It will, Lo. By Finn’s mechanical arm, it will.” He smiles. “Which is why your focus should be on getting better as quick as possib--”
“And if I don’t?”
The words settle heavily between them, their greatest unspoken fear lain out to bubble thickly in their chests. No one talks. No one dares to pluck the question out of the suffocating air. Instead, Logan fails to hide a pained scowl yet again, fingers twitching on the desk to grasp at his head. Patton joins Logan in leaving the words at that, rhetorical and unanswered, as his parted lips shift into a half-comforting smile. “Sleep, Logan. It’s late.”
Even with disease, Logan isn’t that dense. He gets the idea and leaves the topic alone, deciding to give in to the pleas of his deteriorating body at last. “Okay.”
Patton helps him into bed, mirroring how he did the same actions for Virgil a while ago. Logan’s furrowed brows and creased forehead smoothes out once his head hits the pillow. Patton leaves him a quick, tender kiss on the lips before saying “goodnight” and Logan chokes out a “sorry” before his eyes fully slip shut.
The last question still haunts Patton. He knows the possibility of Logan not pulling through is menacingly there, but he’s pushed the thought away every time. It’s an unbearable future to think of so Patton does what he’s been doing every single time the depressing idea materializes in his head. He pushes it away.
The litter on Logan’s desk is an easy distraction. There’s a bit of roughness to the manner Patton collects the papers into a single pile, a result of nights and nights of frustration and exhaustion. He’s about to set them into a spare envelope when the last piece of paper catches his attention. Unlike the others, this isn’t filled with statistical numerical values or confusing scientific jargon. This one is messily hand-written on a creased piece of bond paper with a countable number of wet spots dotted across.
He tells himself he has no right to be reading this, but when he accidentally reads the first line in bold, messy script his heart practically stops.
It’s a draft of Logan’s will.
There’s a sob escaping his throat before he can even think of it. Immediately his hand flies to his mouth, tightly clamping his lips shut as a steady stream of long-denied tears fall to his cheeks and over his fingers. He falls to the seat, trembles running over his entire body as he tries miserably to tamp down his ugly cries. Beside him, Logan remains fast asleep, the faint expression of discomfort still evident on his face.
A few more drops join the dried ones on the paper and Patton shoves it back into the bottom of the pile before any more drip onto it. The hand stays on his mouth as he tries to forget what he just read, but the words dance around in his mind, the dark implications of it swimming in the darkness when Patton closes his eyes. It’s difficult keeping quiet when the urge to gasp and sob out every pain in his chest overflows in him.
In his attempts at silencing his own terrified tears, he hears another cry. It isn’t coming from him.
It’s soft and cut-off, reminiscent of Patton’s own efforts to shut off his own sadness and fear. His parental instincts kick in while he frantically wipes off any evidence of crying from his face. He breathes deeply, trying to calm down and bring his mind to more important matters at hand. He stands and turns around, realization sinking in when he sees the open door and the small familiar shadow by it.
He makes sure Logan is still resting before he quickly makes his way into the hallway, this time taking care to close the door behind him lest Logan wakes up. There he finds a shaking Virgil standing against the wall just beside the door holding his stuffed bunny tightly in his arms. Patton knows what the stains on his cheek and the puffiness of his eyes mean. The abnormal rising and falling of his chest gives him away too.
Immediately, Patton drops to his level and runs a thumb across his cheeks. His brows knit together in worry. “What’s wrong, sweetie? Why are you crying?”
Virgil sniffles but does not say a word. He instead pulls his stuffie closer, eyes darting towards the door and avoiding his father’s eyes at all costs. Patton’s concern increases so he asks again. “Virge?”
Virgil’s frown deepens and somehow his breathing gets more erratic. Patton sets his light hands on both of his shoulders, trying to get Virgil to look at him. He knows to stay patient when Virgil gets like this, even when the worriment in Pat grows impatient. The child rubs the back of his hands over his eyes and under his nose. Patton cleans him up with his own shirt even when he knows it’s futile. Knowing Virgil, he’s sure to still have a few more rounds of tears before he fully calms.
Virgil’s answer eventually comes in a trembling whisper, one filled with utmost fear that Patton thinks should never befall such a young kid.
“Is papa still alive?”
If hearts can physically shatter, Patton would be picking up the shards of his own right now with his bare, fragile hands. Despite the suffocating pain building up in him, he quickly pulls Virgil closer to him as they scoot closer to the door. “Oh honey, of course he is! Here, here.” He leads a still crying Virgil to place an ear against the door. “Come on, listen. What do you hear?”
Virgil’s expression remains the same but the sobs quiet down by just a notch. “I hear snoring.”
Patton nods and blinks away a few more tears. “Yeah, see? Papa’s fast asleep.”
Virgil leans away and faces Patton again, head still bowed and shoulders hunched. “Are you sure?”
More heaviness falls into his chest and his grasp on Virgil gets tighter by an unnoticeable sliver. “Of course, Virgil! Papa’s resting just like we told him to do, remember?”
Virgil nods silently as his fingers scratch and pick at one of the buttons on Mrs. Fluffybottom. The conversation can end there, but something tells Patton there’s more to this late night visit than meets the eye. “Why would you think so, kiddo?” Patton pushes back a few stray hair strands from Virgil’s face lovingly. “Did… did something happen?”
Virgil’s lip trembles. His already small form seems to get even smaller as his gaze falls to the floor. “I had a nightmare.”
Patton’s own hands shake as his thumb goes over another set of moisture beading in his son’s eyes. “Do you want to tell me what it is?”
A hick comes from Virgil and his breathing draws faster. In between shallow, gasping breaths Virgil tries his best to speak. “It was just like what I saw in your room. Papa wasn't moving on the bed and you were crying beside him.” Virgil begins furiously wiping at his eyes, though it does nothing to dry it. “So I thought… I thought papa was… I thought he was--”
“Oh, Virgil baby no, no. Come’ere--” Patton pulls Virgil tight against him and Virgil lets go. He lets out a high-pitched whine as tears and a bit of drool find its way onto Patton’s shirt. Patton begins crying again himself, but he doesn’t let Virgil see it. He tilts his head up where it lightly rests on Virgil’s shoulder and breathes through the tears. He whispers an unending stream of reassurances to Virgil as he continues to rub a hand across his terribly shaking form.
Every broken cry out of Virgil is a sting in Patton’s eyes. He thinks of how Virgil does not deserve this, how his worries should revolve around what color notebook to use and what time he should be waking up for school. At that moment Patton silently prays to any listening deity that they remove all the unnecessarily heavy chains Virgil is cursed to carry and drop it onto him instead. He wishes nothing more than to throw away any worry plaguing his child, to have him laugh and smile like a kid once again.
He wishes to take all of Logan’s pain and Virgil’s fears, even if the only place to put it in is himself.
“I don’t want him to go, daddy,” Virgil says in messy, sobbing garbles.
Patton stops a tear from dropping onto Virgil’s shirt while he evens his breathing. “He won’t, Virgil. I promise papa’s not going anywhere--”
“I won’t let it happen, either.”
Patton and Virgil simultaneously snap their heads up in the direction of the voice. There by the door stands Logan, awake and leaning heavily against the door frame.
“Papa!” Virgil shimmies himself out of Patton’s hold and runs to attack Logan with a hug. Logan almost stumbles at the force of his embrace while Virgil’s tears quickly dampen the hem of his papa’s jacket. Patton stays where he is, red eyes looking up at Logan whose own are equally swollen. After a shared look between the couple, Logan begins to crouch down. He bends his knee with a muffled pained sound despite the protesting of his limbs. Virgil looks at him with the saddest expression Logan has ever seen in his life. “You promise? You’re not gonna leave?”
Logan runs a hand through Virgil’s damp bangs. “I promise I’m going to fight. I’ll do everything to get better.” He pulls Virgil close to him and turns him around, hugging his small body from behind so they’re both facing Patton. “And you’ll both be helping me, won’t you?”
Patton nods at both of them silently and Virgil mirrors the gesture. “Okay.” Virgil rubs his eyes and yawns, the last of his cries dying into sleepiness. “You should go back to sleep, papa. Daddy won’t like it if you’re awake.”
Logan looks at Patton who’s still trying to clean off the smudges on his glasses. “Won’t he now?”
Patton forces a faux-frown through his tear-caked face. “Virgil’s seen my bad side and papa won’t like it, will he, kiddo?”
“Nuh-uh.” He stifles a yawn again, leaning heavier onto Logan. “Which is why you should--” yawn “--sleep.”
Logan chuckles softly. “Why don’t you stay with us for the night, hmm? You can sleep between daddy and I like you did before. What do you say?”
Virgil agrees sleepily, eyes already half-shut against Logan. Logan shoots Patton a look and he takes the hint to take Virgil from his husband, gently settling him onto the middle of the bed. Logan hops in shortly after and Patton follows.
They mouth a quiet “good night” to each other before falling asleep with interlocked fingers, Virgil sound asleep with Mrs. Fluffybottom between them.
Patton doesn’t mention the will. He hopes it will be a long time before he sees it again.
~~~
Their first taste of hope comes in the form of Rem and Jan’s car skidding a bit recklessly across the pavement in front of their house. They’re guessing it’s Remus driving today.
They’re pleasantly surprised when Roman’s black, curly hair and adorable brown face comes peeking through their door, immediately asking for Virgil. It does not even take a minute before the two children are off to check out Virgil’s new book about rocks.
Remus takes one long look at Logan’s sad-looking self bundled up on the couch with his laptop on his lap and his medicine lying on the table in front of him. “Logan, not gonna lie, you look like horsesh--”
Patton shoots Remus a look and Remus immediately swerves his sentence. “--shoe. Horseshoe. You look like a horseshoe.”
Janus looks at Remus weirdly but still oddly affectionately. “Nice save, Rem.”
The visit is not a planned one, but the couple still greatly appreciate it. Logan needs the company, Patton needs the rest, Virgil badly needs this opportunity to play, and the two have news to tell.
Janus and Remus tell Logan of how their lab’s sister company is working on an experimental treatment for cancer. Logan perks up and Patton’s hand stops short of raising a glass of juice to his lips. The couple’s eyes go wide as an entire stack of research is slammed atop their coffee table. A headache-riddled Logan reads along while Janus and Remus explain. Patton’s head tilts in confusion while Logan leans in in interest when the other two tell them about how the lab discovered that cancer cells have a weird attraction to the polio virus which then “infects the cancerous little fibbers and just friggin kills them,” in Remus’s colorful words.
Logan reads about how the treatment will involve a non-lethal version of the virus being injected into the subjects. Then they share how they’re looking for people to sign up for this experimental procedure.
Patton worries, as expected. His concern is valid, and it takes another thirty minutes for the two to explain the possible repercussions along with the possible success. Patton is almost certain on stopping Logan from doing this, terrified at the premise of this being just that, an experiment. He emphasizes how nothing about this is certain and how things can go terribly wrong.
Yet in a turn of events, it’s Logan’s turn to wade out the worry in Patton, reassuring him of equally likely, more positive facts.
“The chemo and radiation aren’t curing the cancer either, Patton. It might be worth a shot.” He holds his hand and looks into his eyes. “We have nothing left to lose.”
They see how Patton takes a split-second look upstairs, listening to the boys’ yells of glee before he offers Logan an unsure smile and fear-filled eyes.
“Okay.”
With Janus and Remus’s help, they sign Logan up for it. He’s given a polio vaccine as a preparatory step three weeks before the actual thing. Virgil tags along with them as they travel to a farther hospital, and he pleasantly enjoys the trip even if Logan is asleep for most of it.
The procedure itself is a tedious one, lasting him a full six hours with an open skull and a catheter dripping the viral mixture into his brain. Virgil and Patton are both there when he awakes, ready to answer all the burning questions the now six-year old has once again.
It’s no surprise that the pair are both terrified as they wait for the results of the MRI weeks after the new treatment begins. Logan is alone in the doctor’s room for this one while Patton entertains Virgil out in the waiting area. When the doctor tells him that the tumor did not grow this time around, Logan cries.
He does his best to present himself properly to his family afterwards, who all but throw themselves at Logan upon his announcing of the news. It’s not the greatest thing yet, no, as the tumor is still of course there. But the mere fact that it’s growth is finally at a stand-still is still something to celebrate in itself.
For the first time in so long, they allow themselves this break and eat in Virgil’s favorite restaurant to mark the occasion. If Logan practically falls onto the bed in exhaustion later on, he still thinks it’s worth it for the sparkling wide smile Virgil had on the whole time.
They go back for the treatment every two months.
Recovery slowly shows itself from there. The tumor starts shrinking at a steady pace and bit by bit Logan begins to earn back his old functions. His memory improves significantly, no longer forgetting that he’s managed to go through half of the day without his glasses or confusing the days of the week. With chemotherapy out of the way, its nasty side effects finally leave him alone and he regains his strength more and more by the day. Both Virgil and Patton are pleasantly surprised when Logan picks Virgil up to carry him once they get him from school. Virgil giddily takes Logan’s hat off then to feel the buzzed hair starting to regrow from his scalp, much to Logan’s bemusement and Pat’s amusement.
His motor functions take longer to fully normalize, but the progress is still undeniable. Janus and Remus light up when he finally shows up to work in his lab coat a few more months later, even if Remus teases him for still moving like an old man while at it. Not all days are perfect, of course, and sometimes Logan still finds himself with a nasty headache or a bad case of fatigue pulling him down. But unlike before, every visit now yields good news. For once, trips to the hospital become something to look forward to.
It takes a full year before Patton and Logan are in front of a doctor once more, hands tight around each other and faces in a worried twist laced with a lighter concoction of dread, but dread nonetheless. They hold their breath as the doctor reads out his latest MRI.
“Congratulations Mr. Sanders. You’re officially cancer-free.”
They break down in each other’s arms, finally able to let go of every hardship and suffering they’ve gone through for the entirety of those three years. It’s shuddering to think of how far they’ve come from the first time they heard the awful news. Sometimes Patton still can’t believe that the man in front of him right now with full cheeks, a short but rich head of hair, a healthy pallor, and an entire working body is Logan; the same Logan who a year ago could not even get up without Patton’s arm around him.
An understandably nervous seven-year old Virgil asks the question again when they get home. “Are you better now?” Around him, Roman, Janus, and Remus await their answer with equally expectant looks.
Logan and Patton thought the day would never come when they finally answer Virgil with a soft, emotional, but final “yes.”