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To say Virgil might’ve been a tad overwhelmed was an understatement. More often lately, he’s around the other sides so much that they’d catch the way he’d reach for his hoodie strings before even he realizes he’s moving. A surprise to him, really, when freezing into one solid position has been his go-to.
Not this time, however. Something about the whole ordeal shut him away into his room that replicates the strip mall Thomas spent his afternoon in. Only this one is vast and empty, populated only by him. The lack of any comfortable bed or material in sight hardly made for a better place, but it was quiet. Something eerie and slow tuned in the distance, but the bustling action ceased and it was all the anxious side needed.
Hilarious, in a less than laughable way, that he’s made his poor host starve in the face of yet another awkward interaction. Whatever it is about the plastered kindness on an employee’s face always riled him into a frenzy. They really had nothing better to do than to bother the poor lady about burgers that Thomas shouldn’t be eating so excessively and on top of it all make the transaction that much slower when the card had to be unlocked first.
Negligence, on his part. He’s pestered and pestered to have everything in hand and ready as soon as they reach the counter and one too many questions to Thomas about how safe the place would be to eat at got away from him. What with the blatant B rating posted and just outside the yellowish bathroom at that. All things distracting enough that the menu itself wasn’t a priority despite Logan’s plain and visible confusion about portion sizes.
So, the collection of side by side stores stretched near endlessly in his space. They didn’t cut off after a handful, no, they kept going and going into a foggy distance. The place felt humid and uncomfortable and not much of a safe space like it is at home. The only thing keeping him on his feet is hasty speed walking.
Something about the fumbling hands and a cracked phone screen crosses his mind with a deep grimace. And the tangible disdain from the people behind them in line strikes him with an ache in his chest that shoots all the way to his fingertips. It would be pretty wimpy to cry about it, but the tightness in his throat would either suffocate him or force tears into his eyes and it isn’t his say which happens first. The passing thought that the people there would be more than happy not to deal with them again seems reasonable in his empty little grey world.
One could chalk it up to the other extra stress in Thomas’s life lately. Even he felt it might’ve been a pretty dramatic reaction, but a reaction it was, and the hard footsteps echoing through the shrouded sidewalk rings in his ears. He can’t bring himself to look at his reflection in the walls of windows as he passes them.
His hurried pace scrapes to a halt, however, as he squints to himself. After a while, things blurred together, and counting methods long left his mind. And yet, something peeks through that haze- the faintest scent of fresh linen. Of all senses, it’s just strong enough that even he’s quite sure it wasn’t something he created just then. A couple sniffs lifts his head, and the familiarity of it is almost unsettling. It’s the same softening detergent he uses when he washes his clothes. The same combination of that and the many dryer sheets he stuffs into every cycle.
He lifts his jacket to his nose, and— no. It’s not that. In fact, it reeks of a nervous sweat which makes his face scrunch. But in a barren strip mall with empty stores, he can’t imagine where exactly it came from. It’s close, though, as if he’s laid into a basket of warm, clean clothes. Which in some ways both soothes his nerves and confuses him long enough that there’s almost no sense in dramatizing the day’s events now.
And maybe the cheerful tone that breaks through the deafening silence. “Gee, can you believe any of these places would make a living in an empty world like this?”
Virgil blinks, whipping around to his blue friend practically painted into the dull scenery. But, at the sight of Patton, he forces the littlest chuckle.
“Thought I’d just window shop,” he exhales shakily. Nothing gets him by with puffy eyes and the hair stuck to his flushed face, but it’s an attempt. That scent is still distracting though.
Despite his disheveled appearance, it earns Patton a sincere shrug. He paces slowly up to the other side to join him. “Dad does need a new pair of khakis, so why don’t I go with you?”
The smell practically suffocates Virgil in the best way as soon he’s inches from the other. It’s his favorite scent, and the rattling in his body calms to a simple unease. Yet, he stammers. “I-I mean there’s not- you know, anything in the windows—“
“Shhh! That’s the fun of it.” He loops one arm around Virgil’s and tugs them along. Eager, but something about it carries a certain gentleness. “Just the other day, I saw this old stuffed rabbit in a thrift store window. Stitched up in such a way I thought it might’ve been you.”
“Aw, well. I’m glad you see me as an ancient tattered stuffed animal,” the anxious side snickers. In an odd way, the smell has him pulling the other just a little closer.
“I begged Thomas to get it,” Patton adds firmly, shooting him a pointed look. “He did, it’s on his bed. I’m surprised you never really noticed.”
“Been trying to stop pointing out the obvious these days. Steps on less toes.” He glances once at the two of them in the window. “I think I saw it, just didn’t think much of it. You know we can conjure things right? Why make him go in and buy it?”
Patton’s face blooms with a sweet smile. “It was worth more to me that way.”
Something about the response burns some red into Virgil’s cheeks. But he swallows the sentiment. In fact, he changes the subject. “Have you smelled, like, laundry detergent, by the way?”
It’s as if the other had been waiting for him to ask, and he’s all too excited to share. “I do smell like laundry detergent, yes!”
“That’s not what I m— Do you really?” It’s ridiculous enough that it breaks the man into a laugh. “Is that a new thing?”
“It’s not, actually. Probably years? Ago? I think? It just kinda sorta happened and I thought I kept forgetting cookies around the place.” The memory itself adds a touch of baked goods into the laundry scent, and it has Virgil audibly inhaling with a long hum.
“Can’t say I’m complaining. That’s…surprisingly pleasant. Just really weird.” He shrugs though. “Not as weird as half the stuff we can all do anyways, to be fair.”
At their pace, there’s just a little bit of a breeze, and that uncomfortable atmosphere shifts into a crisp coolness. “You’ve gotta be just a little happy Thomas is as imaginative as he is sometimes. It’s just not the same if we couldn’t find ways to make our days just a little more wacky and interesting,” says Patton.
“Yeah, but how do you smell exactly like my laundry detergent, though? I could get just some random nice smell but that’s almost creepily specific.”
At the question, is cheerful expression is shocked into the realization. “Oh! Well— You were out sick a few days some time ago and I did your laundry in with everyone else’s. And, you know— you- keep your soaps and things right…by your hamper.” He rubs at the back of his neck, facing Virgil’s amused expression. “Since you all use your own scents, I just kept it in mind. You wear that jacket all the time, so I thought maybe if I smelled like it, it’s more familiar.”
“That’s…really thoughtful, actually,” the other muses. Virgil unsticks the hair from his face with one smooth slide of his fingers. He’d kill to smell like that at all right now in his state.
“Aw, well, there’s all kinds of things I can do. And I think they’re meant to help you guys.” Patton presses a single nudge into his shoulder, relishing in the dropping temperature in their world. He can see the way Virgil’s hair begins to fluff again already.
They continue walking, and the anxious side grins. “Humor me then, what kind of smells do the other guys like? Do they know?”
“Oh,” Patton laughs. “They know. It’s all their business but Logan’s got a sort of…fondness…for sweet smells.”
“What, like Crofter’s?”
“Not even that, just. Cookies, cakes, pies. Oh, but coffee is a big one. He loves him a fresh ground bean.” He presses a hand to his chest proudly. “Colombian medium roasts, if you’d like to know.”
The declaration has Virgil snickering, which echoes across the concrete around them. “What, did you steal his coffee grounds to know that, too?”
“…Maybe. But I put it back! And it’s the only way I get a hug out of him so don’t say anything.”
“My lips are sealed. Did you ever do any for Remus?” the other asks. “I can’t imagine he doesn’t know with how nosey he is.”
The question has Patton shuddering. “He asked me, and I didn’t want to say no. I can definitely cross…chewed cinnamon gum off my bucket list.” He squints to himself. “Chewed, specifically. Wouldn’t have it any other way and he knew if it was somehow. I just…don’t get that one.”
“Eugh. I don’t even care for cinnamon, either.” He’s shot an inquisitive look while he thinks for a moment about whatever bad breath factor Remus was looking for.
“You’re the resident Halloween guy. I figured you would like cinnamon more than anyone else here.”
Virgil stops suddenly, and beside them, a small cafe appears wafting a burnt cinnamon smell. Inside, the barista looks miserable. “No, that would be Roman’s department. Thomas gets his basic bitch-ness from him.”
The repetitive scene gets Patton’s attention, and around them appears some tables and chairs. He drags the two of them to the seats. “Roman likes flowers, too.”
“Oh yeah? They all smell like worms.” In seconds, the anxious side’s feet are propped onto the table via his tilted chair. “Like, earthy and wet.”
As if to prove a point the air fills with the scent of something floral. Dry and thin and less like the artificial perfumes they’re subjected to in their daily outings. It smells less of wet grass than something beautifully fresh.
Patton sighs. “Don’t worry, he told me once that I smelled like a produce section at a grocery store.”
The plainness of the delivery rips a snort from Virgil and the man shakes in his chair in a frenzy of giggles. “That’s— Yeah, that’s what I meant. That’s diabolical though.”
“It took a field trip to this entire garden he made just to show me how they’re supposed to smell. The man’s got standards, but it’s worth it!”
The anxious side rolls his eyes fondly, wiping away a few stray tears against his makeup. “He’s got a way with whining until things work out for him.”
“Eh, some of us have more tolerance than others. We’ll just say that,” shrugs Patton. “Then there’s Janus, which—“
The information is halted by a single palm in the father’s direction. “Don’t frankly care what he likes. It’s probably straight alcohol and that’s all I need to know.”
“Alright. Fair, I think? What other scents do you like, then?”
At the question, Virgil genuinely ponders. He briefs on anything he’s remotely interested in until he’s piqued by the idea of, well, Halloween. “What about a place? It’s totally cool if you can’t, it’s probably a pretty stupid sugges—“
“What kind of place? I did a good portion of Disney World once for Roman, too. Trust, he’s got some big asks.”
“Uh, well.” The other claps his hands together in hopes whatever infinite imagination Roman encompasses is bigger than what he’s about to ask for. “Spirit Halloween. You know, since you mentioned the Halloween thing.”
It’s genuine, the way Patton considers it thoroughly. In fact, he’s rather excited. “Oh! Okay, let me think. It’s a reused building, so I can get the old HVAC smell just fine, and maybe the floors. Lots of plastic and rubber, what do you think?”
The surprise on Virgil’s face is more than evident at the immediate acceptance of his request. He stammers and sits up straighter, planting his feet back on the ground. “Y-Yeah, for sure. And maybe, like, cardboard. There’s always a kind of musty smell when the building is empty for a while. I know it’s hard to replicate.” To himself, he wonders if it’s just worth the effort to appear in a fabricated version in his room instead.
And yet, Patton beams. “You’re right! As long as it’s not chewed gum…Let me give it a try.” In seconds, the air breathes with the new scent. The cafe wisps away back into an empty room behind the glass, and the two curiously lift their heads to give the place a sniff.
…It smells like Spirit Halloween. The realization earns widening eyes and dropped jaw, and Virgil gives the it another massive inhale. “Holy shit.”
“I know, right?! It’s the coolest thing ever, like you're standing right in the middle of it.”
“I didn’t think it would be so…distinct.” He whips around, and nothing about the scenery changes. Despite his demeanor, he’s well relaxed. “I half expected to see boxes and old racks and stuff. That’s crazy.”
“I used to pick up the candy buckets and smell them for hours when Thomas’s parents would take him.” The memory adds a touch of sweetness to it, and Patton leans back in the chair to watch the other fondly. “Roman would cry and beg to take home the accessories.”
“Like I said, he whines. A lot.” The comment carries none of the usual cynicism, just a light jab at the prince. “I used to drag him over to the animatronics and scare him. The ones with those floor pressure pads were the best for it.”
Patton squints thoughtfully. “How did you get it to work if you’re not real?”
“Same way you got your head stuck in a Frankenstein bucket.”
“The handles make for some convincing chin straps, okay?”
There’s no additional retort between them and their lighthearted conversation. For a stretch of time, Virgil forgets the event that landed him in there in the first place. He’s more than impressed by the very real feeling of being in one of his favorite places without actually seeing it. The many memories practically flood back to the two of them.
“How are you feeling, by the way?” Patton eventually asks.
He’s met with the usual shrug, punctuated with a lax hum. Virgil looks around them, and it’s all more serene now than it was when he arrived. Points to himself for never crying about it, at least. “Pretty alright. Still anxious as usual, but that’s not going away anytime soon.”
“Well, from what I heard before I stopped by, they’re trying a different restaurant. A little nice sit-in place as a treat.”
Virgil cocks his head forward. “A treat? Sheesh, you had to compensate for how bad the first one went?”
Patton waves his hands frantically, sitting straight up so fast that his chair nearly slides halfway out from under him. “No, no! Well— kind of, but not in the way you're thinking. I promise, nobody is mad at you for just doing your job.”
“He dropped and broke his phone,” the other responds flatly, raising a brow.
“You also saved him from food poisoning, so I’m calling it a win anyways. Apparently they had an outbreak a month ago and they were a whole lot further down the alphabet than they are now.”
“Right. Okay, I guess if he’s still there I should go apologi—“
Patton tilts his head. “For what?”
Virgil, midway standing from his seat, looks over with the same confusion. “For…freaking him out like tha—“ He’s given a hard stare, which for a moment has him faltering as he attempts to tuck his chair away. He clears his throat, gesturing somewhere vaguely as if there’s an exit somewhere in that direction. “Okay. No food poisoning. Got it.”
“Awesome! Let’s get going then.”