Prinxiety oneshots

Till Death do we Part

I would like to say that this is complete angst. There is no happy ending. It's also pretty long.
-—————————————————————————————The cloaked figure stared at the child.

The infante boy lay sleeping in the crib, unaware of the events that had unfolded around him. His father lay lifeless on the floor.  He had managed to avoid paying his dues for some time, but time catches up eventually. The man was long gone and had no time left to pay for his crimes, but this boy had so much left to give. Yes, the child would atone for his father's sins. It wasn't fair, but then again, nothing about their job was. The figure brushed their bony fingers against the boy's head, and the deed was was done. Henceforth, Virgil Addams would be an angel of death.

The man was discovered dead a few days later. When neighbors noticed he no longer came out to collect his daily newspaper, they knocked on his door, and receiving no response, peered though the window to see the body. The cause of death was ruled as a stroke, likely stemming from unaddressed heath issues. The funeral was a small affair. He had no friends, being a drunk and a homebody. His only living family, besides his infant son, was his elderly aunt, who signed the death certificate and paid for the modest funeral. Once he was buried, however, she skipped town before anyone could ask her to stay. This ruled her out as the sons potential caretaker. The son, namely Virgil, was a thorn in the side of the authorities, who could not seem to figure out what to do with him. In the end, he was placed in the care of a childless man who had been looking to adopt for sometime, but had struggled due to being openly gay. The man, Patton Foster, happily accepted the role of Virgil's caretaker, and raised to boy as if he were his own son. In a way, he was. Virgil was an odd child. He was diagnosed with mild social anxiety at a young age, and grew to be a rather introverted child. He had no friends, and at age five, Patton elected to just homeschool him. There were other odd things about Virgil. He had heterochromic eyes. One was absinthe green, but the other was a brilliant purple. This should, by all accounts, have been impossible. The medical personnel had found no explanation for the pigment of his eyes, and as he was otherwise healthy, simply chalked it up to some very rare genetics. As he grew, Virgil began to exhibit some strange behavior. Once when he was three, he had excitedly pointed out a rabbit to his father and went to touch it, only for it to lie dead at his finger tips. Flowers he picked wilted in his hand as soon as he touched them. Trees lost their leaves and grass browned beneath his bare feet. As Virgil got older, Patton realized that even he was not able to touch him without being struck with sickness. As the boy grew so did his strange power. Eventually Patton could no longer stand not knowing what was wrong with his son. He knew that the doctors would not believe him, and so he began to search for someone who would. His research lead him to a man named Logan Hawking. Logan was physics professor at the local college, but also ran a website few had stumbled upon. The blog was well documented and professional, and was dedicated to documenting the supernatural. He had left his work email on the website and would agree to meet up with people for a small fee should they want personal advice. Patton read though the blog, and finding it to be his best bet, sent an email requesting a meeting. Within a few days, he received his response. Logan agreed to meet with him for a small fee of twenty dollars, and that Saturday, Patton brought Virgil with him to a quiet cafe near their house. Logan was around Patton's age. He held himself with an air that demanded respect and suggested high intelligence. His outfit was simple but professional, consisting of a black button-up and dark blue tie, with a single pen tucked into his shirt pocket. He peered out of his square-framed glasses with scrutinizing grey eyes and arched eyebrows. He entered the small shop, bought a single black coffee, and sat down to wait. Around 15 minutes later, Patton and Virgil arrived. Patton scanned the room though his round, gold rimmed glasses and his light blue eyes landed on the man who's picture had been on the website. He ushered Virgil over and sat down across from the necktie clad man. "Hello, are you Logan? I'm Patton foster, my son and I were supposed to meet you here." Logan nodded his acknowledgment and offered the other his hand. "Yes, that would be me. Nice to meet you Patton and," he looked to the young boy next to the curly blonde, "Virgil, I presume?" Virgil, who was busy clinging to his father's leg, gave a small nod. "He's a bit shy." Offered Patton. "He's got social anxiety and I homeschool him so he doesn't meet people often." Logan nodded again and gave a small smile. "It's quiet alright, I myself can be shy around people." Patton gave him a grateful smile and excused himself for a moment to buy something from the counter. He returned a few minutes later carrying two cookies and a cup of hot chocolate. He sat back down and handed one cookie to Virgil, who thanked him and began eating. "So you wanted to talk to me about your son?" Logan asked the man across from him. "Yes..I've seen the post you make on your blog..about the supernatural, and I think something is wrong with Virgil." "Can you explain the problem?" Patton bit his lip. "Well, you see whenever he comes near me for too long, I begin to feel sick." Logan started to speak but Patton kept going. "I cough up blood. I've been to the doctor, but they couldn't find a reason for it, and after a while I just stoped going. But that isn't all. When he was younger, he tried to pet this rabbit that hopped near him, but when he touched it..it just died. He was so upset and I couldn't figure out what happened." Patton looked pained at the memory, and Logan, gently as he could, asked if there was anything else. Patton explained about the plants wilting and the strange eye color. "Patton how old is Virgil?" "He'll be six in December." Logan sat looking at him in silence. After a moment he leaned forward, and with a frown on his face spoke. "Patton, I'm sorry to say, but I believe your son may be an angel of death."
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Okay, okay I know. I promise I have a clear idea of where I want this to go and to end. The prinxiety and the angst would happen in the next part if you want me to write it. It would only be two parts. I'm not sure how many people will read this or the book at all, but if you do want to read it and you want a part two please leave me a comment. Also can you figure out the, probably obvious, reasons for their last names?