Mahogany and Teakwood

Chapter 27: Willow

we crash. twin fire. blue ash. pink smoke

spirals in decline, one tied against the other

The end of May barreled in with unseasonable heat and afternoon thunderstorms. Virgil started wearing tanks under his hoodie again. Logan put an umbrella stand next to the front door. Patton effortlessly filled the space in the apartment Roman had left behind.

He was not as diligent a cook as Roman had been, but that was mostly because he worked more hours than any of them. His real talent lay in baking; his "mom" had taught him to make things for various church functions, and Patton claimed he found it soothing. Personally, Virgil suspected Patton found the sweets themselves soothing, but he wasn't going to object to extra cookies.

The downside to having Patton move in was that Virgil often came home and discovered the couple cuddling on the sofa, or cooking together in the kitchen, or having conversations that would fall silent when he passed through. All of which would have been awkward even without Virgil's feelings coloring the situation.

The sofa sheets did get used, not that Virgil paid any attention. Yet he also occasionally heard voices coming from Logan's bedroom late at night—and it's none of your damned business, he reminded himself.

He also did not listen for other...nightly activities.

After their awful fight, Roman didn't call Virgil for an entire week. It was Virgil who finally cracked, reached out, and haltingly apologized. Roman, for his part, was brash and haughtily forgiving, and both were willing to let things between them go back to normal. In fact, Virgil was proud enough of his drawing final, a still-life of collected junk done half in charcoal and half in gouache, that he showed it to Roman...if only to prove that he did, in fact, care about a few of his classes.

Spring semester progressed relentlessly toward finals, which meant Virgil had the perfect excuse to spend less time at the apartment, and more time in various campus studios working on last minute projects.

The day before Virgil's last final, he made the long trek home late in the evening, having spent the last few hours in the drawing studio. His hands and back ached, and he was looking forward to a night of Chinese takeout and mindless YouTube. Despite being after 8PM, DeLand still sweltered. Virgil considered stopping at Painter's Pond—the pixies tended to whine if he didn't seek out their company at least once a week—but decided it was too hot.

Maybe they could all go later with Nic, if Logan and Patton didn't already have plans.

He let himself into the apartment, shedding his backpack and hoodie, basking in the blessed air conditioning. Logan's Fit had been in its usual spot, but given the stillness and open bedroom door, Logan himself must be out somewhere. No Linda, so Patton must still be working. Faint snoring coming from Remy's cabinet told him the brownie was sound asleep, as usual. Nic, however, came bounding off the sofa to greet him, nearly knocking him over.

"Easy, boy." Virgil scrubbed the dog's ears and warded off doggie kisses. "C'mon, you know Logan doesn't like it when you jump on people."

He knelt next to Nic and traced the long, jagged scars on his side. The dog's dense brown fur was growing back from where they'd shaved him, though the scars themselves were still raised and pink. Patton constantly assured Logan they'd eventually fade to white, but warned him they'd probably never fade entirely.

"It's all your fault, you know," Virgil murmured against the dog's flank. "If you hadn't chased that damned squirrel, you'd have never fallen under Deceit's spell."