Requested by Coconut1103 thank you so much for the request I had a lot of fun writing it! (this is gonna be a bit of a long one, so y'all get comfy and I hope you enjoy!)

Virgil winced as he was roughly shoved into his small room,  he stumbled forward and fell to his knees. “And don't you dare even think about coming out of this room, I don't need you ruining my image in front of all my guests.” His mother's voice ricocheted off the walls and pounded into his skull. He remained silent and waited for her outburst to subside, he hated when she got like this, but she was always like this, what was the difference?

Her grip.

Virgil could already feel a bruise forming on his wrist, but he said nothing, too afraid to suffer the consequences if he were to speak up for himself. Since he was a child he was raised to be ‘perfect’ in every way. From personality all the way to physique.

But ever since he was born he knew he was not so perfect, the way his mother wanted him to be. He was small and scrawny, short and pale skinned, and his eyes and hair didn't belong to his mother. No, those belonged to his father, his late father.

The father he had supposedly killed.

Virgil cringed as his mother slammed his door shut and stormed away.

He sighed and picked himself up off the ground.

He remembered the talk perfectly, and his mother's words burned into his mind.

“How dare you ask about him! You have no right, especially after what you did to him. How you killed him with heartbreak.” His mother's words were filled with venom.

“He wanted a perfect boy, but instead we got you. And oh how that took a toll on his already weakened heart.”

Tears stung in the boy's eyes, he knew he shouldn't cry for something that he caused, but he couldn't help but feel mournful over the father he never had. Even if he was the one that killed him.

He only wished to apologize.

Apologize for being born the way he was.

Virgil jumped as the doorbell rang, the guests had arrived which meant he had to hide in his closet.

Speaking of hiding in the closet. Virgil had told his mother about him being gay, he had thought she would have congratulated him for finally figuring himself out, or accept and understand him.

Instead, she had yelled at him, yelled such vulgar words that hurt him, discouraged him, scared him. That same night he cried his soul out, and when morning came he was unable to speak, his throat had been torn raw from his sobs.

Virgil willed himself not to cry as he squeezed himself into the tight space and shut the door, leaving him in complete darkness. He was alone and scared beyond words, the tremor in his body proved his fear to be great and unbearable. Silent tears trekked down his face, he hugged himself tight and shut his eyes, taking deep breaths to calm himself.

“Just one more year...” He whispered encouragingly to himself.

“One more year, and I'm gone.” He tried to console himself with a false sense of hope, but he still looked up to it on his times of need, whenever he's feeling down, he liked to think about what he would do if he finally ran away. He'd be free of all the pain and hatred that was given to him, he'd be able to just be himself and happy. And suddenly, he felt better, next year didn't seem that far away, in fact, Virgil felt as though it were in arm's length, just around the corner.

With a small smile, he tugged at blanket from one of the boxes in the closet and wrapped it around his trembling form.

He would be okay.

Just one more year...

--------------------

Virgil grunted as his face slammed against the cold lockers, his teeth bit into his bottom lip, his nails dug into the palms of his hands. “You're no fun to pick on anymore, you just let yourself be thrown around. That's pathetic.” The older male that had pushed Virgil sneered at him, two other boys stood behind him with stupid grins on their faces. Virgil pushed himself off the lockers and dusted himself off, completely ignoring the trio in front of him, he tasted copper in his mouth and when he looked down at his hands he saw fresh blood building up under his nails. The leader of the trio growled and stormed up to Virgil, he took his shoulders and pressed him against the lockers, roughly shoving the youngest boy on the row of lockers, Virgil yelped as he felt his spine come in contact with a large bulky lock that belonged to one of the lockers.

The older boy smirked in satisfaction. “You think you can just ignore me? Think you're better than me?” he spat, Virgil turned his head away and grimaced, he could already feel a bruise forming on his back. “Let me go.” He pleaded while trying not to give in to his fear. “There's the wimp I remembered. The one who begged.” The boy's grip on his shoulders tightened, Virgil hissed and pursed his lips. “Do something!” the boy shouted and once again pushed Virgil, the boy flinched and just barely avoided slamming his head. “Stop it, please. Just leave me alone.” His voice wavered, he hated it.

The bully scoffed and released the frightened boy. “No wonder your mom hates you.” He muttered and stormed away with his friends following close behind. Virgil waited until the group was out of sight before he himself stormed away before the late bell rang. He hurriedly rushed into his final class of the day and sat at his usual seat in the back of the class, yes I know, cliché, but oh so relatable. He kept his head down as the bell rang and the teacher began his lesson, Virgil listened every now and then but couldn't help but to doze off. He did not sleep well the night before, I mean he literally had to sleep in the closet in such a horrible position, and then his mother ended up getting drunk as soon as the guests left. Virgil hated when she got drunk, she'd throw things and bang on his door demanding to be let in.

Her screams from last night still haunted him and sent chills down his spine. “Virgil? Would you mind telling us the answer to the question I just asked?” the teacher suddenly asked him, Virgil jumped and sat up. “U-uhm..” He looked at the board and then back down at his desk, everyone had their eyes on him, watching his every move. “I..” Virgil shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I d-don't know.” He stuttered out and flushed pink with embarrassment. The students laughed and giggled at his failure, the boy shrunk in his seat wanting to disappear. The teacher quieted everyone down and continued with the lesson, an hour later the final bell rang and the herd of students screamed out of the classroom, everyone but Virgil who was held back by his teacher.

The boy soon found himself standing in front of the teacher's desk, shifting his weight and idly looking around to avoid any eye contact. “Virgil, this isn't the first time I have caught you dozing off in my classroom. I'm afraid I'm going to have to contact your mother concerning this matter.” The teacher explained with a tone of disappointment. Virgil felt his blood run cold and his heart thudded to a complete stop until it felt like a lump of snow was settled in his chest. “Please don't!” he begged and leaned on the teacher's desk, the older man jumped and backed away. “Virgil what is going on with y—” He suddenly noticed the bruises on the boy's face.

Virgil felt like crying. “Please, don't call my mother. You can give me detention, give me extra work, you can even fail me! Just...please, please don't call her.” The desperation in his feeble voice was enough to move the teacher. The man sighed and agreed with picking a different punishment, but now as he got a gist as to why the boy was so frightened, he decided then and there to not punish, but rather help, the poor boy. “Alright, lunch detention with me for the rest of the school year.” He offered, the boy lit up and nodded vigorously. “Okay! I can do that.” He agreed, a huge smile splayed across his face. “Alright, now go along, get home.” The teacher urged his student to go. Virgil let out a breath and hurried out, but right before he left he stopped at the door and turned his head. “Thank you, Mr.Picani.”

And then, he ran off 

---------------------------

And so, for the rest of the school year, Virgil had succeeded in meeting with Picani every lunch period, and the two would just talk.

Virgil had opened up to his teacher which he seemed to trust and told him about his mother, about how he grew up knowing he was imperfect and possibly a mistake, how he accepted it, embraced it as though it was what made him who he was.

Picani had gathered all the information he needed to help his student who was obviously living in a terrible household.

As the year almost came to an end, Virgil noticed that his mother had become more violent with him, both verbally and physically. She'd never hit him before, only yell and insult, but everything changed the day she lost her job.

Virgil didn't want to remember it, the bruises were just barely healing.

He only needed one more day.

One more day and he'd be free.

He already had a plan and had packed everything early, he was eager to finally run away and find himself a better home.

“You're awfully quiet today.” Picani broke him from his thoughts, the boy blinked and finished up his lunch. “Just thinking.” He replied with a shrug, the teacher hummed. “Mind sharing your thoughts with me?” he asked. Virgil thought for a moment if he were to tell Picani how would he react? Would he try to stop him? Would he call the cops? Would…

Would he call his mother?

No.

He shook his head.

His plan was too precious, he couldn't mess anything up, not while he was so close.

“Just homework.” He lied through his teeth, offering Picani a convincing smile. Picani returned the smile and sighed. “If you want, I can help you…”

And the day went on as usual, after lunch, Virgil continued his regular school day, that is until he had to go the bathroom. On his way to the bathroom, he bumped into his old bullies, just his luck. “Well if it isn't our old pal. Been a while since we've seen you, too busy hiding behind the teacher's back? You know he can't protect you forever, he'll abandon you too, eventually.” The older boy walked up to him, as he progressed, Virgil took a cautious step back. “Look, I don't want any trouble.” Virgil pleaded, holding his hands up in defense. “Too late for that.” The bully scoffed and took hold of Virgil's arms, the boy gasped and flinched, hard.

The bully and his friends laughed at his reaction, but when Virgil tried to tug himself away he only ended up lifting the sleeves of his jacket which revealed many bruises, some healing, some new.

Red, yellow, and blue painted his pale skin, the colors mixing together like a Pollock painting. The bully suddenly stopped laughing as he looked at the mess that was his arms, there was just so many. It sickened him to even look at them, much less touch them, and in an instant, he released the scared boy. Virgil suddenly felt like a feral animal, scared and cornered with nowhere else to run to, he hugged his arms to his chest and staggered back away from the now silent trio. “Hey, I'm really so—” Virgil gave his bully a violent stare, cutting him off from his worthless apology which would not heal or fix anything.

The older boy got the message and left, urging the others to follow in his stead. Virgil tried to calm himself, he tried the breathing technique that Picani had taught him, he tried counting down to one hundred, but nothing worked. His heart still felt like it would burst any minute, and his chest felt tight, constricted from lack of oxygen. He had to move.

He had to run.

And so, he did just that.

He ran, ran out of the school campus and out to the parking lot.

He looked around, his breaths coming out in short, sharp wheezes.

He found a familiar street and ran once again.

He ran down the street, ignoring the many people who stared at him, the only thing that ran through his mind at that moment was: Run. Don't stop. Just run.

And he did.

----------{Time Skip}------------------------

Virgil woke to the sound of scuttling, he jumped and groaned at how sore his body was, every muscle in his body ached and throbbed. He felt around the ground, feeling the familiar texture of cardboard beneath his calloused fingers. The small opening in front of his face provided him a tiny view of the outside world.

Dark and empty as usual, well, except that it was raining which meant Virgil was going to have to either move or risk getting himself sick. The boy sighed and pushed the flaps of the large box open, a cool gust of wind gushed over him, and he shivered violently. He silently cursed under his breath and crawled out the dampening box, fatigue weighed down on him like a ton of bricks. He picked himself up off the ground and stretched, his joints popped with the action and he let out a long content groan. He shook off the extracts of sleep and continued his journey to the outside world. As he walked out the alley, he made a mental to-do list in his head.

One: get some food.

The soup kitchen should've been open by now.

Two: find a warm place to stay.

There were always homeless shelters provided if he knew where to look.

Three: don't die.

Eh, he managed to survive on the streets for three months now, not dying shouldn't have been a problem.

“Hey kid, you got any money on you?” a voice from behind him startled him, he jumped and turned around and was met with a sketchy looking guy wearing a hood over his head. “Ah, no, sorry I don't.” Virgil shook his head and turned back around, a hand gripped onto his forearm. “Don't lie to me, I know you got something.” The man growled, Virgil set his jaw and wrung himself out of his grip. “Leave me alone, I told you I don't have anything! Get lost.” He snapped at the man and once again made an attempt to flee, but he was caught yet again, but this time he was dragged away to another dark alley where he soon found himself being beat, over and over, punch after punch, kick after kick. Even after he fell to the ground, nearly unconscious, the man just kept on going.

The pain was so unbearable, possibly worse than the deep emotional pain his mother had given him.

His vision became blurred and hazy, and his hearing faded in an out like a tuning radio.

This was it, he thought.

He was going to die.

After everything, he had gone through to finally be free.

He shut his eyes and drifted.

“Hey! You leave him alone!! I will call the cops, they're just a mile away!” an unfamiliar voice reached his ears, somehow squeezing its way through his hazy mind. He heard the man above him curse, and then he ran, his footsteps slapping against the wet concrete. Seconds later a new set of footsteps ran over to him and stopped right in front of him, he forced his eyes to open and strained to look up.

A man, seemingly in his late twenties, crouched over him. “Kiddo? Are you okay? Can you hear me?” the man's voice was filled with deep concern as he reached out to help him, Virgil flinched away from his unfamiliar touch and whined. “Don't.” He warned through his gritted teeth, the man moved his hands away, afraid that he had hurt the already injured boy. “Okay, I'm not going to touch you okay? I just need to know if you need to go to the hospital or not.” The man explained, Virgil weakly lifted himself off the ground and hugged his bruised stomach. “I'm fine, do you know where the nearest homeless shelter is?” he asked curiously, wincing at the slightest bit of movement.

The man pursed his lips, the poor boy was seriously hurt, and he had no home. No place to call his own. He couldn't just let him leave.

Virgil tipped dangerously to the side, his vision immediately blackened, and before he knew it he passed out, the last thing he felt was his legs giving way and he fell—

Right into the man's arms.

-----------

“Are you sure he's okay? He's so pale it's scary.” Virgil stirred to the sound of quiet talking.

“I really hope so, I couldn't take him to the hospital, too risky. Especially since he's not my kid, poor kiddo is probably scared...” A hand ran through his scalp, and Virgil didn't flinch, he didn't dare open his eyes.

The feeling was...comforting.

“Roman, can you fetch Dee and let him know that he can sleep in my room tonight?” Virgil recognized the man's voice from earlier, he opened his eyes and looked around. An older boy sat at the foot of the bed where he lay when they locked eyes the older boy gasped. The man looked down at him and offered a kind smile. “Thank goodness you're awake, I was really starting to get worried.” He sighed and pulled his hand away from his hair muttering a soft sorry as he did so. Virgil blinked and shook his head, he slowly sat up and groaned. “Where am I?” he asked as he cleared his head, so many questions infested his mind. “Well, you're in my home kiddo. And him over there is my son Roman.” He gestured over to the boy who still had his mouth open agape as he stared Virgil down.

Virgil huffed and offered a small, awkward wave. “Dad, I couldn't find the—” another boy walked in, he looked younger than Roman, and held different features. “Oh Dee, our guest finally woke up.” The man claimed happily, the boy remained silent and stood at the door, keeping his eyes on Virgil who stared back, taking notice of the scar on the boy's face. “I never got your name kiddo.” The man broke them from their small staring contest, Virgil shook his head and turned his attention to the man who smiled at him. “Oh Uhm, I'm Virgil.” He stammered out nervously as he twiddled his thumbs. The man visibly beamed, his smile growing wider if that were even possible. “I'm Patton, and that's Demetri, Dee for short,” Patton explained giddily.

Demetri gave an awkward nod to him and scooted closer to Patton, hiding behind his shoulder. “Thank you for bringing me here, to your home. I really am okay now, just a little sore.”  Virgil made a move to crawl out of the bed, but Patton quickly grabbed his hand, his kind face now etched with concern. “Kiddo, you're not well. You're malnourished and dehydrated and in desperate need of a good night's sleep. Besides, the weather is terrible right now and I think the last thing you want is to get sick and end up getting rolled away in an ambulance.” Patton stated shakily, Virgil internally cringed at the mention of the ambulance, he hated hospitals.

He sighed and settled himself back down on the bed, plopping his head on the pillow he recently lied on. “Now there's no need to be all bummed out, come on, I'll get dinner ready.” Patton urged the solemn boy and took his arm. “But, I don't have any money on me, how can I repay you?” Virgil squeaked as he was yanked off the bed and dragged away by the arm, the two other boys following close behind him. “Nonsense, my house is yours, just make yourself comfortable,” Patton assured, and soon the small family, plus one, found themselves in a fancy looking kitchen. Virgil looked around the area, his stomach twisting and aching with hunger. “Alright, something light but not too light, or too heavy, it looks like it's been a while since you've eaten so I don't want to upset your stomach…” Patton hummed and tapped his foot.

Behind Virgil, Roman gaped and smiled at Patton. “How about grilled cheese? It's not too little or too much right?” he suggested, Demetri shrugged in some sort of agreement. And then, all eyes were on Virgil, holding him captive beneath their stares. “Ah…” He wearily looked over his shoulder to see if he were missing something that he hadn't noticed, Patton giggled. “Kiddo, we wanna know if it's okay with you.” He claimed, Virgil flushed pink and sputtered, “O-oh, uhm, really? We..well sure, I mean, if everyone else wants it. I'm okay with anything, really, I mean…anything.” He nodded and held himself in a protective manner, Patton's gaze softened and he turned on his heel. “Okay! Roman, why don't you get Virgil into some clothes? I think I got a few that are about his size in my room, mind showing him the way?” he asked, Roman, perked up and nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, of course, dad. Come on Virgil, Dee mind setting up the table while I'm gone?” Roman gave a small pleading, puppy dog looking, pout over to Demetri who sighed and rolled his eyes at his brother's begging face. “Fine.” He muttered and dragged his feet over to the dining room.

Roman silently cheered and led Virgil upstairs where he then dropped him off at a different room, Roman looked around and pointed at the closet door. “There should be a box full of dad's old clothes, you can pick whatever seems comfortable for you. I'll be downstairs, well, we'll all be downstairs, just in case you need help or something.” Virgil gave Roman his thanks before the boy closed the door and left. The anxious teen slowly, reluctantly, walked over to the closet door and opened it with extreme caution. He looked inside and groaned, of course, there'd be a catch.

Tons of cardboard boxes filled the tiny space, the boy bit his lip and decided on which box to pick. He guessed that if it was a box full of old clothes, then they'd be stored in the way back. Taking a breath, Virgil stepped into the closet and dug through the boxes until his hands reached the back. He grabbed at a random box and pulled at it with all his might until finally, it tumbled out. Literally.

As soon as it got loose Virgil lost his grip and the box went flying over his head until it landed with a not so dramatic plop, it was actually quite anticlimactic. All the contents of the box had fallen out and now lay scattered on the floor: papers, receipts, certificates, photos, and envelopes.

Virgil silently cursed under his breath and got to his knees, he hurriedly began to return the stuff to the box until a certain picture caught his eye. He was very, extremely, confused.

He took the picture and squinted just to make sure his eyes weren't playing tricks on him, and sure enough, they weren't.

He really was looking at a picture of his mother, she looked very young, perhaps a senior in high school, with a very swollen belly. Of course, that wasn't the only thing that shocked him, because right next to his mother, with an arm wrapped around her waist, was Patton. Young and handsome as he still was, and still bearing that signature smile of his, except he looked more bright, hopeful.

He then looked down at a bundle of returned envelopes, he picked one and without a second thought ripped it open and pulled out the letter.

Maria please, I understand that you have better things to do now, especially after graduating high school, but this unborn child, our unborn child, needs both its parents to raise them. Please, don't take my baby away, I need them just as much as they're going to need me.

Virgil pursed his lips, had Patton and his mother?...

Maybe they had Roman or Demetri?

No, neither boys bore any resemblance to either Patton or Virgil's mother.

Virgil pursed his lips and grabbed another envelope, repeating the process of the last. He tore it open and pulled out another letter, bracing himself, he read.

Maria, I have given you enough time please, I'm begging you, just please let me see the ultrasound of our baby.

The page was stained with tears of the past yet they still remained, only those few words were written.

Virgil looked throughout the box, and surprisingly, a roll of ultrasound pictures was found, buried deep at the bottom of the box.

Virgil looked at the pictures, as he observed the picture he could almost make out the face of the baby.

Beneath the pictures was another letter, this one severely damaged, almost as though Patton was in a rush to write it.

Maria, I'm buying a plane ticket as I write this, I'm headed your way, I want to be there when my son is born, see you soon.

Virgil chewed his lip and whined, he needed to know what happened. Who the baby was, if Patton and his mother ever got to raise the baby together for a short while before departing again.

That's when he saw it.

A different colored letter, basically in shreds, opened various times, and when Virgil grabbed it and carefully pulled out the delicate paper, he noticed that the ink was blotchy.

Virgil swallowed the lump in his throat and opened it up.

Patton, don't come. You'll find nothing. I lost the baby, I was in a car accident, it crushed him, our son. There's nothing here for you, so now you don't owe me anything, just do me one thing and never come here. Go and ruin someone else's life.

And just like that, everything came crashing down.

The door to the room opened and Patton stepped in.  “Hey, kiddo the food is—” He froze upon the scene in front of him.

Virgil looked up at him like a deer in headlights, hands still clutching the letter.

“Where did you—how…” Patton was at a loss for words.

Virgil scrambled to his feet and took a staggering step back, his anxiety skyrocketed. “I-I'm so sorry! I did..didn't mean to, it-it was an accident.” He trembled as Patton took a step closer to him, remaining ominously quiet. The man looked down at the box lying on the ground and kneeled down, Virgil clutched the letter to his chest, too scared to move or say anything, instead, he pressed himself against the farthest corner of the wall and kept his eyes on Patton who silently returned the letters and pictures back in the box. After getting almost everything he stood back up with box in hand and set it down on his bed. “Okay Virgil, I need the letter back.” He said and stepped closer, extending a hand out to the frightened teen who almost immediately flinched at the action, and he flinched hard.

Patton paused and lowered his hand, his heart ached for the boy. “I'm not going to hurt you, I swear to you. I'm not upset with you either, you didn't know. But kiddo, if you were curious you could've just asked me anything you wanted to know.” He explained with a small frown, Virgil pressed himself even harder against the corner wanting to disappear at that very moment. “M-my mom, you knew my mom.” He stuttered out in a small voice, Patton's eyes widened with shock.

Virgil, afraid that Patton was still upset with him, continued on. “I know what you guys did, what happened, and I have so many questions. Like, was she always so cruel? Did she ever hold any love? Did she love her baby? Did she have me afterward out of pity? Is that why she hates me? Did you know my dad before he died? Before I killed him?” his breathing became short and irregular, Patton didn't like the distinct wheeze the boy's breath took on. “Virgil, you need to calm down okay?” he instructed in a calm voice and slowly kneeled in front of the trembling boy who whimpered at his presence. “Please, don't…” He gasped for breath, his lips turning a dangerous shade.

Patton cupped Virgil's face in his hands and pressed his forehead against his own. “Virgil! Virgil, look at me. Come on, look.” He demanded in a pleading tone. Virgil took a desperate breath and did as told, meeting with Patton's eyes. “Good, now calm down okay? After you're calm, we can talk.” He reassured and stroked the boy's hair.

Slowly but surely Virgil calmed himself down enough, he was breathing properly again and found himself sitting on Patton's bed with the letter still clutched in his hand. Patton sat next to him and hesitantly took the letter from Virgil who jumped and tightened his grip, but when he looked up at Patton he loosened his grip and dropped his head. “Your mother was Maria? The same one in the picture?” Patton asked. Virgil fiddled with the sleeves of his jacket and nodded. “Yes, I should know her face when I see it.” He mumbled. “Then, why are you here? She's not here is she?” Patton's voice was shaky. Virgil shook his head and bit down on his bottom lip. “I..I ran away from her. She, she was very abusive. She never hit me, never meant to, but she wanted to hurt me. Her words did hurt, and with all the bullies at school and her with her drinking problem, I couldn't handle it anymore.” Virgil picked at his nails, trying to keep himself occupied to avoid another panic attack.

Patton stared at the solemn boy, if his heart ached before, it was in agony now. “Oh kiddo, you have no idea how sorry I am. I knew she was bad, but I never thought it'd be that bad. She used to be different back then, when we were both so young, she was so heartbroken the day I met her. I couldn't leave her alone, she was so depressed and each time I'd think about leaving her she'd threaten to…” Patton trailed off, he noticed how sick Virgil looked as he spoke of his mother. “Your father? Did you ever get to meet him?” he asked, trying to change the subject. Virgil slumped his shoulders and slowly shook his head. “My mom said he died the day I was born, said he was so...horrified at how I turned out, his weak heart couldn't handle it. And just like that, he died. All because I was born imperfect.” The boy's voice wavered with incoming tears.

Patton could barely hold himself together, but he wanted Virgil to be comfortable first. “She took my son from me as soon as we graduated high school, I was ready to be a father, but the next day she and her parents were gone, along with my unborn son. I sent so many letters, demanding to be part of my son's life, she begged over the phone to give her some time to adjust. And finally, when I couldn't take it anymore, I decided to drop everything and go to her...” Patton swallowed the lump in his throat and took a deep breath. “The day I was supposed to finally meet my son, was the day I lost him forever, never getting too see him, or hold him in my arms.” Patton wrapped his arms around himself. “It was so close to Christmas too, he would've been my little miracle. December 19...”

Virgil perked up at the date, his heart hammered violently against his chest. “That...that's my birthday...” He uttered breathlessly, eyes wide with shock. Patton looked at him with the same expression. “But, no...that was almost…fif..fifteen years ago...” He trailed off and immediately scrambled off the bed, Virgil doing the same.

Patton eyed Virgil up and down, he looked at his eyes, big and brown like his own, and his hair, wavy and a soft chestnut color. He had his small nose and Maria's ears, and if Patton were to squint he'd be able to make out faint freckles as he had.

Could Virgil be?...

It all fit together perfectly.

Virgil losing his father, and Patton losing his son.

“You're…” They both stared at each other, too shocked to move.

“You're my son,” Patton claimed and dropped to his knees while tears gushed out of his eyes like active geysers.

When Virgil finally got a grasp of what was happening, he launched himself at Patton and wrapped his arms around him, burying his face in his chest.

“Dad...” The words tumbled out of his mouth, he pulled back from the embrace and got a better look at his father. “Dad.” His mind became a broken record repeating the name over and over in his head, the word fumbled desperately out of his mouth. Virgil seemed to be in shock. Patton cupped his son's face and choked on a sob. “Yes, I'm dad. I'm your dad kiddo. And you're my son. My miracle.” He clutched his boy to his chest and held him tight, close to his heart where he always belonged.

And the pair just stayed that way, holding on to each other.

And for the first time in years, Virgil didn't have to worry about where he'd be sleeping tomorrow, because he was finally home. Right, where he belonged, safely tucked in his father's arms wanting nothing more but to stay there.

He was finally home.