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modernsuperhero · 6 years

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A Fleeting Phantom Feeling Part 2

Part 1 https://depressed--and--underdressed.tumblr.com/post/174035673671/a-fleeting-phantom-feeling-part-1

LAMP Soulmate AU

TW: major character death, implied self harm, implied suicide, tragedy, heartbreak, minor injury, sympathetic Deceit

Roman dropped out of the play. His physician told his parents to take him out of school, so they did. Hanahaki was nothing to be trifled with. He had weekly appointments with both the doctor and the therapist to make sure he’d pull through. He was lucky he still had at least one other soulmate, as the flowers showed, so they doubted the hanahaki would persist for long. However, the psychological effects could be disastrous. His therapist instructed his parents to never leave him alone with anything he could hurt himself with, and to make sure he wasn’t overstimulated.

He ended up spending a month on the couch, eating popsicles and binge rewatching musical bootlegs. Eventually, he stopped having to run to the bathroom and cough up flowers every few minutes, but he barely noticed. He just felt tired.

Roman’s friend Remy came to visit at one point. He’d heard what had happened through the gossip grapevine despite Roman’s inactivity on his social media, which was how they usually kept touch.

“Hey, girl.” Remy seemed uncomfortable as he stepped into the room. Roman barely nodded in recognition, vaguely aware that Remy’s discomfort may have stemmed in Roman’s uncharacteristically disheveled appearance. He hadn’t showered in days, and he was only wearing pajama pants, curled up in a pile of pillows as Heathers played on the screen.

“Sup,” Roman croaked. His throat was hoarse.

“I heard you haven’t been outside in a while.” Remy hesitantly sat on the couch next to Roman, adjusting his sunglasses hesitantly.

Roman laughed. It sounded fake.

“There’s this concert in town,” Remy started, “it’s pretty cheap, it’s, like, for some charity-”

“I’m not supposed to be overstimulated.” Roman cut him off, smiling wistfully. “Doctor’s orders. Don’t think a rock concert is gonna be the best idea.”

“It’s not that kind of concert. It’s this orchestra from some other county’s school. Apparently they won this national contest or something - but it’s not gonna be like a whole crowd of people dancing and screaming. I just thought it would be good for you to get some fresh air.” Remy shrugged, and Roman caught wind of Remy’s genuine concern that he tried so hard to mask behind his cool guy persona.

Roman sighed. “Get my parents to sign off on it, and I’ll go.”

Roman wasn’t sure how he was supposed to look for this kind of thing, so he cleaned himself up and picked out an outfit he figured was “business casual.” He was surprised at how much lighter he felt after a long shower. He started humming Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo as he picked up his things and checked that his phone was charged. He paused when he heard his mother gasp in the other room.

“He’s humming, darling, he’s humming again!” Her whispers were filled with tearful joy as she choked on her own words.

Roman stopped and looked down at himself. His own eyes watered and he smiled. Maybe he would be okay.

The ride to the concert was surprisingly... normal. Remy and a few of their other friends - who Roman didn’t know were even into this kind of thing or maybe they weren’t, maybe they were only there for him - gossiped about the new store in the mall, about the latest celebrity scandals and the new revival of Be More Chill. Remy pulled over the car at a little kid’s lemonade stand and every single one of them bought a cup. Roman caught himself strangely fixated on the cluster of bouvardia on the child’s elbows. Soulmate. Remy noticed his staring and lead him gently back into the car.

The auditorium was full of older people and what was probably the kids’ parents. They were the only teens in the audience, and received more than a few suspicious and judgemental stares. Remy managed to squeeze them all into the third row, and the group waited anxiously for it to start.

The curtains pulled open, and the conductor said a few words that Roman tuned out. He liked the dimness of the lights and the comfortable chairs. He loved how it all reminded him of a play theater. The performance arts weren’t all that different, he supposed, at least in setting. And as the big Shake-itty-speare man himself said, the world was a stage itself, was it not?

Roman glanced at the pamphlet and saw the first song’s name: Isle of Calypso. It sounded interesting enough. The conductor finally finished speaking and turned around. The first few measures drew Roman in instantly. He felt like he was on a beach, lonely and deserted.

And then a sound broke through. The song of someone else - a companion in his loneliness. The single violin pierced Roman’s skin like a million needles and he could feel his heart stutter in its rhythm. Roman looked up at the violinist himself and was even more awed.

The boy couldn’t have been more than a year older than Roman. His dark hair was slicked back and his eyes were closed behind his glasses. He had this memorized. His face was blank, but the light illuminated his jawline in a way that made Roman gape in amazement. The raw emotion poured into just one instrument seemed to powerful to contain. It ricocheted throughout the room. More than one person was crying. Then the solo ended and the song grew and swayed like the wind pushing an untethered island around a mysterious ocean, to be found once and never again. Roman, though, only watched that one violinist. He could feel his entire body pound every time the boy moved, bowed, danced this magical dance-

And then the song was over.

The concert was an hour long, with a five-minute intermission in between. Remy managed to drag Roman out into the lobby to buy some snacks, chattering the whole time about how old and crazy the conductor looked.

Roman was in a daze, just nodding and agreeing to everything Remy said. Then, he noticed something in the reflection of Remy’s sunglasses.

The boy working the drink booth had a scar on the skin around his left eye. It was pretty noticeable, but Remy and he hadn’t gotten to the drink booth yet. Without even realizing what he was doing, Roman tugged Remy’s sleeve and pointed wordlessly at the boy in the booth.

Finding your soulmate was usually an accident. It also, generally, involved some type of injury. Lots of people became doctors with the sole purpose of increasing their chances of meeting their soulmate. Others were afraid of meeting their soulmate - either they were afraid of the supposed injury, or in some cases, of being ridiculed for how they found each other. Society was cruel like that, and terribly contradictory. Roman had known Remy for years. Remy was the kind of person who was afraid.

Roman remembered vividly the day Remy first removed his sunglasses in front of him, revealing the orange mocks around his left eye. He said they’d been there since the fourth grade and had never gone away.

‘They… whoever they are, they have a scar. They probably get made fun of for it. I don’t want to… to draw attention to something they don’t like.’ It was the only time Remy had ever let his facade down.

‘How are you gonna tell them when you find them without drawing attention to it?’ Roman had asked.

‘I think I’m probably gonna try to take them aside - talk with them in private, you know?’

And that’s what Remy did.

Roman watched Remy walk nervously up to the boy at the booth. He couldn’t hear what they said, but he saw the way the boy’s eyebrow was raised questioningly as Remy led him to the hallway around the corner. The announcement came over the intercom that intermission was ending, and Roman went back to his seat alone. Remy didn’t come back.

Roman felt bitter. Then, he felt angry at himself for feeling bitter. Remy was only ever nice to him; he deserved his own happy ending. He thought of the oleander, Christmas roses, white heather flowers. A new song started and the violinist boy began to play. Roman’s heart began to soar again, but in the back of his mind Roman wondered - where was his happy ending?

When the concert ended, Roman headed out with Remy’s his friends back out to the lobby. Roman was only mildly surprised to see Remy waiting there. He was holding hands with the boy from before, and they were both smiling like giddy children. Good for them.

Their friends instantly starting peppering them with questions. Many of the people in the crowd - apparently everyone was listening in, those eavesdroppers - gasped when Remy took off his sunglasses and showed them how his flowers matched the boy’s scar perfectly. They matched each other perfectly. Apparently the boy’s name was Dee-something? Roman wasn’t really listening. His blood was boiling under his skin and it was all he could do to keep himself under control. He turned around and wormed his way through the crowd to the back door.

He closed it behind him, gulping in panicked breaths. His vision was blurring and his heart pounded in his chest. Everything seemed like it was too much, all at once. He tripped over something and fell all the way down. He heard someone’s footsteps.

“Are you alright?” The someone wrapped their arms around Roman and pulled him to his feet, holding him steady by gripping his shoulders. Their voice resounded in Roman’s brain, anchoring him back in reality. It was a soothing voice, really. It was soft but stern, concerned but assertive.

The blurriness faded and Roman looked up. It was the boy - not Dee-something, but the violinist. His lips were pinched together like - like he cared. He repeated his question.

“Are you alright? Do you need me to call someone?”

“I’m - ah, s-sorry. Fine. I’m fine.” Roman shakily pulled himself away.

“Are you sure?” The boy adjusted his glasses and Roman swore he felt his heart flutter. Then he remembered the oleander, Christmas roses, white heather flowers. What right had he to fall in love with someone when one of his soulmates was dead?

“Yeah.” Roman turned away and shoved his hands into his pockets, then immediately removed them when they began to sting. His palms were bloody from his fall, and he cursed himself for his stupidity.

“Wait.” The boy called. Something was different. Roman turned around.

“Let me see your hands?” He asked. Roman blinked and held them out. The boy’s expression was difficult to read as he held out his own hands. In the same places where Roman was scraped up, little jonquils were sprouting up on the violinist’s palms. Roman’s entire body froze, heavy like cement. Neither moved for a solid minute.

Finally, the boy spoke, retracting his shaking hands. “My name is Logan.”

“R-Roman.” He felt winded. His head kind of hurt, but he wasn’t focused on that at the moment.

Logan looked at the ground for a minute.

“M-May I ask, but, a little over a month ago… well,” he didn’t seem like he could get the words out.

“It wasn’t me,” Roman managed. “Who-whoever that was, they’re… gone, now.”

Logan swallowed and looked back up at Roman. “I suppose we have some catching up to do.”

Roman felt himself smile, really smile. He could still have a happy ending.

“Yeah, I guess we do. I’m lactose intolerant; how do slushies sound?”

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