"We're here," says Patton, finally.

Virgil doesn't know how long they have been walking for, or if time even exists anymore. But regardless, they've arrived. Patton hadn't told him where they were going, and Virgil isn't exactly sure what he was expecting. But it certainly was not this.

Patton stops in front of a small fishing dock. It's made of driftwood, tied together with pastel pink seaweed. The kelp binds it together and holds it fast to the shore. It extends over the water like a limb reaching for the horizon, an open hand waiting to welcome foreign ships. Virgil stares at it, not understanding.

"A dock?" he asks. "Why are we at a dock?"

Patton looks at him, and his quiet laugh is bittersweet. "To get on a boat, of course."

"Where would the boat take us?" Virgil looks out towards the skyline. Where the yellow sky meets the turquoise sea. Where uncharted territory waits to be explored. In his heart of hearts, though, he already knows what lies beyond.

Patton follows his gaze. "On."

Virgil swallows, and nods.

Patton climbs up onto the dock, and Virgil gazes up at him. Patton's curly hair blows gently in a warm beach breeze, his clothing billowing around his body. If it weren't for his feet being visibly secure on the wooden planks of the dock, Virgil might have thought he was flying. In his younger state, clothing blowing in the wind, Patton looks like the thing he could never be in his hospital bed; free.

Virgil's father turns around, and holds out a hand to him. He's offering to help him up. But, Virgil hesitates, the wasps buzzing in his chest.

"No need to be afraid, kiddo," Patton says. "I'll be with you the whole way."

Slowly, Virgil takes his hand.

With Patton's assistance, Virgil climbs up onto the dock. It sways a little under his feet, like a parent rocking their child to sleep. The wind sings a whispered lullaby as Virgil and Patton walk hand-in-hand down towards the end of the dock. The teal ocean glitters underfoot, lapping up against the kelp-covered support beams that keep the dock afloat.

"Where's the boat?" Virgil asks.

"On it's way," Patton answers. "It'll be here soon."

They stand there for a moment, just like that. Patton's hand is warm and secure in Virgil's own.

Eventually, Patton speaks again. "Can I ask you something?"

That takes Virgil by surprise. Since his arrival, it seems like he's been the one asking all of the questions. He can't imagine what he would know that Patton doesn't. But he nods anyway.

"Why Barcelona?"

"What do you mean?"

"This place." Patton gestures around them, indicating their surroundings. The beach scenery. "From what I know, it's constructed from your memory. I was just wondering what was so special about Barcelona."

Virgil doesn't know what to say, at first. He doesn't have the faintest idea. But, Patton is right, there must be some sort of reason why Virgil brought them here, even subconsciously. He tries to remember everything that he can of Barcelona, beyond just the physical. The feeling of tranquility, of weightlessness. Of childhood innocence, before his life fell apart for the first time.

"Well, I guess, it's where I remember being completely happy." Virgil admits. "Both you and Dad were with me, and our family was all together. It's what I always wanted to have... what life never gave me again."

Patton squeezes his hand lightly. "You can. You can have that." He's trying to reassure him. "I know it's hard to see right now, but everyone's wounds heal. When you're ready to love again, you will. And then your family will fall into place."

Virgil tries to imagine a future family. He tries to picture their faces. But he comes up empty handed. How could he not, when it seems like everyone he's loved has left? "But no one wants me," Virgil says quietly. "I'm broken. Why even bother?"

His father's eyes go wide behind his glasses, his head turning sharply to look at Virgil. "What are you talking about?" Patton stares at him, worrying in that way that only a parent can. "Virgil, you are so incredibly worthy of love. Being broken is what makes you human. After all, aren't we all a little broken?" Patton lifts their joined hands before pressing them to Virgil's chest. "You have to forgive yourself. Sure, maybe it seems like life hasn't given you much yet, but doesn't that just speak to how much more life has left to offer you?"

He thinks of his father, Janus. Of the countless missed calls and unlistened to voicemails that sit on his cell phone. He thinks of the good in the world that Patton sees. Of the family he thinks he could have.

And Virgil wants it. Badly.

Virgil spots the boat almost as soon as it ascends over the horizon. It starts as a small dark dot in the distance, but as it approaches he can see it better. He can see the mermaid on the bow, with her face and tail carved with stone, and her hair looking like it's flowing in the wind. Virgil expects to see whiteness from the foam as the ship cuts through the water, but is surprised to see that it doesn't touch the water at all. Instead, it floats above it like it's been doused in pixie dust. It looks mystical; a dreamboat. On the boat is a bell, and it tolls when it comes up to landing. An old metal anchor is lowered by invisible magic hands once it reaches the dock.

From the starboard, a ramp is lowered across the divide between the boat and the dock. It lands with a soft clunk of wood against wood, and it opens up a path for Patton and Virgil to climb aboard.

It's time.

Virgil's head swims. His life is flashing before his eyes. All that he has lived, he can see it all.

Sitting on the concrete outside of his elementary school on the day that he first met Roman, how they'd gone splashing about in the rain.

Nights out on the slide at the playground behind his childhood home, under a blanket of stars.

The picture of his family that he'd taken with him when he'd left home, the one that now lies in the drawer of his nightstand.

Roman's half-lidded eyes, looking at him in between kisses, stolen away in his bedroom.

Looking at Janus' name on his caller ID, and yearning to answer it, no matter how much Virgil wanted to despise him.

It's like poetry.

It is Virgil's life. And it's one that, for once, he's not ready to stop living.

Then, Virgil is crying, hot tears streaming down his face. He rubs at his eyes desperately, trying to get them to stop. But it's uncontrollable.

The next thing he knows, Patton's arms are around him. For the first time since he was a little boy, Virgil feels what it's like to be embraced by his dad. His chest fills with fluff and the tears come even faster. He crumbles, falling into Patton and holding onto him tightly. So tightly. Patton strokes Virgil's hair, shushing him gently, trying to console him.

"W-What if I don't want to go?" Virgil's voice is muffled by Patton's shirt.

"That's okay," Patton whispers. "You don't have to."

Virgil's breath catches in his throat. "I-I don't?"

"It's your boat, kiddo. You don't have to get on it, you know."

"...But we all have to go, right?"

"Eventually, yes," Patton says. "But only when it's our time." He steps away, taking Virgil by his shoulders. He looks at him squarely. "Only you are able to say when that time has come. So, you tell me..."

"...Is it time?"