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Virgil was buzzing with energy, and for once, it didn’t actually feel terrible. It wasn’t the kind of energy that found him hyperventilating, panicking, or yelling, no- it was the kind that left him excited, his eyes brushed with a rare shade of shimmering purple that hadn’t made an appearance in way too long. God, he was so fucking excited.
It was just some guy. Just a dude who was basically a stranger, who’d only been on two real dates with Thomas. And sure, those dates had gone well, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Virgil knew that. Virgil had no right being as happy as he was, knowing that.
Roman, on the other hand…
Roman had been infatuated with Nico from the moment Thomas saw him, and that feeling hadn’t faded one bit in the following days. Half a month later already, and he was still rambling about Nico constantly, making Thomas crush like crazy , and roping anyone who would listen into fantastically idealistic conversations about their hypothetical future together. Roman- who had been sorely, sorely lacking his usual spark and glamour since the whole Wedding fiasco- was practically glowing with a happiness that only brightened as time went on, infecting the Mindpalace around him with optimism.
So.
Okay.
There was a slight possibility that Virgil was overestimating how excited he was about Nico, for Roman’s sake. And there was also a tiny little chance that he was mainly just excited to see Roman so excited.
It wasn’t a hard conclusion to come to. Virgil hadn’t pushed them after Nico because he thought some cute nobody would make all of Thomas’ problems go away, fucking obviously, but- but Roman had looked so goddamn upset, okay, and he couldn’t just sit by and watch. Roman deserved better than that. Roman deserved to chase a dream, even if it was unrealistic, and overblown, and a little bit stupid-
So yeah. Virgil was pretty goddamn clear on why he was actually grinning like an idiot, even if he wasn’t crazy about acknowledging it. He wasn’t that oblivious to his feelings.
Roman was, though.
“Oh my gosh , did you see the way he lit up when he saw us!? I mean, of course you did, it was so impossible to miss-”
Virgil had missed it, actually, because the way Roman had been grinning was much more distracting than it had any right being.
“-And his eyes - ugh! I actually cannot believe they make men that beautiful. Truly, I will never understand how some people manage to be heterosexual in the presence of such… magnificent creatures.”
Well, Virgil could understand that bit, at least.
“Where do you think we should take him next? Oh- no, I know the perfect date! It shouldn’t be too terribly formal- do you think he likes formal? Sweet Hera, now I’m picturing him in a suit , if he wasn’t already pretty enough-”
And that was about where Virgil tuned Roman out completely- or at least his words, because Virgil didn’t have much of a problem paying attention to the rest of him.
They were sitting together on Roman’s couch, tucked at the foot of his massive heart-shaped canopy bed. It was a velvety, dark red affair, cushy and piled up with nicely crocheted pillows. Honestly, ‘couch’ was a generous word for it, but Virgil would rather swallow a spider than say he was sitting on a loveseat with Roman, so.
Maybe he was being dramatic, but he supposed he could just blame it on the room’s effects.
What he could also blame on the room, while he was at it, was the insanely over-flattering lighting that was making Roman impossible not to ogle. Fairy Lights were strung over every inch of Roman’s room; along his headboard, across the lines where the walls met ceiling, trailing the different layers of his bookshelf and strewn over his desk. If that weren’t enough, there was also Roman’s central source of light, a fucking chandelier made entirely from red and pink crystal- which somehow had a dimmer switch, one that was set pleasantly low. All this combined to make a room already outfitted in entirely bubblegum-and-rose tones look even warmer , flushed and pretty and, well. Romantic .
Roman was in the middle of it all: waving around hands tipped neat, pink-painted nails, grinning with pearly white teeth, filling up the whole room with his melodic voice. He smelled like iced-coffee and fresh berries, which really wasn’t fair, because as far as Virgil knew he’d spent most of the day working on a painting and whenever Virgil sat at a desk for that long all he smelled like was sweat.
Not that Virgil was smelling Roman, or anything. Cuz that would be weird.
And he wasn’t being weird.
Yeah.
“-well anyways, what do you think we ought to do?”
Virgil blinked, catching Roman’s sparkling emerald- Roman’s perfectly ordinary and unremarkable green eyes.
“Sorry, I- uh, missed that,” Virgil muttered, finding his voice much more aggravating than he’d like. Roman thankfully didn’t draw any attention to how obviously awkward he was, happily repeating himself with barely a tease- probably because he was known to zone out himself, honestly.
“What should we do now , is what I mean,” Roman said, “It’s been, like- three dates, if you count the mall- and I think we should have Thomas ask him to be his boyfriend next time they meet,” Roman drew himself up as tall as he could while sitting (which wasn’t very tall at all, because he stood at an impressively short height normally). “It’s soon, I admit, but we’ve gotten to know each other plenty - what reason would he have to say no?”
Well, that was one way to make Virgil focus rather than lose himself to the tone of Roman’s voice: scare the shit out of him.
“Uh, okay, hold on there,” he felt his eyeshadow darken a shade- an odd sensation, like a sinking, tightening of the skin under his eyes. Black . “There are literally so many reasons he could say no, Roman, and we can’t just-”
Roman held his hands up placatingly, and Virgil almost redoubled his annoyed efforts to argue about everything, before:
“Hey, hey, that’s just what I was asking for, alright? I was only saying what I think, like I said, because I want to hear your concerns. It’s hardly as though I’d just, what, make up my mind about what we’re going to do before I even consulted you?”
Virgil’s eyebrows went up, quietly stunned for a drawn out moment. Roman rolled his eyes at him.
“Well, I’ve been trying to be better about that sort of thing. Since, y’know… you went out on a limb for me, with Nico. Making sure you’re comfortable with how we proceed, it’s the very least I can do.”
Roman shrunk back a bit, shrugging in feigned nonchalance. Just like that, the color beneath Virgil’s eyes shifted again, his guard dropping ever so slightly. Brightening of makeup was a soft, smooth sensation- but there were none of the sharp and excited thrills that denoted glittered eyeshadow at the moment. Gray-lavender .
Virgil pulled his legs up, pressing his knees together and leaning forwards to drape his arms across them. He let his bangs fall in front of his face, covering his eyes.
“Um. Thanks, I guess.”
Roman clapped his hands together suddenly (at which Virgil definitely, totally didn’t jolt like a startled child).
“Right! So! You may continue. With your criticisms.”
And Virgil saw an opportunity to get back to normal, back to the ol’ Creativity & Anxiety teasing banter, instead of dealing with whatever the hell happened in his chest when Roman got all considerate (something that had unfortunately/fortunately become unfairly common)- so of course, he went for it.
“Awww,” he drawled sarcastically, “Since when do you know how to take criticism?”
He tried for a smirk. It slid right off his face when Roman didn’t rise to the bait at all; in fact he hardly bristled beyond a slight strain in his jaw, looking uncomfortable more than anything.
“I’ve been working on that, too,” he said, completely genuine.
“Oh, uhm,” Virgil glanced away again. “You- yeah. I was just- yeah.”
Even with his eyes averted, he was pretty sure Roman was smiling at him. He didn’t know why, and he didn’t exactly want to see it.
“Come on! I want to know your thoughts! I’m sure it’s nothing I won’t be able to handle- it certainly isn’t the first time you’ve criticized me.”
Roman said it easily, like it wasn’t any kind of problem- but Virgil still flinched. It didn’t help that it was completely true.
So he would give his thoughts on the problem, Virgil decided, but he promised himself to at least try being… nice. Or something. Because Roman was being so nice, just like he always was nowadays, and mostly always had been ever since he got over himself four fuckin’ years ago when Virgil joined their little family.
“I- look, I know you’re excited- like, really excited- and hey, I get it, okay? He’s… great. Nice. Good-looking, I guess. Of course I’m into him, we all are, but-” alright, be cool, don’t get mean, “This is so, so new, Roman. We can’t just spring a big label on him like that, that’s a horrible-” Jesus, walk that back a bit, maybe, “-A very, very… reckless idea. I know you’re like, super into spontaneity or whatever, but this isn’t exactly a rom-com,” Virgil took a deep, steadying breath, the first one since he’d started speaking. “I just- I don’t want you- I don’t want us to get, y’know. Hurt.”
Something that was already an embarrassing (if obvious) admission was made just about a billion times worse with that little slip-up- but Roman, again, didn’t acknowledge it. In fact, he was almost entirely… quiet? Pensive? Whatever the word was for that furrowed, confusing look on his face, uncharacteristically reserved for such an expressive creature.
Well, Virgil didn’t know what he’d expected; for his friend to blow up at him? Puff his chest out like a big angry tropical bird and defend his point until it prompted a screaming match? For Roman to just start sulking and refuse to talk about it anymore? Maybe.
But he didn’t do any of that.
His face was clear and unbothered, contorted only slightly in thought. It was like he was sorting through Virgil’s words manually, shuffling through his brain and trying very carefully to pick out phrases of his own to respond with. Roman stopped and started speaking a few times over, taking more time and care than Virgil had ever seen him put into a conversation.
“Thank you,” he said, finally, “I think I can understand that.”
“Um. You’re welcome?”
“I suppose it would not kill us to wait longer,” Roman said, slowly, enunciating clearly, “But we should set a time, for when we agree that it’s appropriate to take this to the next level.”
Virgil wanted nothing more than to crawl into the earth and die, just so he never had to emotionally process Roman being accommodating of his needs. Because if Roman had said something like that about a romantic interest, say, two months ago? Virgil would’ve shut it down, immediately, no hesitation. But now? There wasn’t a chance he could do that to Roman.
Where, oh where, had all of Anxiety’s self-preservation gone?
“Maybe we should, uh- wait for him to ask about it?”
It didn’t sound like a huge compromise, but it was what Virgil could manage, okay?!
Roman frowned. “Well, what if he doesn’t ?”
“I- I don’t know.”
“How about a month, then we ask him? That gives us three more weeks! Do you think that’s fair? We’ll certainly know if he’s a match by then.”
Virgil tried not to squirm, squaring his shoulders. “Maybe. Uh. I don’t really…”
“Two months?” Roman suggested.
“Roman, I don’t-”
“That would leave us floating in the gray area for longer than I’d like, but hey, if that’s how long you need then-”
“ Roman .”
Roman’s mouth snapped shut, and he glanced over at Virgil- who was pretty certain he looked pathetic, hunched over his legs and glaring straight down at the carpet, nails digging into his thighs, refusing to move even an inch. He took stock of Roman from the corner of his eyes, before immediately deciding that he could not handle whatever the hell was in the other side’s expression, and glanced away again.
He didn’t know why he was so upset. Whenever they talked about Nico these days, he’d been nearly as amped up as Roman (even if his reasons were a bit different), but- there was something about the officialness of a label. The realness of it.
But there was more to it than that: it was in the way Roman had been treating him lately- the way Roman had been treating him for a lot longer before that, actually, that he’d never let himself notice before; the softness, the check-ins, the way Roman always seemed to seek Virgil out more than any other side-
If what Thomas had with Nico was real…
Then all of that would be, too.
And Virgil was terrified of how much he wanted that.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Roman’s voice was gentle. “I didn’t mean to make you more stressed.”
“It’s fine,” Virgil’s voice was pitchy and sharp. He wished that it could’ve been kinder.
“No, really, I shouldn’t have pushed. We can figure it out later,” Roman leaned back in his seat, crossing one leg over the other and smiling apologetically. “I’d hate to ruin a perfectly good evening just by getting ahead of myself!”
“We can ask him,” Virgil blurted, regretting it about zero-point-one seconds after saying it. “In a month, yeah- a month is good. Totally fine. Yep.”
Roman straightened back up immediately, surprise written all over his face. Virgil tried and failed not to curl in on himself, pushing back against a shuddering wall of nerves and excitement that constricted his ribs, because a month was not totally fine or good at all.
“You- really? Virgil, I promise, it’s perfectly fine if you don’t-”
“Nope, we’ll- we’ll have the whole big relationship-defining conversation in a month. We’ll make Thomas have it. Like, we’re pretty good at getting him to do stuff, you n’ me.”
Oh, okay, so keep digging was the plan? Great. So this was all something Virgil was apparently committing to! Why did he do the things he did.
Roman lurched forward suddenly- which Virgil was not prepared for, obviously, so he maybe sort of yelped a bit- only to pull back just as smoothly. The motion brought him into a kneeling position, facing Virgil fully on the couch now, about half a foot closer than he had been before. Which, hey, too close, and if it was anybody else Virgil would’ve yelled at them, and if he was really as upset as he felt like he was he still would’ve bitched at least a little, but. No, he was- weirdly okay with it? So, tick down part of the worming sensation in his chest as Not Entirely Negative, again. He was still getting the hang of telling the difference.
Roman clasped his hands in front of his heart, tipped his head to the side, and grinned so broadly that for a second he looked unsettlingly like his brother.
“Oh, Virgil, thank you,” he praised, way too affectionate. His eyes were swimming with pride, all directed so unwaveringly at Virgil, as though he’d done something like hang the moon in the sky and not just agree to the bare minimum effort. It was unfair, for that expression to be all for him , but he couldn’t tell if he wanted it to stop or not. “I knew you adored him just as much as I do! You’d have to be blind not to, and you aren’t ,” Roman carried on, surely unaware of just how sweetly he was screwing everything up. “This will all go so wonderfully, I’ll make sure of it. You don’t have to worry about a thing because I-”
“ I love you .”
Virgil froze so still he was pretty sure he’d stopped breathing, his skin suddenly sapped of all color except the eyeshadow etching dark black into his lower lids.
Roman had gone just as motionless, his eyes blown wide.
Virgil totally, honestly, could not believe himself. Except, he could , he could believe that he was that stupid- and it only made it that much worse to know that the words were true and that he had definitely said them out loud- and why? Because Roman had gotten a little too close, close enough for Virgil to (creepily) feel the warmth from him? Because Roman was being a bit nicer than usual- like literally, that was it, a few compliments and Virgil loses all self-control? Because Roman was just to excited and pretty and so so careful of Virgil’s needs these days and-
And he was completely, utterly silent.
And it had been too long. A minute? An Hour? Six seconds? Virgil didn’t know, all he knew was that he was fucking losing it.
Roman began blinking, rapidly, his ears flushed an embarrassed pink, pressing his hand up tightly against his mouth in an attempt to hide how severely he was biting his lip.
“Hey,” Virgil rasped, “Um.”
Roman exhaled in a rush; Virgil got the impression that he was probably the biggest idiot in the world. He reached a hand out, haphazardly, towards the shaking side- only for Roman to jolt away from him like he’d been burned. Something in Roman’s expression cracked, clouded, and suddenly he was doubled over himself laughing .
Virgil retracted his hand and stared blankly. Confusion and concern welled up in him, but that was it- because he could tell that the laugh was not a mocking sound. There wasn’t a trace of implication that Roman was laughing at him, at his words- it honestly kinda seemed like Roman wasn’t reacting to Virgil at all. He was just. Laughing. Hysterically.
“Oh, oh my goodness-” Roman wheezed out, his head stuttering back enough for Virgil to see tears globbing up in his eyes. “For a moment I thought you meant- oh, but that’s absurd, it’s just- you never say things like that, Virgil,” Roman scrubbed at his eyes, his laughter subsiding. “What a time you chose to be affectionate! Well, it’s no issue, just a bit of confusion- totally my bad. I, ah- I love you too, Buddy.”
Virgil couldn’t remember the last time he’d been through so much emotional whiplash- from Roman laughing, to Roman crying, to Roman telling Virgil he loved him back, to Roman calling him ‘buddy’.
Virgil felt, simultaneously, very relieved and very hollow.
Because it was an out. An out that was so easy, ridiculously easy- to just pretend that in a rare moment of sentimentality, he was expressing some platonic affection for his friend. And from the brief flash of horrible desperation there had been in Roman’s eyes, Virgil was sure that was the answer he wanted to believe was true; he wanted to give Virgil that out.
But, if Roman seemed so freaked out… didn’t Virgil owe it to him, to tell the truth?
God dammit.
“Actually,” Virgil took an unhelpful deep breath, “You had it right the first time, Princey.”
He’d hoped the nickname would lighten up the confession. Judging by the way the smile slid right off Roman’s face, that idea didn’t really take.
“What- what are you talking about?”
“When I said- I mean,” Virgil couldn’t handle looking at him anymore, and focused instead on shredding up the threads of his already worn-and-torn jeans. “I meant it like- you know , like- like that . I have… feelings for you, ’n stuff.”
Virgil cringed at his own ineloquence. He didn’t even look up to see the reaction he’d earned. But he certainly heard the way Roman’s breath stuttered, shook, and resumed much quicker than it had been before.
“Don’t- don’t be ridiculous, Virgil.”
Virgil winced. “I’m-”
A hand grasped tightly around Virgil’s wrist, sending a cold vein of fear shooting right through his chest. He barely had time to blink before Roman was tugging him to his feet and dragging him across the room.
Roman moved quick, which left Virgil fighting not to trip over himself as he was shoved closer and closer to the exit.
“Right, I’ll- I can go, you don’t have to, um,” Virgil felt heat crawling across his face, itching uncomfortably, and his throat was tight. “I can see myself out.”
But Roman hardly listened, throwing the door open and wrenching Virgil out of the room manually. He followed immediately behind, slamming the door and leaving them both in the middle of the hallway.
With freedom of his arm finally regained, Virgil pressed his fingers firmly against his eyelids. It was some sad attempt to persuade his body not to cry, one that somehow worked- but then again, he’d always been good at shoving down pain in the face of panic.
Virgil was about to suggest, or beg, that he go to his room and the pair of them could repress the shit out of this whole ordeal until it was barely a distant memory, but Roman silenced him with a forcefully peppy clap . The creative side left his hands there, pressed close together, and bore an incredibly fake smile.
“There!” Roman chirped, “Feeling better?”
“I- What?”
Roman made an effort to roll his eyes, but even that was very obviously strained.
“Oh, come now. We were sitting in my room- my room, of me , the essence of romance?- talking about romance, and about a guy Thomas obviously likes so much- and suddenly you lo- you say that you have feelings for me? It’s obvious that you just needed to get away from all the, ah, romanticizing effects of my room, so that you can really think clearly.”
Virgil tried to say something. He didn’t have anything to say. So he just… stared.
Roman stared back for approximately five seconds before a wide, pained smile split his face and he looked hastily away.
“Come on, Emo,” he pressed, “Out here, with a clear head. How do you- how do you feel?”
Another chance. Another out. Too easy.
Virgil stepped forward- and even though his legs were shaky, inside of him there was a blank void where the actual stress should have been- and took Roman by the shoulders. Maybe tighter than necessary, but.
Something was obviously wrong with Roman, and Virgil wasn’t about to exploit whatever it was just to cover for his own fuck-up. So.
“I feel the same,” he said. “And I’m pretty goddamn certain that’s not gonna change any time soon, either, since I’ve felt that way for at least months. Maybe- maybe years, honestly. Not to be- um, dramatic.”
The strain holding Roman’s expression together cracked, shock staining his features so evidently even though Virgil had made his intentions very clear three whole times by that point. There was no forced smile, or manic laugh- nothing seemed to break past the tension of his body. Despite that, though, Roman didn’t look uncomfortable . He wasn’t shoving Virgil away, or even trying to, which was- something. It was something.
“It’s okay,” Virgil murmured, as soft as he dared. “I get it if you don’t… Y’know.”
Roman never had very expressive eyes. It seemed like they should’ve been, but they weren’t; there was this wall in them, behind them, that was always up and always dulling whatever emotion he was trying to express. But sometimes- rarely, but sometimes- that wall crumbled, and what it left behind was heartbreaking. Or, on other occasions, rare in their own right, it was like Roman let that wall down. Virgil had been lucky enough to see it, a few times- when he was accepted, in the mall, late at night when only the two of them were left awake- and every time it was beautiful. So, so beautiful.
What Roman did then was somewhere between the crumbling and the release, an odd combination of breathtaking and painful. His emerald-green eyes swirled with feeling, open and searching so hopefully as he slowly (achingly, insanely slowly) raised his hands to grasp at Virgil’s wrists, splaying his fingers over the side’s forearms.
Virgil met his gaze as well as he could, unable to not leech some of that hopefulness for his own purposes as they stared at each other in what was possibly the gayest, most ridiculous interaction to ever occur in the middle of that dumb fucking hallway.
“Say it again,” Roman implored.
“What?”
“Please,” his grip on Virgil’s arms tightened, “I just- I want you to be certain. Please?”
Fuck, he’d have to be heartless to say no to that . There was this quiet pleading in Roman’s voice that hurt to listen to, and Virgil wasn’t certain of many things- how all this would turn out, if any of it was actually a good idea or not, how he was even making Roman feel- but he thought he at least he had a decent grasp on his own fucking emotions.
“I love you.”
It was harder to say the second time, unsurprisingly. It got easier when whatever had held Roman rigid shattered finally, and he launched himself into Virgil’s arms without a second thought.
Virgil staggered to hold them both up, feeling Roman’s arms clasp around his shoulders and having to hastily catch the trait by the waist.
Roman felt even smaller than he was, practically shivering. Virgil held him steady, resting his chin on Roman’s head, his thumbs tracing soothing patterns on Roman’s ribs.
It was just as much to calm Roman as it was to calm himself, to be fair. Virgil was breathing with all the stability of a terminally ill pug. He was full of so much manic energy that his eyeshadow couldn’t decide what color it wanted to be, rippling uncomfortably between black and purple and sparkling violet over and over again. With each breath Roman took, Virgil made himself breathe in time, bringing them both down together.
“I-” Roman swallowed thickly, “I- I love you, too.”
He went a little still after saying it, dragging out a heavy pause. Virgil could hear his heart thumping, could feel Roman’s anxiety refracted off his own, and that was when a lot of things about Roman began to make unfortunate sense.
Even after it was made abundantly clear what Virgil meant, what he wanted, Roman still wavered. He stumbled. He was strung up like a bowstring and left hanging there with no reprieve, still utterly convinced that everything could turn at him on a moment’s notice no matter how much evidence to the contrary. Still waiting for the other shoe to drop.
And Virgil…
Virgil knew how that felt. Knew it intimately . Even though his fear of rejection had waned considerably since first being accepted, then being included, and gradually slotting into an obviously integral spot in his little family- there was no way to forget that shit. There would always be the echo of it, or the occasional resurgence when his fears decided to spike, as fears often do.
It was a different flavor of anxiety in Roman, but it was recognizable. It was close enough to hurt.
Virgil pressed one of his hands firmly against Roman’s back, flattening his palm just beneath the side’s shoulder blades. He wrapped his opposite arm around Roman’s middle, and as he cradled the trembling trait to himself as firmly as he could, he had the privilege of feeling, both mentally and physically, Roman’s fear begin to lessen. Be it from the thrum of anxiety in his head quieting, or the beats of his heart tangibly slowing, the sensation was unmistakable.
“That’s a good thing, yeah?” Virgil mumbled, “We’ve got feelings for each other.”
Roman managed a tiny, tiny laugh- full of incredulity and giddiness, however small it was.
“Is it?”
Virgil pulled back far enough to meet his eyes.
“I guess that’s up to you,” he didn’t have the confidence for a smile, but he tried at least for a smirk. “What d’you say, Roman? Wanna be stuck with this for the foreseeable future?”
At 'this' , he indicated vaguely to his, y’know, his whole self- and it was meant to be teasing, light-hearted, but…
Roman nodded so quick, so excited, his eyes big and round and awed, and the jovial tone died on Virgil’s tongue.
“So, yeah…” he trailed off, flustered, “I guess- that’s that, right?”
Roman blinked at him, a few times, before he broke out of whatever trance was holding him. He pulled free from their embrace as a blinding smile split his face- but it was very him now, and him in a comfortable way, a confident face that Virgil had gotten used to. He laughed, bordered on giggling, and even as he left Virgil’s arms he kept their hands entwined.
“Holy Hephaestus, wow , I’m- I’m sorry about all that , I have no idea what came over me.” He made a show of drying whatever tears remained stuck to his cheeks, letting out an utterly relieved breath. “Of course this is a good thing! This is a wonderful thing, Virgil. You’re wonderful.”
His voice dipped, soft, and Virgil gave him a small, embarrassed smile.
“Don’t sweat it. I- I get why you… yeah.”
Roman frowned, a bit of the enthusiastic façade slipping- and it was a façade, it didn’t take Janus to figure that one out, but it was a small one. And yeah, did Virgil hate that Roman had to put on any act at all, when it was just them? Of fucking course he did, but- it was progress. That Roman had dropped it at all, that he was less careful with it, that he was still so obviously genuinely ecstatic , even if there was still a bit of nervousness under him.
It was… better. And they could- yeah, they could talk about it, and figure it out together. If Roman trusted Virgil enough for any of all of what they’d said to each other to happen, it was a pretty promising sign that he trusted Virgil enough for them to work through the rest of it.
“Well, that’s enough of that either way,” Roman slipped his hands free of Virgil’s, clapping them decisively, “Why don’t we, um- get back to… Whatever-it-was that I don’t recall we were doing. Hanging out.”
“You’re up for that? I don’t wanna, like, overwhelm you.”
“No! Goodness, of course not, in fact I- I’d much prefer it, if we stayed together right now. If that’s okay with you?”
“Yeah. Yeah, of course.”
Roman beamed at him, and in terms of putting Virgil’s worries at ease for whatever the road ahead of them was, it was about as effective as a goddamn Xanax.
Virgil made for the door to Roman’s room, only to be stopped by a hand on his shoulder.
“Actually, I was thinking- Could we go to yours?” Roman smiled awkwardly, ducking his head. “I want to feel the- the butterflies. That whole ‘feeling of tinglyness, after achieving something you didn’t think was possible’ thing?”
Roman was flushed pink, but he was leaning against Virgil without shame, looking so genuine and hopeful that Virgil managed to forget the implications of ‘ didn’t think was possible ’ for the time being.
“Yeah,” he said, as he urged Roman’s hand off his shoulder, just to lace their fingers together. “C’mon.”
Roman followed him down the hall, pressed up just too close to his side for their hand-holding to be particularly comfortable. It seemed that neither of them minded that fact, though, because neither was willing to separate.
Roman squeezed Virgil’s hand- affectionately, or to reassure himself of the reality of the situation, but most likely both. And Virgil…
Virgil felt sleek, velvet-softness eased over his eyelids down to just above his cheekbones. Bright sparks followed, somehow devoid of heat or painful pricking, just- brightness. Little weights of glitter pressed around his eyes, delicate and grainy. Giddy.
Perfect purple.