Chapter Text
This...was nice. This rhythm they had fallen into, eating lunch together, meeting sometime in the evening to just hang out. It was Friday, and Virgil didn't know how time had flown by so quickly. It wasn't fair. He wasn't ready yet.
Come Monday, Janus would break apart everything they'd become. Come Monday, it would mean nothing .
It didn't bother him in the slightest. Not one bit.
Now, now, he said to himself, no need to lie. Wouldn't want to be like Janus, now would we?
Virgil always associated Janus with lies in his mind. Just like Roman was to theater as Remus was to a spiked metal baseball bat; and Logan was to science as Janus was to lies. But truly, everybody lies. The only difference is whether you're lying or you're lying to yourself . Both are equally as addicting. Both are equally as spiraling and both would lead you down a path of hurt. Virgil didn't know which kind he hated more.
Thinking about all the lies in his life always sent Virgil spiraling, too. And there he was, on a bench with Roman, Friday night. Lying to himself, lying to his friend, and breaking down silently.
"Hey," Roman said softly, nudging his shoulder. "You good?"
"I'm fine."
Roman sent Virgil his most scolding look.
"I will be fine," Virgil amended.
Roman nodded, absently taking Virgil's hand and squeezing it. It was warm and flush against Virgil's cold skin.
"Why is your skin freezing ?" Roman nearly yelped.
"You know what they say," Virgil replied, flushing a bit. "Your body heat reflects your soul ."
"Oh please," Roman rolled his eyes fondly. "You always pretend to be so dark and brooding. We all know it's an act."
Roman's face was closer now. Why was he so close? The sunset lit up his features with an ethereal glow that only Roman could possibly achieve.
Focus, Virgil.
Virgil tuned back into what Roman was saying.
"-feels stereotypical. If this were a movie, I reckon we'd kiss right here on this bench."
Virgil flushed harder, stuttering out an awkward reply, before finally settling on, "oh?"
Roman took that as an invite to expand on the idea.
"And!" He cried out, making a grand gesture. "There'd be a sappy speech right about now. Maybe I'd profess my undying love for you. Maybe you'd do the same. And in this same spot, only a few months later, is where we would break up. We'd get into an argument, and I'd dramatically storm away. The sky would start to rain."
The corners of Virgil's lips quirked upwards. Roman's brightness was so infectious, Virgil decided to ignore the fact that he was basically planning out a whole ass fanfic for them and their non-existent relationship.
"But maybe someday, we'd make it up to each other. And...maybe someday, we'll be right back here again, and everything will be so much more confusing than it is now. Maybe we'll be in this same position again, and everything will be so familiar and... nothing and everything will be the same. One can only dream of a story like that. Fairytales don't come true, but maybe happy endings can ."
Virgil nodded, not much he could say in response, and Roman lowered his arms slowly.
"That's all I really want, I think. A happy ending."
Virgil tilted his head to the side. "A happy ending is still a lot to wish for."
"I'm not gonna wish. I'm going to make it happen. It's not luck, it's action."
Virgil snorted softly. "Now you just sound like a motivational poster."
Roman looked at him, a dead serious look painted across his face. "If that's what it takes," he said, before breaking character and falling into peals of laughter.
Virgil's smile stretched. "If a happy ending is too much to ask for, then I'd settle for a content one. Or a hopeful one," he said, after a moment of contemplation.
"Those are two very different things," Roman frowned slightly.
"I know."
"I think I could settle for a hopeful ending to my story."
"Do you think of all things as cinematic or just another page in a book?" Virgil asked, genuinely curious.
Roman hesitated for a moment. “I like to think of life as one big storybook. And I know- ” he rushed on, “-that it’s not, and it never will be. I know things don’t always work out. But it gives me hope, y’know? That even if the whole world is against me, things will still work out okay in the end. That I’ll be satisfied when the day is done. I think that’s what I’m afraid of, to be transparent. I’m scared that one day I’ll look behind me, and everything that used to be there will be gone, and I will die without ever leaving my mark.”
He looked weary, an expression Virgil had never seen on Roman’s face before.
“I like believing in the fantastical because in a story, a movie, a musical , everyone plays a part. They say ‘there are no small roles’ in theater, and it’s true. Everyone is there for a reason. I don’t want to live life without ever finding mine.”
Virgil hummed in agreement, and sat back, letting his head rest on Roman’s shoulder. Virgil didn’t know what was going to happen in the future, and the idea of time passing always gave him chills, but whatever happened, Virgil knew he would remember this moment for the rest of his life.
If life is a story, Virgil thought, then this is by far the best chapter.
---
Virgil was starting to regret everything. It had been an accident when he hit send on the text inviting Roman over for the entire weekend. Maybe he had typed it, but he wasn't actually going to send it, for crying out loud.
Too late now, he supposed.
Too late when Roman was already standing outside his door with a duffel bag, familiar coat, familiar red glasses, familiar coiffed hair. Familiar smile, familiar bright sparkling eyes.
...too late for any takebacks now.
"Fancy seeing you here, stranger," Roman joked, standing awkwardly for a minute before Virgil startled out of his anxiety-induced trance and gestured him inside.
“Welcome, welcome, to my humble abode, princey,” Virgil said, taking Roman’s jacket almost by instinct and hanging it on the coatrack. His father was out of town for the weekend, so they wouldn’t need to worry about that, which gave Virgil some small sense of comfort.
Roman slid out of his shoes, placing them by the door and heading up the stairs to Virgil’s room.
Virgil flittered about, wringing his hands together.
“I don’t have- ah, an inflatable bed or anything, so you can sleep on the couch downstairs if that’s okay?” Virgil said quickly. “If not, that’s fine too, we can figure something out- or, unless you brought an inflatable mattress? No, that’s weird, nevermind, you probably didn’t-”
“Hey,” Roman cut off Virgil’s ranting with a fond smile. “It’s okay, I’ll sleep on the couch.”
Maybe it was something about the hysteria of the moment, or the adrenaline running through Virgil’s veins, but Roman’s words seemed to break through his walls, clear as a bell and easy to focus on. Virgil clung to Roman’s voice like a lifeline.
He breathed. And again. This was fine, it was just Roman. Somehow the thought simultaneously soothed his nerves and scared him more.
It was just Roman, funny, charming, Roman. Roman who made him feel real compared to the Dark Sides. Roman who could light up his world with one glance.
Roman, his platonic friend who he loved platonically, as a friend. As friends do.
Ah.
He would be fine, because this was just his friend. Nothing more. And they were going to have a fun time. As friends do.
Because they were friends. Platonic friends. He was just filled with so much platonic love for Roman.
Mhm. Yep.
For some reason, he was beginning to question it.