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In hindsight, this was inevitable.
It started with inclusion. Roman didn’t miss Virgil’s wistful glances over his shoulder as he crept up to his bedroom, the rest of them setting up a blanket fort in the commons. He didn’t miss how Virgil kept his head down and his mouth shut during their meals together. He didn’t miss how Virgil thought he wasn’t wanted.
“Virge!” He’d started, catching up to him with a wide grin and putting a hand on his shoulder to stop him from escaping after dinner. Virgil flinched, hunching forward to be free of his touch. He turned his head, one foot on the base of the staircase, expression fighting to conceal his hopefulness.
“… What?” He practically growled, slamming up his defenses. Roman felt his heart twist and he forced himself to keep up the cheerful façade.
“We’re having a movie marathon tonight to celebrate Thomas’ new car!” No, they weren’t. They were having a movie night, but no one was nearly that ecstatic over Pongo 3.0. Roman had talked the others into it, wanting to give Virgil a chance to join in on some wholesome family fun.
Virgil scoffed, turning to hurry up the stairs with a roll of his eyes before Roman was gripping his wrist. Frowning, he looked down at the perfectly manicured hand crushing the thick fabric of his hoodie.
“Please join us,” Roman practically begged, voice lacking its usual bravado. Virgil ripped his hand away, and the prince nearly resigned himself to the idea of another night without him, but to his surprise, the nightmare was coming back down to the living room, a small, nervous smile on his face. Roman’s heart fluttered.
“… I’ll stay ‘til midnight,” he offered, shrugging his shoulders and sticking his hands in his pockets. Roman beamed, looping his arm around the other’s waist and leading him towards the couch. Virgil only resisted a little, grateful for the feeling of being wanted. “What are we watching first?”
“Cinderella!” Roman shouted, enthusiastically sprinting to the DVD player and holding up the case on top of it. Virgil frowned.
“Oh, I love that one!” Patton smiled as he carried a large bowl of steaming popcorn to the couch, proudly donning his cat onesie. Logan didn’t seem to be complaining about it – he was on the very end of the cushions, seemingly enraptured by a novel. Virgil almost wished he could back out of this. He stood awkwardly, barely two feet from the stairs, fiddling with the hem of his sleeve.
“Can’t we, uh… Watch something a little less…” Virgil struggled to find a phrase that wasn’t insulting. “… Dreamy?”
Roman practically gasped. “Nonsense! Cinderella is a classic! What better way to begin a Disney marathon than with one of the originals?”
Virgil shifted uncomfortably. “… Disney?” Don’t get him wrong, he enjoyed a good Disney film, but with the way Princey was framing it…
“Come, now, Virgil,” Roman laughed, moving to usher him to the sofa. “It’ll be fun! Besides, I’d prefer ‘dreamy’ to ‘dreary’ any day, wouldn’t you?” He laughed, elbowing Virgil’s side playfully.
… That stung.
The next time Roman made a big effort to include him had been while they were decorating for Christmas.
Normally, Virgil kept himself absent during the holidays. They only served as a painful reminder of how the others didn’t quite accept him. He preferred staying in bed and watching A Christmas Story on repeat as he sobbed into a mug of hot chocolate.
Roman wasn’t having any of it, this year. He’d practically forced the nightmare from his room, insisting he come down to see something magical. Virgil, dazed, as it was only 8 in the morning, tiredly complied.
He entered a whole different kind of daze as he wandered down the stairs into the commons. It seemed they’d already made a significant dent in the decorating. Logan was hanging garland in the kitchen, marking out symmetrical sections before taping it up carefully. Patton had clearly been at work baking – the whole house was warm and smelled of gingerbread. A smile ghosted Virgil’s face. He noticed that the tree was bare, boxes of ornaments surrounding it.
“Come on, Ghost of Christmas Present-“ Virgil grimaced. “-We’ve got halls to deck!” Roman was practically flouncing around the room, snapping the lids off plastic containers and pulling out boxes of bulbs. Virgil was a little unsure about this. He was clumsy at the best of times, and he wasn’t sure handing him delicate glass to hang was a smart decision. Apparently, it showed on his face.
Roman bounded over with a plastic container and shoved it into Virgil’s unwitting hands with a grin. Raising an eyebrow, the shadowling lifted the top and smiled bitterly at what was inside. Plenty of hearty, unbreakable homemade ornaments from when Thomas was a child. Of course, his parents had all the real ones, but the sides had made plenty of their own over the course of his childhood.
All of them except Virgil.
“Would you do the honors this year?” Roman beamed, seemingly oblivious to the emotional turmoil he’d just caused.
Virgil sighed to himself. At least it was considered an honor. He nodded, which was enough for Roman to whiz back to the prettier bulbs and busy himself spreading them out.
He stepped up to the tree, trying to keep out of Roman’s way as he decided where to put these “sacred” ornaments. He supposed it didn’t matter much, as long as they were up, right? He picked up a pale blue paper circle with a white pipe cleaner threaded through the top. Patton’s name was scrawled messily, and around it were several hearts of assorted colors. Virgil smiled to himself as he wrapped the pipe cleaner around a branch. Roman’s was nearly as dramatic – bright red cardstock with a golden pipe cleaner, his name etched in the prettiest cursive he could manage. Virgil hung it right beside Patton’s. The last in the tin belonged to Logan. It wasn’t even a circle – just a dark blue rectangle and “Logan” written in black pen, as if he didn’t care whether anyone could read it. The pipe cleaner in this one was hot pink, and Virgil had the distinct feeling it wasn’t Logan who chose it. Laughing to himself, he hung it with the others and stepped back, feeling his heart wretch at the sight of his family… without him.
Roman peeked over and tutted, startling Virgil out of his thoughts. “No, no, no, Virgil, they can’t be all together!” He declared, reaching and taking Patton’s off the tree. Virgil stumbled back, stunned as Roman split up the group, sticking them in seemingly random positions around the tree. He didn’t leave a single one it its place.
Stepping back, Roman’s heart soared, and he placed his hands on his hips as he took in the aesthetic of his masterpiece. “Much better! Perfect!” he declared before returning to scattering another pack of bulbs throughout it.
Virgil felt like he wanted to vomit.
It was Christmas morning and Virgil was once again awoken by an annoying rap at his door. Rolling over to check his phone, he groaned as he read the time through squinted eyelids. “It’s only 7…” he mumbled as he pulled the covers over his head. Roman wasn’t having it, evidently, and the door flew open anyway.
“Merry Christmas, Mr. Grinch!” he cheered, stepping forward and swiftly yanking the blanket from Virgil’s bed. The anxious side whined and curled in on himself, wrapping his arms around his head. “We’ve been waiting for nearly an hour! What’s taking so long?” Roman chided as he nudged Virgil’s side like an excited toddler.
“What do you mean?” Virgil mumbled in annoyance, and Roman paused to finally realize… They’d never had him join them for presents before. He’d always just… tucked away for the day.
Oh.
“… Never mind, come on!” He continued, shaking his mattress until he conceded.
“Fine! Fine, leave me alone. I’ll be down in twenty minutes,” Virgil grumbled, turning away from the princely side.
“Fifteen!”
“Thirty.”
“… Twenty. But don’t be late!”
With that, the whirlwind of festivity exited his room almost as suddenly as it entered.
Virgil groaned in tired annoyance.
“Aww, thank you, Roman!” Patton was beaming, admiring the set of oven mitts Roman had made for him. They were patterned like a Christmas sweater, light blue and white being the most dominant colors. A few stitched rainbow hearts circled the wrists – an homage to the ornament he’d made when they were children.
It was so thoughtful of him.
“Okay, okay, you next, Virgil!” Roman passed him an immaculately wrapped box with a wide grin. He took it hesitantly, hands feeling around the long, flat rectangle. He got him a gift? But he never got gifts on Christmas…
“Go on, open it!” The prince urged, practically bouncing in excitement. Roman’s heart was thumping.
With a slight frown of confusion, Virgil picked at the edges of the paper. This was the first thing he’d ever been given, he wanted to take his time to-
“Just rip it already!”
Oh.
Hesitantly, Virgil tore away the paper to reveal a white cardboard clothing box. Raising an eyebrow, he lifted the lid and…
“Do you like it? Oh, you love it, don’t you?”
Virgil bit his tongue as his eyes wandered over the hoodie he’d been given. It was bright white and covered in various patches. He noted a smiling face and a rainbow, to name a few. His hands shook as he reached out to pick it up, eyes traveling over the assault of color.
“Your wardrobe was so dull before, but now you have this! A beacon of happiness! You don’t have to wear that dingy, horrid thing anymore,” Roman gushed, clapping his hands together in glee. He’d been so clever to come up with this. What better way to introduce some light into his life than by putting it in something he wore daily?
Silently, Virgil got to his feet, slowly padding to the kitchen, hoodie in hand. Roman’s smile began to falter. He slid open a drawer and pulled out a pair of scissors, holding them up in the light and taking a long, hard look at the fabric in his fist.
“… What are you doing?”
“Stop trying to save me!” Virgil screamed as his emotions finally bubbled over and he took the scissors to the hoodie. He cut and sliced and hacked with tears in his eyes, feeling satisfaction in each and every hole he made. Roman was livid – his face was paler than the puff at the end of his Santa hat. No one dared speak a word – they had been stunned into silence.
“Stop trying to change what I am, Princey,” he spat, venom like fire on his tongue. He adjusted his grip and held the tattered cloth by the hood, taking the scissors and cutting the remains of the gift right in two. Slamming the scissors onto the counter, he stomped towards the tree and chucked the halves at Roman’s feet. “I’m not dreamy! I’m not perfect! I’m not fucking happy!” He picked up the wrappings and tore them to bits in his frustration, tears falling steadily down his reddened cheeks, makeup smearing along with them. Roman lunged for what was left of the gift, clutching it in his hands like a life line. His eyes were saucers as he watched Virgil destroy everything he had given to him.
“I’m sorry you think I’m so dull and horrid,” Virgil taunted, stomping towards the stairs. Roman couldn’t help but feel the sting of his own words being used against him. “I’m not something for you to just fix, Roman! I! Am! Anxiety!” His voice began to take on an echo and Roman leaned away, holding the white fabric to his heart.
“Have fun with your stupid little fantasies, Prince. Just leave me the fuck out of them.” Virgil’s voice was low – nearly downright demonic – as he scaled the staircase in a flash.
A crushing silence fell on the living room. Nothing made a sound. Nothing moved. It was like a scene frozen in time. Patton was the first to break it, leaning toward the prince and gently setting his hand on his arm. “… Roman?”
Roman hiccupped with a silent sob, clenching his eyes shut and bringing the remains of his present to his face to cry into. He didn’t mean for this to happen. All he wanted was to bring a little joy. He would have never imagined in a million years that this…
His fingers fumbled over the torn hoodie, grazing the patches he’d spent hours ironing on for him. He couldn’t open his eyes to look at what had been done.
Roman felt his heart shatter.