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What did he do? What the ever-loving fuck did Virgil do to deserve this?
He was Anxiety, for goodness sake. He didn’t have much feelings other than nervousness, fright, and impulses such as fight or flight that usually resulted in him doing the latter—even that could hardly be labeled as an emotion. He’s never been anything more than a bundle of instincts and fears held together by his dark facade and oversized hoodies.
But here he was anyway. Roman—goddamn fucking Roman, the literal embodiment of love and romance and everything in between—was sitting in his lap, sitting between Virgil’s thighs with his own legs wrapped around his waist. And he was blushing, and smiling, and looking so happy as he giggled and pulled Virgil closer to him and kissed his cheeks from under his heavy eyeshadow. Virgil was at a loss for words.
He’d been with Roman for awhile now, but only because the other had begged him to be with him, claiming Virgil was his one and only. Yet, just a few years ago Roman was glaring at him whenever he so much as entered the same room as him. A few years really changed a person, Virgil supposed.
“Say it again,” Roman said in a light voice, still chuckling giddily.
“What?” Virgil feigned ignorance, and Roman only took his chin in his hand and pulled his head against his, their foreheads bonking together as Roman kissed his lips tenderly.
“You love me,” Roman said cheekily.
“I love you,” Virgil whispered despite himself. His voice was a hushed whisper full of wonder and surprise even as he looked at Roman’s shining eyes. When did his needy, prideful self stop being so annoying and become actually charming? When did Virgil stop finding Roman so snobbish and self-absorbed to the point where he actually accidentally fell for him?
He hadn’t the faintest idea, but he didn’t complain as he hesitantly kissed Roman on the lips back. When the fuck did he learn how to love someone? When the fuck did his heart start feeling so warm, and those butterflies that always crawled around his stomach stop being because of his trademark anxiety and because of infatuation?
His heart felt full, fuller than he ever knew was possible, and now he knew what was love. Love was Roman, right here, sitting in his lap, because he had chosen Virgil. Despite all the odds, despite all attempts of fate to steer them in different directions, Roman had chosen Virgil. And Virgil had chosen him.
When Roman laughed happily as they parted from the kiss, Virgil found himself kissing him again. One on his forehead, one in his hair, one on his cheek, again on his lips, nose, jaw-
And then Virgil was pushing down Roman against the couch, straddling his waist and kissing him senseless, Roman snickering and blushing, so full of joy and love Virgil couldn’t believe it was because of him. Roman was happy because of him. Roman was drowning in kisses because of him.
Virgil kissed Roman’s lips again, and Roman hummed into the kiss, dragging him deeper and deeper in but not uncomfortably so. When the separated, Virgil saw his hands were tangled in Roman’s hair and Roman smiled up at him.
“I love you too, Virgil.” And that was all it took for Virgil to kiss him again.