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Roman stands in the recently deserted boys locker room, his foot up on the bench as he finishes tying his athletic shoes. It had been a long day and finally Roman was in fifth period: gym. Roman enjoyed having a more active class in the middle of his school day. It gave him the chance to break out of the funk of intense focus from his other classes. His mind could wander in gym and no one would care.
“Prince,” the coach barks as he comes around the corner. “Email just came through that members of this spring’s show…”
“Cinderella.”
“Right,” the coach sighs. “They want the cast to pick up their liber-tose from the choir room now. I assume you’re involved again.”
Roman nods with a smile, ignoring the mispronunciation from the coach, “You got it! I’ll be back in a sec.” Roman jogs out of the locker room, past the coach. Coach always meant well when it came to supporting the artsy kids, even if he didn’t know what a libretto was.
When he gets to the end of the arts hallway, he sees a distinct purple and black hoodie exit a classroom about halfway down. Roman smiles and speeds up to catch up to the emo, glad to not walk alone, even if it was with one of his not-so-favorite people.
“Hey Virge,” Roman greets as he slows, passing the boy. He continues his jog as he keeps pace, “Going to get the techie libretto?”
Virgil responds by shoving his hands in the pocket of his hoodie and looking at the ground, “Yeah, something like that.”
Roman sighs inwardly as he forces a cordial tone into his voice, “I heard you got the title of prop master this show. Congrats! That’s such a huge role on the dark side of the curtain!”
“Thanks.”
Roman rolls his eyes as he continues down the hallway with the emo. While he would not consider himself and Virgil friends, Roman was trying to make an effort to be friendlier to the teen. Not that it seemed to be making any difference. But Logan had insisted that he at least “play nice” with him for the sake of their own friendship.
“I’m not saying you have to be best friends,” Logan had explained in the library over his book. “But he’s a theater kid and a friend of Patton’s. So you have to tolerate one another. For the sake of my sanity at least.”
Roman perks up as they round the corner at the end of the hall where the choir room was. A group of student exit the door, flipping through their scripts and excitedly talking about their roles.
“Hey, Roman,” one of them calls excitedly. “Great job at auditions, per usual! Congrats!”
“Can we talk about the irony that Roman PRINCE got, ya know, the role of the Prince?” another one asks with a good natured laugh as the group passes, a freshman.
“Yeah, but he always gets the lead. He’s just that good.”
Roman can’t help but smile at all of the complements and gives a dramatic, low bow as he reaches for the door, holding it open for the last of the group, “As always, it will be my honor to play whatever role the director deems fit.”
“If you’re done sucking up to the rest of the cast, some of us need to get back to class,” Virgil mutters as he slips by Roman’s deep bow. Roman drops his head and the smile, tiring instantly at Virgil’s sour attitude. He fixes the door stop to hold the door open, finding himself once again cursing the stage hand that broke it last show. They hit it with a set piece, making it so that the door would randomly get stuck shut.
“Roman, get your butt in here,” a female voice calls from inside the room. “I have a class and I can’t keep waiting on your ass.”
Roman stands, fluffing his hair back into place with his hands as he enters the mostly dark choir room. “Alana,” he greets the young woman. “I assume, Ms. President of the drama club, that you are our lovely Cinderella?”
A few students walk out carrying boxes of costumes, most likely from the fibers class where they often worked to repair broken costumes.
The young woman that spoke earlier, Alana, nods before hopping off of the desk she had been sitting on, “And I assume you know where the books are kept Mr. Prince.” Virgil slinks along the shadows to the box for the librettos, muttering thanks to the last of the students that were taking the costumes.
“I assume we will have yet another on-stage kiss,” Roman says as he walks to join Virgil. “For two not straight actors, we must do well or they wouldn’t keep putting us in leads opposite each other.”
Alana rolls her eyes as she passes Roman, bumping his shoulder as she sauntered past, “Hurry up and get your things before I lock you in there.”
“Oh hush, Alana,” he says as he turns to watch her head towards the door. “We’re working on it.”
“Looks like Virge is working on it,” Alana shoots back. “You’re just trying to make me late to Calc.”
Virgil grips the sides of the cardboard box on the table and says, “There’s no more in the box.”
“Not to fret, my Emo pet,” responds Roman as he crosses the front of the room. “Ms. Martin normally keeps a few extra on her desk.”
Alana’s sing-song voice comes from the door, “I said I was going. Bye, boys. Have fun.”
Virgil’s eyes shoot to the door, as it shut behind Alana, “…Should we be worried?”
“Nah. It locks from the inside. She’s just being dramatic. There’s a reason why she’s been the lead for all 4 years of her high school career,” Roman waves a hand dismissively as his eyes scan the desk for the books. “Ah, here we are.”
Roman hands a book to Virgil before picking up his own book. Virgil takes the book and holds it protectively to his chest, “You sure we can take these?”
“Obviously. I am the male lead, after all. We take what we need. ” Roman’s eyes scanned the cover of the book and smiled as his fingers glossed over the title. “Hello there, Cinderella. We’re going to get to know each other quite well over the next few weeks, aren’t we?”
Virgil snorts. Roman glares at the new props master. How could Virgil be in theater and not understand how important and intimate a libretto was? The script, the music, the directions: everything he needed to become on stage could be found in the pages of this book.
“Dude, we gotta get to class,” Virgil finally says as he walks towards the door.
Roman lets out a frustrated sigh, “Fine.”
Virgil reaches for the door handle and turns it. There’s a small click before a thunk. “Uh… Roman?”
“What?”
Virgil looks pointedly at Roman and turns the handle. The handle turns all the way around a few times.
“Let me see it,” Roman mutters as he pushes Virgil out of the way. He turns the handle and, sure enough, it spins uselessly in place. Roman pulls on the door and nothing happens. He pushes it. Still nothing. “Uh-oh.”
“What?”
Roman runs a hand through his hair, pushing it back, and closes his eyes, “Remember how the door was a mess after Todd ran into it with the old prop couch? And they told us that they needed us to raise the funds to replace it? Because it was just a matter of time before the latch in the handle broke completely?”
“Don’t tell me.”
“Yeah, it broke,” Roman answers, opening his eyes. “We can turn it all we want, but it just spins, not engaging the tumbler or something. I don’t know locks.”
Virgil’s eyes widen and his grip on the book tightens, “You’re lying.”
“Why would I make that up?” Roman asks, throwing his hands in the air.
“No, no, no,” Virgil cries as he backs away from the door. “We can’t be locked in here.”
“Well, apparently we can,” Roman answers, his voice getting harsher. Getting upset wasn’t going to help anything, so Virgil’s freaking out was so not helpful.
“What are we going to do?”
Roman pulls out his phone. No bars. He looks around the room, “Do you have a phone? My service is spotty in here.”
Virgil’s hands run over his pockets until he locates what he is looking for, “Yeah.”
“Call the office and tell them what happened,” Roman instructs. “Or give it to me to handle.”
“No, I got it,” Virgil says as he opens up the phone, presses a few things on the screen, and holds it up to his ear. “Hi, I’m a student here. Yeah, I just got locked in the choir room?”
“Tell them it spins, but nothing happens,” Roman says as he walks over to an empty seat. No need to stay standing when sitting would do just fine for now.
Virgil waves a hand at Roman to quiet down, “Yeah it just spins… okay… yeah. Thanks.”
Virgil puts the phone back in his pocket and starts pacing the room. Roman watches him for a moment, tapping his fingers on the bookshelf next to him. He checks his phone and finds a single bar. Not enough to do anything but send a text. He decides to send a text to Logan and Patton in their group chat of the three of them:
Locked in choir room with Virgil. Pray for me.
“So?” Roman finally asks as he puts the phone back in his pocket.
“Sending a janitor.”
Roman nods, “Okay, cool.” He continues to watch Virgil pace back and forth. The teen has his hands buried so deep in the pockets of his hoodie that it’s a miracle to Roman that he hasn’t punched holes through it. Roman starts formulating in his head reasons why Virgil drives him crazy: one, he is useless in a crisis. Two, he acts like he is better than Roman for some reason. Three, change that. He acts like he is better than everyone. Four, he seems like he is always in a bad mood just to be in a bad mood. Five, Logan and Patton treated Virgil like he was a delicate flower that needed protection.
There’s a knock at the door, pulling Roman from his thoughts. A janitor, Ralph, stands on the other side waving at Roman, “I heard some kids were stuck in the choir room.”
Roman looks at Virgil, who stops pacing and looks like a deer caught in headlights: see complaint one. Roman shakes his head and walks towards the door, “You heard right, Ralph. Any chance you can get me and my associate outta here?”
Ralph looks at the door and messes with the knob for a moment before pulling out his phone, “Well, boys, it looks like I’ll have to call downtown to get the locksmith out. Just hang tight. I’ll be back in a jiff.”
“Thanks,” Roman answers with a friendly smile of appreciation.
Virgil starts pacing again, “This is bad. This is so bad.”
Roman sits back in the chair he previously occupied, and leans his head against the wall, lamenting, “I’m going to miss gym.”
“And I’m going to miss my art history exam!” Virgil snaps, causing Roman to sit up straighter. “Not all of us get to take easy classes like gym every semester!”
“Uh, it’s a required class for graduation,” Roman retorts. “Didn’t get to take it freshman year because of choir.”
Virgil mutters, “You’ve always had it easy.”
“Whoa,” interjects Roman, frustrated at the sudden attack. “Easy? You think being me is easy?”
“Yes. I do,” Virgil answers through gritted teeth. “You stand here, every day, wearing the latest designs, the most on trend makeup,” he continues, including air quotes around the “on trend”.
Roman can feel his face heat up at the accusations, “Dude, I’m not wearing makeup!”
“I mean outside of school,” shoots Virgil back. Roman raises a hand to his chest. The back of his mind reminds him that he has never hung out with Virgil outside of school. They only hang out in school because their friends kinda make it happen. How does Virgil know what Roman does outside of school?
“It doesn’t matter anyway,” Virgil continues, speaking rapidly. “ You have the clearest skin of any teen. Like seriously. Who did you have to kill to get to skip the awkward acne stage?”
“I mean,” starts Roman. “I just…”
“Probably just spent a ton on skincare products,” Virgil growls, pulling his hood up. “At least your parents can afford it.”
Roman feels his throat tighten as the emo continues the verbal attack, “Virgil, please stop.”
“Oh, did I strike a nerve?” Virgil rounds on Roman, walking towards him. “What, your parents ignore you just like every other wealthy jock at this school? Your parents are too hard on you to be perfect?” Virgil asks mockingly.
Roman stands up, putting himself mere inches from the attacking teen. He adds another thing to his list from earlier, six: Virgil likes to seem threatening. He was vicious when given the opportunity. Roman clenches his fist at his side. As much as he wants to throw a punch, he knows that Logan and Patton would never forgive him for throwing the first punch. “I said quit it.”
“Well perfection is a luxury, Princey,” Virgil grits, staring at Roman for a moment before turning his back to walk away with a dismissive wave. “One that you can apparently afford.”
Roman’s eyes sting. He closes them for a moment as he lashes out, “What is your problem?”
Roman hears a pause in Virgil’s footsteps. He continues, a fire inside of him being too much to contain at this point. “No, I mean it. What gives you the right to belittle what I’ve been through?”
“What have you been through? Really?” Virgil asks, his words dripping with venom.
“You think things are perfect? That my parents give me everything? You think my parents accepted me right away?”
“Accepted you?”
Roman can’t help the laughter that bubbles up in his chest, “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m about as straight as a roundabout. You think that was their vision when they finally had the son they kept trying for?”
“Finally?” Virgil chirps the question back, frustrating Roman with the one word repeated as a question.
“Youngest of five,” Roman answers, opening his arms wide, as if presenting himself. “I have four sisters. My parents kept going until they had their son. Unfortunately for them, they got stuck with me.”
Roman stands there for a moment, waiting for a response.
“I didn’t know,” admits Virgil, quiet now.
“And in case it matters,” Roman continues, fueled by his anger. “I raid their makeup, my sisters’. Regina is normally down for it as long as I pay her twenty bucks or do her English homework for her.”
“Oh.”
“So yeah,” Roman runs a hand over his now wet cheek before sitting back down in the chair. “My parents were thrilled when they had their son. Finally dad could do sports and fishing with his boy or whatever. Instead they got me; ballet and theater instead of football and fishing.”
Virgil sits on the floor, pulling his legs up to his chest and holding them, his back still towards Roman, “But you’re out. That’s gotta count for something.”
Roman sighs, his mind going back to the days in the past full of yelling between him and his father, his sisters not talking to him, arguing with grandparents. Eventually his dad and sisters came around, but it took a while. “I lost some people, gained some others. It wasn’t easy. Still isn’t sometimes.
“I see.”
“Yeah. You’re never done coming out.”
“But was it worth it?” asks the quiet voice, muffled by Virgil’s knees.
That makes Roman pause for a moment, an alarm dinging in the back of his mind. He looks closer at Virgil, noticing just how tense he was in his little ball in the middle of the room. “Of course,” he answers softly. “It’s always worth being yourself.”
“I could never do it.”
Roman feels his phone buzz in his pocket.
Logan: watch for an anxiety response.
Patton: he doesn’t do well with being trapped. Just be gentle.
Logan: If he lashes out, it probably isn’t actually what he says it is. Just talk about something besides the situation.
The light bulb goes off in Roman’s head: he was watching Virgil’s anxiety responses. Of course. Roman doesn’t know too much about anxiety, but he has dealt with his fair share of performance based anxiety. It was why he got cranky right before a show. All he needed was distractions.
Roman turns his attention back to Virgil as he puts the phone in his pocket. He gets up and walks over to Virgil, sitting on the floor next to Virgil. “Coming out is something everyone can do if they decide that it’s something they want to do.”
“How so?”
“Well,” Roman starts, pulling one knee towards him and laying his arm on it, leaving the other stretched out in front of him. “In my experience the hardest person to come out to is yourself. After that it gets easier.”
“Why is that?”
“Well, as you probably figured out, my family started off… not so thrilled with my ‘choice’, as they said. That meant that I had a lot of internalized homophobia I had to work through. Then it’s all about finding your labels. And then you… just talk to people. You learn when it’s safe and when its not. Fellow lgbt, friends, family. You stop hiding so much. You just kinda…are.”
There’s a beat of silence before Virgil whispers, “I am.”
“You are what?” Roman asks, focusing on Virgil.
“Gay?” answers Virgil with a small laugh. “Or at least, not straight.”
“Oh,” Roman says. Inwardly he wants to smack himself in the face. It would explain a lot about the techy. All of the pent up anger at Roman made sense: Virgil might’ve been jealous that the other teen was so out of the closet compared to him.
“I just… I’ve never told anyone,” admits Virgil.
Roman wants to face palm himself so bad. This… walking nightmare just came out for the first time and all Roman had to say was “oh”. Great. Way to make him feel safe and included.
Roman glances over at Virgil and smiles, “Well, I’m honored to be the first.” He stretches out his hand, “Allow me to welcome you to the club. Cabaret night is on Tuesdays and you’ll receive your flag in the mail… once you purchase one.”
Virgil rolls his eyes, but Roman notices the smile pulling at the corner of his lips, “Is everyone in the club as dramatic as you?”
Roman laughs at that until Virgil even lets out a chuckle, “You know, dramatic would be a stereotype.”
“One that you fit,” retorts Virgil.
“That’s not the point and you know it, Emo Knightmare,” Roman answers as he stands up and offers a hand to Virgil. “But seriously, doesn’t it feel good to be honest for once?”
Virgil allows himself to get pulled to his feet, “Yeah, it kinda does.”
“Can I give you a hug?” Roman asks, remembering Patton saying something in the past about Virgil needing warning before any sign of affection.
“Yeah,” Virgil says as Roman pulls him in for a quick hug. “Just… do me a favor…please don’t tell anyone?”
“I would never out you, Virge,” Roman swears, keeping Virgil in the embrace.
“Thanks, Princey.”
Roman pulls away from Virgil and looks him in the eyes, a smile on his lips. This whole thing had been such a weird experience, but whatever had just happened, Roman knows it is the start of a better relationship for the two of them. They understand each other now.
“Oh, one more thing,” Virgil adds.
“What is it?”
“Don’t fall in love with me, okay?” asks the teen with a small smile Roman can’t quite place.
Roman swallows before giving a wink he hopes comes across as playful,“I’ll do my best.”
The janitor comes back with the locksmith and knocks on the door, “All right boys. Give us a minute and we’ll have you out in time for your next period.”
“You’re the best,” Roman calls back before the sound of a saw starts up to cut them out.
Virgil laughs next to Roman as he pulls his hood down, “You know, most people come out of the closet. I’m coming out of the choir room.”
“I see why Patton chooses to hang out with you,” Roman laughs at the pun. Maybe they could be friends after all.