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Usually, when Roman’s phone buzzed at 1 am, he didn’t respond. Especially not from an unknown number. It was a surprise even to himself that this, one of the longest days of his life, would’ve been the only exception to this rule.
Yet there he was, lying in bed, reaching over to respond to some stranger who, in Roman’s experience, had probably gotten his number from his brother in a bar.
Unknown number: Hey, is this Emile? I got your number from Patton and kinda really need help
Roman hesitated, re-reading the text a few times. That had not been what he was expecting. He racked his brain, trying to think.
How many times have I given random guys I don’t like a wrong name? Emile doesn’t sound like one I’d use… have I ever even heard it? Do I know a Patton? Is Remus Patton? Or is Remus Emile? Whoever this is needs ‘help’. That’s an unusually phrased innuendo. Or what if it isn’t? What if they actually need help? Is it worth the risk?
He pondered the question for a few moments, before eventually deciding the possibility of someone actually being in danger made responding worth the risk.
Roman: This is not Emile, but I’m sure I could try and assist?
He got no response. He sat there for a moment, waiting for the little speech bubble to pop up, but not a word came back. After 2 minutes of silence, he sighed and put down his phone.
No sooner had the phone left his hand, however, than it buzzed twice, making him jump like a frightened kitten.
Unknown Number: shit
Unknown Number: i am so sorry
Roman: it’s perfectly fine
Roman: are you ok?
Unknown Number: well my life is crashing and burning around me and i feel like i’m dying but otherwise yeah couldn’t be better
Unknown Number: oh and you were supposed to be my new therapist but i guess not
Roman: Well, I can say with near 100% certainty that I am indeed not your therapist, but that won’t stop me from wanting to help. Are you quite alright?
Unknown number: dude why do you talk like that
Unknown number: also you already asked me that and the answer is still a hard no
Unknown number: but thanks i guess?
Roman sighed. He couldn’t do much of anything if this guy wouldn’t talk to him. Still, he pressed on, more than a bit concerned now.
Roman: Look, I can’t help unless you talk to me. Is there anything I could do to make the situation any better?
Unknown number: not unless you have a time machine
Roman: excuse me?
Unknown number: exactly. So yeah, thanks, random stranger, but I’m good.
Roman: You’re… welcome?
Roman: hold on, this isn’t the end of this conversation, is it?
Unknown number: I mean, that was the plan.
Unknown number: unless you have anything else relevant to say, I’m gonna go have my panic attack in peace.
Roman: Well, while I can’t exactly say i have anything relevant, I’m gonna definitely tell you to not do that.
Roman: give me a moment to think of something
Unknown number: Wow, I’m on the edge of my seat. Can’t wait.
Roman: okay I thought of something.
Roman: what the fuck is happening here?
Unknown number: astute.
Roman: Well what else do you want from me! You won't talk like a human being!
Unknown number: says the person who talks like they’re in fucking Pride and Prejudice
That was a new one. He’d been called many things in his life, but to equate his speech to the works of Jane Austen? It was almost more a compliment than an insult.
But hey, it was getting them somewhere. Maybe if he opened up, just a little, the stranger would naturally follow suit. It was worth a shot at least.
He decided to go for the low hanging fruit.
Roman: I put the pride in pride and prejudice ;)
Unknown number: that was the worst gay joke I think I’ve ever heard. Congrats, you set a new record for how terrible a pun can get.
Roman: rude! That is h o m o p h o b i c
Unknown number: i put the homo in homophobic ;)
Roman choked. What were the odds of two gay people accidentally meeting through a number mishap?
Roman: credit where credits are due, that was a good one.
Roman: as much I’m enjoying this extremely forced gay discourse, we should probably focus on the task at hand. How are you holding up?
Unknown number: terrible, thanks. Can we change the subject back to the fact that I like guys?
That was just about the poster child of a crisis. A change in subject was the absolute last thing they needed at the moment. No, he was going to get to the bottom of this here and now.
Roman: No can do, Peter Panic. You clearly need assistance, and I’m here to assist. So I’ll ask once more. What is wrong?
Unknown number: none of your business
Roman: So what, you were willing to take advice from me when you thought I was a paid and educated professional, but now that I’m just a random internet stranger, you’re all secretive? I’m quite offended.
Unknown number: you’ll get over it. Speaking of over, are we done here?
Roman: Once again, no. We could go around in circles like this all night if we have to, I’m not leaving you alone to your devices before I’ve done something to help.
Unknown number: Jesus christ, fine. But only because you won’t shut up about it.
Roman: if that's what it takes to get you to talk to me, then so be it. So, what happened?
Unknown number: Ughhhhh, you’re impossible. Alright. I may or may not have uhhhhhhhhhh
Unknown number: I said ‘you too’ to my waiter, okay?
Roman had to read that a few times. There was no way this wasn’t a joke. People didn’t call therapists at 1 am about ‘you too’s. He doubted anyone before now had ever been thinking about that kind of thing at 1 am.
Roman: …………………………………….
Roman: are you fucking serious?
Roman: please, dear god, p l e a s e don’t tell me you were ready to PAY A PROFESSIONAL THERAPIST because you fucking said ‘you too’ to a goddamn waiter.
Unknown number: alright, I won’t tell you.
He couldn’t help but smile at that. This was almost too adorable to think of. He could almost picture the stranger typing that in the corner of a small diner, pouting at him from who knows how far away. Huffing as he shrunk further into his jacket, trying and failing to hold back a small smile. Or maybe he was already home, curled up in bed like Roman was, biting his lip and trying to calm his panic.
Yeah, maybe Remus was right when he called him a hopeless romantic.
Roman: you, dear stranger, are a disaster.
Unknown number: tell me something I don’t know, bitch.
Roman: alright, I shall. I was a waiter for four years of my life to get me through high school, and I swear on our lord and savior Jonothan Van Ness that we could absolutely not give less of a shit when people do that.
Roman: It’s happened more times than I can count, and do you know how many times I’ve so much as bat an eyelash?
Roman: zero. Because it really and truly doesn’t fucking matter.
Unknown number: are you sure? Because my anxiety is not gonna go down without a fight. It ain’t that simple.
Roman: did you tip well?
Unknown number: yeah, no shit. I overtipped. How is that relevant here?
Roman: I can wholeheartedly assure you, if you overtipped, that waiter’s mind was off of everything else in a second. In fact, they’re most likely hoping you come back. We couldn't care less about what you did or didn’t say, as long as we made decent money off of it.
Unknown number: you know, that is… surprisingly helpful. Thank you, I think.
Roman: happy to assist. Is there anything else?
Unknown number: uh
Unknown number: lemme think.
Unknown number: idk, can you magically cure my social anxiety?
Roman: by the looks of things, you’re doing that all on your own.
Unknown number: ?
Roman: well, you have been holding a decently friendly conversation with a complete stranger for a few minutes. You don’t even know my name, and we’re already talking like friends. That seems like progress, does it not?
Unknown number: oh shit
Unknown number: I don’t know your name, do I?
Roman: you do not, but there’s a pretty easy solution to that problem, don’t you think?
Unknown number: We’ve established I’m not that good at conversation, okay? Can you just… do the hard part?
Roman: If it would make you happy, then of course. My name is Roman. And yours?
Unknown number: Uh, it’s Virgil, if you actually care.
Roman: Of course I care!
Virgil: sure thing, ramen.
Now that one wasn’t new in the slightest. He’d heard that nickname since he was twelve. Somehow, though, it felt different this time. There was no malice behind it. Not that he was an expert in texting psychology, but it felt like there was a strange air of fondness to it. Call it wishful thinking, but he could’ve sworn it was there.
Roman: Ramen? Because I’m a snacc?
Virgil: I literally would not know. I met you five minutes ago and have no clue what you look like.
Roman: I suppose you’re correct. If you did, you would certainly agree.
Virgil: of course, how could I not? Because you’re so humble about it, too.
Virgil: oh, shit.
Roman: everything alright?
Virgil: uh, I’m not sure.
Virgil: God, I can’t believe I’m actually considering this.
Virgil: You seem cool. You’re cool, right?
Roman nearly laughed out loud. Out of all of the unbelievable things that had happened tonight, being called ‘cool’ was perhaps the most insane. He was a theatre major, and an obnoxious one, at that. ‘Cool’ and ‘Roman Prince’ did not exist in the same sentence. Ever.
But this was the Internet. And fuck if he wasn’t cool sometimes.
Roman: I mean, I suppose? Why do you ask?
Virgil: awesome. So I’m walking home right now, and there’s this kinda creepy guy following me. I don’t know him, and I don’t know if he’s actually following me or if it’s my anxiety, but I’m kinda freaked out. Can I, like, call you? Or something?
Roman froze. Was he ready to hear Virgil’s voice? It was just a voice, but something inside of him freaked out at just the thought. Was it normal for his heart to be beating this fast?
Virgil needed help, though, and his heart took over where his brain was failing. He knew this was what he had to do.
Roman: absolutely.
It was only moments before his phone started ringing, Virgil’s name lighting up the screen. He answered it quickly, trying to ignore how inexplicably nervous he was.
“Hey, babe.”
In an instant, Roman’s heart was in his throat. Virgil’s voice was deep and gritty, like he’d just woken up, but Roman knew that wasn’t true. There was a soft edge of fear in it that was almost endearing, and Roman felt the urge to wrap the stranger in a hug and hold him until it faded. His heart was fluttering uncontrollably, but he swallowed hard, trying to quell it. Virgil needed him to be the calm one. Yet still, he was thrown all too quickly into a flustered panic
“I- uh- hey, you!” Roman stuttered. Virgil chuckled.
“Don’t sound so nervous, Ro. It’s just me.”
Roman swallowed, trying to calm himself. Virgil needed to stop casually throwing around adorable nicknames, or this conversation was not going to get any easier.
“Right, yeah. Totally. Just you.” He heard Virgil sigh, lowering his voice.
“Dude, just roll with it. I’m trying not to get killed here, and people tend to back off if they think the person has connections. Especially if it’s a boyfriend or something,” he explained.
“How do you know that?” Roman asked, the concern plain in his voice.
“I watch too many true crime documentaries. It doesn’t matter,” he started. Virgil cleared his throat, quickly raising his voice once more. “So, love. How does Friday sound for our date? I was hoping you could take me out to the new, uh, place you like. You know, the one with the stuff…”
Roman stifled a chuckle, feeling heat rising to his cheeks again in full force. The pet names just weren’t enough for the gay gods, were they? They also just had to make Virgil the most adorably bad at improv he’d ever heard. It was too cute, Roman couldn’t even critique it; it worked just the way it was, as far as he was concerned. He did very much want to go anywhere with Virgil, no matter where it was.
“You know, maybe instead of going to the place with the stuff, I could take you to some much needed acting lessons.”
“Oh shut up, I’m trying okay?” Virgil muttered, and Roman could practically feel his blush through the phone.
“You’re doing wonderfully, darling,” he drawled, trying to match his tone. “I’m just saying, it never hurts to get a little help!”
“Yeah yeah, whatever you say. Good plan, babe. I look forward to it,” he said quickly, the panic starting to rise in his voice.
“Hey, Virge, breathe. You’re gonna be okay. Just focus on me.”
“Right, yeah. You.”
He said it with such weight, such hope, that Roman almost felt like he could fly. Maybe he did have a chance after all.
Now or never, Ro. You got this.
“So, about Friday… is this a, nudge nudge, real plan?” he asked, sounding maybe a bit too hopeful.
Virgil was silent for a few moments. “I’m sorry, did you just say ‘nudge nudge’ out loud?”
“Uh, maybe?” Roman said hesitantly, suddenly grateful Virgil couldn’t see his rising blush.
Virgil laughed loudly, and Roman bit his tongue, trying to keep his face from reddening further.
“Wow. That is- that is amazing. Good job.”
After a moment, Virgil lowered his voice again to a normal volume. “Okay, I think the guy is gone. I think I’m safe.”
Roman let out a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness. You had me worried there.”
“God, yeah, me too. Thanks again, by the way.”
“No problem, Virge. Really.”
He wished he didn’t sound so desperate, but it almost seemed to work in his favour. Virgil was breathing normally again. He seemed to really enjoy having Roman with him. Maybe they were friends now. Maybe…
“So, I’ll be meeting you Friday? I seem to recall mention of a certain excellent place with excellent stuff.”
He knew it was a futile effort. Virgil had obviously just been trying to make the scene more realistic, there had been no reason for Roman to believe it was a true offer.
Still, it had to be worth a shot, right?
Virgil hesitated. “Oh- I- uh- I don’t really know…”
“I was joking, Virgil. It’s alright. I know you were kidding.” Even as he said it, he could feel his heart sinking. He really needed to stop getting his hopes up.
“I’m not so sure I was kidding, but if you were, it’s chill.”
Ok, screw not getting his hopes up, they were on fucking Mars.
“I- I would love to meet you, actually. I just didn’t want to force it. You seemed to be quite persistent earlier that you weren’t the most comfortable with people.”
“Yeah, well, maybe you seem different than most people.”
He wasn’t sure he’d ever heard those words spoken so sweetly before. Sure, he sounded a little reluctant to admit it, but it was an admission nonetheless.
“Well, thank you. Frankly, so do you. Despite everything, I’ve rather enjoyed talking with you.”
“Yeah, well… ditto, I guess.”
Roman snorted rather against his will. “Careful there, Virgie. You wouldn’t want to sound too earnest.”
“Whatever.”
“You know, I believe I’m inclined to ask where you live. It might be a bit difficult for us to meet in person if we ended up living on opposite sides of the country. Or in different countries entirely.”
“Oh right. Uh, I live in Orlando. Florida.”
“Wonderful! I live in Atlanta. So not too far at all!”
“You’re not seriously considering driving six hours to meet me, are you?”
“Of course I am! I have nothing else planned, and you’re more interesting than anything else I’d be doing anyway.”
“How do you know I’m not a murderer or something?”
“I don’t! But I have enough student loans to not fear death. If you want to kill me, you go for it. If not, I meet a new friend!”
“Wow, you know, for someone who seems to be pretty smart, you sure are a dumbass.”
“You know, I could be offended by that, but I’m just going to take the compliment. I’m glad you think I seem smart.”
He heard Virgil sigh on the other end. “That was… not the thing you should have taken away from that statement.”
“Eh, I take what I can get. Any place in Orlando you wanna meet up?”
Virgil paused. “Hey, what if I came up there? My friend lives just outside Atlanta.”
Roman narrowed his eyes, confused. “Who’s the dumbass now?”
But Virgil just chuckled, a light, fluffy sound that released the butterflies in Roman’s stomach. “Oh yeah, I’m so scared of you. You are way too much of a dork to be a serial killer.”
“Touché. Well then, I suppose you’ll meet me on Friday then? Unless you want to earlier?”
“Nope. Goodnight, Roman.”
Roman smiled. He could definitely get used to hearing that.
“Goodnight, Virgil.”