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Virgil isn't waiting for Roman to fall in love with him, because waiting would imply expectation. No, Virgil isn't waiting. Sure, it would be nice. But he's never expected anything from Roman and he won't start now, won't start with the one thing he's never wanted to ask for. He's not waiting for Roman to fall in love with him, and that's exactly why it comes out of nowhere, out of the big and beautiful unknown, when Roman stoops to one knee in front of him ten days before halloween, kneeling before him like a religious thing, like a perfect thing worth worship, with a ring in his hand.
They moved in together when they were both nineteen, second semester of college. Neither of them could stand staying in the dorms - Virgil for his debilitating anxiety and Roman for the fact that no one wanted him singing at all hours of the night - and they fell in together. Roman doesn’t mind talking Virgil down off the wall just in time for his next class, and Virgil nearly always has headphones on or earbuds in, so it’s not like he minds the noise. He does, however, take out his earbuds more often after he and Roman move in together; it’s always been the silence that he hated, and things are never silent anymore. Even when Roman isn’t home, his cat is, and she simply cannot be left by her lonesome. Her name is Princess, and it’s because of her that Virgil started calling Roman Princey.
They slowly become the ones to host all of the parties with their friends, if only because Roman realises how much easier it is to get Virgil to attend if he doesn’t have to deal with being in a foreign place as well. It’s at one of those parties that a game of childish truth or dare comes upon them, and Remus Vagary takes the opportunity of Virgil’s answer of truth to ask him a question that Virgil really hasn’t thought about that heavily before.
“If you had to kiss someone here, who would it be?” Remus asks, wiggling his eyebrows. He’s also tapping his feet and clicking his fingers together. No part of him seems to be able to hold still, even with Janus Lyesmith’s legs across his lap. Anxiety crawls into Virgil’s throat, and he is glad once again that he doesn’t drink. He can’t imagine alcohol and anxiety attacks mix well together. Roman shoots him a look of concern but Virgil shakes his head.
“I don’t know if I could ever kiss someone,” he admits. A round of narrowed, questioning eyes are turned upon him. “I’ve never kissed anyone before, and it sounds… intimate? It sounds like a lot.” The explanation doesn’t garner anymore sympathy, though Patton and Roman hadn’t been looking at him with judgement anyway. Logan isn’t really paying him any mind whatsoever, playing Words with Friends on his phone.
“You’ve never kissed anyone? Do you want me to kiss you? Could get it over with,” Remus rushes out, already halfway to standing even as it dumps Janus out of his lap. Roman stands as well, holding up a hand.
“He just said he’s not much for trying it, and no one will be contesting that, or you will be leaving our apartment, Vagary. This is not up for discussion,” he says, taking his most Princely tone. Patton coughs, and the game moves along. Virgil takes a turn skip. Everyone forgets what happened. Roman always looks out for him and Virgil doesn’t really think about it. Roman always makes sure that he’s taken care of, that things don’t go too fast for him, that no one comes over without telling Virgil first. It’s so different from every other roommate that Virgil has ever had that he doesn’t know what to do with it at first.
They’ve lived together for almost three years when Virgil realises he’s in love. It doesn’t hit him like a truck, it doesn’t weigh in his lap like a ton of bricks, it doesn’t feel much different than it did before he realised it. Roman takes care of him, makes sure he’s okay, always calls when he wants to bring a friend over to the apartment. He kisses Virgil’s forehead before he leaves the living room to go to bed and carries Virgil to his own bed if, exhausted, Virgil is the one who falls asleep first. He’s never fully rested and Roman never rags on him for the way that he strows himself across the known universe if it means finishing a project, a story, something that won’t write itself. They start sleeping in the same bed when the nightmares get worse in winter, and they never separate.
Roman gets him, just like he always has, and Virgil loves him so unholy that he can almost imagine kissing him. Roman is the only person that Virgil can imagine letting close enough to know him like that, because Roman knows everything else about him, so why not? Virgil tucks himself into his own corner of the couch and forgets a Roman that loves him back except three years after that realisation, six years they’ve lived together, almost two years after their joint graduation, Roman is on one knee. Roman is on one knee and Virgil still hasn’t said anything, his heart in his throat, and his… his hands are flapping. His hands are flapping and Roman is smiling even though Virgil hasn’t said anything because Roman knows what flapping means because Roman gets him.
“You - you. You love me? You want to - marry? Marry me?” Virgil stutters, hands still just going, and Roman smiles.
“Of course, darling. Of course I love you. I would like to love you for the rest of my life,” Roman says, still on one knee, and Virgil has to pull him up, because they’re almost thirty and, really, Roman, was it necessary to get on the floor at all? Roman laughs and Virgil realises he said that aloud, but that’s okay. Roman loves him.
“I love you too, and… yes. I have a kind of funny story to tell you, though…”