Work Text:
Virgil's always liked art. It's a way for him to express himself, it's a way for him to calm down, and it's not like it really matters. He shows his roommate, Logan, his sketches sometimes, usually the ones of cryptids. His favorite is Mothman, and his sketchbook is full of little fluffy doodles.
But sometimes, he realizes in dismay as he stares down at his sketch, his art is a little more than a meaningless doodle. He didn't mean to, but he's just drawn his roommate cooking dinner, and sketched each line so carefully, he might as well have spelled out I love you in the pencil smears. He can't show Logan this. This is- oh no.
"Virgil?"
Virgil jumps, his sketchbook spilling to the floor, still open to the damnable page that shows off Logan's features in loving detail, down to the look of concentration on his face as he stirs. He scrambles to grab it, but Logan plucks it from the ground first, his eyes touching upon the drawing by accident, then going back for a second look.
"This is amazing, Virgil," Logan says quietly. "You have a real talent for art." Virgil blushes red as a tomato, as Logan hands his sketchbook back.
"Thanks," he mumbles. "I um...I try?" He internally cringes at his answer, it sounds pathetic. But Logan just smiles at him and brushes his shoulder as he returns to the kitchen, and Virgil never does figure out what Logan wanted.
That's not the start. But it is the beginning of Virgil noticing, and that's almost worse. Because he has it bad for his roommate, and he isn't sure where it started, but he knows how he's ended up. His sketchbook is filled with sketch after sketch of Logan. Logan smiling down at a book. Logan scribbling in one of his notebooks. Logan taking his glasses off and rubbing the bridge of his nose. Logan making breakfast, no matter how many times Virgil tries to help. Instead of Mothman and the Jersey Devil, it's just Logan, and that's-
One or two drawings is understandable, but his whole book has been overtaken with them, and he probably looks like the world's biggest creep. Or he will, if Logan ever sees his sketchbook again. And how can he just stop showing off his work with no explanation? He'll make Logan think that he's done something wrong! Logan hasn't done anything wrong, it's just Virgil, and maybe it would be for the best if he just-
Should he just confess? Will he have to look for a new place to live? Not that he thought Logan would just kick him out or anything, but would the ensuing awkwardness ensure that he wanted to dive out the window? What if it ruined their friendship?
But if he doesn't confess, then he'll have to come up with some shitty excuse as to why Logan can no longer look at his sketchbook, and that hurts just as much as the thought of confessing and having it all go horribly wrong.
Virgil swallows, his fingers denting the cover of his sketchbook, as he marches into the living room. Logan is already there, book in his lap, although he appears lost in thought.
"Here," Virgil blurts out, before he loses his nerve, and thrusts his sketchbook in Logan's general direction. His palms are sweaty as he hands it over. He can hear his heartbeat stutter, thrumming in his ears.
Logan takes his sketchbook slowly, as if he can tell this isn't routine, and thumbs through it just as slowly, pausing to take in each line, each pathetic ode to Logan's profile. Virgil bites his bottom lip so hard it nearly bleeds, his anxiety making his hands tremble until he fists them and shoves them in the pockets of his hoodie. At least then, they aren't visible anymore.
"These are stunning, Virgil," Logan says calmly, as if he has not just been presented with his roommate's obsession with him.
"I'm sorry," Virgil nearly spits out, before Logan can say any more. "I- I didn't mean to draw so much of you, I just- I really like you, and-"
"I really like you, too," Logan interrupts, and Virgil's mouth sags open in surprise.
"Huh?" He manages to say inelegantly.
"Your work is beautiful, you are beautiful, and I like you," Logan says, carefully setting Virgil's sketchbook and his own book aside. "I'm falling in love with you, actually. Is that all right?"
"More than," Virgil breathes, and an enormous smile wreathes his face as he ends up launching himself into Logan's arms. "Oh thank fuck I'm not the only one," he mumbles into Logan's shirt. "I don't think my heart could take it."
"I think your heart is stronger than you give it credit," Logan says, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head and making him melt. "However-" He pauses. "Your heart has nothing to worry about."
If his shirt ends up a little damp from Virgil's tears, neither of them mention it.