friendly neighborhood insomniac

Alphabetized by fandom, ship, and work. Some are links to fics on my main because I wrote them before I made this blog!

Unfinished stuff (I have yet to have any) are in red

Interpretations are in parentheses!

Merlin

Morgwen

“If you kill her, you kill me.” (imo they’re in love but no specified interpretation)

Sanders Sides

Multichapter:

Prince Charming (1/2/3/4/5/6) (Intrulogical, Prinxiety, Moceit)

Oneshots/Prompts

Organized alphabetically by ship! Some of these are untitled bc the prompts didn’t have dialogue to go with (or I was lazy).

Analogical

“Can we just stay like this forever?” (romantic)

“Do that again and you’ll regret it.” (no specified interpretation) [ao3 link]

“Have you eaten?” + “I miss you.” (no specified interpretation)

“I’d kill for a coffee, literally.” (no specified interpretation)

“I’m exhausted.” (romantic) [ao3 link]

“It’s really scary for me when you do things like this.” (no specified interpretation) [ao3 link]

Six Devil Children (romantic) [ao3 link]

Analogince

Sometimes Having Terrible Aim is Worth It (romantic) [ao3 link]

Analoginceit

A Sun That Doesn’t Burn (romantic)

“I’m a little drunk right now.” + “Are you showing off for me?” (romantic) [ao3 link]

Anxceit

“I knew you’d love it.” (intended as platonic) [ao3 link]

Creativitwins (all iS PLATONIC YOU GEESE)

“I’m not going.” (platonic) [ao3 link]

“Don’t try to play the hero.” (platonic)

"Forget it, you're a f****ng a**hole." (uncensored in fic so beware. platonic)

DRLAMP/DLAMPR

Untitled Halloween Party (platonic)

Dukeceit/Demus

“Please don’t leave me.” + “I’m scared.” (romantic, but up to interpretation really) [ao3 link]

Dukexiety

“If you kill him, you kill me.” (romantic)

“You promised you wouldn’t forget me.” (romantic) [ao3 link]

Intruality

“I can’t do anything right.” (no specified interpretation)

Loceit

Janus Gets a Snake (romantic)

Twenty-Two Hours?! (romantic) [ao3 link]

Logicality

“Can you just hold my hand?” (no specified interpretation) [ao3 link]

Logince

“And did I mention, I’m sorry?” + “Stop being so dramatic.” (romantic)

“Paint with me.” (romantic) [ao3 link]

“Seeing your face is like drinking water after a lifetime in the desert.” (romantic) [ao3 link]

Untitled Little Kid AU ficlet (romantic)

Untitled Manicures (romantic) [ao3 link]

Untitled Picnic Fluff (romantic)

Untitled Stage Actor AU ficlet (romantic) [ao3 link]

Moxiety

“I didn’t mean to love you so much” (platonic) [ao3 link]

“No, please don’t take me away!” (parental) [ao3 link]

“You scared the ***t out of me.” (platonic, uncensored in ficlet so beware)

Prinxiety

“Be careful.” (romantic)

“Cheeky.” (romantic) [ao3 link]

The World Is Ugly (romantic)

Untitled Post-FWSA (romantic)

Untitled Virgil in a Skirt (romantic) [ao3 link]

“You deserve to be treated like the royalty that you are.” (no specified interpretation?)

Roceit

Dancing at 2 a.m. in our Pajamas and its part two (romantic)

“If I could, I’d hand you my beating heart on a platter.” (romantic)

Love with the Help of Remus and Wine (this is an ao3 link because tumblr ate it) (romantic)

Red and Yellow on Your Wrist and its completely nonessential to read addition to make things end slightly happier (heed the warnings) (romantic) [ao3 link]

“Your eyes are so pretty.” (romantic) [ao3 link]

Untitled Gossipy Theatre Kids (romantic)

"You come here often?" (romantic, Christmas themed!!)

Royality

“You were the only one I thought I could trust.” (platonic…it’s really just angst) [ao3 link]

~

It was January, right in the middle of winter. The weather refused to let their area forget this fact; the week had started out with a snowstorm and after one day of pause, it had snowed every day for the next four days. It was now Friday, the fourth consecutive day of having snow, and the neighborhood kids had calmed about the state of the weather. Earlier in the week, Roman and Logan would often look out their window to find kids playing in the snow. Now, the excitement had dialed down and the kids were exhausted. The couple figured that sometime in the middle of the next week, the kids would be back to causing snowy chaos, but there was still almost a week until that hypothesis would be put to the test. At the current time, the block was quiet.

Roman appeared next to Logan, who was reading. He perched himself on the armrest of Logan's armchair and put an arm around his boyfriend.

"Hey, Logan?" Roman asked, taking a lock of Logan's hair and twirling it between his fingers.

"What is it you want, darling?" Logan replied, not looking up from his book.

Roman frowned. "I never said I wanted something."

"You called me Logan," he explained like it were obvious, "so, you want something."

Roman rolled his eyes, wishing his boyfriend wasn't so observant. "I want to have a snowball fight outside."

Logan raised an eyebrow, keeping his eyes on the novel in his hands. "I assume that you want me to join?"

Roman nodded. "Who else would I fight?"

"I also imagine you will annoy me about this subject until I acquiesce, or the snow melts?"

Roman nodded again.

"What's in it for me?"

Roman furrowed his eyebrows in thought. "Well...maybe, after the fight, we can curl up next to each other on the couch in our blankets, hot chocolate in hand, and we can watch Doctor Who or whatever while we snuggle."

Logan bit his lip.

"You know you want to."

Logan rolled their eyes. "I most certainly do not."

Roman grinned at him cheekily. "Bullshit," he said sweetly, "now come with me."

He took the book from Logan's hands and set it on the table. He grabbed a receipt from nearby and put it on the open pages, before slamming the novel shut and pulling his boyfriend to his feet.

Logan made a noise of surprise as he was dragged to the door by his boyfriend.

"Roman, wait!" Logan exclaimed, putting a hand on Roman's arm. "Let me get my gloves and hat on first."

Logan, who was already in a blue patterned sweater and dark purple scarf, dashed to his and Roman's room. He opened his closet and picked out his navy blue beanie and red gloves. He put them on quickly, not wanting to have to deal with Roman's manhandling once again.

He raced back to Roman who was waiting for him at the door impatiently. When he saw Logan, his expression brightened to one of adoration.

"Oh my gosh, mi querido, you look adorable!"

Logan huffed. "I am not adorable."

Roman laughed. "Yes, you are."

Logan knew that arguing was hopeless.

They took the accusation to heart for a moment. "What if the neighbors see our fight and it ruins my reputation and they never take me seriously again?"

"One, they will be too far away from us to recognize you. Two, they won't care. Three, I'm going to be annoying you for the next two months about a snowball fight so if you refuse, they'll judge you for choosing someone as loud and annoying as myself as your boyfriend."

Logan nodded. "Fair enough."

The two exited their house. Logan put his arms around his torso and shivered, the sudden change in temperature shocking his body, but Roman ran ahead. He immediately crouched down to the ground and formed a snowball, aiming directly for Logan’s stomach, and missing by a couple of feet. Logan gave him a disappointed look.

Roman huffed and returned to building a snowball. Logan shivered again, watching the small flecks of white flutter down from the clouds above and land on their suburban neighborhood. Logan was removed from their thoughts when a snowball collided with his stomach.

He stumbled back half a step, but steadied his stance and glared at his boyfriend. Another snowball was thrown his way, but Logan dodged and watched it disperse against the door.

“You might want to join me in the yard, Specs, if you don’t want me to break a window.”

Logan followed his suggestion, running to the front yard and immediately forming a snowball. They threw it at their unsuspecting boyfriend who was in the process of making another snowball. It hit him square in the chest, making him fall backwards.

“Oh, you’re in for it, mi luz.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “You’ve hit me twice, I’ve hit you once. I’m hardly the-”

A snowball to the lungs effectively shut them up.

---

Roman and Logan were hiding behind their respective walls of snow. Throughout the fight, they had been creating their own walls to hide behind to avoid getting hit. The fight would continue until either surrender or unconsciousness occurred, and both knew the former would be the hardest to achieve.

Since the two were both overachievers and never half-assed anything, their respective snow walls were two and a half feet high, roughly four inches in thickness, and approximately two feet wide. Roman had drawn an ‘R’ into his for dramatic effect, and Logan had hit the ‘R’ purposely with a snowball twice.

Neither knew how much time had passed, nor could they sense just how cold they were. All they could think about was demolishing their beloved in a violent war of snow, where only one could be crowned victor.

They were so unfocused that they didn’t notice a door opening and closing. Their eyes were so zeroed in on each other that Logan couldn’t see anything but his weapon and his target.

Logan knew the second the snowball left his hands that he would not land the shot. They were off by at least a couple of feet. They paid it no mind, however, and focused on evading Roman’s next attack.

The snowball landed with an audible smack.

That was unusual; dodged snowballs normally landed soundlessly on the ground.

What was also unusual was the yelp accompanying the sound.

Two shocked heads turned and watched as an unfamiliar man was thrown off his balance from Logan’s ruthlessly packed snowball. He didn’t fall to the ground, no, he was too scary and intimidating for that kind of humiliation to ever befall him. But, he was inconvenienced just enough so that Roman and Logan were terrified for their lives.

Logan hadn’t hit any old neighbor that lived on their block. He had hit the man who lived to their right.

The man who was evil, scary, probably a serial killer; the person that even the adults were scared of. He overdid Halloween, had no friends, and worked at a psychiatric hospital. He could probably kill them if he wanted to. According to the rumors, he had killed for lesser motives.

His eyes locked with both of the men at once, and Logan and Roman had never been more scared in their time together. He was terrifying.

With a black shirt, black jeans, black and purple hair, and a black hoodie, the man next door with tattoos creeping up his neck and black eyeshadow under his eyes looked very much the part the rest of the street had cast him as.

Logan and Roman were truly and undeniably fucked.

When the neighbor stopped glaring at them and walked to his car, Logan and Roman simultaneously craned their necks back to face each other, a terrified look in both of their eyes. Suddenly, all their competitive fire was extinguished and they looked at the snow on the ground with fear and regret instead of devious fun.

Their neighbor got something from his car and returned inside, casting sideways glances at Roman and Logan as he passed them. He slammed his door shut, causing both men to flinch.

From day one, the couple had been warned by kindergarteners and middle-aged women alike that they were unfortunate to be neighbors with the man next door. It was today that this was proven. All they could do was wait for their demise.

Roman threw a snowball at Logan’s face in anger at his actions and bad aim. For the first time in this fight, he wished he had been hit by that snowball.

There was a four minute period where the two were internally debating their options of either going back inside or apologizing to their fearsome neighbor. Occasionally, they would make eye contact with each other, but no words were actually spoken. Roman, the extrovert, considered knocking on his door to make a quick and hasty apology while Logan, the introvert, thought about writing an apology letter and sliding it under his door.

Neither of their ideas needed to be put to action, however, since the neighbor exited his house once again.

The two resisted the overwhelming urge to cower in fear. They had never seen him before, and now they had seen him twice in less than ten minutes? Clearly, they had ticked him off.

In an effort to not make it look as though they were staring, Logan and Roman stuck their gazes on each other. Each could tell that their partner was resisting their instincts telling them to run as far away as they could as fast as possible. But they couldn’t be rude—not when that man lived right next to them and could approach their house at any time. The serial killer rumors suddenly seemed more plausible.

What greeted them (or rather, Logan) instead, was a snowball to the back.

Logan, who was tenser than a taut rope, stumbled from the harsh impact. When he was able to regain his stance, his head whipped around to look at his attacker.

The neighbor had on, of all things, a smile.

He had discarded his hoodie for a fluffy black sweater with purple bats on it. He was now in a black beanie and had on midnight blue gloves. While his winter attire was surprising considering he already had a hoodie and didn’t seem to leave his house much, the mischievous smile was the most perplexing of all new things about their neighbor. Neither Logan nor Roman could make sense of it, except that it let them see the infamously creepy stranger in a new light.

Logan huffed out a bemused laugh, staring at the neighbor (who looked to be similar in age to them) like he was a gripping plot twist in a novel that unexpectedly ended happily. He shook his head a bit, but crouched down and formed another snowball. He made sure not to throw it as hard as the first one he had thrown at the stranger.

The man dodged it with ease, running closer to the snow-covered couple’s house. He swiped some snow off the porch rail and quickly packed it before throwing it at Roman, who was too busy being bewildered to do anything to dodge. He gasped in offense and coughed when the snowball collided with his sternum, and directed a playful glare at his attacker. He threw a snowball at him in return.

The neighbor easily dodged that one, but wasn’t able to dodge the snowball Logan had thrown his way. His attention switched over to the bespectacled assailant, looking at them just in time to see him throw another snowball at his boyfriend.

“How the hell did you make a snowball that quickly, cariño?”

“I have a snow wall, Ro. What do you think I put behind it? Action figures?” Logan retorted sarcastically.

Roman rolled his eyes and formed another snowball, sending it through the air and smack into Logan’s wall. “Every man for himself!”

The neighbor laughed at that, and the snowball fight continued.

---

As it turned out, Logan and Roman were at a disadvantage from already being out in the snow before their neighbor joined in. He was able to make them both surrender eventually, but not before Roman had aimed a snowball at a precise place on the back of his neck where the snow fell down the back of his shirt.

Logan was the wiser out of the couple and had surrendered first (not without a fight, though). He figured he deserved it; he had been the one to disturb the stranger, after all. This made him able to watch as both Roman and the stranger started to shiver more and more as the fight had continued.

When Roman finally did surrender, Logan laughed in his face and then put an arm around him. Logan took one hand in his and was able to tell his fingers were numb.

“You just never know when to quit, do you?” they sighed fondly.

“I did eventually!” protested Roman indignantly.

The stranger chuckled from beside him. “Would’ve been easier for your poor body if you’d surrendered when you knew you were gonna lose.”

It was the first time they’d heard him speak; snowball fights weren’t exactly the best place to start a conversation. His voice was low, about as deep as expected from a scary man in all black. However, it didn’t hold any fearful qualities or scratchiness like the kids had described. The couple thought it sounded like coffee on a cool winter’s morning (which didn’t make sense since coffee wasn’t a sound, but it was all that they could use to describe it, nonetheless).

“And when would that have been?”

“The second I joined in.”

Logan hid a laugh behind their hand. Roman glared at him for encouraging their neighbor.

“No idiot surrenders the second another person joins,” Roman muttered.

“Exactly,” the man said with a wink. Logan was able to spot him curling his arms around himself, probably from being cold.

Roman gasped loudly when he finally realized what the stranger was saying. “How dare you!”

He stumbled out of Logan’s arms and collected more snow off the porch railing, making it into a large, messy ball and chucking it at the stranger.

It hit his face. Not hard in any shape or form; no harm would be done, but it was still a bunch of cold water shoved in his face and falling into the front of his sweater.

The stranger furiously batted at the snow on his face.

“Serves you right,” Roman mumbled.

Logan rolled his eyes. “Sorry, that must’ve been freezing.”

The man nodded.

“Come on in,” Logan invited, opening the door. “We can make you some hot chocolate.”

Roman rushed inside, running to the storage closet that had extra blankets.

“A-are you s-su-re?” the stranger said, syllables separate and repetitive from his shivering. The snow in his face caused his teeth to chatter.

“Of course,” Logan said, “it’s our—well, mostly my fault, that you got cold anyway. I’m Logan. He/they pronouns.”

Virgil chuckled. “L-log-an, h-uh? Was st-st-starting to thi-nk y-you were j-just gi-v-ven a b-bunch of p-pet names at b-birth.”

Logan blushed furiously, but laughed. Roman referred to him with Spanish terms of endearment more than he did his legal name.

“At this point, I might as well have been. I tend to respond to any unfamiliar word that vaguely sounds like Spanish now.”

They ushered the freezing stranger inside. Roman had returned from the storage closet with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and another under his arm. Logan took the blanket that wasn’t shrouding his shivering boyfriend and wrapped it around the stranger’s shoulders, who tugged it tighter around himself eagerly.

Logan went to the kitchen, putting three mugs of milk into the microwave and setting it for two minutes. They then returned to Roman and their neighbor who were shivering in silence.

“Thanks for joining us,” Roman said, “that was fun.”

“It was,” he agreed, shivering starting to calm down. “T-thank you for letting me p-participate.” Not fully, however.

“Of course,” said Logan, putting an arm on Roman’s shoulders. “I totally meant that snowball as an invitation. Fully intentional.”

The other two laughed, knowing that was a lie. The microwave beeped, and Logan left them to take the mugs from the microwave. He put the hot cocoa powder in and stirred the mugs, before picking them up.

He entered the living room to see that Roman had sat on the left of the couch and the stranger in the middle. Logan put their mugs in front of them and put down a mug for themself. He sat down next to the stranger.

“Might I ask your name, oh Master of the Snowball?” Roman asked.

The stranger snorted. “That’s much better than my name. My name’s Virgil. He/him.”

Logan smiled to himself. “Not at all, that’s a very nice name.”

Virgil choked on the hot chocolate he was sipping. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

“Fits your aesthetic,” Roman remarked.

Virgil opened his mouth, looking offended. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

It was obviously a joke, but Logan and Roman knew they had to tell Virgil of the rumors and his reputation. Especially now that they saw him as a good guy.

“Halloween,” Roman started to list, “everyday-is-spooky-season aesthetic, seems like the type of guy to work at a haunted house.”

Virgil scoffed. “Those places are stupid; not scary at all. If you want to go to a haunted house, make your house the haunted house.”

Well, now they had the Virgil-goes-to-a-haunted-house-weekly theory debunked.

“You do have ghosts on your sweater,” Logan supplied, taking a sip of the hot chocolate.

“They’re cute ghosts, though,” Roman said as soon as Virgil opened his mouth to argue. He pointed at one on his sweater. “See? Look at the lil’ faces.”

“My sister got it for me for Christmas.”

“If I knew your sister, that would probably explain the cute faces.”

“Oh, believe me, it would.”

Logan chuckled as he watched the two exchange conversation. He took another sip of his hot chocolate.

“So, um, I heard moving trucks outside your house about a month ago. Was that y’all? You new here?” asked Virgil.

“Affirmative,” Logan confirmed.

“Yeah, it’s our very first house together!” Roman said happily.

Virgil smiled. “That’s sickeningly adorable.”

“I am sickeningly adorable,” Roman said like it was a badge of honor.

“I agree,” Logan said.

A comfortable silence befell the group.

Virgil fidgeted, looking at Roman nervously. “Bit awkward question this far into the conversation, but I never caught your name-”

“Roman~” sang the man in question. He would have held the note out for an impressively long time if he didn’t take a sip of hot cocoa.

“Cool,” said Virgil awkwardly. “And I suppose, Roman and Logan, oh wow y’all’s names rhyme that is so romantic, anyway-”

Roman gasped, covering his mouth. His eyes lit up. “They do!”

“Are you just noticing this, Roman?” asked Logan.

“Of course!” Roman exclaimed in reply. “If I knew our names rhymed, I would have already written many a rhyming poem about our love.”

“That’s very nice, Love.”

“Don’t be snippy, mi cielo, you know you’d love it,” Roman huffed. “Virgil, don’t you think he’d love it?”

Virgil just rolled his eyes fondly, not wanting to get caught up in the middle of a lover’s spat.

“Don’t bring Virgil into this, Roman. You should put the subject aside, considering he was in the middle of saying something before you interrupted.”

“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to ask. Did our neighbors happen to...um...tell you what they thought of me? Ruin first impressions? It would explain your terrified expressions when we first saw each other.”

Roman and Logan looked at each other worriedly.

“...Maybe?” Roman asked quietly.

“There’s a small possibility...” Logan whispered.

“Y’all, I’m not mad if it happened, I just wanna know.”

Logan sighed. “Yes, yes they did.”

“What’d they say?”

“Multiple people said different things,” Logan began. “Janet talked to us first. She’s the blonde, short-haired, blue-eyed-”

“-Used to be a soccer mom, baby blue house?” Virgil asked. Logan nodded. “Met her when I first moved in, and once after that.”

“Her, yes. She told us, quite frankly, to not come near you.”

Virgil started to close in on himself. “Like how?”

“Said you were creepy, rude, introverted, no friends, freaky-as-all-hell Halloween decorations, apparently knew where you worked,” Roman told him, then noticed Virgil’s shrinking and stopped with the accusations. “I doubt almost all of that now, since you’re obviously not creepy and definitely have friends with that personality, but she may have been accurate with Halloween decor.”

“She was,” Virgil confirmed. “Go big or go home.”

“I believe you are normally home during Halloween, are you not?” asked Logan, confused.

Roman laughed. “Of course, mi amor.”

“Where do I work, in Janet terms?” asked Virgil, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Some old psychiatric hospital out of town.”

Virgil doubled over in laughter. He put his mug on the coffee table so it wouldn’t spill and held his head in his hands.

When he regained himself, still giggling, he replied.

“That’s inaccurate,” Virgil said plainly. “I don’t have a degree for that. See, there’s an old abandoned psychiatric hospital two miles away from the airport that is on the same road as the airport. It’s out of use, so that’s a stupid assumption to make. I guess I could maybe see why she made it though; I work at the airport.”

“Oh?” asked Logan, intrigued.

“Yeah, I’m an air traffic controller,” said Virgil with a shrug. “It ain’t that interesting. I recently got fully certified, though, which is cool. It pays well, I’m good at paying constant attention to things that could potentially end badly, and the high-stress comes from having to give my unwavering and full attention, which is something I can do well.”

“Less stressful than home and college, I guess, huh?” Roman guessed.

“Exactly, it's a spa compared to my parents,” Virgil said with a laugh. “But yeah, that’s hysterical. I definitely do not work at a psychiatric hospital.”

“I suppose what the kids said is untrue if what the adults said is false,” Logan mused.

“Oh dear lord, what did they say,” Virgil groaned.

“One girl told us about the rumor that you killed the people who used to live here,” Roman said, and Virgil immediately laughed. “Her mother said she asked for a cup of sugar and you gave her a cup of salt instead.”

“I hadn’t slept in five days and realized my mistake two hours later,” Virgil explained immediately. “I remember that one.”

Logan snorted. “One boy said you go to the haunted house on Fridays, which is obviously untrue.”

“Yeah. One, they’re stupid, two, that one’s only open in October and November, three, that one ain’t even scary. It has a good and free parking lot, though, and I volunteer at an at-risk youth center every Friday a couple blocks down that has really shitty parking.”

Roman shook his head. “Wow, we really got you wrong.”

“You were misled,” Virgil corrected. “It’s not your fault.”

“You know what, you’re right!” Roman agreed. “We were robbed.”

Virgil raised an eyebrow. “Of what?”

“Of friendship,” Logan said, taking a sip from his drink. “Roman would have been banging on your door two days after moving, wanting to get to know you. But, after a momentous amount of ‘rude’ and ‘disagreeable’—” Virgil frowned, “—he was persuaded not to. Our loss, especially considering you are neither of those two adjectives.”

Virgil smiled. “Thank you.”

Logan looked into Virgil’s chestnut brown eyes, and was able to spot the specks of gray in them. They gave Virgil a warm smile. “For what? It is our pleasure to be given the chance to know you.”

Roman groaned. “I try 24/7 to be dramatic and you do it without trying.”

Virgil, blushing, giggled. “You’re both good at it.”

Roman beamed at him. “I’m thrilled you think so, Nico di Angel-o.”

“Nico’s surname can be interpreted to mean ‘of the angels’ already, Roman, I don’t think you need to emphas-”

“Shhhh, Specs, let me shower our guest with compliments.”

Virgil’s face was on fire. “Do y’all have any movies?”

~

Taglist: @somehow-i-got-an-account @justanotherhumanstuff @fander-fic-recs @neo-neo-neo

~

Roman wasn't just like every other crush. Virgil had been in love with Roman for three years at this point and the feelings didn't seem to be fading in any sense. Roman had been Virgil's light and love for three years and Virgil had yet to find something about him that made him disappointed.

Patton was nice. Kind, sweet, enthusiastic; he was Virgil's best friend. But he could also be overwhelming, overbearing, strict, and too parental. Virgil loved Patton an incredible amount, but Virgil was sometimes too fragile to be fully comfortable in his presence.

Logan was smart. He was reliable, logical, honest, and gave very good advice. He was grounding, down-to-earth, and highly intelligent. However, Logan's wonderful qualities came with a side dish of coldness, occasional detachment and insensitivity, and bluntness. While this was often fine and sometimes even refreshing, it could sometimes be hard to deal with when Virgil wasn’t prepared for it. Logan and Virgil's friendship was very close and healthy, but Virgil couldn’t often deal with him for an extended period of time when Virgil wasn’t at his best.

But Roman...

Roman was perfect.

Yes, he could be arrogant and insensitive and harsh, but none of this deterred Virgil from extended interactions with him. To him, it just completed the puzzle that was Roman.

Roman was always perfect to Virgil. No part of his personality made Virgil not want to be around him. Virgil never had to twist the image of his princely friend to make him his ideal partner in his mind. No part of Roman's personality ever made Virgil wish he wasn't in his presence. At least, not after they became friends. His "flaws" just made him a better person in Virgil's eyes.

Virgil was mean. He was sarcastic, rude, blunt, pretty dumb, and constantly anxious. He was dark and brooding and incredibly pessimistic.

Virgil was a mess.

So, he obviously wasn't telling Roman because he thought the flawless man would like him back. But if it wasn't that, what was the point?

Because there were too many sleepless nights.

Too many evenings spent drying each other's tears.

Roman was sensitive, insecure; too sensitive of the opinions of others, too dependent on their approval. He wore his heart on his sleeve, and not everyone was wary of this, causing Roman frequent pain. Virgil had spent many evenings either on his or Roman's bed, hands on his talented friend's face as his thumbs cleaned away an endless stream of tears caused by events and people that would never be worth a second of Roman's time.

Virgil was almost certain he had more shirts that had been stained by Roman's snot and wasted saltwater than he had shirts that never had been cried on.

These nights, they made Virgil want to scoop up the princelike actor and hold him closer than the boundaries of their friendship would ever permit them to and whisper sweet nothings in his ear that would mainly just remind him of how loved he was. How loved he was by Virgil.

Virgil also wanted to apologize.

A week before, he, a singer-songwriter, returned from a particularly angering meeting with his manager. Roman tried to help him and cheer him up, but instead Virgil pushed him away by saying harsh things he didn't mean.

Of course, their friendship was too important to be on hold for a whole week, so Virgil had apologized the following day, but the musician could still tell that Roman was confused and not fully over it. He was no longer angry, but the pain hadn't left completely.

But Virgil couldn't explain his anger without also explaining that he was in love with him.

Roman had just been too nice, looking too pretty, and with brown irises that somehow seemed more entrancing than normal on that night. Virgil had wanted nothing more than to drown in the stage actor's arms. Roman had suggested ice cream, a movie (at home or at the cinema), or pizza if he hadn't already had dinner. Virgil had looked at his outstretched arms with want and longing. But he knew he couldn't play, tempt, or tease his heart like so and had declined rudely, faking irritation and anger. However, now he was faced with regret.

Virgil couldn't be fully honest with Roman if he didn't tell him about his feelings for him. It had been three years, but this dance could go on no longer. It made sense that if Virgil couldn't get over the theatric man in three years, he should face rejection in the eyes so that the romantic feelings would pass quicker. He should have told him long ago, but this was a good opportunity.

Yes, it was possible for him to wait for Roman's hurt and confusion to go away, but Virgil didn't want Roman to take any more actions (like not seeking Virgil's comfort when he required it, which had happened the night before this one) that would hurt him. It wasn't like telling Roman was a new concept for Virgil to mull over. A part of him had known for a long while now that telling Roman would eventually make getting over him easier. However, the possibility of Roman being disgusted and ending their friendship wasn't low. That was the driving force of Virgil’s hesitancy to enlighten Roman of the romantic inclinations he had for him. Virgil valued Roman's friendship, and would choose his platonic presence over his absence at any second.

But he couldn't lie any longer.

Roman had gone to Patton instead of Virgil last night when he learned that his ex-boyfriend (who ended their relationship five months before) had been cheating when they were together. Roman didn't still have romantic feelings for his former flame, but knowing that he cheated hurt him. He was lied to, betrayed; there was no way to tell if his ex ever loved him. That hurts even if there's no longer romance there.

Of course, Virgil learned this from a concerned Patton and not the actor himself.

All three involved in this event were troubled. Patton, for his friends' happiness (since Virgil and Roman made each other happy), Roman because he was confused and hurt, and Virgil, who wished Roman was comfortable with him again.

Virgil figured he only had one thing to do. Confess, and end the confusion.

Confess, and possibly end their friendship forever.

Virgil wished there was another way out.

But Roman was confused, hurt, and in a bad place. Virgil had tried everything in an effort to get over Roman, but nothing worked in the slightest. The singer knew it was past time that he confess.

So he stared at Roman's contact, the handsome face of his profile picture staring back. Roman was simply 'Roman' in Virgil's phone; he didn't put any cute nicknames in case Roman saw.

He brainstormed as hard as he could for a way to tell Roman he loved him romantically.

He didn't want to be too straightforward. Saying a blunt "I am romantically in love with you" was too scary to type out and send. And, he also had a shred of decency to not say something so important through text.

What did Virgil know best? Music.

He pulled up Spotify.

He went to his music, thinking through all the love songs he'd written about and for Roman (Roman didn't know of course). Virgil had his thumb over a particularly emotional and descriptive song, but paused.

If Virgil just sent him his song, Roman would think that he wanted an opinion on it, or that Virgil was reminiscing on works past. If Virgil sent a caption saying "this was about you", then the moment would be ruined, the text would feel too real and to-the-point, and he would be undermining his efforts to not say something monumental through text. No, he had to choose a song that would leave no room for confusion and no need for clarification.

What did Roman associate Virgil with, musically?

Emo music. Panic! At The Disco. Fall Out Boy.

My Chemical Romance.

Virgil would call the last his native tongue if he were able. It felt like such, each song seeming like it came from home or somewhere similar. It made sense for Virgil to communicate with something so dear to his heart. His friends were well acquainted with his love for the band. All his close friends, at one time or another, had been interrupted by Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge when they wanted to talk to Virgil. It told them he wasn't doing too well and needed time away from people and worldly responsibilities.

Which song, was the question.

MCR didn't have too many love songs; at least, they had a much lower percentage than many other bands. Also, a lot of those songs that you thought might be romantic could easily be interpreted differently. This made it a bit difficult for Virgil to find a song by them that encompassed his emotions, announced a repeat of his apology, and was clearly romantic.

He ran through the romantic MCR songs on speed-run in his head, paying close attention to the lyrics. His mind stopped when his brain fluttered to Conventional Weapons; more specifically, The World Is Ugly. He ran through the lyrics in his head, the tone, how clear the romance was.

He couldn't help but think no song described what he was feeling more.

The love, the apologeticness, the hatred of the world. Virgil knew how evil and ugly the world was. Is. But Roman...Roman was a star, shining in complete darkness without pause. Even when day came to hide the star's light and the two weren't in the other's presence, Virgil knew he was still there. Roman’s light wasn't like the sun which could blind or burn you, but like the stars in the sky that were bright, in a place far away, and at heights Virgil could only dream of reaching.

The lyrics made it clear that Virgil was using this song to communicate something—that something being love.

His finger shakily tapped his phone, pressing the share button and clicking on Roman's contact. He bit his lip, every brain cell except the one controlling his present actions screaming at him to reconsider, to protect their friendship and his heart. But this time, he ignored his anxiety.

He pressed send.

That was it. The text was sent. All he could do now was wait or regret.

A drop of blood slid down his chin from the lip he was biting too hard.

Roman opened his text messages reflexively. Virgil had a special text tone and Roman was conditioned to get excited when he heard it. He was almost always happy when Virgil sought out his company. Virgil's communication in any form was something he saw as a treat.

Virgil's feelings were no longer a secret.

---

Now, this was where the 'almost' came in. His argument with Virgil the week before made him anxious about what the text held. Was it a confession of hatred? Worse?

The app loaded to show a link to Spotify. He raised an eyebrow, plugging in his earbuds and shifting his position on his bed. He clicked the link and put in the earbuds as the song loaded and started.

Roman, an acquaintance of the emo for over five years at this point, and a friend for four of those years, knew his fair share of MCR. No, he did not know every song they ever created, but he knew a lot. This seemed to be one of the many he'd never heard. It was titled 'The World Is Ugly', a title he found unfamiliar and unsurprising for Virgil's music taste.

It wasn't nearly as intense as the ones that prompted him to lack interest in the band. He could hear the lyrics clearly.

As he started listening to the song that was sent without a caption, he realized that Virgil must have meant this as a way to communicate something. He decided to pay close attention to the lyrics for this reason alone.

The first verse seemed to have reassuring and protective elements, and a theme of unity between two people.

The chorus came, and he couldn't help but be taken aback by "but you're beautiful to me". At first, he thought it must be something Virgil didn't mean to convey, a lyric that didn't quite fit with everything else he was trying to tell Roman.

But the second chorus came after the second verse and Roman concluded that the song was a love song. It couldn't be anything else. To Roman, "but I wanted you to know” gave off the idea that if there was anything the singer wanted the audience to know, it was the next sentence (which included the line he was so confused about earlier). His mind almost came to the conclusion Virgil was trying to tell Roman that exact sentence...when he finally noticed that the chorus contained an apology.

Virgil already apologized.

Roman considered this, but a voice in his head told him that Roman hadn't accepted his apology—and acted like he hadn't.

Patton must have told him about last night.

He almost cursed Patton in his head, but concluded that Patton was worried because Roman often went to Virgil for the kind of thing he had gone to Patton for. Patton was concerned and probably wanted to make sure the two of them were okay.

By the end of the song, Roman knew what Virgil was trying to tell him. It threw him into a trance. He knew why Virgil sent this to him, and why he was so off-putting that night.

Virgil was in love with him.

Or so it seemed.

To be honest, Roman didn't want to believe it. Virgil being in love with him changed his whole world view.

To Roman, Virgil was the moon. Roman could always reach Virgil if he so chose, but he wasn't always present in person. He shone brightly to Roman, so bright. Not a light that made Roman shy away from and curse at, but a welcomed, beautiful light that made everything better when it was the dead of night and nothing else made sense. Virgil, for all of their friendship, was so close. He was who he was closest with. But, despite this, he was just out of reach. He couldn't hold him, touch him, speak to him in all the ways he wanted to. There was a boundary between them that made it so all that Roman wanted with Virgil was more than all that he got. He had gotten used to that. The moment he realized he wanted Virgil closer than he would ever be able to have him, he knew it would never be able to happen. Virgil didn't feel the same way.

Or, he thought that, at least.

But now, Virgil was telling him through My Chemical Romance that he did, in fact, feel the same. That he didn't mean to hurt him and he was so terribly sorry. That to Virgil, Roman was the only beauty in the ugliness of the world.

How long had Virgil felt this way? He’d had many boyfriends in the time they'd known each other. Many times where Virgil saw a man and couldn't help but be gay.

Then again, so had Roman.

Roman, despite having feelings for Virgil for a long time, dated. He'd had a few boyfriends throughout the time they'd been friends, all of them mainly in an effort to get over Virgil and because Roman thought they were cute. Maybe Virgil had done the same. Or, he could have been confused.

But the song didn't sound confused.

No, Virgil likely knew very well that he was head over heels for Roman. He had sent a single song with no caption or warning beforehand. It was clear that this was something that had been coming for a long time. Virgil was likely guilty about the fight and decided to enlighten Roman of his feelings for him.

Virgil loved him. Him.

Roman couldn't help but be surprised.

If Virgil liked anyone in their friend group, he'd think it would be Patton. He and Virgil were extremely close; best friends, if you will. (Roman was occasionally jealous of this because his closest friend was Virgil, but that was a topic for another time.) Patton was kind and sweet and cute and talented. He was a fantastic person who complimented Virgil in beautiful ways.

Virgil was also one to respect a great mind. Logan seemed more likely a love interest than Roman in the actor's eyes. Smart, interesting, logical, good with Virgil's panic attacks. The two of them would make sense. But it wasn't Logan. Or Patton.

It was Roman.

If he weren’t so emotionally drained and tired, he would squeal. Virgil was in love with him. Roman, the dramatic stage actor, the man who acted almost too much like a real-life prince.

Virgil was in love with him.

How would he respond?

Roman's eyes widened and he looked back at his phone, screen now dark. He unlocked his phone and stared at his conversation with Virgil. The text had been marked as read so Virgil must have known he'd seen it. He had to figure out how to reply.

Did Virgil want something to happen between them?

Roman didn't know.

Virgil sent the message as a text and didn’t include a caption. That could have been a way to say "I'm in love with you but I don't want anything to happen", since he wasn’t actually including anything that spoke of a desire to be with Roman romantically. However, it could just be that Virgil was an extremely anxious person and didn’t think he would be able to admit his feelings during an in-person interaction. If Virgil had been harboring feelings for an extended period, then it could be hard for him to say something directly to Roman after such a long time of keeping his feelings hidden.

A part of Roman figured that Virgil wasn't thinking ahead of this moment.

Virgil, as previously described, was anxious. He didn't seem like the type to expect or have intentions for their relationship after an admission like this. Virgil was the type of person to admit to romantic feelings and then spend every second following worrying over ruined friendships, offending someone, being mocked, getting insulted, and/or his feelings not being returned.

So, Roman concluded that Virgil wasn't conveying his intentions in this text. All he was saying was that he had feelings for him. Nothing more, nothing less.

'Nothing more'. 'Nothing more'?

Roman couldn't imagine what 'more' could possibly mean.

Virgil was in love with him.

'Love'. Something that seems so simple and sweet when you first hear it described as a young child, but something that grows to be meaningful, confusing, and complicated as you start to get older. And this love...this love was life-changing.

This was a love that had been burning for who knows how long, but that could have changed anything and everything had it been revealed sooner.

How many occasions were there where could Roman have said everything on his mind and Virgil would accept it, welcoming all his feelings? How many people did Roman date to get over Virgil that he didn't have to? How many nights in front of Virgil's door did he spend considering telling Virgil everything he felt before deciding against doing so were there? How many sleepless nights spent dreaming about what it would be like to be with him romantically did he entertain? All those things he might not have experienced at the extent he did if he'd gathered and exercised the courage Virgil currently seemed to possess...

Virgil watched as the text was marked as read. No response.

He supposed it was time for some courage of his own.

---

Virgil couldn't say with honesty that he expected anything different.

Roman was this marvelous, talented actor and Virgil was so not his type...

They were friends, though, and that mattered to Virgil. Their friendship meant the world and more to him. Maybe Virgil couldn't have his heart, hand, or lips—but he felt like he was the luckiest of people to be able to say Roman held him in positive regards. Their friendship was...

...their friendship.

Something Virgil was realizing with wide eyes and a sweater-pawed hand over his open mouth was ruined.

Sure, he considered this happening earlier, but he couldn't say he fully comprehended what it meant.

Roman, the light of his life...

...gone.

Or, at least, out of his life.

Sure, it was a friendship built on the ruins of malice, originally fueled not by each other but by mutual friends, and sustained by lies and obscurances of the truth committed by Virgil in an attempt to hide his true feelings. But it was still friendship. A friendship that meant more than anything else he had. A friendship he wasn’t sure he could deal with losing.

And he’d thrown it all away in one fell swoop. No more watching Roman’s plays at the theater, no more Disney marathons to fill the days off, no more meals of Roman’s signature chicken risotto made for his or one of their friend’s birthdays. The special comfort (whether it be after a series of panic attacks or a few angering minor inconveniences), the unique understanding Roman held and the techniques he used to make Virgil feel better during those terrifyingly vulnerable nights they shared was something that Virgil treasured beyond all else but still couldn’t fully comprehend the sacrality of. Those such nights would never again come to fruition.

Virgil wanted to yell. He wanted to scream, cry, throw the empty mug sitting three feet away on his nightstand at the wall. He didn’t, though, and he knew why. He didn’t...couldn’t regret sending Roman the text. Virgil knew he had to get over him, and that he had lied for too long. Roman deserved to know, no matter the consequences. Virgil loved Roman with all his heart, so it overwhelmed him with guilt to know he lied for such a long time. Virgil had been cruel to Roman that night the week before and he deserved to know why, even if it hurt their friendship. Maybe if he didn’t send the text things would eventually return to how they were and their relationship would continue as it always had with limited emotional complications, but Virgil would have to live day-in and day-out knowing that he was keeping information from Roman that after all these years of omitting information, his friend deserved to know.

Because there were so many nights of intimacy: of sobbing into the other’s chest with the lights out, or hands of varying temperatures drying tears, or screaming about a failed romantic relationship or the tragedy of infidelity in the aforementioned—ones that were too sacred to bring up during the day, too fragile that the moments would be shattered if they were approached with the attitude the two carried during a day of normalcy. Those nights meant more to Virgil than he let on. But the days after, he couldn’t help but feel guilty—like he’d taken something he didn’t pay for. He felt romantically for someone who didn’t return the feelings, and still allowing those moments of closeness to come to be felt like he was engaging in manipulation. He couldn’t help but entertain the nagging voice in the back of his mind that was convinced he was somehow violating Roman.

At least, with things the way they were now, Virgil would no longer have to deal with the guilt.

That didn't deter his ruthless anxiety, though. His thoughts were screaming about how everything with Roman was ruined, that all his other friends would leave him too, that Virgil would be miserable forever because he had lost the light in his life who was sometimes his sole reason for going. His hands were sweating and shaking violently. His phone almost fell from his hands at the instability. It was only fair for Roman to know, but gosh, did it hurt.

He steadied the phone in his hands and stared at the screen. His conversation with Roman was on his screen, staring back at him almost teasingly, torturously. It was like the phone or the app itself knew that this would be the last time he’d look at this texting conversation as someone who was still a friend of Roman. Soon, Roman would finally reply, and sever all ties. While Virgil was usually thankful he was someone who thought of all possible outcomes to a situation so that it was rare that an event caught him by surprise, in this situation, it only made it worse. He was sure it would probably be like suffering through heartbreak twice. The prediction beforehand, and then the real thing sometime later. He was experiencing the first right now, and the second had yet to come.

He knew that Heartbreak Number Two would feel worse.

Sure, he was feeling horrible presently, but he knew that the prediction wouldn’t be like the rejection. This heartbreak started with courage, then denial, then a realization that started to make Virgil’s hands shake and his heart beat uncontrollably. However, this was also a waiting game. When would he get rejected? 

If Roman did end up waiting for a long time before delivering his rejection to Virgil, the pain would stretch out over a long time. If he waited for an extremely long time, the pain would slowly start to dull into a passive dread, with occasional spikes of anxiety. If Roman told him soon, Virgil would have less time to prepare for the rejection, so the pain would be much worse in the moment. Ultimately, the first was the worst. Extended emotional pain was not something Virgil needed, to say the least.

The text could come at any time, when it would send was not up to him. Virgil's fate and feelings were now in Roman's hands.

All Virgil wanted to do at this point was put his phone away, drench his face in ice water, and sleep for a thousand years. Neither of those things seemed to be possible, however, since Virgil could rarely seem to sleep for longer than seven hours and he currently couldn’t bring himself to put his phone down. His hands refused to let go of the instrument of his demise.

There were two warring thoughts of ‘is losing Roman really worth losing the ache in your heart?’ and ‘he deserves to know the truth’ circling in his mind. He tried to attach himself to the second thought in hopes of rationalizing losing the greatest person in his life. It was hard, though. What would Virgil do after this? Would he leave the friendship group? Or would things just be an awkward form of normal?

He was startled out of his thoughts by a quiet but concerning sound. When Virgil replayed the sound in his mind, it sounded like the clicking of a lock. The door to Virgil’s bedroom was ajar, so the door getting locked or unlocked was obviously the door to his apartment. Virgil distinctly remembered locking his front door.

Someone was breaking in.

Only four people had the keys to Virgil’s house. Virgil himself, for obvious reasons. Patton, Virgil’s best friend. That was a no-brainer; Patton and Virgil had keys to the other’s apartment because they often hung out in each other’s apartments without any warning or planning beforehand. Roman, after many instances of banging on the door at eleven at night because he had a terrible day and needed comfort but was also waking the neighbors with his loud knocking. Finally, Logan—the most recent person to receive a key (about six months back) after a harrowing experience of Virgil needing Logan’s specific comfort during a panic attack and Logan being unable to enter the apartment. Right now, it was late. Very, very late. Patton and Logan would be asleep. If they weren’t, they wouldn’t go to Virgil. He knew this. It wouldn’t be—could it be Roman?

No, no. Roman was too mad or disgusted or annoyed with him to seek his company at this late hour. Someone must have been breaking in.

The door opened. Virgil heard it; the loud creak he made sure to keep in the door’s design so he’d always be privy to an unplanned entry into his apartment. However, he soon realized he wouldn’t need that auditory warning of someone else’s presence.

He heard the footsteps.

They were fast, loud, and terrifying. What kind of burglar walks that quickly and obviously? A terrible one. Or, one confident in their ability to overpower whatever opposing forces they may meet in the home of their victim.

Virgil wanted to run to his closet and grab his broom. Truly, he did. But he was frozen in fear on his bed, phone tight in his hands, knuckles white, and eyes unblinking. He couldn’t move.

Virgil’s door was ajar. Opened enough for any unwelcome visitor to see that there was someone inside. If it was a robbery, the intruder could easily be armed and dangerous. Would Virgil die tonight?

The footsteps were approaching his room. Quickly, and without going anywhere else in the apartment. Virgil was suddenly worried that the intruder wasn’t a robber or a burglar, and instead, someone out to get him instead of his possessions. Virgil wasn’t sure if the change in his assessment of the situation scared him as much as it should have. The rapid change in train of thought from ‘Roman’ to ‘intruder’ wasn’t allowing the subsequent panic accompanying both of those thoughts to do much catching up.

The door to his room slammed open. Virgil was thrown back an inch from the force the intruder had placed on the door. This person was not concerned about noise. Virgil’s door was already ajar, why would they…

Virgil’s thoughts stopped when his eyes focused on the person now in his bedroom. His phone slipped from his fingers and onto the bed, not that Virgil cared to divert any attention to it.

Roman.

Not normal Roman, either. His eyes were wide, his hair was mussed, he was out of breath, and he was still holding the keys to Virgil’s apartment (which were on the same keyring as his car and house keys). Virgil, for all that he knew about his good friend, could not decipher the look on Roman’s face. It seemed a bit stressed, but not in a bad way. He had been running his hands through his hair, so a lot was obviously on his mind. Virgil almost wanted to say he was shocked, but it wasn’t quite like that. Almost like...he had been shocked a few minutes back and was coming to terms with what shocked him...which made sense. Virgil had told him he loved him. That must have been shocking. The lack of any other emotions like disgust or anger was what confused Virgil.

Virgil couldn’t help but be shocked too. What was Roman doing here? Virgil had confessed. Now it was time for him to hate Virgil for his feelings and ban him from the friend group.

Wait…

The keys were still in Roman’s hand. Maybe...maybe Roman was here to return Virgil’s keys. Maybe he was here to sever all ties with him. Return Virgil’s keys, take the keys to his apartment from Virgil, tell him their friendship was over…

Roman could be here to yell at him. Virgil had kept this from him for too long. Roman might have been here to scream that he deserved to know earlier. He’d be in the right, too, since Virgil agreed. One final scolding of his actions before Roman was out of his life forever.

But did those assumptions match the look on Roman’s face? Severing ties with someone you hate should have no lingering shock, and yelling should show more obvious negative emotions than Roman was currently displaying. Roman should look disgusted, irate, and probably betrayed as well. While Roman was a fantastic actor who could pull off hiding such things, Virgil didn’t think he’d try to hide emotions like that in the present situation.

Virgil was shocked too. He thought Roman would at least let some time pass before ending all pleasant connections with Virgil. He thought he’d take time to think and mull over what Virgil’s confession meant.

He hadn’t. This terrified Virgil. Had he come to a conclusion of hatred that quickly? Was Virgil that in the wrong? Virgil was mortified...what did that mean for Roman’s next actions?

But, again, Roman didn’t look angry. He had to be, Virgil knew it, but it wasn’t obvious on his features. So, that assumption couldn’t be taken as reality.

Virgil sat in awe at his current situation. Roman was here, probably to yell or scold him, but was silent so far. None of the conclusions Virgil had come to seemed to so far seemed to have enough evidential basis to be taken as truth. So, Virgil pressed pause on the speculation and let the only expression of his thoughts and emotions be surprise.

The love of his life was in his bedroom. For what? Virgil was uncertain.

They stared into each other’s eyes. Both were full of shock, just different kinds of it. Virgil was surprised Roman was in his room—not exactly a positive kind of surprise either. Roman’s shock, while clearly something that was at its climax minutes back, was still showing on his features. A type of shock that, unlike Virgil’s, was indecipherable when it came to whether it was a good shock or a bad shock.

Virgil didn’t know how long they were still and staring. It could have been fifteen seconds; it also could have been fifteen minutes. While it was probably around two minutes, time passed differently when Virgil’s green and purple eyes were locked with Roman’s brown eyes.

Virgil knew he wasn’t just showing surprise. There was no way the fear wasn’t seeping into his expression as well. He didn’t try to stop it because he knew that if he did try, he would fail. Virgil wished he knew what Roman was thinking—wished he knew whether he should be scared or not. Roman didn’t look scared, not like Virgil did. Maybe Roman hadn’t noticed. Virgil was able to tell with bitter realization that he was more scared now than when he thought there was someone in his house trying to kill him. Sure, he’d been relieved at first, but that didn’t last for more than a second. Whatever Roman was here to do seemed worse than anything a malicious stranger could potentially have in mind.

Roman finally moved. He took a step and a half towards the bed, towards Virgil.

Virgil flinched back, right arm darting behind him and holding him up in a position that made it easy for him to leap off the bed. Roman stopped his approach.

Virgil didn’t mean to flinch, but he was too deep in his surprise and fear to do anything else. When he noticed his own movement, he was overwhelmed with regret. He wanted to get this interaction over with. Creating drama by showing his current fear of Roman wasn’t going to help with that.

Roman suddenly showed emotion other than shock on his face. His eyes started to burn with sympathy and guilt, something that confused Virgil to no end. If anything, Roman should have become angrier. Why was he showing guilt at someone he should be hating?

Roman dropped his keys. The clinking that sounded as they fell on the hardwood floor didn’t elicit any reaction from either of them. They continued to keep eye contact.

After a moment free of any movement, Roman started to approach Virgil again, this time slower and much more careful, like one approaches a terrified animal in the forest. Roman was clearly a bit hurt by Virgil’s flinching, but his present focus seemed to be on the fear that Virgil would do it again—or worse, run away. His steps were slow and quiet. His posture was a bit crouched, probably as an effort to seem less threatening.

Virgil’s teeth clenched. He didn’t want to flinch again since Roman hadn’t actually done anything to imply that he would hurt Virgil, and also because flinching would only complicate things further. Nonetheless, Virgil was scared of what Roman was preparing to do. While Virgil rarely addressed it, he’d always found Roman to be scarier than the average person. He was tall, fairly muscular, and had a temper that could do some damage when Roman wanted it to. His strength was scary and his words were scarier; he reminded Virgil of Janus in that he was good at knowing precisely what to say to bring someone emotional agony. Any preparation for being hurt by Roman was useless; he knew Virgil better than Virgil would like to admit, making it that much easier for Roman to hurt him.

Roman’s left hand reached towards him. Virgil would have flinched if his hand was in a position to strike. It wasn’t, though—it was mirroring the scared animal in the forest analogy; the extended arm was almost serving as a gesture of peace, a white flag. Virgil thought that Roman was offering Virgil his hand to take and he intended to move away, but he didn’t need to. Instead, Roman’s hand gently rested on his upper right side. His eyes looked like he was asking for permission, if his touch was okay, but Virgil could not respond. His eyes stayed on him with surprise and fear.

This touch was too gentle to be malicious. That fact was clear to Virgil, so he couldn’t jump off the bed and escape without feeling guilty. Virgil didn’t necessarily want the touch either; he didn’t dislike Roman’s hand being there, but it felt wrong, like it shouldn’t be happening. And with all the common sense Virgil had, it shouldn’t. Virgil didn’t expect Roman to touch him, even after he unexpectedly broke in. But if he did, Virgil wouldn’t expect the touch to be anything but hostile. Virgil almost hoped his confusion showed in his eyes.

Roman’s right hand reached out as well. Faster than the left had, but still moving at a careful pace. This arm went around Virgil’s waist. Then, Roman started to almost pick him up and lead him to the edge of the bed. Virgil was simultaneously terrified and embarrassed at being carried, so before Roman could properly pick him up, Virgil moved himself to the edge of the bed.

Roman’s lips twisted into what looked like one of Roman’s subtle but encouraging smiles, which again bewildered Virgil. The arm around his waist retreated and rested just above Virgil’s hip. Roman guided Virgil to his feet.

Roman clearly wanted Virgil at the same level as him—standing up. Out of context, that made sense. Virgil had shown fear of Roman, so if Roman didn’t want Virgil to feel inferior at the moment, leaving him sitting wasn’t exactly a good idea. What perplexed Virgil was that in this situation, it made sense for Roman to keep a high ground and a dominating stance. He must’ve been (he had to be) mad at Virgil. Even though that conclusion was growing less and less probable through Roman’s every action, it was the only thought keeping Virgil sane.

Roman’s left hand moved from Virgil’s side to rest on his cheek. Virgil froze, thinking he was about to be hit for a split second but was again proven wrong. Roman’s thumb brushed under Virgil’s eye—Virgil would say it was loving but that was preposterous. Virgil wanted to close his eyes, to bask in the feeling of being touched like this (no one was ever this sweet and gentle with him in a manner that would be considered romantic out of context), but he was too preoccupied and scared and surprised and confused and-

“Virgil,” said Roman. It was quiet, tender, and held more love than Virgil believed to be possible. “Virgil, mi luna.”

Virgil had no idea what that meant. He didn’t think he wanted to know.

“I love you too.”

Virgil inhaled sharply. Not too loud (he didn’t want to ruin the delicacy of the moment), but it was still audible.

Roman loved him too. Roman returned his feelings.

That didn’t make sense. Not in the slightest. Roman had shown no interest; Virgil was positive there was no reciprocation of his feelings…

But that didn’t matter now. He had to reply.

He saw Roman start to move in closer, slowly, allowing Virgil time to object. Virgil didn’t, letting the gravitational pull of Roman’s lips allow Virgil to reciprocate Roman’s intentions to kiss.

“May I kiss you, moonlight?” Roman murmured.

“Yes,” whispered Virgil, voice practically silent.

Roman’s lips met his—first, a gentle and unsure brush of lips, but then a firmer and more intent kiss. It was gentle, caring, but most of all, it was full of love.

He smiled against Roman’s lips. Roman smiled too and kissed him deeper.

Virgil couldn’t say he wasn’t still baffled by everything going on in the present. That wasn’t to say he wasn’t happy about the way things turned out.

~~~ ☪ ~~~

“Earth is ugly,” said the stars to the moon. “It does not deserve your light.”

“Maybe so,” replied the moon. “But have you considered that you are too far away to see its beauty?”

~

Taglist: @somehow-i-got-an-account @justanotherhumanstuff @neo-neo-neo @fander-fic-recs

~

Roman watched as another customer finished and stepped out of the line. Roman stepped forward as the line continued. He silently lectured himself not to faint, stutter, or make a complete fool out of himself. On the flipside, he also thought about ways to flirt with and ask out the cashier. In his defense, it wasn’t every day Roman saw a cute guy who looked to be his age that he was able to speak to. Roman hoped he could at least get his number.

The customer ahead of Roman stepped aside. It was now Roman’s turn to order. He stepped up to the counter, putting on his most charming smile.

The cashier exhaled loudly. Roman figured the customer ahead of him must have been a bit...demanding. He found the exasperation endearing.

“Good morning and happy winter holidays! Merry Christmas if you celebrate it,” Roman greeted. “How are you today?”

The cashier didn’t spare Roman a glance.

“It’s noon. Not morning anymore. You customers are a nightmare, so my Christmas will not be merry.”

“I suppose you’re right about it not being morning,” Roman conceded. “The sun has reached it’s highest point, and is showering you in the most angelic glow.”

The cashier gave him an unimpressed look. “It’s cold. What can I get for you?”

“A medium sized coffee,” said Roman, putting an elbow on the counter and leaning his head on his fist.

“Any cream in your coffee?”

“Yes, please,” said Roman politely.

“How sweet do you want it?” he asked.

Roman grinned. “As sweet as you.”

“No sugar, got it,” the cashier replied, tapping something into the ordering screen.

Roman chuckled. “No, no. The simple look in your eyes warrants at least a teaspoon of sugar in you.”

The cashier rolled his eyes, correcting the order.

“You come here often?” asked Roman.

“Well, I work here. So I think I’d have to say ‘yes’,” he answered. “Anything else?”

Roman internally berated himself on the stupid question. “Yes, a croissant please.”

“For here or to go?” asked the cashier.

“I’d like to be wherever you are,” Roman replied dreamily.

The cashier let out a long-suffering sigh. “For here it is.”

The cashier walked over to the display of croissants and picked one from the platter. He put it on a plate and gave it to Roman.

“May I have your name? Or perhaps, your number?” Roman asked, taking the croissant.

The cashier put a hand to his forehead. “My name is on my nametag.”

“Ah, but that’s cheating,” said Roman, glancing down to find the name ‘Janus’ engraved on metal.

Janus rolled his eyes. “It’s Janus, now please pay for your order and sit down. Your total is $4.50.”

“As you wish,” said Roman with a wink, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his wallet. He pulled a twenty from his wallet and slid it across the counter. “Here you go.”

Janus put the ten dollar bill in the cash register and printed out the receipt. He pulled out fifteen dollars and fifty cents.

Roman took the receipt and started to walk away.

“Wait!” Janus called, stopping Roman in his tracks. He stared Roman in the eyes, holding up a ten and a five dollar bill and two quarters. “You forgot your change.”

Roman gave him a big smile. “I know. Keep it for yourself, Janus, as my Christmas gift to you. Have a day that treats you kindly, and the happiest of New Years.”

Janus blushed, pocketing the money. Roman’s face turned up in satisfaction. He may not get a date, but he could still make a cute guy happy.

---

Roman finished his coffee and croissant. He got up and placed his mug and plate in a bin for dirty dishes. He walked back over to his table and gathered his stuff, turning to leave the coffeeshop.

Roman felt someone tap his shoulder. He turned around.

Roman grinned when he spotted Janus.

“What can I do for you?” Roman asked kindly, seeing that Janus was no longer in his apron.

“I’m...not sure I can take this money,” said Janus, gesturing to his pocket. “I feel kind of bad about it, ‘specially ‘cause I was pretty curt with you...”

Roman waved him off. “Don’t worry about it! I always get into a giving mood during Christmas, and I understand your attitude.”

Janus grumbled incoherently, unsatisfied.

“Besides, who was I to flirt with a tired barista,” said Roman with a laugh. “Either way, I do hope your Christmas is merry.” Roman noticed the unsure look on Janus’s face. “But, if you feel bad about taking my money...you could let me take you to lunch at that new pizza place I’ve wanted to try.”

"You just ate,” said Janus pointedly.

“Only a croissant!” Roman protested. “Which is just breakfast. I imagine you haven’t had lunch either.”

“I haven’t,” Janus admitted.

Roman smiled. He offered him his arm.

Janus took it hesitantly. “Okay. But I’m buying, since you already gave me money.”

Roman narrowed his eyes at him. “I won’t agree to that yet, mi querido.”

Janus laughed quietly, concealing a blush. “I know how to argue. Lead the way, um-”

Roman gasped. “How rude of me! I deeply apologize, mi corazón. My name is Roman.”

“Lead the way then, Roman.”

~

Taglist: @somehow-i-got-an-account @justanotherhumanstuff @neo-neo-neo @fander-fic-recs

~

Roman bit his lip, repressing a sob. He wasn’t quite ready to talk about it yet. Roman was still thinking over his actions. He regretted laughing at Janus’s name; truly, he did, but he was so terribly confused. It wasn’t Janus’s fault that he was confused, not really, so Roman felt bad about taking it out on him. In the moment, though, Roman thought he was an evil villain who would make Thomas a bad person like Patton had said he would earlier on. Roman, for the life of him, did not want to be evil.

And yet, here he stood.

“Patton decided to trust Janus,” said Roman, “and that really confused me.”

Remus nodded. “Not surprised it did, your image of Janus has been fucked with for ages now.”

“Mm-hmm,” Roman agreed. “And- and so I, I didn’t accept him as easily.”

Remus’s hold on Roman flinched.

“I, I know now that I was evil for doing so,” Roman said, thinking back to Janus’s insult. “He told me such.”

“Janus told you you were evil?” asked Remus, surprised.

Roman nodded. “I guess he knew that insult would hurt. He also called you the evil twin which I’m still pretty mad at.”

Remus rolled his eyes. “I’m fine with being the evil twin, I take it as a compliment.”

“From Janus?” asked Roman, tearing himself away from Remus’s chest to look up at him questioningly.

Remus didn’t answer. Sure, he took ‘evil’ as a compliment from the light sides, but Janus was a little different.

“That doesn’t make sense...Janus has expressed before that he thought you were pretty juicy cool.”

Roman sobbed harder into Remus’s chest.

“Roman?”

“I kinda deserved it,” muttered Roman, “...’specially after I laughed when he said his name.”

Remus’s arms dropped from around Roman.

“You did what?”

Remus stepped away from Roman. The lack of support holding him up had him fall to the floor. Roman’s cries only increased when his knees hit the ground roughly. He really needed to carpet his floor.

“I-I know I shouldn’t have, I regret it, I understand my mistakes,” Roman said, almost begging. “I know that I’m just confused and I’ll have to work everything out soon but...but I couldn’t in the moment. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“Tell that to Janus.”

“Remus! I’m sorry, I just really need help sorting through what’s going on-”

“Forget it, you’re a fucking asshole.”

~

Taglist: @somehow-i-got-an-account @justanotherhumanstuff @neo-neo-neo @fander-fic-recs

~

“What am I doing here, Daddy-O?” repeated Remus, slamming the door shut behind him with his foot. “Three of you bitches needed comfort after the convo with the Jan-Man.” He shrugged. “I ain’t one of them. Thought I could provide some juicy-ass hugs.”

Patton bit his lip. He and Remus weren’t necessarily friendly. He was curious as to why Remus was helping him.

“Why are you with me right now?”

“We all thought you could use some relief,” Remus then wiggled his eyebrow, “I am willing to provide it...any way you wa-”

Patton interrupted him with an embarrassed shriek. He took a deep breath afterward so he could speak. “Why is no one else helping me?”

Remus frowned. “Don’t want me here?”

Patton shook his head, not wanting to harm anyone else. “It’s not that. I just thought someone like V—” he choked on a sob, “—Virgil would be more comfy with me.”

“Virgil’s comforting Roman,” said Remus, crossing his arms. “Janus is comforting Logan...and probably apologizing to him as well. I volunteered to help you out!”

Patton nodded. “Okay.”

Remus nodded in satisfaction and ran over to Patton. He sat in front of him. “Sooooo...what’s up?”

Patton sobbed.

“Right. I feel ya, Smash-ton.” Remus thought for a moment. “Worried about Roman?”

Patton nodded. “He- he wouldn’t let me see him...he seemed angry at me.” Patton tried to take a deep breath but it was interrupted by a sob. “I d-don’t really blame him, Virgil is probably better for him right now than me.”

“Virgil might be a better comfort person for him,” agreed Remus, “but you did what you thought was right.”

“Keyword: thought!” Patton exclaimed, covering his mouth so more cries wouldn’t come through. “Everyone always gets hurt when I do what I think is right.”

“Not always. But when people disagree...the party that loses almost always hurts.”

Patton didn’t reply, but his body started to shake.

“...And sometimes both parties get hurt.”

“Things...things should be better right now!” Patton protested. “I did what I thought was right...Thomas needs to take care of himself, but no one is okay! I can’t do anything right!”

Remus’s eyebrows raised in alarm. “That’s not true.”

“It is.”

“We can’t have that thinking, sexy side of mine. You definitely can do things right. Sure, you’ve made mistakes-”

Patton started crying more.

“-But everyone does! Everyone makes mistakes. All of us. Virgil can be too scary, Logan can be too harsh, Roman can be too...much, Janus manipulates people, I think I once fucked one of my monsters in the Imagination-”

“I get it,” Patton said, a laugh-like sob leaving his lips.

“You can do things right,” replied Remus. “Even if you don’t always. Your decision today was right too. Roman has just been...misled, and he needs help with that, but what you did was right. Janus deserves a seat at the table.”

“I know he does.”

“Today was a win.”

“It doesn’t feel like it.”

Remus sighed. He reached out and put his hand on Patton’s face, starting to dry his tears. Patton didn’t move away.

“No, no it doesn’t.”

~

Taglist: @somehow-i-got-an-account @justanotherhumanstuff @neo-neo-neo @fander-fic-recs

~

“You gonna stay with me, L?” asked Virgil.

Logan hummed.

He didn’t want to verbally confirm and end up lying to his boyfriend, but he also wanted to keep Virgil happy. A noise like a monotonous hum could make Virgil think Logan meant ‘yes’ when he actually didn’t mean that at all.

Logan continued to run his fingers through Virgil’s purple hair. It was soft and beautiful and Logan’s favorite hair in the world since Virgil was his favorite everything. Favorite person, favorite boy, his eyes were Logan’s favorite pair of eyes, he sometimes wore Logan’s favorite smile, etc. Logan constantly thought about how lucky he was to have Virgil.

After ten minutes of silence, Virgil fell asleep. This didn’t surprise Logan; Virgil hadn’t gotten more than three hours of sleep the night before. Him napping was good.

Logan stayed still for about thirty minutes after Virgil had fallen asleep, wanting to make sure he had entered a deeper sleep before Logan moved. When that had happened, Logan slowly untangled himself from Virgil and moved off the sofa, trying to be as undisturbing as possible. Logan stacked a couple pillows to replace himself so Virgil wouldn’t notice he was gone. He then tiptoed to his room, took a gun from the dresser, and then tiptoed to the door where he took the keys off the keyring and exited the apartment.

He quickly made his way to his car. He drove off and into the downtown area of the city. Parking in the parking lot of a small park, he rechecked his pockets to make sure he had the gun before exiting his car. He locked it, and then started walking to a nearby alley.

Logan wasn’t here for no reason, and that reason was correlated with why Virgil hadn’t slept well the previous night.

At around 4 a.m., Virgil had been awaken by a threatening text from an ex-girlfriend. She didn’t know Virgil was bisexual when they dated. She had learned yesterday, was very disgusted, and threatened to kill Virgil (perhaps worse) for not telling her that she was dating someone who was also into guys. She demonstrated that she had the means to and would strike when least expected. Logan had come over to Virgil’s house at eleven in the morning when Virgil didn’t show for their breakfast date, and Virgil, sleep-deprived and terrified, told Logan everything.

Logan was scared. This ex-girlfriend could clearly kill Virgil—and would, if she got her way. So, Logan had texted her, pretending to be someone with money to give her. They were to meet in this alleyway at 10 p.m.

It was precisely that time now (this was a rare instance where Logan didn’t want to be early), so Logan quickened his pace. He kept the hand on the pocket containing the gun.

He entered the alleyway. It was dimly lit by a streetlight, so he could faintly see the back of a person ahead. He figured it was Virgil’s ex. She had long, fairly straight blonde hair which was clearly dyed, and was wearing a brown leather jacket and light blue jeans. Her boots were dark brown and worn.

When Logan had reached the distance he wanted to be from the woman, he drew his gun. It was clear she heard him, because she started to pivot on her heels to face Logan.

“I don’t see a briefcase,” she called, taking a couple of stalking steps towards him.

“I do not have one with me presently.”

“Where is my money?”

Logan didn’t answer that question. He took a few steps forward of his own. “I did not bring money to this rendezvous.”

Her hand started to drift towards her pocket.

“You will leave Virgil Storm alone forevermore.”

She laughed. “You’re what? His boyfriend? Come to protect him? I bet you’ve never held a gun in your life.”

Logan rolled his eyes. He didn’t answer, though, as any information could give her the upper-hand. He pointed the gun at her head.

“You will not kill Virgil Storm,” he growled, knuckles going white on the gun.

She laughed again. “No.”

“I do not want to use force.”

She took another step towards him, feigning curiosity while still keeping the conceited confidence that gave her the dominating air in the conversation.

“If you don’t want to use force,” she said, running her tongue across her upper lip, “then why do you have a gun?”

“I will use force if necessary.”

She pouted. “But it’s not necessary. You could leave without any harm done to you, and-”

“You will kill Virgil.”

She nodded in consideration. “Yes, I will. But, still. You don’t have to use force. You could just as well let nature run its course.”

“I will not allow you to kill him.”

“You, someone clearly well-read and with a profitable career ahead of him, probably in science, are going to throw away everything you have for your boyfriend? When you have obviously never even come close to committing murder ever before?”

Logan didn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, he cocked his gun.

“If you promise you will not kill Virgil, I will spare you,” Logan threatened, gritting his teeth.

“Alright, you want to play dirty,” she conceded with a sigh.

Within the second, the gun in her hands was cocked, aimed, and had her hand on the trigger.

Logan fired.

Her eyes widened and her movements stopped, her firing arm slackening. She obviously didn’t think Logan was capable of murder. The bullet soared through the air and landed in her forehead.

Logan watched as her body fell backward. Her head hit the asphalt with a crack of what was likely the breaking of bones in the skull. Logan switched on the safety to his gun and slowly put it down, satisfied.

“LOGAN!” he heard a voice shriek, followed by dashing footsteps.

The voice was loud, terrified, and definitely spoken by someone who was currently crying.

“LOGAN!” There it was again, accompanied by the running footsteps that were getting progressively louder.

Logan frowned. Who could that be? He hadn’t told anyone what he would be doing.

Logan watched the figure round the corner and enter the alleyway. Logan’s eyes widened as he realized that it was Virgil.

Nevermind that Virgil was supposed to be asleep, how did he know he was here?

“LOGAN! Oh god, Logan!” Virgil shouted, running over to him. He stopped three feet in front of Logan.

“Why are you awake?” asked Logan curiously. “And how did you know I was here?”

“The neighbors were loud and you got a text that worried me so I checked it out,” said Virgil dismissively. “What happened?”

His last sentence was frantic, worried.

“Are you bleeding? Do I need to call 911? I heard a gunshot and I got terrified,” Virgil rambled. “Obviously someone fired a gun here and I was so scared they killed you, L, so goddamn scared...what the hell is wrong with you, going to a dark alleyway at night? I thought you said you’d stay.”

“I did not say I would stay, I merely made a noise acknowledging that I had heard your request,” Logan corrected.

Virgil glared at him. “Those were the less important of my questions.”

Logan sighed. “I am unharmed, Virgil. You do not need to call 911.” Logan glanced behind him. “In fact, I’d prefer it if you didn’t.”

Virgil looked confused. “Then what happened? Did they miss you? Why aren’t you in shock? Where are they?”

Logan took a step to the side and gestured behind him. “No one missed a shot.”

Virgil’s bewilderment did not cease. “I see a dead woman. Who killed her? Were you tending to her?”

“Take a closer look, my love.”

Virgil would have blushed at the pet name if it wasn’t such a dire situation. Virgil took a few cautious steps towards the corpse. His eyes widened in recognition.

“Oh...oh my god, it’s her,” said Virgil, no longer confused. “Who killed her?”

Virgil turned around to face Logan in time for him to hold up the gun. Virgil’s eyes widened. Logan was scared that it was in fear.

“You...you killed her,” whispered Virgil.

“I did not want to,” said Logan matter-of-factly. “Truly, I didn’t. However, she was aiming to kill me and I had no choice.”

“For me.” Virgil still seemed to be in shock by the news.

Logan blinked. He looked down at the gun thoughtfully. “Yes. She demonstrated the means and the desire to kill you. I confronted her. She tried to kill me and stated that she would kill you in the future. I killed her instead. Simple.”

Virgil shook his head. “You killed someone, risked so much...for me?”

Logan bit his lip, but nodded. There was a moment of silence.

“You idiot!” Virgil suddenly shouted. “You absolute moron! Why would you do that? I told you not to do anything about it, that I would be okay. We could have called the police! But no, you went out here and almost got yourself killed!”

“We fucking hate the police, Virgil!” Logan replied, not matching his boyfriend’s volume but still raising his voice. “Besides, she could have struck at any time! I was unwilling to take any chances! Not when your safety is concerned!”

“I am not worth you risking your life for!”

“Like hell you aren’t!” Logan shot back. He took a deep breath, calming himself. “I’m sorry for yelling. But what’s done is done. She is dead by my hand. You are no longer in danger.”

Virgil’s eyes narrowed. “You are much less bothered by that than you should be.”

“About murder?” asked Logan coolly. “You mistake my impressive education for having prosperity in my youth. I grew up in the most dangerous and criminal neighborhood in the city. I have certainly fired a gun before, and I have witnessed murder more times than that.”

“Have you killed before?”

Logan shrugged. He didn’t answer. “Let’s go home.”

“You haven’t.”

“There is always a worthy situation. Protecting your life will forever be one of them.”

Virgil was silent, looking as though he didn’t know how to respond.

“Thank you,” he muttered, looking down to his shoes. “Can we go home?”

“Of course, my darling,” replied Logan, putting his arm around Virgil. Virgil blushed at the term of endearment, leaning into his boyfriend’s side. “Now we can stay in each other’s arms without any external interruptions.”

Virgil smiled. “Logan?”

“Yes, V?”

“The authorities have wanted her dead for a couple of years now for a variety of murders. I don’t figure they will investigate someone who finally took her down.”

Logan grinned. “Thank you, Virgil. I was worried about that.”

They walked back to Logan’s car.

“I can’t wait till we get home and I can cuddle the shit out of you,” Virgil said excitedly as he put on his seatbelt.

“Nor can I.”

~

Taglist (I forgot it for my last one, sorry!): @somehow-i-got-an-account @justanotherhumanstuff @neo-neo-neo @fander-fic-recs

~

Unfortunately for him, there was no coffee in the mindscape kitchen. They had run out. Virgil had his head against the counter, desperately wishing to scream or cry. He could do neither without waking up his fellow sides, which he did not want to do.

Virgil heard footsteps descending the staircase. He didn’t bother looking up, caring too little about anything besides his lack of coffee.

He felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Are you alright, Virgil? You’re normally asleep at this time.”

It was Logan’s voice. Logan’s cold, monotonous, calming voice that was a bit deeper than usual because he had clearly just woken up and was very blatantly not the sound of coffee. Virgil groaned.

“You seem troubled.”

Virgil’s head snapped off the countertop. He glared at Logan dead in the eye and fumbled his hand around for the instant coffee.

“I’d kill for a coffee, literally,” growled Virgil. “Give me a gun and I’ll do it. But...”

He opened the canister and held it up to Logan.

“No fucking coffee.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “That does seem concerning.”

“‘Seem concerning’? It doesn’t seem concerning, it will be the instrument of my demise!”

“Please do leave the dramatics to Roman.”

Virgil almost made an animalistic noise at him, but restrained himself so no one else would wake and scold him for his drama. He racked his brain for a solution to his current predicament.

An idea came to him. While the sides consumed a lot of coffee, the liquor cabinet didn’t get as much attention. He walked over to it and opened it, bringing out the vodka. He brought out a glass, not caring about the size, and started to fill it with vodka.

However, someone took the bottle of vodka away from him.

“Ah, no,” said Logan, taking the cap from the counter and putting it back on. “It’s six o’clock in the morning, you’re not having vodka.”

“It’s my only solution, L,” Virgil replied. He picked up his glass. “Hopefully this will be a good substitute.”

“Virgil!”

Logan snatched the glass out of his hand, some vodka sloshing onto the floor. Neither cared to pick it up.

“You’re supposed to be anxiety, can you please consider for one second what this could do to Thomas?” Logan said angrily.

Virgil rolled his eyes.

“I do not have the energy to deal with this at this time of morning,” muttered Logan under his breath.

“Then get us some fucking coffee,” suggested Virgil sarcastically.

“Only Roman has the ability to conjure coffee,” said Logan, looking a bit upset about that too.

Virgil shrugged. “Let’s wake him, them.”

“He’ll be so angry that he won’t conjure any for us out of spite.”

“Do you have a gun?” asked Virgil. “I will hold one to his head and threaten him for it.”

Logan shook his head. “No. We must find another solution to our predicament.”

“My predicament. The solution to which is vodka.”

“One, I want coffee too, so it is also my predicament. Two, no.”

Footsteps were heard descending the staircase again. Virgil and Logan turned to see Janus enter the kitchen. He looked at the two, then the empty coffee canister on the counter, then the vodka bottle beside Logan, and then the vodka glass in his hand.

“I think I’m the only one out of the three of us who got proper sleep last night,” stated Janus correctly. “It wouldn’t be a fantastic idea for you to both go back to bed.”

“I can’t sleep.” Virgil protested.

“I have to work this morning.”

Janus rolled his eyes. “Logan, I can tell Thomas that you needed to sleep. Virgil, Logan has great sleep techniques I’m sure he’d be happy to share. If I see either of you in here again for the next four hours, I won’t be very angry.”

The two complied with incomprehensible muttering. They trudged out of the living room and to the staircase.

“Goodnight,” said Janus, taking the glass of vodka from Logan’s hands.

He downed it in one gulp.

~

This brought him to where he was now. The four of them were in their apartment’s living room. Roman was currently panicking for two reasons:

1. He was currently engaged in a heated kiss with Janus—one that had just progressed into a make-out session (something he had no aversion to, but he didn’t like what could come after that). Virgil and Logan were kissing beside them in a similar fashion (except just a bit less heated).

2. He left his phone in the guest bedroom, and the door to it was now locked.

Roman was currently living in the build-up to his worst nightmare.

Of course, he didn’t let it show. He continued kissing Janus passionately, because kissing Janus was incredible and Janus was quite skilled at the activity. But even while his mouth was having the time of its life, his brain felt like it was about to explode.

There was no way out, at least not one that he could see. His brain was frantically considering anything, some way to get out of this situation without confessing his asexuality, which would make his loves hate him and/or break up with him.

Roman did not want to break up with them. They were the loves of his life.

Any efforts to conserve that final statement weren’t working, though, because Roman was at a loss. He couldn’t think of a way out without them breaking up with him. He’d have to stop Janus, tell him and Virgil and Logan everything, and then leave.

However, when Janus’s thumb started to creep under the hem of Roman’s shirt, the doorbell rang. The sound was the prettiest of all music, booming through the house and interrupting everything happening. It was a miracle; an angel sent from above. Roman could not believe his luck.

His brain was happy to remember that Janus had ordered pizza for them to eat while they watched a movie. They had chosen Disney’s Hercules, a mythologically inaccurate movie that was entertaining to at least three of the boyfriends nevertheless.

Janus pulled away from Roman’s lips slowly, giving him the most annoyed look. Roman snorted even though his brain was still in panic mode—that look on Janus’s face was always funny. Janus pulled away from Roman and grabbed his wallet off the table.

“It is with my deepest regrets that I say that we have been interrupted,” lamented Janus. “But since I ordered the pizza, it is I who should retrieve it. If only it hadn’t been me who ordered...” Janus grazed his thumb, index finger, and middle finger across Roman’s chin lovingly. He then turned away from Roman to walk to the door.

Roman exhaled in relief, running a hand through his hair and readjusting his shirt. While he could revel in that miraculous stroke of good luck for a moment, he could not afford to be happy any longer. This escape may not have been a lie, but every time before this was, and his brain had been conditioned to the guilt that came after the de-escalation and/or escape of a heated encounter.

He now almost wished that this time had been a lie. Sure, ultimately it was nice to know that not every time he’s avoided sex with his boyfriends was by his own deceptions, but that did nothing to dampen his desire to curl up in the guest room and cry while listening to his playlist he made for the times after he’d lied to his boyfriends to get out of a passionate encounter (yes, this had happened so often that he had a playlist). That would be suspicious, however, and at least one of them would probably hear his crying.

So he stood from where he was backed against the table, hand to his mouth in pure awe of his unbelievable luck, before realizing that he should probably move to the sofa to get ready for movie night.

He slipped off his shoes and socks and left them by the door. He proceeded to walk over to the sofa. He sat on the arm of the sofa—legs on the cushion and arms wrapped around his knees—and watched Janus interact with the delivery guy.

Virgil joined Janus at the door and held the two pizzas as Janus paid. He carried them over to the living room and set them on the coffee table. He then joined Roman on the sofa.

Roman saw Janus pay the guy (as well as tip generously, lord knows those workers don’t get paid enough). He looked away as soon as Janus turned back around, pretending to be focused on the pizzas instead. He saw Janus approach the sofa and stop in front of him.

“Are you hungry, dear?” Janus asked, tracking that Roman’s gaze was fixed on the pizza.

“Hm? Oh, um, yeah. I barely had much of a lunch, so pizza is sounding wonderful.” This wasn’t a lie; he hadn’t eaten much for lunch and his stomach was looking forward to the pizza.

Janus tsked. “What have I told you about eating all three meals?”

“That it’s essential.”

Janus nodded. “Precisely.”

“See, I had some lunch-”

“But not enough,” Janus interrupting with a knowing smirk. “It’s okay, Roman. Just eat dinner.”

“Okay, Mom,” Roman said with a roll of his eyes.

Janus gasped in fake offense. “I am your boyfriend, Roman! I resent being compared to a parental figure!”

Roman shrugged, starting to get up to retrieve a plate.

“Ah ah ah,” he heard a voice say from beside him. Roman looked up to see Logan holding four plates. “I have retrieved us plates already, Roman.”

“Thanks, Logan,” smiled Roman, taking a plate from Logan’s stack.

Roman spotted Virgil frowning in his peripheral vision, but his gaze was focused on Logan as he handed out the rest of the plates and sat on the far left cushion on the sofa.

“You seem so comfortable sitting like that, sweetheart,” Janus said sarcastically. “It wouldn’t serve you at all to sit on the actual cushions.”

Roman rolled his eyes at his boyfriend for the second time in the past minute  but conceded and leapt off the couch.

Their sofa was rather large and could fit all four of them onto it comfortably. So, desiring (without any anger at Janus) to stray from Janus’s piercing gaze for a little while, sat on Virgil’s left and Logan’s right. He opened the box of pepperoni pizza and took a slice and placed it on his plate. He spotted Janus frown at Roman moving away from him in his peripheral vision. Janus opened his mouth, and Roman could tell he was about to ask Logan to move so he could sit next to Roman (Roman, Virgil, and Logan were well aware of Janus’ tendency to want to be close to the last person he had been engaged in intimate actions with (which was primarily kissing), especially if they were interrupted for external reasons). So, Roman curled into Logan’s side, ducking his head under Logan’s arm. Logan complied with this effort to cuddle easily, although he was a little bit taken off-guard from the suddenness of it. Roman smiled. Even if this hug wasn’t an escape from the negative feelings that came with being close to sex, Logan’s comfort was something he treasured above most things.

“Are you tired, Roman?” Logan asked curiously.

Roman nodded. He saw Janus bite his lip, finally settling to sit on the end cushion, away from Roman. Roman couldn’t help but feel a heavy weight of guilt settle in his gut at making Janus do something he clearly didn’t want to do. Roman hooked his right arm around Virgil’s left, though, just in case Janus tried to ask Virgil to scoot over. Virgil’s head turned at this, and he flashed Roman a loving smile. He picked up the television remote with his free arm and started to play the movie.

There was silence as the movie started, despite all of them except Logan having seen it before. They were all eating their pizza and paying attention. Except Roman, of course.

About five minutes in, Virgil broke the silence. “You haven’t started eating, Roman. Are you-”

Roman laughed. “I’ve been busying cuddling you and Logan, Virge. I know my pizza will get-”

“You should eat,” said Janus sternly, sounding just a bit distant. “You said you barely had lunch.”

Logan’s posture started to stiffen. “If that’s the case, love, you should definitely be eating.”

Roman rolled his eyes but uncurled from Logan and removed his arm from Virgil so he could eat properly. He sat up and allowed a couple of inches of space between himself and his boyfriends seated beside him. A part of him felt that he didn’t want to be touching them anymore (mostly because the loss of comfort has allowed his negative thoughts to resurface).

He trained his eyes on the movie so his boyfriends wouldn’t notice his lack of focus, but he continued to think about his guilt and lies. He took a bite of his pizza as well, so they wouldn’t be suspicious of his lack of eating.

Roman knew that eventually, they had to know about his asexuality. The truth would inevitably spill one day and Roman would be left alone, miserable. He didn’t tell them yet because he wasn’t ready for that; he wanted to spend and savor as much time as he could with Logan, Virgil, and Janus. Even still, the day would come when Roman would have to tell them he was ace.

He both wanted to and he didn’t. The weight in his chest, the pain, the guilt, the lies—they hurt like hell. He hated it all. He felt like he was betraying and misleading his boyfriends by not telling them, he felt like the weight in his chest would one day become so heavy that it would make him collapse, and the lies were becoming harder to keep track of and harder to create. If he could be rid of it, he would.

But, he still wanted to date Logan, Janus, and Virgil. He loved them to the end of the universe and back, and he didn’t want to imagine what his life would be like without them. There were many times when he would think sincerely about how they could be his forever one day. Except...the one thought that kept annoying him in the back of his mind kept stopping that wishful thinking. He was asexual and hadn’t told them yet. He wouldn’t be their forever.

He took another bite of his pizza.

Roman had to acknowledge that Janus, Virgil, and Logan were wonderful and kind people. If he were being purely logical, Roman would be able to say with complete confidence that they wouldn’t hate him. Roman wasn’t being purely logical, but he was still able to admit that they wouldn’t hate him just for being ace. They would break up with him for being ace, but they wouldn’t hate him for such. They would hate him because he lied to them. Misled them. Crafted elaborate deceptions just to shield them from the truth. That would make them hate him.

His brain couldn’t help but entertain another, perhaps even scarier thought: what if their relationship would be better without him in it? Sure, his asexuality of course made that true, but he couldn’t help but go further: did his personality bring the four of them down too? He had to admit that the answer to that question was ‘yes’. He was too much: too dramatic, too loud, too insecure. It hurt, but it also calmed him; his boyfriends wouldn’t be missing anything once he told them. Roman’s asexuality brought them down. It was comforting to know that it wasn’t just a part of Roman bringing them down: that it was all of him. It made the problem less of an “if only” and more of an “it’s better this way”. But was this really true, or was this just a false comfort?

He brought his knees to his chest when the guilt started to course through him again. He has been holding those he loves down and hurting their relationship? On top of lying to them at every turn and being asexual? He couldn’t help that his shame increased tenfold.

Roman looked at his pizza again, suddenly with contempt instead of hunger. His thoughts had ruined his appetite and he didn’t want to eat anymore.

He tried to stop thinking, deciding instead to focus on the TV. But he couldn’t process what he was watching. He just stared at the screen, trying to repress his deafening thoughts.

That didn’t last long, though. Virgil reached for the remote and paused the movie. Roman was surprised to see that half an hour had already passed. Virgil turned to look at Roman.

“Roman, can I-”

“Roman, can I-”

Virgil and Janus stopped talking. They looked at each other curiously.

Roman shrunk in on himself. They both had an issue with him. Because he just couldn’t do anything right, could he?

Roman saw Logan’s face contort with sympathy. He wrapped an arm around Roman and pulled him to his side. Roman was too scared to do anything to resist or lean in further.

“Roman, can we talk?” Virgil asked. “I had something to ask you about. Janus seems to as well.”

“Sure, Stormy Knight, what is it?” Roman asked, trying his best to look okay.

Virgil rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, you haven’t been eating much of your food, for one.”

His last two words worried Roman, and yet he laughed. “I’m just distracted, my haunted heart. Disney is my life, of course I’m too invested to remember to eat easily.”

He took a bite of pizza for good measure.

It tasted sour. The bread felt state; the sauce tasted like it was expired; the cheese felt like glue in his mouth, sticking to every corner of his mouth and all across his teeth and tongue; and the pepperoni was like thin cardboard left out in a rainstorm. He forced himself to plaster on a contented look that showed none of those thoughts.

“Um, okay...but like, you hardly had lunch. That’s still...” Virgil continued.

“Disney can make me do anything. We all know that,” Roman said, accompanying his last words with a chuckle.

Virgil bit his lip, clearly not finished. “Number two, your speech patterns are a bit different. You called L by his full first name earlier, which is rare for you because you always, always use a pet name for him...”

“...Thirdly, you sat on the arm of the sofa before I advised you to move to the couch cushions,” Janus added. “Quite unusual, since you always insist that a princely man such as yourself deserves to always sit in the most lavish of seats. Fourth, well, you know how I am after a...” Janus trailed off. He never liked to talk about his ‘weird’ or unusual habits, such as his tendency to cling to the last person he was engaged in intimate action with immediately after their ‘moment’. “...yeah. I’m, I’m not mad or annoyed at you or anything...you just always are attuned to that and tonight you actively-”

Roman felt a huge wave of guilt pass over him. None of this was Janus’ fault. He felt terrible for making him hurt, but Logan’s arms were unparalleled when it came to comfort. Being in his arms was grounding, warm but not too warm, kind (always, his arms were always kind), and simply one of the best places on the earth to be.

“Sorry, m’ love, I was just craving a Logan hug,” Roman said quietly, which wasn’t false, but wasn’t the truth either. “I haven’t had one in a while.”

Janus nodded, looking back down to his hands.

“Did I-”

“Did I-”

Janus and Virgil stopped talking. They looked at each other, and Janus nodded at Virgil to let him speak.

“Did we do something wrong?” Virgil asked, sounding small. His eyes were cast to the floor.

Roman’s face fell into one of sadness. He slowly pulled away from Logan and put a hand on Virgil’s jaw. He gently had Virgil face him and stared into his eyes which held the whole world. (See, he had it all worked out. Virgil’s eyes held the world, Logan’s eyes held all the stars in the sky, and Janus’s were precious gemstones that could see into the depths of his soul and read him like a picture book. He had planned on telling them, but he figured he would never be able to.) He cradled Virgil’s jaw like it was glass and stared into his purple and green eyes with all the love he could muster.

“No, my purple prince, of course not,” Roman almost whispered, thumb brushing under Virgil’s eye. “You have done nothing of the sort. What could make you think this?”

“I-” Virgil tried to find words but couldn’t. “I don’t know. You just seem...distant.”

Roman frowned. “Sweet emo, I’m right here. If you mean I’m invested in the movie...”

“No, just...your mind seems to be in a place outside this apartment.”

“His mind is in his head, V, I don’t think that’s the issue,” Logan cut in.

Virgil rolled his eyes, a small laugh leaving his lips, a sound that Roman wanted to hear every day for the rest of his life. “No, Lo, he just doesn’t seem fully focused on our current activities.”

“Oh,” Logan said in realization, nodding. “Well, certainly. But there’s nothing inherently wrong with that. It is natural to have wandering thoughts.”

Virgil nodded. “Sure, L, but Roman said earlier that he was too intently focused on the movie to remember to eat. That suggests him being present. But...”

Roman was tempted to run to the guest room. They were now accusing him of lying, albeit subtly and not with anger apparent in their tone. Despite that, it hurt. He wanted to curl up and cry to his playlist.

It was as if Janus sensed this (or maybe it was just because he was well-versed in anything relating to deception), because he put a hand on Virgil’s arm, pausing his words.

“Let’s not psychoanalyze our dear boyfriend, especially since he’s right here and is able to answer your questions without us making assumptions, hm?”

Virgil stopped dead in his tracks, looking at Roman with guilt once more. “You’re right. Sorry, Ro.”

Roman gave him a half-smile, waving him off. “Don’t worry about it, Virge. What do you want to ask me about?”

Because sure, that question was risky, but to Roman, it was better than hearing his boyfriends call him a liar like he wasn’t even present.

“Oh, um...why are you so distant?” Virgil asked, getting straight to the point.

Roman frowned. “I didn’t think I was. I’m simply invested in the movie. Of course, I’ve seen it before, so my mind will think up tangents to some of the things I’m seeing, like things I would change to the movie and whatnot. Could that be it?”

“Um, maybe...”

“If you feel like I’m, like, neglecting you or somethin-”

“No!” Virgil exclaimed, practically a scream, that threw Roman into a shock. Virgil covered his mouth with his hand, eyes widened. “Holy shit that was so loud, sorry, but no, oh god, please don’t think that. You’ve been cuddling Logan and you had your arm in mine before I told you to eat. Of course you’re not neglecting us. No, please don’t think that.”

Roman’s shock dissipated, remembering how Logan used to have anxieties that he was neglecting them a few months back. Logan scared all three of them with his drastic offers to leave their relationship and such, so any mention of something relating to that made Virgil think something similar was happening.

“I don’t think that, V, but I wanted to make sure you weren’t feeling that way,” Roman reassured him, hand running across Virgil’s cheek lovingly. “I want to give you all that you want, and if you thought that I wasn’t...”

That, that right there, that was the crux of Roman’s guilt. He wanted to give his loves the moon, stars, and universe, but most of all, as much of himself as he could. But he was ace, and he didn’t feel comfortable with that one tiny, minuscule, outrageously important thing, and that hurt his heart so much. He was a prince, a romantic, and a lover, but not in the way his boyfriends would want him to be. He knew he didn’t owe them anything, but he couldn’t help the guilt that came with not being able to give them what they wanted. He didn’t deserve them; it was as simple as that, and he knew that they should leave him.

“No, Roman, you give us so much...” Virgil said lovingly, putting a hand on Roman’s waist. “You just feel a little absent this evening, which is fine since we all have those days. But it could be something we need to talk about, something eating at you, and we want to be there for you to help you.”

The truth, less a lake or river and more of an ocean, was rising and it wanted desperately to come out—but he pushed it down, building the levees higher and higher so the saltwater wouldn’t spill and poison their relationship. He swallowed it back, refusing to be honest for what felt like the trillionth time. The ocean in his heart wanted to break the cycle of lies and deceptions, but his mind and loving heart couldn’t bring itself to.

He was just so in love with these men...so in love, he couldn’t bring himself to do what was best for them and leave them.

If he left them without providing any reason, it would break their hearts, but it would be easier. He wouldn’t have to disappoint them, to admit to lying to them, and they wouldn’t hate him. He didn’t think he could deal with them hating him. He just couldn’t. Leaving them with no explanation...that seemed easier to accomplish.

“I’m perfectly fine, Virge. I may just be tired.”

“You’re tired?” Virgil asked curiously.

Roman shrugged. “I couldn’t really sleep last night. It’s no big deal, though. We all know my thoughts tend to run wild.”

“Yes,” Janus cut in, “but you say that our presence usually helps with that.”

Logan waved a hand. “Sure, usually, but it makes sense that sometimes it won’t work. Just like you said earlier, Janus. We don’t have to scour Roman’s claims for subtext or things he is neglecting to tell us. A bad night is normal for people.”

Roman silently thanked Logan. He didn’t want to have another sudden uncontrollable urge to run to the guest bedroom. Roman almost reached for Logan’s hand, but his mind told him not to, that one day he would leave his boyfriends, so he didn’t deserve that comfort.

Roman nodded. “Yeah. My mind was just a bit more active last night. Sorry.”

Janus reached across Virgil, seeming like he wanted to touch Roman, but his hand hesitated above Virgil’s knee and fell there instead. “No, no. It’s alright, Roman. I apologize for doubting you.”

Roman shook his head. “You’re fine, J. Do you all have any other questions?”

Virgil and Janus looked at each other, clearly unsatisfied, but shook their heads to indicate a negative.

“No,” Virgil answered. “I have nothing else to ask about.”

Roman kissed his cheek and then grabbed the remote, pressing play. He leaned back into the couch. He made sure to press a lingering kiss to Logan’s jaw before watching the movie, though. He smirked when he saw Logan blush and hold a hand to cover his jawline. Roman then fully focused on the movie.

Well, fully focused wasn’t a good way to put it. He fully focused for a grand total of eighteen seconds before his mind started to yell at him again.

That whole conversation...they knew something was up. Virgil and Janus were unsatisfied with the information they received from him. He could tell there was a sneaking suspicion between them that he wasn’t telling them the whole truth, that something else was going on.

Roman didn’t like that he couldn’t tell what Logan was thinking. He figured that he, the smartest of them, knew that Roman was hiding something, but just wasn’t as determined to figure out what it was. Roman respected him for that and valued that he didn’t care to participate in the interrogations, and was very thankful that he served as comfort for that very reason.

However, Roman couldn’t take that comfort presently.

His mind was a whirlpool of anxiety, guilt, and self-hatred. He wished that with a snap of his fingers they could know and they’d accept him for his sexuality, continuing to court him. Roman knew that it was unrealistic, but he could hope.

And so, hope he did. He imagined being able to love and be with his boyfriends without any worries of rejection of who he was. He imagined telling them all the little things he’s figured out about them when he can’t sleep in the early morning hours or when he’s away from his loves and can only dream about their presence. What their voices sound like, what their eyes are to him, what color he perceived their souls to be. He couldn’t confess such romantic thoughts that make him vulnerable to the clutches of love, not when he wouldn’t have them for much longer. So he’d take it to his grave, wondering what it would have been like to be with them for the rest of his life.

His chest burned with the shame of his lies. He knew they’d break up with him eventually, and yet he continued with the falsehoods. He still lied to them, deceived them, and crafted elaborate schemes to throw them off his trail of black, gray, white, and purple. Who was he to hold on to his own selfish desires when his boyfriends would hate him for what he withheld? What kind of greedy thief? His heart was screaming: screaming at him for his lies and screaming at him to reveal the truth.

He brought his arms around his knees again, squeezing himself into the smallest ball he could muster. (He did it quietly, though, so no one would be suspicious.)

“Roman?” Logan whispered, leaning closer. “Are you alright?”

Roman easily concocted another lie. “Just a little cold.”

“While we can fix the thermostat, I find it to be quite a comfortable temperature.”

“I have a tendency to get cold when I don’t sleep well enough. You don’t have to do anything.” Something that wasn’t a lie, not really, just not relevant to his current actions and situation.

Logan nodded. “If you believe you would benefit from human warmth, I am always an option to turn to.”

Roman couldn’t help but smile. He would miss Logan’s hugs.

A life...without Logan’s hugs.

Roman shuddered.

“Would you like a blan-”

Roman shook his head immediately. “No, no, Logan. You needn’t help me.”

Roman’s wandering gaze allowed him to watch the smallest of frowns start to possess Logan’s face. This made Roman want to hug the living daylights out of him and kiss him until the frown was a smile, but he couldn’t let himself be selfish anymore.

The selfishness had to go.

And when he allowed himself to mentally let go of the selfishness in his motivations, just for the shortest of moments (because of course he couldn’t let go of it for long), he was finally able to realize the excruciating apparency that his mind and heart were also suffering from his neglection of himself. He was neglecting who he was.

And suddenly, when the selfishness came back, the desire to love and be loved, to take what he didn’t deserve nor would be allowed to have if his boyfriends knew the full truth, it wasn’t strong enough.

Look at what you’ve taken from them. You’ve lied to them. They won’t leave this situation without trust issues. They won’t want you after this. You’re a liar. An asexual liar.

You want to be loved, but do you really deserve it? When you’ll go to such immoral lengths to stay loved by those who deserve so much better?

You neglect and scorn a part of yourself because it won’t have the approval of those you love? You love them, even though they’d throw you out the second you come clean. You are so desperate, too desperate. Your asexuality is a part of you. Why do you chase after those who won’t love you once you let them pull back the curtain?

Why have you waited so long? It won’t make a difference. They’ll still see the same thing. A pleading, pitiful dog they’ll leave.

Look at all that you’ve taken from them.

They deserve better.

You’re ace, own up to it. You can’t lie to them any longer.

What happens when there isn’t a pizza delivery guy at the door?

Can you be honest then? Or are you too used to lying?

This can’t go on forever.

You’re asexual, Roman!

The levees broke, the ocean spilling out onto the surface. It ran through his body feeling like salt to an open wound, and he grabbed the TV remote. He pressed the pause button.

His boyfriends turned to face him. Roman realized he was shaking violently as though he had caught frostbite. He didn’t have the mental ability to stabilize himself, though.

“I have to tell you guys about something.” Roman was shocked to notice that his voice was hardly shaking.

Logan nodded. He put an arm around Roman, Virgil doing the same. Janus reached to put a hand on his knee. Roman shook his head, though, and tried to shake them off. They hesitantly complied, but looked very worried about doing so.

“Are you sure, Ro?” asked Virgil.

Roman nodded, pulling a hand from around his knees to repress a sob. He couldn’t cry. Not yet. “You won’t want to hold me when I’m finished, and I don’t...I don’t want to feel your arms leave me.”

“Roman,” Logan started, but stopped when Roman waved an arm at him.

“Please don’t,” he said. “Just let me tell you what I need to.”

They retreated from his trembling figure. He swallowed, letting his eyes fall shut for half a second before fixing his gaze on the television screen.

“I know you all won’t—” Roman’s voice cracked, “—want to be with me anymore after I...after I tell you this. And that’s o-...” he choked back another sob, “...okay. So, if you want me to, I will make it easier for you and say that I’m leaving.”

Roman felt everyone flinch in some form. Even when Logan had his “you all should leave me” issues, he didn’t say he was actually leaving. Roman felt his soul laugh bitterly when it registered that his loves didn’t want him to leave...not yet.

“I have lied to you,” he started, focusing on making his voice stay steady. “I have deceived you. So, so many times. I should have said something ages ago, but I didn’t...and I’m sorry for that.” Roman cursed his past self for not saying anything eight months back when he realized he was ace. “I’m sorry for everything. The constant lies, the complex and repetitive...impulsive deceptions.

“But I can’t lie anymore, and the truth is killing me.” He gasped for a breath of air. “I wish...I wish it wouldn’t have to end this way, and I wish I-” He stopped himself, not wanting to tell them he wanted them forever and make them feel guilty for leaving him. They didn’t deserve that. “I wish I talked about this with you all eight months ago when I was still figuring things out, but I-” He stopped himself again. No excuses. “I’m sorry to spring this on you, in the middle of a movie, but it’s just breaking past and I can’t keep this from you all anymore.

“I’m asexual.”

Roman inhaled sharply, feeling the need to explain himself. “Again, I’m making it easier for you and I’m...I’m leaving—” his voice broke in the middle of his last word, “—so you don’t have to leave me. And...it’s probably better this way...’cause I don’t want to hear y’all tell me you’re leaving me.” A sob slipped past his lips. “I love you all so much, I couldn’t take that. I’m fully owning up to my-, my lies and mistakes. So it’s okay. I’m leaving, so you all can be...happier. Because-, because I know you don’t want me anymore.”

There was a moment of silence. It was somewhere around a minute, but Roman lived that minute like it was a hundred hours, and it would always be the longest minute of his life.

He couldn’t help but wonder what they were thinking. They were surely realizing that all of his ‘calls from his mother’ were faked. They were angry, disappointed, hurt, and maybe even disgusted. What kind of boyfriend lies for eight months to hide information that would make his partners leave him? A bad one.

Roman no longer wanted to run to the guest room and listen to his playlist. The guest room wasn’t enough. He wanted to summon his phone, crawl underground, let the earth envelop him, and spend the rest of his days in a dirt cave trying not to think about the only three people he could fathom loving romantically for the rest of his life. He didn’t want to face them. He didn’t want to hear their anger, their hatred, their loss of love. He didn’t want to see it either. He didn’t want to see or hear—or feel, he didn’t want to experience the pain of heartbreak or never being able to feel their touch—ever again. He just wanted to love his boyfriends and be himself at the same time; he wanted the impossible. The earth swallowing him whole seemed like the best comfort for that issue.

Roman felt a head duck under his right arm, abruptly stealing him from his thoughts. His head snapped over to find that Virgil had forced himself under his arm and was now pressing himself into Roman’s side. Roman frowned in confusion, especially when his Virgil didn’t say anything after a moment of continued silence. Roman looked away, not wanting to think about the meaning behind Virgil’s actions.

He felt something shake through Virgil’s body for a short moment. It brought his gaze back on his boyfriend, eyes now tinted with worry. He wanted to ask what happened, if something was the matter, but he didn’t want to speak. He didn’t want to act like he still had any right to address him.

Virgil readjusted his position, face momentarily removed from Roman’s shirt. Roman was able to see his face and was horrified to find that he was crying. What shook him earlier must’ve been a sob. Roman wanted to lay down, pull Virgil on top of him, dry his eyes, hug the life out of him, and place kisses all over his face until he smiled or laughed. But Roman didn’t get to do that anymore. Besides, Logan was better at the hugging and comforting thing than him anyway.

Roman suddenly felt an overwhelming wave of guilt wash over him. He realized that it was his fault that Virgil was crying. Roman had made someone he loved cry. Virgil was crying—sobbing because of him. The guilt was incredible, and accompanying it was the disgust. Roman leaving them was the right thing to do. Virgil deserved a boyfriend that didn’t make him cry during movie night, who didn’t cause him to sob because Roman confessed who he was.

Roman was now twistedly satisfied with his decisions. Normally, he would never allow someone who made Virgil cry within three feet of him. Now, Roman would never be allowed to step foot into their line of sight ever again. He couldn’t hurt them anymore. This was good.

He felt Virgil’s left arm snake behind his back. Virgil’s right arm threw itself across Roman’s stomach.

Virgil was hugging him? What?

He desperately wanted to open his mouth and question Virgil’s decisions, but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything. It felt wrong. Roman had spoken already and knew internally that it was time for his boyfriends to speak next.

“I-I, I am so—” Virgil choked, “—sorry.”

Roman’s face fell into one of confused shock. Things weren’t right. Virgil shouldn’t be apologizing.

“We are so sorry,” Virgil rephrased, voice cracking all over the place. “I know we all are. I’m so- so sor-”

Roman expected Janus to put a hand on Virgil’s back and comfort him with a low and whispered ‘shhhh’, but nothing of that sort came. No one did anything as they let Virgil cry. Roman was too scared to comfort him, but oh how he wanted to.

“Roman,” Logan started slowly, the cracks and unsteadiness in his voice not going unnoticed by Roman, “Virgil’s sentiments echo mine. You have my deepest, most sincere apologies.”

Roman thought he couldn’t get more confused. He was wrong.

It must have shown on his face, because after Virgil glanced up at Roman for half a second, he started to talk again.

“You...you do not deserve this,” Virgil started, keeping his bloodshot eyes on Roman.

Ah, this is what it was. His partners were empathetic enough to understand that this breakup would devastate Roman and were apologizing before finalizing it. This made sense.

“And I am so, so sorry to be a cause,” Virgil said with utmost sincerity. Despite the tear tracks and puffy eyes, he kept eye contact with Roman.

A cause? How did he cause this?

“I just- I wanna know—” he removed his arm from Roman’s stomach, “—what we did...to make you think that.”

Roman’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He had no idea what Virgil was talking about. Roman’s asexuality was not caused by anything, especially not any person. He intended on clearing this up for Virgil.

However, Logan spoke instead. “What Virgil’s asking is,” started Logan with a sniff, “what could- could ever make you think th- that I, that we-”

Logan put a hand over his mouth. He couldn’t finish. Roman knew that Logan couldn’t talk and cry at the same time if he wanted to keep composure while crying, so he would stop talking when his lungs stopped supporting his vocal cords.

“What did we do to make you think that we could ever stop loving you?” Virgil completed.

That was the last thing Roman expected to hear.

Virgil was implying that he, no, that they still loved him. That wasn’t right. That wasn’t how this conversation was supposed to go. Roman suddenly felt scarily unprepared for the rest of this talk.

“V-Virgil, you don’t understand,” said Roman, looking away from Virgil’s eyes so he wouldn’t lose his nerve to speak. He spotted Virgil opening his mouth to reply, so Roman rushed to continue. “I’m not just ace, I’ve been hiding it. And I’ve been hiding it by all sorts of- of crazy deceptions. I mean—“ Roman laughed bitterly, a sound that made all of his boyfriends flinch, “—I’ve even given my mom’s ringtone the same ringtone as a sound on my phone just so I can tap it easily and get out of any vaguely sexual situation, lying that I’m on the phone with my mom and driving off to- to a hotel or something to cool down. That’s- that’s crazy high level lying right there, and all because I was too selfish and wanted to keep you all so bad that I hid something that would end us. Something that you would hate me for, and that wasn’t fair to you, to any of you, and-”

Virgil roughly grabbed Roman’s hair and pulled his lips to his. Throughout the kiss, Virgil was practically hitting his stomach as well as sobbing in a way that sounded...angry?

“Shut up, just stop talking,” Virgil mumbled against his lips, body shaking. “Please.”

Logan put a hand on Virgil’s shoulder, pushing him back. “V, let him go.”

Roman was so, so confused. His brain could only figure that Virgil had given him a kiss goodbye, a pity message of ‘this is your last one’. Roman wished he’d savored it.

“B-but Lo,” Virgil protested, trying to hang on to Roman as Logan pushed him away. Virgil stopped struggling when Janus’ arms encircled his waist from behind and held him still.

“Stop it, Virgil,” Logan commanded quietly, as calm as he could manage. “Look at him. You really think we should be kissing him right now?”

Roman couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped his lips. He covered his mouth with his hand as soon as he heard it. Logan was erasing his confusion. They were breaking up with him.

“I apologize again, Roman, that is not how I meant it,” said Logan, removing his attention from Virgil. Roman could tell he was doing everything to seem and sound composed. “I simply didn’t want him to overwhelm or confuse you. Virgil should have asked, or withheld, considering your current fragility.”

Roman could not believe this. A part of him was starting to become angry. One second, he has everything straight, and then someone talks, and he’s confused again. He wanted to know what was going on.

“He’s angry though, Roman,” Logan continued, explaining Virgil’s actions. “I can’t blame him for that. He just loves you so much...he couldn’t hear that talk from you. He wanted those thoughts and assumptions to stop, but he should have asked. I believe that after he composes himself, he will be sorry.”

Virgil gave a dissatisfied moan but didn’t argue.

“On the topic of your hesitancy to come out...” Logan started, putting a hand to his chin.

“I was lying, Logan, you don’t need to sugarcoat it. I’m sorry for it, I really am, please believe me. I don’t like-, no, I hate lying to you all, it sucks and it hurts and I knew I was a terrible boyfriend every time I lied...but I was just so selfish and wanted you all to stay with me but...but that’s not possible. I should have realized that earlier, that I would have to say something eventually, and that waiting would only make the confession hurt more.”

Roman eyed Virgil to see his reaction, worried that he would be angry at him again. He found no arms holding Virgil back, which made him quite anxious.

Suddenly, he felt two hands touch his knees. His gaze shot over to see what was in front of him.

And Janus, who hadn’t spoken during this entire conversation, was kneeling at Roman’s feet, gazing into his eyes with the most confusing look Roman had seen. It was gentle, sympathetic, loving, understanding, all while looking like a guilty man about to beg before a court of law. It should have been unadulterated hatred.

“Roman,” said Janus softly, lovingly. His thumbs traced a circle on the sides of his knees. “I don’t have to look outside to see the Sun. You shine brighter than any elemental concoction that could light up the sky, and unlike the one we have in our solar system, you do not burn us with ultraviolet rays. You shroud us in love, beauty, and so much color: things that I thought I had seen before but never really experienced.

“I do not need your body in the early hours of the morning to love you. I do not need your sexuality to revel in your presence. We do not want you for your body, for what you can give us. We want you for who you are, because we think that this wonderful personality you have is the most beautiful of all creations. Sex...is minuscule, unnecessary, and separate from romance entirely. You really think I care about sex, something so insignificant, so much as to break up with you? No. I want you for your love, and I want you to be loved by me. By us. I don’t understand how you thought that your lack of desire for sex would make me not want you anymore, but that doesn’t-”

“Why else would I-”

A hand left Roman’s knee and pressed against his lips, quieting him. “Don’t do that, my songbird, don’t think like that. I just explained why. Your smile, your interests, your cuteness, your kindness, your stupid bravery, and I could go on forever. Your everything. We love you for who you are, not for what you could give us sexually. Therefore, we will still want you with your asexuality. Roman, you are one of my three favorite people in existence, and since your asexuality is a part of you, I love it too.”

Roman put a hand in front of his mouth, feeling tears starting to come. He couldn’t cry, though, not when Janus was looking at him like that. So lovingly, and gently, and so, so sincere.

“I have to repeat the words of our partners and say that I am sorry. I am sorry that we gave off the impression that if you told us you were asexual, we wouldn’t want you anymore. I am disappointed, so disappointed in myself that after nine months of love, you still thought that this could make me fall out of love with you. I was able to make you think that I would hate you, that I, your boyfriend, wasn’t a safe person to come to.” A tear slid down Janus’s face. “I am sorry. No words that exist can fully deliver to you how sorry I am. Because darling, you looked so scared. Of me, of us. I’m sorry for that.”

“It’s not your-”

Janus’s finger moved back in front of Roman’s lips.

“Onto what you were saying...about your hesitancy to come out.”

“Don’t sugarcoat it like Logan did.”

“I’m not. That’s what it was. That’s exactly what it was.” He took a deep breath. “I lie. A lot. I’m a compulsive liar. I have been working on that since our relationship began, using methods like obvious backwards speak to satiate my desire to twist the truth. This means that I know what lying is.

“You should not confuse lying with being in the closet. They are not the same. We do not want you to think that you not being ready to come out is the same thing as lying or being deceitful. Those words come with an underlying twinge of malice—something that is not at all to be associated with being in the closet. You not being ready to come out is fine. It’s not something you need to apologize for. The last thing we want to do is push you to tell us something close to your heart. Coming out is not a responsibility. A lack of readiness is fine and normal. We’ve all been in the closet too, so we all have experience with hiding who we are to people we love. My concealing of my homosexuality early on in my life was the only part of my long career of hiding the truth that I know had no moral wrongness in it.

“I will go a step further than rationalize your hesitancy to come out. I am glad that those ‘deceptions’ happened.”

Roman couldn’t help but widen his eyes a bit. His jaw dropped an inch, but he closed it when he remembered Janus’s finger resting on his lips. Janus’s finger drew back anyway, almost like he forgot it was still there. It went back to Roman’s knee and Janus’s thumbs resumed their activity of tracing circles onto the sides of Roman’s knees.

“I shudder to think about what would’ve happened without them. If you hadn’t set your phone to easily play your mother’s ringtone...is that why you looked so terrified earlier? Didn’t you leave your phone in the guest room?”

Roman nodded.

“Right. I am so glad that you had these escapes on-hand. I do hope you understand that you don’t owe us sex-”

“God, no.”

“Good. Nevertheless, I am so thankful that you had these outs. I wouldn’t want you to feel forced to come out when you are not ready to do so, either. So, I am glad you have made use of your clever mind to keep yourself safe.

“Those ‘deceptions’, as you call them, are none of the sort, honey; they are tools. Protections. Things that kept you safe and comfortable. I am even happier that you no longer have to use them. What I am trying to tell you is, you should not apologize for them. Virgil, Logan, and I?” He gestured to their boyfriends which were now cuddling while crying and listening in. “I’m sure they are thankful as well.

“I want to apologize for tonight, too. I pushed you a bit far earlier, before we got pizza, and was unable to notice your discomfort. I know that I wasn’t aware of your asexuality at the time, but I still feel very guilty for engaging in such an intimate activity that you were uncomfortable with. And, I know I get clingy after I kiss one of you, especially if we get interrupted by a third party. I was a bit sensitive about your refusal of my presence when I should have respected and not have come close to questioning your desire for space.” Janus looked very ashamed, and to Roman, it was quite painful.

“No, no, J. That habit is a piece of vulnerable knowledge we’re lucky to have about you. I should have at least explained I was in need of space, but I also didn’t want to hurt your feelings. Either way, don’t apologize. You didn’t know.” Roman gave his love a comforting smile, hand raising to touch his cheek but lowering out of hesitance. He still couldn’t believe Janus wanted him.

“Please touch me,” he whispered, watching Roman’s hand go with longing.

Roman complied, almost immediately running his fingers over Janus’ features. Janus was a work of art, and Roman intended to admire him as such.

Apparently, that sentiment showed in his eyes, because Janus’s cheeks flushed and he glanced down. Roman was able to catch the faintest of smiles before his lovely boyfriend’s face was shrouded from view.

“No, hey, let me look at you,” Roman muttered in protest, trying to push up Janus’ head so he could see his face again.

Janus slowly complied, blushing up a storm. “See what I mean?” Janus whispered, definitely surprised about his composure while being the focus of the most admiring gaze. “You treat me like I am some...work of art—something I am at a loss to find the reasoning for. You think we only want you if we can have sex with you? When you treat us like this?”

In order to repress his growing blush, Roman answered the rhetorical question. “I am not treating you like you are a work of art. I am admiring you because you are a work of art.”

“Thank you for strengthening my arguments,” responded Janus, definitely not looking like a tomato in any shape or form. Nope. “I hope I have properly demonstrated that we love you, all through this, and we still want you.”

Roman didn’t know if he could respond to that. He just bit his lip and ran his hand through Janus’s hair. When he finished admiring Janus’s brown curls, he returned his hand to Janus’s cheek.

Janus slowly removed Roman’s hand from his cheek. He kissed the top of it, lips lingering on his skin longer than any normal hand kiss. He slowly turned his head back up to face Roman after the kiss.

“Thank you for hearing me out, my prince.” He nodded his head in respect.

A moment of silence occurred—almost awkward, but Roman was too elated to notice whether it truly was awkward or not. He then frowned. “You’re still on your knees.”

“I am on my knees because I have had to apologize to you twice tonight. A sign of respect while doing so, isn’t it?”

Roman shook his head. Roman being known as the dramatic one of the relationship, it was easy to forget just how dramatic Janus could be. “I forgive your unnecessary apologies on one condition,” said Roman, with a glint of playfulness in his eyes that he hoped was communicated to Janus.

Janus’s posture straightened. This made Roman realize that Janus’s symbolism intended with being on his knees was sincere and not just for the dramatic touch. “Yes?” questioned Janus, a pure expression of hopefulness betraying his desire to look formal and composed.

“Cuddle me.”

Janus’s face broke out into the happiest of grins. He got up and sat where Logan used to be sitting (but who was now in Janus’s old spot, cuddling Virgil), and opened his arms. Roman fell into them, tangling himself with Janus as much as he could, wanting to be as close as possible. Janus reciprocated such actions and made a noise of contentment. He was finally getting the close proximity he had been desiring from Roman for the past hour.

Virgil and Logan scooted over to them.

Virgil cupped Roman’s face. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

Roman leaned forward and planted a quick kiss on his lips. “I forgive you.”

“I am glad Janus was able to convince you, Roman,” said Logan. “I fear Virgil and I were too...upset.”

“I am so lucky you all love me so much,” Roman replied, holding out a hand for Logan to take. “For you all to express such love and sadness for me...it is unimaginable. I didn’t realize just how loved I am. But...please trust me when I say I reciprocate every ounce.”

“We know you do,” Virgil replied, snuggling into Roman’s stomach and making the mess on the couch a proper cuddle pile. “We love you so much.”

“I love youuuuuu,” said Roman in response, resting a hand in Virgil’s hair that he intended to keep there as long as possible, and holding Logan’s hand with his free hand. He turned his head to kiss Janus’s lips.

This kiss felt much more real and genuine. He no longer had any lingering anxieties relating to where a lengthy kiss could be heading.

It was the best kiss he’d had.

“That felt different,” murmured Janus after they parted. “You feel-”

“No more anxiety.”

“It’s wonderful.”

Roman smiled against his lips, slowly retracting them. He pulled Virgil up to kiss him like he did Janus, and then the same with Logan.

When his lips parted from Logan’s, completing one of the three best kisses of his life, his head flopped gracelessly onto Janus’s chest. He grinned up at him.

“You look like pure ecstasy, darling,” Janus observed, brushing a hand through Roman’s hair.

“I am,” answered Roman.

They loved him. They knew who he was and loved him. He confessed his lies and- no, he confessed his hesitancy to come out and what he did to hide his asexuality, and they weren’t angry. They were supportive. They were thankful.

Virgil was upset because he was appalled that he could’ve made Roman think he could ever fall out of love with him and because he heard Roman talk so horribly about himself. Logan was sad for similar reasons. Janus was sorry, so incredibly sorry, but things were better now. They were in love, and nothing was hidden anymore.

Virgil loved him. Logan loved him. Janus loved him.

Roman was asexual, and that was okay.

“Are you okay, honey? You’re crying,” asked Janus in worry, wiping a tear from under Roman’s eye.

Roman was surprised at this news. “I’m so lucky you all still love me,” he explained.

“No, you’re not,” Logan objected, drawing Roman’s gaze to his. “We obviously still love you. It is the four of us who are fortunate to have found such incredible love in each other.”

“You’re so fucking sappy, L,” Virgil remarked, pressing a kiss to his nose.

Logan whined in protest. “I detest that statement.”

“Virgil has a point, sugar. You’re a lovebug,” Janus agreed.

Logan shook his head. “No. No, you’re wrong. This is insulting, especially considering my reputation.”

“Your reputation doesn’t mean shit in this apartment,” said Roman lovingly, kissing Logan’s forehead. “We all know who you really are.”

“Doesn’t mean you get to tease me about it.”

“What are you talking about?” Janus asked innocently. “That’s precisely what it means.”

Logan groaned and buried his red face into Virgil’s chest. The rest laughed.

The movie was completely forgotten.

~

Taglist: @somehow-i-got-an-account @justanotherhumanstuff @neo-neo-neo @fander-fic-recs

~

Janus couldn't believe himself. He forced Roman into...

...but that wasn't right. No. Roman had kissed his hair and walked into his room with him. Janus may have closed the door, but Roman was the one to walk to bed first, and he was the one who snuggled into Janus that night, and maybe Janus had a chance with him after all...

So Janus smiled at his prince, moving his arm that he just now realized was around Roman so he could run his hands through his hair.

Janus figured that since Roman hadn't gotten any sleep before their dance downstairs, Roman would sleep for a couple more hours. He pondered getting up for breakfast or whatnot, but immediately dismissed the thought. He wanted to be with Roman when we woke. Besides, Roman’s left arm was lying across Janus’ stomach, preventing him from moving without disturbing Roman.

He summoned a book and a glass of water (remembering bitterly how he could've avoided mountains of embarrassment if his sleepy self had any scrape of mental strength and summoned a glass of water instead of trekking downstairs to get one from the kitchen, but alas, he had been too tired). He sipped the water carefully before setting it on his nightstand. He started to read, only using one hand to do so (which was quite hard but having his hand carding through Roman's hair was worth it). Reading would pass the time nicely, so he could be here when Roman woke up and they could converse.

---

Roman woke to silence. This confused him, a little bit, considering that he had designed his room to have birds start chirping outside the windows when he woke since it reminded him of Cinderella. The silence was noticeable, and a bit concerning, since it told him he was not in his room.

The second concerning realization came when he opened his eyes. He opened his eyes to black. He couldn't see anything, no matter how hard he tried to focus.

What was up with that?

He frowned, trying to figure out what could have happened. During this time, he heard what sounded like paper...the turning of a page? Someone appeared to be reading. Nearby him, too.

If he summoned his sword silently, he could catch them off-guard so they'd surrender immediately.

Then, he remembered the night before.

He couldn't fall asleep with all the exciting thoughts dancing around in his head, so he had spent some time in the living room, knowing that overthinking in bed would only make his brain associate his bed with overthinking, which was bad for future Roman.

Janus had come downstairs in all his half-asleep, clumsy glory. He wasn't in his hat or his normal outfit, so his only identifiable feature was his scales and that no other side's hair was that fluffy oh my god Roman wanted to bury his hands in Janus' hair for all eternity it looked so cute-. Janus hadn’t noticed Roman at first, and when he did, he couldn't articulate anything properly (which was absolutely adorable). Roman convinced Janus to dance with him, figuring the activity would serve as an outlet for his active thoughts. It worked, and the two went back to bed afterwards. Except...Roman didn't really want to be left alone to his thoughts since being with another person was a sure way to calm his mind (and since Janus occupied a lot of Roman's thoughts, having him near would prove daydreaming about his presence unnecessary, calming his mind further).

This was when he finally noticed the hand in his hair.

Janus was awake, still in bed (for some reason), and running his hand through Roman's hair, probably because he thought Roman was still asleep. (The question of why Janus hadn't gotten up yet was answered when Roman noticed that one of his arms was draped across his torso.)

Roman figured his lack of sight could be attributed to being curled into Janus' side. So, he lifted his head slightly.

His eyes adjusted to the low amount of light. The curtains were yellow, so light still got in, but not a lot of it. He focused not on the curtains, but on the real light of the room: Janus. He was reading a book, but his head had turned when he felt Roman move.

The smile he gave Roman was perhaps the most beautiful thing Roman had ever laid his eyes upon. He looked at him with all the love in the world, and Roman could only hope he was returning it.

"Good morning, Roman," greeted Janus, setting his book down on his nightstand.

"Mornin', Janus," Roman replied, smiling lazily. "Sleep well?"

"Wonderfully, with you by my side." Roman could swear Janus was flirting. "And you?"

"Hmm, same," answered Roman, moving his arm from Janus' torso to his hair. "I shouldn't be surprised, though, since you make everything better. It follows that you can calm my mind too."

Janus flushed, glancing away from Roman's intense gaze. Roman started to sit up—not fully, but the hand in Janus' hair was at a weird angle that he wanted to fix.

"I love your hair, it's very fluffy," said Roman, isolating a lock between his index and middle finger. "I often wonder why you wear a hat."

"The hat makes it crazy, Ro, so I cover it," muttered Janus, still not meeting Roman's eyes.

Roman hummed. "When did you wake up this morning? I see you've been reading."

"A couple of hours ago."

Roman gasped silently, lips parting. "Oh, darling, you could've woken me. I don't want to trap you in bed for too long."

Janus chuckled, returning his eyes to Roman's. "Nonsense, my prince. I wanted to stay and be here when you woke. Besides, I slept before our 2 a.m. meeting. You did not. Your sleeping in makes sense."

"Ugh, but you've probably been up since-"

"Nine. It's eleven now. But that's fine, Roman. I enjoy reading, especially if I'm next to you. You beside me is something I will never forget."

"You'll be able to forget without any consequence, considering that I'm positive this will happen again," said Roman, trying his best to be nonchalant.

Janus raised an eyebrow, a playful smile on his face. "It will?"

Roman nodded. He slept so peacefully last night. Even if he wasn't in love with Janus, he would never go back.

"I can get on board with that."

Roman grinned and leaned up to kiss Janus' nose. He laughed when Janus covered his human half so Roman wouldn't see his blush.

Janus slowly uncovered his blushing human cheek and used that hand to cup Roman's jaw.

"So, this...we're together?" Roman asked quietly, the gentle touch making him bashful.

"Oh, certainly," replied Janus. He leaned closer to Roman. "And darling, I think you missed earlier."

Roman giggled and kissed Janus' lips.

"Should we get breakfast?" Roman asked when they parted.

"Probably."

"I don't want to."

Janus sighed, thumb ghosting across Roman's lips. "Neither do I. However, Patton will kill us if we don't."

"Mm hmm."

A short silence fell between them.

Janus sighed. "You're keeping me here, aren't you?"

"Yep."

~

Taglist: @somehow-i-got-an-account @justanotherhumanstuff @fander-fic-recs

~

His mind seemed to only get fuzzier; Janus hardly registered his present actions in any shape or form. He walked into the blurred haze that was the mindscape living room, grabbing a cylindrical glass from a cabinet and clumsily sliding on the tiled floor over to the freezer. He opened the door, flinching at how cold the damn thing was for his serpentine physiology. He grabbed three pieces of ice and dropped them into his glass. One fell on the floor at his carelessness so he kicked it under the refrigerator and grabbed another to replace it. He walked over to the sink, and after three incidents of fingers slipping on the metal handle, turned on the water and filled his glass. He hissed and immediately turned off the water when it started to overflow.

He sipped the cold water so it wouldn't spill onto the floor and walked away from the sink, deciding to drink in the living room. He stopped short at the door-less doorway, finally realizing that against his predictions, there was someone awake at this hour and occupying the living room.

Of all people it could be, it was Roman.

Just his luck.

His brain could hardly register just how unlucky that was. Nor could it realize that sinking out would probably be the best thing to do in that situation. Roman, his old enemy, his friend (ish), his crush: hateful, annoying, funny, talented, lovely, handso-

"Hey."

Janus' sleepy thoughts halted. He tried to meet Roman's eyes, but likely failed because he could only make out the vague outline of a face. He tried his best to show acknowledgement, but was too tired to put much effort into it.

"Why are you awake?" Roman asked from where he was sitting on an armchair.

Janus thought about that for a second, his brain refusing to remember at this time. Eyebrows furrowed, he tried his best to retrace his steps. His eyes then fell on the glass in his hand, thoughts calming as they recalled. Janus held up his water glass to indicate that it was dehydration that woke him and then made a noise, trying to ask Roman the same question.

"Ah yes, dehydration: the more vicious demon in the early hours of the morning," Roman said with a strained smile. He then bit his lip, knowing Janus wanted to know his reason for being awake as well. "I, uh, couldn't sleep. Too many exciting thoughts, too little time...the price of being Creativity, y'know?"

Janus did know. Or, at least, he was pretty sure Fully Awake Janus knew. (Fully Awake Janus could not count the number of times he'd got up for a glass of water and ended up finding Remus setting something on fire at some ungodly hour. To Fully Awake Janus, it would follow that Roman would be similar in regards to insomnia.)

Janus made a noise of understanding, shuffling over to the sofa. He clumsily set his glass on the coffee table (the contents almost spilling as he fumbled with its placement) and collapsed onto the cushions.

“Are you sure that you shouldn’t go back to sleep, Boa Conflictor? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were sleepwalking.”

When he figured out what the nickname was saying and why it fitted him, Janus snorted. He shook his head to indicate a negative to Roman’s question. “Need water,” he mumbled, taking a sip from the glass.

“Makes sense,” said Roman, moving from the armchair where he was sitting to the sofa next to Janus. “But you should go back to sleep immediately after.”

Janus shook his head again. “Won’t be able. Tried, first need to stuff.”

Roman chuckled. “’Need to stuff’? We better get you stuffing soon, or else you’ll be speaking a whole new language.”

Janus huffed and rolled his eyes. He never appreciated being teased. He was too tired (and perhaps too in love) to be angry, however.

He continued sipping the glass of water, finishing it quickly with no more commentary from Roman. He set it back down on the coffee table, deciding that he would put it in the sink in the morning when he could walk and think like a normal human being (or, well, side). He pulled his knees to his chest; he always got cold in these early hours.

His plan was thwarted, however, when Roman stood from where he was sitting on Janus’ left, picked up the glass, and headed to the kitchen. Janus made a confused noise before he saw Roman place the glass carefully in the sink. When Roman returned, Janus looked up at him in confusion.

“Didn’t havffe, I could’vve mor’hing.”

“Surprisingly, I understood you there.”

“Thanmkh.”

“You’re welcome.”

Janus buried his head in his knees, wondering what he could do that wouldn’t disturb Roman. He figured the prince would be bothered by him watching TV (and also make a lot of comments on whatever he watched, potentially waking the others), so he pondered over other activities.

He heard music start to play quietly through the room. His head lifted slightly to see Roman set his phone down gently on the coffee table. His bare feet then took two smalls steps to stand in front of Janus, where he offered him a hand.

“You said you ‘need to stuff’ before you go back to sleep,” said Roman, sounding like he was trying to mock him but not fully getting that tone across. If Fully Awake Janus were here, he’d say Roman sounded nervous. “I figured, leading you in a dance could perhaps convince your brain to allow you to sleep. Besides, I could use some physical stimulation.”

Janus looked at Roman’s trembling hand for half a second. He then removed his left arm from where it was clasped around his legs and took Roman’s right hand. As soon as Janus’ hand was in his, Roman brought Janus’ hand to his lips and kissed his knuckles. Janus blushed furiously at this and was too tired to figure that he should hide such an obvious display of weakness. He let go of his legs and stood up from the sofa. He lost his balance from the position change, but Roman's reflexes were quick and he didn't let him fall more than a few inches. He pulled Janus to his feet and held him securely in his arms. Janus' face flushed an even darker red than it already was and he turned his head away from Roman, casting his gaze to the floor.

"Look at me," Roman murmured lowly.

Janus complied, despite not wanting Roman to see his blushing. He smiled warily at him, anxiety caused by the possibility of Roman seeing the real reason for his flushed cheeks.

"There we go," said Roman, at the same low volume. Janus noted how he wasn't as hyper or dramatic during these early hours, yet still just as passionate (if not more). "Since you need to do stuff in order to properly go back to sleep, I figured I could lead you in a couple of dances. Unless you think that you would collapse of fatigue like Sleeping Beauty...?"

Janus nodded. "Okay."

Roman grinned, tightening one hand's hold on Janus' waist and moving the other hand to hold Janus'. Janus was allowed a couple of seconds to sort himself into a proper dancing stance before Roman started to lead.

"I sh'ld lead."

"You'd walk into every piece of furniture in this room."

Janus made a wounded noise.

"Only because you've shown just how clumsy you are at this time of morning."

Janus huffed. "I'll st'p on foot."

"I can take it," Roman replied with a teasing smile.

Janus rolled his eyes, tightening his grip on Roman's hand and shoulder so he wouldn’t fall.

"Okay, JJ. One, two, three, four," Roman started counting under his breath to help Janus' walnut brain, "...one, two, spin, four, you're wonderful at this, Snakerella..."

---

Janus could feel his brain start to adjust to being awake and a bit of Fully Awake Janus start to have influence in his thoughts. Well, it wasn't exactly "adjust", because it wasn't gradual.

It was just a bit slower than a snap of the fingers.

Nothing was new in his actions, Roman didn't startle them, hell, it was during the middle of a slow song. But without any obvious triggering factor, his brain abruptly shifted into a more awake state of mind. And he realized his situation.

He was dancing...

...in the living room...

...with the love of his life...

...at half-past two in the goddamn morning.

Janus, still a far cry from Fully Awake Janus but with a lot of his mental capacities, couldn't quite remember the exact turn of events that got him here. Things were a bit blurry, events were splotchy, and he could only remember bits and pieces. So, ultimately, how he—while sleepy and filter-less—managed to get Roman "Princey" Fucking Sanders to dance with him was almost a mystery. He did know, however, that the only way Roman could have agreed was if he was extra sleep-deprived too.

"You like this song, Janus?"

He considered saying the truth, that he wasn't listening; or a well-thought-out lie, that he hadn't heard it before but thought it would fit with a playlist he had; or saying that he'd heard it before and liked it very much. But suddenly, Roman pulled him close and to his chest—and he smelled so good and his white sleep shirt was so snuggly and his hair was just inches away and oh so very soft and Janus was in love, so in love and he couldn't help but make a noise of happiness about their current situation instead of answering the question.

"I'm glad you like it."

Janus almost laughed; Roman mistook his noise for one of confirmation, also implying that he thought Janus was still in his state of Properly Out Of It. Janus had an act to keep up if he wanted Roman to continue being so intimate with him, so he decided he would play along—not more than he needed to, of course, but whenever Roman would prompt him to talk, he’d respond how he would if he had just woken up.

More songs went by, their almost-clumsy dancing that they exerted very little energy in doing continuing with it. Roman rarely spoke, but it was comfortable that way, with Roman just holding him as their feet glided across the floor with only the crescent moon as their witness. Janus knew very well that his emotions were senseless and cheesy, especially at this time of the morning in his current situation, but he almost scoffed when he realized that he felt loved—loved by Roman, and loved in a way he had never felt before. It made him feel warm and hopeful, and if he was fully awake, he would probably vomit. Nevertheless, it was a pleasant feeling no matter how much he didn't want to admit it, so he relished in it, soaking up the unfamiliar emotion he figured he would never get again and savoring it as one does with hot chocolate during the coldest winter nights. It was warm and calming, with an underlying hint of melancholy and bittersweetness. Just like how Janus perceived Roman.

Roman and Janus had differences that they were slowly putting behind them in an attempt to advance into a tentative friendship, so it made sense for Janus to think he would never get this again. He was tired, Roman was tired, and he remembered the dashing prince saying something about 'rousing thoughts' so this was probably serving as a release of all the stress that built up in the later hours. Tomorrow, things would be back to normal, but he would never forget.

The song started to slow to a speed that seemed inadvisable to Janus because the song was already quite a slow song in itself, but he couldn't help but acknowledge that the speed was romantic too. Roman's feet stopped taking larger steps and started swaying.

"Sway with me, mi cielo," said Roman in a voice that was practically silent. "This is the last song."

Janus' face burned from the Spanish nickname Roman gave him. Janus didn't know Spanish, but he was able to piece that it might have been a term of endearment. It was late, so it made sense that Roman would slip up like that, especially since he's the romantic side and their current situation was rather intimate. Of course, that assumption could also be Janus' wishful thinking.

"Thank you for dancing with me," muttered Roman, thumb starting to trace circles on Janus' waist. "I needed this outlet too."

From the way Roman phrased it, it seemed that Janus was mistaken in his assumption that he had convinced Roman to dance with him, that it seemed that things happened the other way around. This made Janus' heart flutter.

He hummed, closing his eyes. "M' ple'srre."

Janus peeked one eye open to see Roman's head turn down and smile at him warmly—lovingly, Janus would say, if he didn't know better.

The song started to come to an end. When the last beat played, Roman guided Janus into a small dip. Roman's happy smile as he stared down at Janus was hypnotizing, and Janus knew that he would fight a thousand wars just to see that smile again.

"Let's go to bed, hm? Neither of us wants to be tired in the morning."

Janus nodded. Roman pulled him to his feet and put an arm around his waist. They walked up the staircase together, Janus leaning his head on Roman's shoulder as they walked.

Janus' room was closest, so they paused there as Roman opened the door and led them inside. He kissed Janus hair and slowly removed his arm from Janus' waist.

“Goodnight, Janus,” whispered Roman, pushing a strand of Janus’ hair behind his ear.

Janus kissed Roman’s cheek. “G’nigh.”

He slowly closed the door, smiling to himself. He knew he would come to remember and regret his sleepy clumsiness in the morning, but he would be thankful for it until then.

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