#crowncreativity

“ sort of, yes. ” roman frowns slightly. “ you’re more like the type who can give advice but not take it. ” he pats virgil’s arm. “ you really ought to work on that, emo. ”

@crowncreativity

Despite Roman’s words, Virgil lifts his head up and squints around blearily at every shadow in the room one by one, like a guard dog insistent on doing its job even while under the effects of a heavy tranquilizer. It’s only once he deems the room to be safe that he allows the hand in his hair to soothe him; he rests his head back down above Roman’s pulse, a scarred hand coming up to trace absentminded patterns over the skin of Roman’s arm.

not gonna bother tracking down that meme || @crowncreativity

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Virgil repeats, staring over Roman’s shoulder like he’s not quite there. It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s fine, it has to be fine, if it’s not fine — Virgil shifts his gaze around, looking like he’s struggling to actually process anything. He’s numb, so numb, nothing feels real. Is he hurt? Is he real? What had happened? He’d been asleep — so cold, so dark — and he’d woken up scared, scared —

— Where is he? Who is he? He knows this one, he should know this one by now… “I’m fine.” Who’s talking? Who’s fine? Virgil casts his eyes around again, but he can’t see anyone — who’s that beside him? He knows him, knows that face, that’s… That’s a real person. Is he a real person? He doesn’t feel real. He feels disconnected, out of place, like a puzzle piece forced into an area where it doesn’t belong.

you know the drill || @crowncreativity

In response, Virgil tucks his head into the crook of Roman’s neck, offering a sleepy hum. It’s rare for him to be so physical, leaning more on the touch-repulsed side of things, but every now and then, usually when he’s tired, he seeks out someone in hopes of some kind of physical contact.

Today, it had been Roman, who’d caught onto the fact that he hadn’t slept last night immediately. They’re more than friends, now, and they’ve both admitted it, but Virgil still has yet to put a name to his exact feelings… Right now, though, that doesn’t matter, because Roman is warm and his tunic is soft and Virgil’s really, really tired.

things you want to hear || @crowncreativity

Virgil freezes in his tracks, hot water spilling over the edge of the coffee mug he’s washing and onto his hands. There comes an immediate hiss and a clank as he drops the cup in the sink and backs off a few paces, shaking his hands out until the sting subsides—then he’s looking at Roman, bewildered, disconcerted, perhaps even a little guilty. “You do?”

things you don’t want to hear || @crowncreativity

Virgil collapses to his knees at Roman’s side, hands bloody and shaking violently as he hovers them over Roman, unsure where to touch. “No, no, don’t —don’t say that, you know that isn’t—that isn’t true, we can’t die.” His gaze snaps over to Remus, knocked unconscious and bound to his own chair (just in case), then back over to Roman.

Carefully, oh-so-carefully, Virgil slides his hand beneath Roman’s head, lifting it up onto his knees as he brushes the man’s hair back with tears in his eyes. “You’re gonna be okay, I’m gonna—I’m gonna get you out of here, I just… Need a minute, okay? Just hold on.”

He can’t carry Roman. He can barely carry himself. Roman is in no state to be walking… Virgil lifts Roman up anyways, arms and knees trembling as he slowly wobbles to his feet. His ankle screams in agony around the same area where Remus made something snap, but he’s fine, he’s fine—

poetry sentence starters || @crowncreativity

pogostuck starters || @crowncreativity

Virgil clings to Roman’s tunic like his life depends on it, sucking in one rapid breath after another. God, it hurts to breathe, he can’t keep any air in his lungs, they reject whatever they get right after they get it, and Virgil’s starting to feel dizzy. He sucks in another breath, exhaling it just as fast.