#ghosts mentioned

“I’m going to die,” Roman moaned.

“Stop being dramatic,” Virgil said, taking another tissue out of the box and holding it up to him. Roman had thrown himself across the couch, and Virgil was sitting on the floor next to his head.

“But I’m in pain!”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “How did you even get sick?” Virgil asked. “Aren’t you supposed to like, not be able to.”

“It’s harder for me to get sick but not impossible,” Roman said. “Kinda like getting drunk.”

“So, what, it’s like some super cold? Am I going to die if I catch it?”

“No.”

“Because if I drank how much it took to get you drunk, I would die.”

“It was a metaphor, jackass, not a direct comparison.”

“Well, if it’s not some super cold, how’d you get it then?”

“I was cursed.”

“You were not cursed.”

“Nah, seriously. You know that one archway on campus that everyone says is inhabited by a ghost? I accidently walked backwards through it after the sun had set. I’m cursed.”

“You are not.”

He coughed and the entire couch jerked with the force of it. Virgil honestly thought the dramatic bastard was more putting on a show with that than anything else. “Then explain that! It was a curse!”

“People don’t actually catch colds that way. You know that, right?” Virgil asked. “That might be how you get stabbed by a ghost, but why would an archway give you a cold?”

“To make me suffer.”

“You’re an idiot.” There was a knock at the door. “Thank god,” Virgil said hopping to his feet.

He ripped open the door to find Logan standing there. He held up a bag. “Patton is making chicken noodle soup, but I thought this was likely more pertinent.”

“Please tell me you got the tablets and not the shot,” Roman groaned from the couch.

“Yes,” Logan said. “I spoke with your mother and got you the grape flavored tablets, not the cherry.”

“They still suck,” Roman grumbled, “but they’re the best option. Thanks.”

Logan handed Virgil the box with the prescriptions, which, he noticed was not the only thing in the bag.

“What type of tisane would you most like, Roman?” Logan asked. “I bought three types that will not react with the Oxyproxicolotin and seem to fit with your flavor profile. There is lavender honey lemon, chocolate peppermint, and rosehip chamomile.”

“Uh, the chamomile sounds good, but you don’t have to…”

Logan waved him off, moving towards the kitchen.

Virgil managed to pop the pill out of its casing. “Open, idiot.”

“I’m not a ba-”

Virgil cut Roman off by popping the medication into his mouth. He flipped him off, and Virgil smiled back at him cheekily.

“When that melts, you’re getting the NyQuil,” Virgil sang. Roman’s face screwed up and Virgil laughed.

“I bought some of the pills,” Logan said from the kitchen.

“No, make him suffer!” Virgil said.

“Aren’t I suffering enough?” Roman asked past the pill melting in his mouth.

“Shh,” Virgil said. Roman kicked him lightly in the shin. “Take your ghostly punishment.”

“Ghostly punishment?” Logan asked. He’d brought in a glass of water and was opening a box of NyQuil.”

“He thinks he got cursed by walking backwards through an archway, and that’s why he’s sick.”

“You realize that is not how one would catch a cold, correct?” Logan asked.

“Says who?” Roman asked.

“All forms of logic,” Logan replied blandly.

“All forms of logic,” Roman scoffed, crossing his arms. “It’s totally a ghost.”

“I’d say he was delusional,” Logan said to Virgil. Virgil choked out a laugh, “but this behavior is honestly not out of the ordinary for him.”

“Jerk,” Roman spat back. “You can be such a jerk sometimes. I don’t know why I associate with your family… excluding Patton of course.”

“Oh,” Virgil said. “You may rethink that once he gets here later with the soup.”

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