#pane-fully obvious

“I found him!” Patton announced from the doorway, his eyebrows furrowed. “He locked himself in a bathroom stall, the poor thing.”

Virgil grabbed his backpack off the floor, adjusting his glasses as he stepped toward the door. His movements were brisk, his steps echoing faintly as he left the dim library for the moonlit hallway. He needed to find Roman. “Where is he?”

“It took me a while to find him. I checked almost every classroom before I thought of the bathrooms, but he’s here." Patton stopped just outside the grey door, tugging at his cardigan sleeve. “Should I stay close? I could help if you’re not sure what to say.”

Virgil opened his glasses case and tucked them away. "Thanks, Pat, but I need to handle this myself." His eyes shifted toward the bathroom door. “You can wait out here if you want.”

“I’ll do that.” Patton returned with a soft, reassuring smile before lowering his voice. “I’m here if you do need me though.”

Virgil gave a faint smile and nodded. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open. “Roman? You in here?” Virgil’s voice was soft, but his eyes scanned the stalls with quiet urgency, pausing at the one closed door at the far end.

“Virgil?” Roman’s voice came, followed by a sharp curse. “Just… just a minute.”

Virgil tilted his head, watching the shadows shift under the stall door. The scuff of hurried movement and a muffled thud followed, Roman clearly scrambling to compose himself. Setting his backpack on the sink, he called again. “You okay in there?”

“Of course! Nothing can keep this Prince down!” Roman’s voice rose theatrically, though a faint waver betrayed the false bravado.

"Are you sure? Paris said some nasty things…"

Roman flinched, his mask slipping for just a moment before he straightened his shoulders and pushed open the stall door, it creaking in protest with the movement. He strolled stiffly toward the sink, his posture too rigid, too controlled.

“Yes, I’m sure! Why wouldn’t I be?” Roman splashed cold water onto his face, the droplets running down his cheeks. He avoided the mirror entirely, his gaze darting anywhere but his own reflection. Instead, he turned back to Virgil with a smile too bright to be real.

Virgil grimaced, his chest tightening as he took in the puffy red eyes that Roman’s smile couldn’t disguise.

Roman looked away, clearing his throat softly, the sound barely audible. "I'm okay now, really."

“You want to talk about it?” Virgil asked, hesitating as his fingers brushed over the edge of the paper towel dispenser. He pulled one free and handed it to Roman, peering up at him behind his bangs.

Roman dabbed at his face with the paper towel before holding his stomach with a wince. “I’d rather not,” he muttered, the words tinged with both exhaustion and reluctance.

“Okay.” Virgil nodded in understanding, rubbing his arm. “It’s just… I don’t think liking guys is gross or freaky, I mean I kind of like guys- I mean I do like guys, not kind of…”

Roman lifted his gaze from the sink, his lips turning up into a hopeful smile. “Really? Me too. I like guys, they're…” He blushed as he realized Virgil’s own lips quirking up.

“They’re what?”

“Neat…”

Virgil chuckled softly, the tension in his shoulders easing as he raised a hand to his neck. “Yeah, I guess I think they’re pretty neat too. So…” Virgil tilted his head, studying Roman’s face carefully. “You good enough to perform tonight, or…?”

“I think—” Roman’s face twisted sharply, his words breaking off as he braced himself against the sink. His hand shot back to his stomach, clutching his shirt as pain curled and twisted inside him. A low whimper slipped through his clenched teeth, his breath hitching.

“Roman?” Virgil’s eyes widened, and he rested a steadying hand on Roman’s shoulder. “What’s wrong? Roman, what’s going on?”

“No—nothing.” Roman’s legs gave out, betraying him as he lowered himself to the floor, arms wrapping around his middle. He let out a faint whine, his face scrunching as he curled into himself. The hollow, gnawing ache in his stomach burned, relentless and consuming.

“Roman, this isn’t nothing.” Virgil crouched beside him, scanning him with his blue, worried eyes. “I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong. Please, tell me.”

Roman growled low in frustration, his body curling tighter in on itself as the pain twisted in his stomach. “Hunger pangs.”

“Hunger pangs?” Virgil repeated, disbelief heavy in his tone. He stood up quickly, rummaging through his bag, hands shaking just slightly as he pulled out a slice of bread and unwrapped it. “Here, banana bread. You can nibble on this.”

Roman took the slice without a word, biting into it slowly, eyes closed as if focusing on the motion of chewing more than the taste. Virgil vanished from the bathroom for a moment, and when he returned, he was holding a bottle of water. He unscrewed it carefully, but before Roman could reach for it, Virgil pulled it back, narrowing his eyes as he looked at him closely.

“Why are you getting hunger pangs, Roman?” Virgil’s voice softened, tinged with concern.

Roman reached for the water with a sigh, his throat dry as he swallowed. “I just… forgot to eat today, that’s all.”

“Forgot?” Virgil pushed the water into Roman’s hand, guiding it gently to his lips, his eyes never leaving Roman’s face. “Roman, if you’re starving yourself—”

“Woah, easy, Virgil,” Roman interjected quickly, lowering the water, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I’m not starving myself on purpose. I’ve just been… stressed. There’s a lot going on.”

Virgil leaned forward slightly, his hand hovering near Roman’s shoulder. The concern in his voice deepened. “I get it, stress can make it hard to eat. But you can’t keep doing this to yourself, Roman. How are you supposed to perform in a musical if you’ve got no energy?”

Roman’s eyes flickered downward, his stomach easing slightly as he leaned back against the wall. “You’re right…” he murmured, voice small. “Maybe I should just let Janus go on instead.”

Virgil’s eyebrows pinched together. “That’s not what I’m saying, Roman. What I mean is you need to take better care of yourself.”

“I’m trying.” Roman muttered, finishing the last of the banana bread, scrunching up the plastic wrap into a ball as he sighed. “I’m really trying.” He repeated defeatedly.

Virgil slowly got back up to his feet, extending his hand toward Roman with a small but sincere smile. Maybe in more ways than one. “I was thinking of grabbing some of the Swedish meatballs they’re selling at the concession tonight… You want to join me for some during the intermission?”

Roman’s eyes flickered up to meet Virgil’s, the faintest spark of hope in them. He hesitated for just a moment, then allowed his lips to pull into a tentative smile. “You’d want me to?”

Virgil smiled, his voice warm. “Of course. I’ll bring them to you, since you’re not supposed to go anywhere.”

Roman nodded, his lips turning up into a slightly brighter smile. “I’d like that then.” He exhaled, drinking the last of his water. "How long do I have before mic check starts?"

Virgil checked his phone. "Forty minutes-ish." 

Roman shook out his hands, clearing his throat. "I guess I'll have to make do with what time I have to get made up then."

Virgil hesitated, scratching his neck, glancing at Roman before offering, "I could… I could do your makeup for you. I brought my kit just in case…"

Roman raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes. "Would you? I mean, Edvin’s no edge lord, but I’m sure the makeup team’s got their hands full. I could make do with what I’ve got for tonight."

Virgil rolled his eyes, a smirk tugging at his lips. "I can do more than just foundation and eyeshadow, you know." He returned his kit to his backpack with mock annoyance. "You know, I don’t have to do your makeup. I could leave you to do it yourself."

"No. I'll shut up, I promise. Just please do my makeup." Roman implored, batting his eyelashes at Virgil as he grabbed his arm.

Virgil shook his head, struggling to hold back his amusement. "I don't know, Prince, there are plenty of other actors needing their makeup done, and they'd be way more appreciative of the time and effort I put into making them look ‘stage ready.’" He pointed out with a teasing grin.

Roman pouted. "Okay, now you're just teasing me."

Virgil sighed dramatically. "Fine, I’ll do it." He pulled his black makeup bag out of his backpack, unzipping it and pulling out a few tools. "Could you sit on the counter for me?"

Roman nodded eagerly, settling onto the counter with a grin. "Of course I can, Virgil J. Scuttle."

Virgil quirked an eyebrow. “Makeup artist?”

“Yup.” Roman placed his hands on either side of him to keep himself steady.

Virgil moved closer, positioning himself in front of Roman with some foundation ready to go on the back of one hand and a little sponge in the other. "Could you also, um…" Virgil motioned awkwardly toward Roman's legs, making a vague opening gesture. "Could you, you know, move them a bit? I need access to… well, your face."

Roman raised an eyebrow, his smirk deepening. "I never would have expected you'd be so forward."

Virgil rolled his eyes, stepping closer to start working. “Well, I never would have expected you'd be this annoying.” He quipped back, his own smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he focused on Roman’s makeup.

Roman sputtered, offended. "I am not annoying! I'm charismatic! People find me charming!"

Virgil snorted. "Name one person who’s actually called you charming, other than your grandmother."

"My Aunt." Roman replied defensively.

Virgil burst out laughing, but quickly slapped a hand over his mouth, self-conscious of the sound. He turned away in embarrassment, trying to hide the sudden warmth rising in his cheeks. What was he doing? How had he gotten so comfortable around Roman so quickly? He had spent so long avoiding Roman to please Charlotte, and now here he was, messing around with him like they had known each other for years. Was it weird that it actually felt like they had? Like he was talking to a good friend of his? The realization unsettled him for just a second.

Roman took Virgil’s hand in his, gently pulling his attention back to him with a frown. "Why'd you stop?"

Virgil pulled his hand away, shaking his head. "It’s nothing." He muttered, resuming his work on Roman’s makeup, but his mind felt distant. The way they had been talking to each other—it felt so familiar, almost too familiar. What was it about Roman that made him feel so at ease around him? Was it just his charm, or was there something more beneath the surface? Virgil tried to focus, but the thought lingered. He finally set the lipstick down and grabbed a paper towel, handing it to Roman. "To get off some of the extra lipstick, so it doesn’t get on your teeth."

Roman sighed in mock exasperation, but his gaze softened. He glanced down at the paper towel in his hand before looking up at Virgil with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "And what if I wanted to show my appreciation instead?"

Virgil’s eyes narrowed slightly, his heart skipping a beat as he looked up. “Don’t even think about it.” He warned, taking a few cautious steps away from Roman, his hand instinctively going to pack away his makeup kit.

Roman hopped off the counter with a graceful ease, standing beside Virgil before gently taking his hand again, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of it. “Thank you, Virgil. This… This really helped. A lot more than you could imagine.”

Virgil blinked down at the lip marks left on his hand, his mind temporarily blank.

"I should get into costume now, but I’ll see you at intermission." Roman chuckled, giving a small wave of his hand before pressing his other palm against the door. He walked face-first into it, his cheeks immediately heating up. He quickly pulled the door open, stepping out with a flustered smile.

Virgil snapped out of his daze, a small smile tugging at his lips, only for it to falter as his heart continued to race. Did he... kind of like Roman? He frowned, trying to shake off the thought, but it lingered, stubborn and insistent. His gaze drifted back to the door Roman had just exited through. Why did it feel like he was missing something so painfully obvious? Sighing, he turned and made his way back to the sound booth. He’d figure it out eventually—right now, he needed to focus on checking the lighting system before the show. Not on the butterflies stirring in his chest, or the lingering mark on his hand that seemed to pull his attention back, again and again.

"A study-over?" Logan repeated, his face scrunching up.

"Because it's like a sleepover but you're all studying." Patton nodded, chuckling.

Logan held back a sigh, putting his bag down slowly beside the coffee table and removing his textbooks, setting them up as he would his desk at home. "I suppose now that you believe you have stumbled across a clever name that encompasses the activity you will not be accepting constructive criticism."

“Nope.” Patton grinned.

Logan watched Virgil across the room on his phone, a smile on his face as he nodded along to the person on the other line, disappearing into the office. It was Janus, it had to be. He lowered his gaze, smoothing down his shirt with pinched eyebrows. He couldn’t even listen to them without Janus’s words repeating through his head. He hoped they weren’t true, that Janus was lying. In fact he couldn’t help but explore possible reasons Janus was lying. His mind kept circling back, searching for any logical explanation. Any reason Janus would push him away. 

“Logan?” Patton tilted his head.

Logan sat up straighter, adjusting his glasses. “Yes, Patton?”

Patton slipped onto the couch beside him, tapping his thigh. “Are you okay? Since whatever happened last week with Janus you’ve been more… reserved.”

“It’s nothing of importance, Patton.” Logan picked up a textbook from the coffee table, flipping through it. Was there something Virgil had that Logan didn’t? Was it the same reason Virgil and he had drifted apart when they were dating? He lifted his head as Patton rested a hand on his leg.

"Logan..." Patton spoke more softly now. "Does this have to do with you not believing Janus is Princey?"

Logan’s eyes flicked to Roman as he stepped into the living room. His jaw tightened as he stood. "I don't believe Janus is Princey. I know who the real Princey is."

Roman stiffened, eyes darting to the office Virgil was in. He chuckled uncomfortably, lowering his voice as he brought over a tray of hot chocolate, setting it on the table. “You do, huh? Who do you think it is?”

Logan folded his arms. “I know you’re Princey, Roman. Your last name is literally Prince. I am also certain if I checked your room I would find the very suit and mask that he was wearing along with the matching shoe to Virgil’s.”

Patton blinked, looking between Logan and a tense Roman. “You think Roman is Princey?”

Roman scoffed as he picked up a mug. “I am not Princey.”

“Roman, Janus is actively lying to Virgil. The longer you withhold from telling Virgil the truth about Princey the more it is going to hurt when he finds out.” Logan pointed out, gripping his textbook tightly. “The longer Janus gets away with this.”

Roman’s eyes trailed up to the door. “I… I can’t take this from Virgil, Logan. He’s happy thinking Janus is Princey. If he knew I was actually him he’d… He would be disappointed.”

“Kiddo…” Patton rested a hand over Roman’s shoulder, his face falling. “What makes you think that?”

“Have either of you seen me these last couple weeks?” Roman laughed, not making eye contact. “I’m pathetic. Virgil’s family literally had to take me in because my own family didn’t want me. I can’t tell Virgil, I just can’t.”

“Can’t tell me what?”

Roman jumped at the voice, spilling some hot chocolate over his hand and nearly dropping the mug.

Virgil was already at his side, worry etched across his face. “Are you okay?”

“I…” Roman’s eyes went from Virgil’s hand on his to the worry in his eyes. He pulled back a bit as his eyes drifted down just slightly from his eyes, swallowing. “I’m, uh… fine.”

Virgil grabbed a napkin from the table, wiping the hot chocolate from Roman’s hand. “You just burned your hand, you’re not fine.”

“The hot chocolate wasn’t that hot.” Roman took his hand back from Virgil, ducking his head. “I’m really fine, Virgil… Thanks.”

“Fine.” Virgil sighed, setting the napkin aside. “But… there’s something you can’t tell me?”

“Not- Not yet, but I will.” Roman glanced between Logan and Patton, hesitating before nodding. “I will.” He grabbed a textbook after a second. "But now we should really be focusing on studying." He looked down at the math textbook in his hands, making a face and trading it for the language arts one instead.

"I agree." Logan took a seat giving Roman a little nod as he pulled out a stack of paper. "I have prepared worksheets so I will be able to understand where you both are and what parts of each subject you are struggling with."

"You brought worksheets?" Roman plopped the textbook back onto the coffee table, splaying out on the couch. "But we just got out of school a half hour ago." He whined.

"Actually, forty-three minutes and twenty-eight seconds ago." Logan fixed the position of the discarded textbook before handing Virgil a neatly stapled worksheet and holding one out for Roman. "School does not end when we leave the school building. It ends when we have properly completed our work and understand the material we are covering. In a sense it also goes beyond that in that we-"

Roman snatched the worksheet from him. "Let's just get this over with."

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"My brain hurts." Roman complained, slumping back against the couch now that they were finally finished studying for the night.

Virgil set his pencil down, massaging the side of his head. "Well I think I feel a migraine coming on."

"I can barely feel my hand."

Virgil raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching upwards. "You can feel your hand?"

Roman sat up narrowing his eyes slightly at Virgil. "Are you… Are you trying to one up me?" 

"Don't think it's trying when I clearly am." Virgil smirked.

Roman sputtered indignantly. "You can't one up me! That's- That's impossible!"

"Doesn't seem like it is to me." Virgil chuckled softly.

"Oh my gosh they're so cute!" Patton squealed. 

"It is quite enjoyable watching Roman when he is offended." Logan admitted with a slight nod of his head. After a moment he turned his attention back to the table to finish packing his textbooks away, reaching up to hold his arm for a few moments. Getting up he took out a pair of pajamas from his bag, disappearing into the bathroom. "I will be out shortly."

Patton nodded, watching the door with a frown before turning back to Virgil and Roman. "So… Who's ready for a mov-" He froze as someone passed right through him.

"Is this your new boyfriend, Virge?" 

Virgil stopped laughing, his cheeks warming as he scooted ever so slightly away from his friend. "Roman is not my boyfriend."

"So you have a boyfriend then." The girl smirked, setting her bags down.

"I never- I-" Virgil stuttered.

"Virgil, il mio bambino." A woman with hair matching the darkness of Virgil's roots, dropped her own bags, tugging Virgil to his feet so she could kiss him on the head, giving him a big hug. 

Virgil grimaced, a little out of breath from the force of his mother's arms around him. "Hey, mom."

His mother pulled away to look him over, smoothing out his hair. "Hai mangiato bene? È successo qualcosa mentre eravamo via? Come sta la tua ansia?”

"I'm fine. Nothing's changed since you texted me two hours ago." Virgil mumbled, his eyes flickering to Roman, cheeks warming.

Virgil's mother followed his gaze. "This is Roman?" She moved over to him, taking Roman's face into her hands for a moment to look him over. "Oh, mio ​​caro ragazzo. You are welcome to stay here as long as you like. I mean it. You are part of our family now."

"I…" Roman stared over her shoulder blankly as he processed the information, his eyes tearing up. This woman barely knew him and already she was readily accepting him into her family like it was the natural thing to do.

"Anything you need Wilder and I will provide." Virgil's mother let go, narrowing her eyes. "You want us to take those parents to court, we will do it in a beat of the heart. You have siblings? We’ll take them in. Anything you need."

"That's- That's fine I'd rather no one have to go through the trouble."

"For you, it'd be worth the trouble." She gave him a kiss on the head. "Welcome to our family. You can call me Giovanna or whatever you are most comfortable with." She gave Roman another quick hug. "Now what would you like for supper? Anything you want I will make it."

"What I want?" Roman looked to Virgil. "I don't…"

"Gnocchi, I'm sure Roman will love your gnocchi." Virgil spoke up, patting Roman on the arm.

"Gnocchi, oh, you will love it." Giovanna nodded eagerly. "Bianca and I will get started on it right away." She pulled out her phone, scooting Bianca out of the living room as she scolded her. "Faresti meglio a non spaventare quel povero ragazzo, Bia."

Roman watched them go before turning back to Virgil. "So that's your family then, huh? I never would have expected them to be so…"

"Doting?" Virgil offered, falling back onto the couch.

"Affectionate." Roman sat down beside him. "It's just you're so…"

"Cold, yeah, I get it." Virgil mumbled, fiddling with the end of his sleeve.

"No, I wasn't going to say that. You're an emo edge lord, that's all." Roman nudged Virgil with a gentle smile. "I wouldn't love you any other way."

"Love… me?" Virgil looked up, tilting his head, brows furrowed.

Roman's face turned a dark shade of pink, holding up his hands. "I- I did not mean it like that I only meant as- as a friend that cares about you and-" He stuttered.

Virgil quirked an eyebrow, lips turning up at the corners as he moved closer to Roman. "As just a friend?"

"Of course." Roman chuckled awkwardly, leaning away as Virgil got even closer.

"Then why the blush, Prince?" Virgil smirked.

"I'm not blushing, I am merely… I’m just hot." Roman started to fan himself for emphasis. 

Virgil rested his arm over the back of the couch, bringing a leg up as he moved in even closer. “I don’t know, I think your face is looking pretty pink.”

Roman felt the warmth travel up his ears. “I-I-” His eyes widened as he lost his balance, gripping Virgil by the shirt to try catch himself, only tugging Virgil down back onto the couch with him.

Virgil held himself over Roman, looking down at him with a light scoff. “Didn’t you once call me the forward one?”

“I-” Roman’s face turned impossibly redder. “You’re the one who-”

“You kids using protection?” Someone spoke up in an amused tone.

Virgil’s face went from its pale color to a rosy red as he scrambled off of Roman. “What the heck, Dad!”

Wilder smirked, meeting Virgil’s gaze from behind his glasses. “I just wanted to be sure my son and his friend were being responsible.”

“It was an accident. We just- we…”

Wilder reached up to rustle Virgil’s hair. “A lot can come from an accident. You know you were your mother and I’s happy little accident.”

“Oh my gosh, TMI!” Virgil slapped his hand away, fixing his hair. “I didn’t need to know that.”

Wilder laughed. “I was joking, kid. I just want you to be careful. Now you two go wash up. Dinner should be ready in a minute.”

Virgil sighed, stepping into the bathroom with Roman just behind.

Roman smiled as he glanced back into the living room from where he was standing waiting beside Virgil. “Your dad… he seems very accepting.” He commented quietly.

 Virgil lifted his gaze in the mirror. “He is. My family is. You’re safe here, Roman, I promise.”

Roman’s eyes softened as he met Virgil’s. Safe. He was safe here and he could trust that. He could trust Virgil. He did trust Virgil. “Virgil…”

Virgil cleared his throat after a second, reaching back and grabbing Roman’s hands tugging them into the sink with his. “Just wash your-” 

The motion pulled Roman closer, his chest now pressing against Virgil’s back. Their arms shifted awkwardly, trapping Virgil between him and the sink as their hands tangled under the warm stream of water from the tap.

“I…” Virgil’s voice faltered, and he took a cautious step closer, leaving almost no space between them. His breath was shallow as he opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything, the sound of Patton’s voice interrupted.

“Kiddos?”

Both of them froze, and Patton peered into the bathroom, blinking in surprise. “Oh…”

Roman stepped back quickly, his face flushing. “Patton.”

“Dinner is ready.” Patton informed.

“Ri-Right, yeah.” Virgil exited the bathroom, not even drying his hands. “Coming.”

Roman watched Virgil go, releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding.

Patton lowered his voice, grinning brightly at Roman. “Were you two going to…?”

Roman leaned back against the wall, raising a wet hand and running it through his hair. “No, of course not.”

“Sure you weren’t.” Patton giggled, sending him a wink. “See you at the table, Roman.”

Roman grabbed a towel, his face still warm as he stared up at his reflection in the mirror.

“No, I’m certain I heard something coming from the gym,” Logan insisted, easing the door open just enough to peer inside.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness before he caught sight of a figure near the back wall. The shadowy silhouette moved quickly, disappearing into the boys’ changing room.

“There’s someone here,” Logan whispered, stepping into the gym. The squeak of his shoes echoed sharply in the vast, empty space.

“So? We don’t have to follow them,” Virgil countered, grabbing Logan’s arm and tugging him back toward the hallway. “Let’s just go.”

Logan shook him off, his eyes fixed on the changing room door. “We should ensure they are not engaging in any activity they shouldn’t be. It will not take long.”

Patton stepped in, looping an arm through Virgil’s and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “It’ll be fine, kiddo. Just as long as we stick together.”

The three of them stopped at the door to the changing rooms, leaning in and pressing their ears against it. Faintly, the sound of water hitting tile reached them.

“Is the shower running?” Virgil scrunched his face in confusion, his voice a whisper.

“I sure hope not, kiddo. If it was, we’d have to catch it,” Patton quipped with a grin.

Virgil and Logan both gave him flat, unamused looks.

Patton shrugged, still smiling, and peeked his head cautiously through the door for a moment before pulling back. “Sounds like it.”

“But who’d be using the school showers this late at night?” Virgil frowned, glancing between Logan and Patton.

“Most likely one of the performers from the production,” Logan replied, adjusting his glasses. “As to which one, I cannot be certain. The only ones I know personally are Janus and Roman.”

Virgil’s eyes widened as he tugged the door handle, stepping into the change room with purpose. He led the way toward the stalls, his voice sharp. “Roman, what’s going on?”

A loud clatter echoed from behind one of the stall doors, followed by a quiet, anxious curse.

"Virgil? What do you mean? I’m just showering," Roman replied, his tone defensive.

“First it’s the not eating, then it’s the exhaustion, and now you’re showering here after hours?” Virgil hesitated, his hand coming to rest on the edge of the stall door. His voice softened. “Were you… were you kicked out?”

The steady hiss of the shower stopped abruptly as Roman shut it off. Silence hung thick in the room, broken only by the faint sound of water dripping onto the floor.

“Of course not. I’m still at home,” Roman said after a moment, his voice carefully neutral. He wrapped a towel around his waist, his eyes locked on the door like it might burst open at any moment. Technically, it wasn’t a lie, was it? He was still living at home—for now. No one had evicted him.

Roman raised a fist to his mouth, biting down on his finger as if the action might silence his spiraling thoughts. He shifted his weight anxiously, adjusting the towel at his waist, his mind racing. What else was he supposed to say?

“Is there a reason you’re showering here?” Logan asked, his tone steady and calculating.

“Some pipes burst,” Roman replied, exhaling lightly as he opened the stall door. He stepped past Virgil and Logan, moving to his bag with practiced nonchalance, though his shoulders were visibly tense. “It should be fixed tomorrow. This is just a one-night thing.”

Virgil crossed his arms, his sharp gaze locked onto Roman. “Then prove it.”

Roman scoffed, gripping a t-shirt from his bag, his knuckles white as he held it tightly to keep his hands from trembling. “Do you really want me to prove this in a towel?”

“What do you expect me to do, Roman?” Virgil’s voice rose, frustration breaking through the careful edge of his words. “You’re starving yourself, running on fumes, and now you’re showering here because your water’s mysteriously ‘out.’ What are you going to have me do next? Sit back and watch you freeze yourself to—” He stopped abruptly, cutting himself off as his breath caught. His eyes darted toward Patton, whose usually cheerful face was drawn with worry. Virgil turned away, squeezing his eyes shut as his voice dropped to a shaky whisper. “I’m not… I’m not losing another friend that way.”

Roman froze, his deflection crumbling under the weight of Virgil’s words. Fully dressed now, he stepped closer, placing a hesitant hand on Virgil’s shoulder. “Virgil, it’s going to be okay. I promise I’m handling—”

“You’re not handling this!” Virgil snapped, spinning around to face him. “If you were, things wouldn’t be getting worse for you. I get it, okay? Asking for help is hard. Admitting you need it is even harder. But we’re here, Roman. We care about you. I care about you.” His voice cracked, his desperation bleeding through. “I want you to be okay.”

Roman flinched at the sharpness of Virgil’s words, his hand slipping off his shoulder. For a fleeting moment, the confident mask Roman always wore cracked, revealing the exhaustion and fear underneath. His gaze dropped to the floor, his voice barely audible. “You…” He took a seat on one of the benches, his fists clenching as he took a shaky breath. “I’m not.” He finally admitted.

Virgil stepped closer, crouching down in front of him to meet his eyes. “You’re not what?” he asked gently, his voice no longer sharp but full of quiet concern.

“Handling it,” Roman whispered. “I thought I could, but I just… can’t anymore. I don’t know how to support myself. It’s only been a week, and I’m already falling apart.” He let out a hollow laugh, his shoulders shaking.

“Roman…”

Roman pulled his legs onto the bench, hugging them tightly as he rested his chin on his knees. “I don’t know what to do.”

“You are doing what you need to right now.” Logan stepped forward, fixing his glasses. “Through admitting you need help you are committing an action to help yourself. Supporting oneself when unprepared to do so is not something one can simply do. In fact supporting oneself in today’s economy is not an easy task and you are attempting to do so while also balancing school and a musical production on top of that. Now we are able to assist you in finding a solution. For now I recommend staying with one of us until a more permanent solution can be arranged for.”

“Thanks, but I don’t know if I—” Roman started.

“Stay with me.” Virgil interjected, taking Roman’s hand and pulling him to his feet, his lips twitching at the side. “I could use a little more company even if that company can be obnoxiously loud at times.”

Roman scoffed, grabbing his bag. “You don’t know what you’re signing yourself up for.” His grin faltered as he met Virgil’s gaze. “But… are you sure it’s alright? Are your parents going to be okay with it? I mean, this isn’t just some, boom, I’m suddenly your housemate. There’s the expenses that come with having another person in the house.”

“My parents can handle supporting another person, Roman. They have the money to, you don’t have to worry.”

“But-”

“You’re coming home with me.”

Roman blinked, his grip tightening on his bag as he searched Virgil’s face. “Virgil, I can’t just—”

“You’re coming home with me,” Virgil repeated, his tone resolute. “End of discussion. You need a place to stay, and I have one.”

Roman’s eyes filled with tears. He let his bag drop to the floor as he tugged Virgil into a hug. “Thank you, Virgil. Thank you so much. You don’t know—” He released a shaky exhale. “You don’t know how much this…”

Virgil froze for a moment, startled by the sudden embrace, before wrapping his arms around Roman. “It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice soft and steady. “You don’t have to say anything. I get it.” He pulled Roman closer as a tremor went through the other’s body, resting his head against his. “I’ve got you,” he whispered, steady despite the quaver in his own voice.

They stayed like that for what felt like hours, Roman’s tears soaking into Virgil’s jacket. Eventually, Logan cleared his throat, his voice calm but firm as he informed them of the time.

The drive home passed in a comforting silence. Logan took the wheel, his composed focus steadying the group, while Virgil and Roman sat quietly in the back seat, their hands loosely entwined. Patton sat in the front, his gaze flickering to the rearview mirror. He watched the pair, helpless to assist, wanting to offer comfort but unsure how to reach them in this fragile moment.

When they arrived, Virgil gently guided Roman to one of the spare rooms, lingering long enough to ensure he was settled before heading back out to drive Logan home.

None of them were sure what things would be like between them the next day. But for tonight, Roman knew he was safe. He didn’t have to face his room—the stark reminder of everything he was, everything he wasn’t, and everything he no longer had. A reminder of a life he was never going to be able to return to.

“You believe he’s Princey?” Logan folded his arms from his place in the passenger seat. “Why? Is there a reason you’re convinced he is? A reason other than his word?”

Virgil turned the wheel, his eyes flickering to the rearview mirror where Janus trailed behind on his moped. “I have more than just his word. Why are you so suspicious of him? You’ve never even officially met Princey before.”

“I would not be so sure I haven’t.” Logan met Roman’s gaze in the mirror.

“If… If Janus is lying, then who do you think the real Princey is?”

Logan’s eyes narrowed at Roman. “I know the real Princey should be coming forth himself. It isn’t fair for him to hide behind someone else while letting a lie fester.”

“Janus has to be Princey. I mean…” Virgil argued, pulling into the garage. “It feels like it’s him and Charlotte… She wouldn’t be lying about this. She has no reason to.”

“I’m certain she must,” Logan murmured, grabbing his bag and stepping out of the car. He walked straight to Janus. “We need to talk.”

Janus hung his helmet over the handlebars of his moped, lifting the seat to retrieve his backpack. “Do we?”

“Yes, we do.” Logan grabbed his wrist, pulling him past Virgil and Roman and into the house. He ushered him into the office, closing the door behind them as he released Janus. He turned to face him, his eyes narrowing. “Why are you doing this?”

Janus hesitated, his eyes never meeting Logan’s. He set his bag down on the chair, his posture stiff. “Doing what, Logan? You’ll have to be more specific.”

“Why are you pretending to be Princey? We both know you can’t be him. The evidence doesn’t line up. You messaged me while Virgil was with him, and when I found you, you weren’t dressed like him. Your hair wasn’t red.”

Janus tapped his fingers against the desk. “So you’re not convinced I’m Princey, then.”

“Janus, just answer my question. Why are you doing this?” Logan repeated, arms crossed. “What do you have to gain from what you’ve lost?”

Janus remained silent, leaning against the desk. He didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to have this conversation. He wished Logan had no part in this, that he wouldn’t have to hurt the one person he cared about most. But if he didn’t, Logan would keep pushing him for answers. He’d be dragged down to his level, and he couldn’t let that happen to Logan. He had no choice. “Are you saying I lost anything of value?”

Logan’s cool expression wavered. “You tell me.” He stepped closer. “And I’d like you to do so while actually meeting my gaze.”

Janus clenched his fists, turning to face Logan. He lifted his eyes, doing this for Logan, to protect him from Charlotte. “I didn’t lose anything I cared about.”

Logan’s eyes darkened. “Falsehood.”

Janus swallowed, holding Logan’s gaze.

“You cared.” Logan tilted Janus’s head up with his hands. “Don’t tell me you didn’t care about me, Janus.”

“I didn’t,” Janus pulled Logan’s hands down from his face. “Our relationship was nothing more than an experiment, Logan, you know that.”

Logan’s eyebrows knit together, eyes flickering between Janus’s. His jaw clenched as he took a step back. “I see… So all of it was a lie? Your words? Our kisses? Last night?”

Janus leaned back against the desk, gripping it tightly. He could see the doubts starting to creep into Logan but they didn’t have deep enough roots. He needed to keep going. “It was fun, wasn’t it? Being able to fix someone else’s problems for them? Having someone who listened to you? Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it.”

Logan raised a fist to his mouth, scoffing, but it came out as little more than a puff of air. He stared at the floor. “It was an act. Of course. You were rather convincing, I suppose congratulations are in order.”

Janus gave a theatrical bow, squeezing his eyes shut as they burned. His throat felt dry, his chest tight with an unseen force holding his heart. He opened his mouth.

“You truly had me believing that someone cared.”

Janus swiftly lifted his head, eyes wide. Too far. He had gone too far. “Logan—”

“No.” Logan turned, head down, grabbing the door handle.

Janus reached out, taking hold of his shoulder, his voice cracking. “Logan.”

Logan weakly pushed Janus away before quietly slipping out of the office without another word.

The door clicked shut, and Logan’s retreating footsteps echoed with finality on the other side.

Janus stumbled back into the desk, staring at the door, eyes watering. What had he just done? How could he take it back? How could he undo this? Take back the doubts he had fed Logan, go back in time and just admit he was a coward? That he was trying to push him away out of fear, out of selfishness, a desperate attempt to escape Charlotte? He grasped the desk, his nails digging in as if he could will everything to be undone. He’d go back to Charlotte. He’d face her threats, face expulsion, face anything, if it meant sparing Logan from himself and his cruel lies.

He couldn’t breathe.

“I can’t undo this,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

He sucked in a shaky breath as tears dropped down his chin, staining his sweater.

He’d never be able to undo this.

“Janus?” Virgil knocked from the other side of the door, an edge of concern in his voice.

Janus pushed himself off the desk, counting in his head, taking a shaky step toward the door before his legs gave out beneath him. He collapsed to the floor.

One. Breathe.

He exhaled through a sob.

Two. Get up.

He pushed himself onto unsteady legs.

Three. Shut up.

He closed his mouth, swallowing down the sob.

Four. Wipe your tears.

He swiped at his face, leaving his eyes red and raw.

Five. Repeat. Just like he’d been taught.

He did it all again.

Six. Bury it.

He stepped toward the door.

Seven. Mask it.

He schooled his expression.

Eight. Smile it away.

His lips twitched up, a painfully practiced ease to the gesture. Logan was just another casualty.

But he wasn’t.

Janus shifted closer to the warmth, his nose grazing against something warm. He exhaled in contentment the breath causing the warmth beneath his body to shiver. Then something moved against his backside, and he tensed as a hand flexed over it. His eyes shot open, his face heating as his gaze trailed down from Logan's neck, which he was curled against, to Logan’s arm and its trajectory.

“Janus? What feels so—”

Remus cackled, floating above them. “He touched the butt!”

Logan’s eyes shot open, and he immediately removed his hands from Janus’s backside, his face flushed crimson. “I didn’t mean to—”

Laughter from the hallway interrupted them, both of them flushing as they scrambled to disentangle themselves from the floor, their tangled legs proving to be more problematic than anticipated.

Logan tugged Janus down when that didn’t seem to be working, their lips nearly touching. “Hide me!”

“Hide you?” Janus hissed, using the suit jacket draped over him to try to shield his face from the students snapping pictures from the hallway. “What about me? Why—oh no...” His eyes scanned Logan’s face, and the bright green marker scribbled across it. A cartoonish mustache, monocle, and worst of all, the bold, oversized word ‘DADDY’ scrawled across his forehead.

Logan squinted at Janus’s face. “...Mommy?”

Janus slapped a hand over his forehead. “This can’t be happening.”

“We need to get out of here before—” Logan started.

A throat cleared, pulling their attention up to the teacher standing in the doorway, arms folded, his deep frown on display. “We’re taking this to the office.”

“Janus...” Logan searched Janus’s eyes, a hint of wariness creeping through his usual composed demeanor.

Janus pushed himself to his feet, removing the suit jacket and draping it over Logan’s head, taking his hand in a firm grip. “No one will see you.”

Logan squeezed his hand in return as they followed the teacher out of the band room. “We should’ve never stayed here.”

Janus sighed. “We shouldn’t have.”

“You think you’ll get a good spanking?” Remus giggled, floating alongside them, his mischievous grin widening. “Ooo, or better yet, will I be getting spankies from mommy and daddy? I promise I’ve been bad.”

Janus grimaced as they entered the principal’s office. “No, you will not,” he muttered, taking a seat as Principal Manning gestured for them to.

She sighed, looking between the two. “Should I even ask, or is this pretty straightforward? Because it seems you two slept here on school property last night, and someone may have taken advantage of your unconscious states.”

“This was my fault, Principal Manning,” Janus spoke up. “He wouldn’t have stayed if it wasn’t for me.”

“He still stayed. Both of you did, and for your sake, I hope nothing more than sleeping occurred. We have surveillance cameras set up in the band room to prevent instrument theft. You’re both minors, and if those cameras recorded anything inappropriate, it could be very bad. We take the security of our students very seriously.”

“Nothing occurred.” Logan assured, his eyes fixed on his lap. “We apologize for trespassing, and it won’t happen again.”

Principal Manning exhaled slowly, her eyebrows pinching together. “I hope it does not. You’ll be expected in detention after school today, and I’ll be contacting your guardians.”

“Of course.” Logan gave a slight nod, his tone unreadable.

“I’d suggest going to the nurse. He should have something to help get the marker off your faces.” Miss Manning held out two late slips. “Do be quick getting back to your classes.”

Janus accepted his slip, leading Logan quietly across the hall to the nurse's office. “I...” He accepted hand sanitizer from the nurse, stepping up to the mirror beside Logan. “I shouldn’t have asked you to stay last night.”

Logan avoided Janus’s gaze in the mirror, scrubbing the marker from his forehead. “It was partially my fault. I shouldn’t have given in to the request if I didn’t want to face the consequences.”

“I’m still…” Janus sighed, turning away. “I’m sorry I pressured you, Logan.”

Logan reached out, guiding Janus’s head to face him. “Did it at least take your mind off certain things?”

Janus met Logan’s soft gaze.

How could he admit to Logan that it hadn’t helped? That he’d woken over and over again during the night? That those unwanted touches burned—lingering. Her words clung, threatening him, tangling him in a trap he could never cut himself free from.

But how could he also deny how much Logan’s presence had helped? How could he deny the way Logan’s steady arms had soothed him each time, easing his trembling body until he could breathe again? That now, the thought of waking up from a nightmare without Logan’s steady breathing beside him felt unbearable?

How could Janus say anything at all—anything that might make Logan see him as weak without him? That might show Logan he wasn’t a master puppeteer, but the puppet who kept getting caught in the string?

He hated it. Hated feeling like this—exposed, unraveling. Like he needed Logan’s steady gaze to hold him together.

He searched Logan’s face, hoping for an answer.

Maybe he couldn’t say anything. Not now. But there was one thing he could try.

He rested a hand on Logan’s neck, tilting his head down as he pressed a gentle kiss to his lips—hesitant, unsure how to convey his gratitude without words. His lips gently pulled at Logan’s bottom lip, pleading for him to understand.

Logan brushed his thumb against Janus’s cheek, the touch making Janus’s heart ache. He wanted to be back on that uncomfortable carpeted floor again. To be in Logan’s arms again. He didn’t want to go out in the hall if it meant running into Charlotte again. If it meant her threatening him again.

“Logan...” Janus breathed out shakily.

It was terrifying how much Janus felt he needed Logan now that he had him. He swallowed, opening his mouth to speak. Then Logan’s arms found their way around him, and Janus couldn’t handle the emotions clawing their way up his throat.

He swiftly pushed Logan away, stepping back. “We—” His voice cracked, and he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t even look at Logan, fearing that Logan would see right through him. He stepped out of the nurse’s office without a word. What could he even say? He was ashamed of himself for being so vulnerable. For allowing even a crack of his walls to show.

“Janus.”

Janus cursed at the sound of the voice, picking up his pace to move further away from it, away from Charlotte. “You should be in class.”

“So should you, but since we’re both out here anyway...” Charlotte tugged Janus into an unused classroom, pressing him against the wall, her growl low. “I’m so done with that mutt having his paws all over Roman while you sit back and watch with your bowl of popcorn.”

Janus’s lips twitched. “I’m sorry, should I have offered you some?”

Charlotte yanked him closer by the collar, eyes narrowed. “Don’t act like you’re not scared of me, you little bug. Just shut up and listen.”

Janus swallowed as Charlotte released him, her hands smoothing his shirt—lingering a bit too much, caressing his chest, drifting a little too low on his torso. “I learned some things last night about Roman and Virgil. Did you know they’re online friends? Apparently, they have been for a while, but they had no idea.” She chuckled darkly. “Which means you have an opportunity to pull Virgil off Roman. All you have to do is pretend to be Princey and become Virgil’s boyfriend. Roman will see that Virgil’s taken, and he’ll turn his eyes elsewhere, leaving you the perfect opportunity to make Virgil feel more and more miserable. And guess what? I’ll even promise to leave you alone if you do.”

“I won’t… I’m already seeing someone.”

“You will, or Logan will be dragged into this. You want him to hurt too? You want him to be publicly humiliated? Do you want his grades to plummet? If you don’t, then you’ll listen to me, is that understood?”

Janus squeezed his eyes shut, shivering as Charlotte’s hand threatened to wander further down him.

“Understood.”

Charlotte smirked, stepping back. “Good.”

Janus watched as Charlotte made her way to the door, the soft click of it shutting behind her echoing in his ears. He slid down the wall, his heart racing. What was he going to do? His hands shot to his hair, gripping it in frustration.

What was he going to tell Logan?

What could he tell Logan?

Could he tell Logan?

… No. He couldn’t.

Roman cleared his throat as he pulled back, chuckling awkwardly. “I thought you said you weren’t much of a crier.”

Virgil turned away, lifting his mask just enough to swipe at his eyes. “I’m not crying. My eyes are just burning. It’s… too dry.”

“Sure you aren’t.” Roman smirked softly, glancing around them and pursing his lips. “So…”

"So…” Virgil coughed lightly, ducking his head. “We actually going to do any dancing or what, Princey?" 

“Right, yeah.” Roman nodded, pulling the tickets from his suit jacket and handing them to the person at the door. As they stepped inside, his stomach began to twist. If he recognized Virgil… would others recognize them? His eyes darted around the room, suddenly hyper-aware of every glance sent their way.

“Princey?”

Roman flinched, whipping his head toward Virgil. He forced a laugh to cover it. “Yeah?”

Virgil eyed him for a beat, then—without a word—took his arm and pulled him back toward the doors.

“I know a quieter spot,” he said simply.

“We don’t have to move. I’ll be-”

“No, it’s okay, Ci. I like it quieter too.”

Roman let himself be guided up the dim stairwell to the library, stopping next to the glass wall overlooking the gym floor. The music was still audible, but the noise of the crowd felt distant, softened by the space between them.

“Here, we can still see what’s going on,” Virgil said, releasing Roman’s arm. “And hear the music while we dance. If we want to dance…”

Roman exhaled, eyes slipping shut for a moment. “Thanks…” He hesitated. “Sorry, this is just the first dance I’ve attended with a guy,” he admitted quietly over the muffled sound of music.

Virgil gave him a soft, reassuring smile. “Then let’s make it a good night.” He placed a hand on Roman’s back, reaching for his hand. “Mind if I lead, Princey?”

Roman’s face flushed as he nodded, placing his free hand on Virgil’s shoulder. Virgil guided their hands between them, holding them against his chest as he stepped into a simple rhythm. The steadiness of it eased the tension in Roman’s shoulders, bit by bit.

“How are you so good at this?” Roman murmured. Then, clearing his throat, he tried again, louder. “I mean, I wouldn’t expect Mr. Edge and Angst to know how to dance.”

Virgil huffed a quiet laugh. “My ex taught me. Slow dancing isn’t exactly rocket science, though I’m sure if he did know rocket science, he’d have tried to teach me that too.”

“Well make sure to thank him for me then.” Roman’s lips quirked into a small, shy smile as he glanced over Virgil. “You… clean up well.”

Virgil scoffed. "You have nothing else to compare this to."

"Except the emo vibes you're giving off with the dark purples and blacks, Purple Day."

"Yeah? And you aren't dripping with princely vibes with your gold mask, Princey?" Virgil shot back, amused.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Roman said smoothly. “That was what I was going for.”

Virgil hesitated, his expression flickering. “You know… I wasn’t sure if you’d actually come.” He ducked his head slightly.

Roman's eyebrows furrowed, reaching down to tip Virgil's head up. "For you? I’d be anywhere in a heartbeat."

Virgil swallowed, then batted Roman’s hand away, his cheeks dusted pink. "Shoulda expected you'd be this corny."

Roman chuckled, but his voice softened as he lifted his hand again—this time to brush his knuckles against Virgil’s cheek. “I mean it, Xi. Anywhere, anytime, for any reason. I’ll be there for you.”

Virgil’s breath hitched. He searched Roman’s eyes, his own dark and unreadable. “Sorry, I guess I’m just… not used to people showing up for me.”

“Then get used to it,” Roman murmured. “Because…”

He trailed off as Virgil raised a hand to his cheek.

“Because…”

“Shh…” Virgil murmured, guiding Roman’s head down as he pulled him into a quiet kiss.

The warmth spread through him, it had him wrapping his arms around Virgil, holding him even closer, deepening the kiss. A shiver went through him as Virgil’s hand travelled up the back of his neck through his hair.

He was actually kissing a guy.

He was actually kissing Virgil.

And he didn’t want it to stop.

When Virgil finally pulled back, both of them were breathless, faces flushed beneath their masks.

“We probably shouldn’t, er, um… We’re still…” Virgil started, his eyes locked on Roman’s chest as it rose and fell.

Roman leaned back in, loosening his bowtie. His breath tickled Virgil’s lips. “Virgil…”

Virgil tilted his head up slightly, about to go in for another kiss—then paused.

“…Virgil?”

Roman stiffened. He’d messed up.

Virgil’s eyes flickered over him, the realization dawning.

“You know me?” Virgil’s voice was barely above a whisper as he removed his mask.

Roman panicked. He clamped his hands over Virgil’s eyes. “No, stop! You don’t want to know who I am. You don’t…” His breath came out shaky, uneven.

“Of course I do.” Virgil’s hands came up to rest over Roman’s. “I want to know who my best friend is, Ci. I want to spend more time with you. Princey, I’ve wanted this for so long. Please.”

Roman flinched at a noise behind them, shaking his head.

“I’m sorry.” 

Roman couldn’t do this. He couldn’t let Virgil know. What if he regretted it? What if Virgil stopped liking him just because he knew it was him, Roman? The Roman he had to pity. The Roman he was forced to take in.

Before Virgil could stop him, Roman slipped off one of his shoes and pressed it into Virgil’s hand.

“I’ll come back for this. I promise.”

Virgil stared down at the shoe, his brows knitting together. He reached for Roman. “Cinderfella, don’t—”

Roman silenced him with a kiss—soft, lingering, and final. When he pulled back, his fingers ghosted over Virgil’s cheek.

“It’s midnight, Prince Charming.”

“It’s barely ten.” Virgil’s grip tightened around the shoe. His voice wavered, thick with something raw. “At least give me a good reason why. You invited me to this dance. You’re the one who wanted to meet up. So what’s changed? Did I do something wrong? Do you not like me? Have you just been responding to my messages because you feel bad for me? Are you annoyed by—”

Roman cut him off with another kiss, hands dropping to Virgil’s hips, tugging him closer.

Virgil dropped the shoe in his hand, kissing Roman back. He shrugged out of his suit jacket before reaching for Roman’s, his movements slow, questioning.

Roman didn’t stop him. His jacket hit the floor. Their hands fumbled with each other’s bowties. Roman’s heart pounded as Virgil’s fingers found the buttons of his dress shirt, cool against his overheated skin. His breath hitched as Virgil splayed a hand over his bare chest—

And then Virgil’s hand brushed against his mask.

Roman froze as Virgil began to slowly push it up.

A sharp inhale. A split second of hesitation—

Then he wrenched himself away, breaking the kiss and stumbling back.

“No.” His voice was hoarse. “I don’t want this to end. I don’t—” He sucked in a shuddering breath, wide eyes locking with Virgil’s before he grabbed his jacket from the floor.

He took a step back. Then another.

Virgil reached for him. “Princey—”

Roman couldn’t let him find out.

Not like this.

Not yet.

His chest ached, but he kept moving. Kept retreating, faster and faster. Shielding himself from the rejection, the hurt, the disappointment he was sure would follow.

He couldn’t offer Virgil more than what Virgil had offered him.

It was better this way.

Safer this way.

At least, that’s what he told himself—

As Virgil’s voice broke behind him.