#wfadr

Hot Topic: So what do you do when you’re not referencing Disney movies?

Princey: Ha ha. And I told you, I’m a Drama major

Hot Topic: No, not with school. With your life

Princey: Is school not a part of my life?

Hot Topic: A part maybe

Hot Topic: But it’s not everything

Hot Topic: I don’t know

Princey: No I get it

Princey: I play the guitar and the keyboard. I like singing

Hot Topic: Singing what

Princey: Everything really

Hot Topic: Everything from a musical you mean

Princey: More or less >;D

Hot Topic: The hell

Hot Topic: Is that a winking laughing angry face

Princey: Maybe >;D

Hot Topic: I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if you make that face in normal life

Princey: Does that mean this conversation isn’t normal life?

Princey: You are pretty extraordinary. >;D >;D >;D

Hot Topic: Just stop

Princey: Never.

Virgil’s soulmate was named Roman. He went to a small college half an hour away, and he was without a doubt the most extra person Virgil had ever met. (Met?)

He refused to use emojis in favor of traditional emoticons because “emojis are for the weak”. One second he texted like a normal person, the next he slipped into formalities and talked like he was writing a royal address, hence the new nickname Virgil had given him. And on the subject of nicknames, Roman was enamored with them. So far he’d referred to Virgil as his Chemically Imbalanced Romance, his Sweetie Todd and his Evanangel, though he seemed impartial to the name Hot Topic.

Princey: But jokes aside, if you want me to stop I will.

And then there was this: his sudden bouts of seriousness. He could be in the middle of a flirty remark, or be spouting what must be the romantic work of Shakespeare himself, and suddenly become apologetic for no reason. Virgil wasn’t sure why... Was he just overly sympathetic? Or was he more insecure than he let on?

Hot Topic: By all means, don’t let me stop you

Princey: If you say so, Draculove At First Sight.

It was both sweet and a little sad to see.

But with all of their weird flirting and moments of sincerity that left as soon as they came, they were dancing around the real subject. After a full night of texting, they’d never really talked—they’d only exchanged banter and shallow questions. It was probably time to acknowledge the elephant in the room. Hot Topic: Hey Princey

Princey: Yes?

Hot Topic: What are you hoping to get out of this

Princey: Out of what?

Hot Topic: This whole soulmate thing

Princey: I’m not sure

Hot Topic: Yeah you are

Hot Topic: Shoot, I can take it The thought bubble that meant Roman was typing blinked in and out for a few moments. Was he nervous, or trying to figure out how let Virgil down gently? It was probably the latter. Virgil braced himself for the inevitable.

Princey: I’m hoping we can be boyfriends?

Princey: Eventually?

Princey: I want to take you out on a date at the very least

Virgil blinked. Roman was interested? He hadn’t been expecting that. But it wasn’t unwanted, god, it wasn’t.

Princey: What about you? What’s your sexuality?

Hot Topic: My sexuality? If you’re worried I’m straight stop worrying cuz I’m the gayest person I know

Princey: That’s a relief, Harley Queer.

Hot Topic: 😑

Princey: Though I’m going to have to contest your last statement, I’ve just replaced you as the gayest person you know

Hot Topic: Dream on, Pretty boy

Princey: I will ;P

Hot Topic: Yeah I bet

Hot Topic: And of course everything’s gotta come with a wink

Princey: Yes, of course. How could I live with myself if I didn’t include a wink with every text I send? ;)

Hot Topic: I smell bullshit

Hot Topic: Do you smell bullshit

Princey: All I smell is the sweet scent of victory

Princey: But really what do you want to do from here?

Princey: Relationship-wise Virgil paused, thumbs hovering over the screen. He could opt for a simple reply, but what good would that do? This relationship, whatever it was, would require honesty. Or as much honesty as Virgil could muster anyway. Hot Topic: Idk

Hot Topic: But I do know I don’t want to throw this thing away

Hot Topic: I like you

Hot Topic: And I want to get to know you better

Princey: Same to you, Hot Topic

Princey: You’re quite the fascinating individual.

Virgil raised one hoodie-covered hand to his face. He could feel the heat through the fabric. Oh, he was done for. There was a thrill taking over Virgil, making him feel like he was flying every time he got a message from Roman. It was almost unfair—it had to be illegal to make Virgil feel this way! And yet, if Virgil could have stopped the world, stopped time itself in order to make this conversation last forever, he would have.

He knew exactly what he wanted to ask Roman next. But Virgil was just… Virgil. Anxious Virgil, lazy Virgil, plain old angry old Virgil. How could he ask what he wanted to ask without sounding like a complete—

Hot Topic: Are you free tomorrow?

The words were on their way to Roman before Virgil could think again.

There was a pause.

No no no, what had Virgil done? He was an utter failure, a waste of space! No one was going to want to date him—or at least, no one who knew what they were getting into. This was all happening too fast! Virgil knew it, he knew it, this would be the moment when this weird... Something they had fell apart, and Roman told Virgil that he never wanted to speak to him again, and they both went on without ever acknowledging they had a soulmate—

Princey: I thought you’d never ask!

Virgil’s hands relaxed around his phone. Of course, Roman wasn’t the type to give up on a soulmate so quickly. He took deep breaths and steadied himself. His hands were shaking. When had they started shaking?

Princey: Luckily, I am free

Princey: If I wasn’t I would have cancelled it all though, so I don’t suppose it matters.

Virgil squirmed at the butterflies in his stomach. He was grinning stupidly. This man... He had no idea the effect his words were having on Virgil’s heart.

Hot Topic: What do you say we meet somewhere

Princey: Oh, I know the perfect place!

Princey: There’s a park near downtown, we could get lunch and walk around. Sometimes they have a live band playing.

Princey: What do you say? Virgil wasn’t much of an outside person, but it sounded perfect anyway. As long as he could spend time with this wonderful new person.

He started to type out a yes, but hesitated. A smile spread across his face.

The pen was still sitting on the coffee table. He picked it up, searching his body for an open area. There was a blank spot on his right palm.

Sounds like a plan. The words didn’t shimmer or fade into his skin, but somehow they still felt mystical.

A few moments later, the now familiar tingling sensation creeped across his palm. No fair, you’re ambidextrous? appeared slowly on his skin in messy, barely legible writing.

Virgil laughed out loud. Roman must be right-handed. Yeah, better keep up Virgil wrote in response, grinning. Something about this boy turned his expression into a permanent smile. 

He noticed that the room was growing brighter. The sun was rising. He stood for the first time in hours, stretching his legs briefly, and sauntered over to the window. All-nighters were commonplace for him, but he was always stowed away in his room when the sun showed up. It was beautiful.

Virgil looked down at his palm again and chuckled at what he saw: Don’t worry Green Gay, I have good rhythm.

Virgil wrote a reply on his right ankle. You weren’t even trying with that one.

I beg your pardon, that one was a masterpiece! Virgil could almost hear Roman’s offended noises from miles away.

Whatever you say, Princey.

Truly, no one appreciates verbal mastery anymore. Virgil rolled his eyes. On his skin, next to the words, an exaggerated frowny face began to appear, tears running down its cheeks. Virgil smirked, drawing a little crown on its head. Roman stopped drawing for a moment, probably affronted that his art had been tampered with. Then a tiny storm cloud appeared above the drawing, raining all over the frowny face. The word ‘Virgil’ appeared on the cloud.

Virgil laughed out loud, and gripped his pen once more. What, so I rain on your parade?

Roman drew a speech bubble from the frowny face’s mouth. I hope you never stop raining on it, my stormcloud.

Virgil dropped the pen, he was so surprised. Roman wasn’t joking—he really wanted him around. This might actually go somewhere. Virgil gulped. Commitment wasn’t something Virgil had ever thought he would experience, and now that it was a possibility… Virgil was terrified. But through the fear, he felt... It felt… Exciting. He had never had this before.

The dawn light played on the fresh ink, making it shine a little. He’d almost think the words had been written in gold.

He couldn’t believe it. He’d asked a guy out. The guy had said yes. The guy was his soulmate. He was writing messages to him while watching the sun rise. And in another day, he’d get to see this guy face-to-face.

All these years, and it was only one more sunrise until he would meet his soulmate. He bent down to pick up the pen.

Tomorrow, Princey.

Tomorrow can’t come soon enough.

He’d find a way to wait.

The neon sign glowed lazily. This was it. Cammie’s. The girl who orchestrated everything would be in there, Roman knew it. He’d checked every available source.

He checked the time on his phone. 12:47 am. Few people went to get a burger after midnight, but her shift wasn’t supposed to end for more than an hour. With any luck, they’d be alone in there, and he would get the answers he wanted.

His phone displayed the date. Oh. December 30th, the day before New Year’s. He hadn’t been keeping track of time. Well, the answers he expected to get would be Roman’s gift, for what they were worth. He turned his phone flashlight off.

Ding ding. The sound of the door chime was criminally merry as he entered the joint. The smell of fast food met his nose.

“What can I get you?” The girl behind the counter droned, poking at the buttons on the register. She clearly wanted to be anywhere but here.

Roman had never seen her face before, but he’d heard descriptions. He recognized her instantly.

“Hello, Gigi Frey.” Her head shot up.

“The hell... Do I know you?” Her eyes narrowed, scanning Roman’s face. He only wondered what expression was on it—he was sure that whatever it was, it could cut like a knife.

“No. But I know... Knew someone who did.”

The girl was definitely on her guard now. “Mind giving me a name?”

Roman told her his name, in a tone cold as ice. She recoiled.

“That guy?! Why are you here to talk about him?!”

“Because we both know something about him that the rest of the world has chosen to overlook.”

The girl blinked. “Okay, drop the act and tell me what you’re really here for.”

“Does the name ‘Randall Jackson’ ring a bell, perhaps?”

Recognition flashed in her eyes, for the tiniest instant. Gotcha. “I... I said drop the act!” She sounded a little like a cornered animal.

“What about Randall’s car? Red Jeep?” Roman said teasingly. He was playing with her, he knew. But after what she had done... He had every right to. And more.

The girl slammed her fist on the countertop. “Order something, tell me what the hell you’re asking, or leave!”

“Oh, never you mind. I’m not here for Randall. I’m here for him. And I know you did it.”

“Did you hear me? Screw off and leave me alone!”

“I know you made Randall kill him.”

The girl stopped. Stared. “I... What? You think I... What?”

Roman’s confidence faltered a bit, but he plowed on. He knew he was right. “Don’t play dumb. We both know you did it.”

The corners of the girl’s eyes turned up. She almost looked... Pleased? “I didn’t make anybody do anything, and I don’t know what makes you think I’d kill my coworker.”

This was expected. She was obviously bluffing. Roman would not let it phase him. “There’s no point in lying to me. I’m here so you can tell me why you did it.”

The girl scoffed. “Some detective you are. You come here to accuse me of plotting a murder, you gotta have some proof.”

Roman snarled. Proof?! He had plenty. “Why did you call him in to work on the day he died?”

She made an aggressively confused face. “What the—that’s not proof! We could’ve had any reason!”

“Mind telling me what it is?”

The girl looked like she’d been slapped. “I… I don’t have to tell you anything! And how’d you know it was me who called—”

“I asked the right people. I think you’ll find that’s all you have to do to get answers.” Roman condescended. The girl’s gaze darkened. She was obviously hiding something. He’d get her to crack.

He kept going. “Why did you all get fired after his death?”

The girl stared at him for a moment, then threw her head back and laughed. Actually laughed. Roman glared harder. “You call that proof? If I really was some master criminal, I’d be tried. Not fired.”

Logan had said that too. Roman took a deep breath, quickly banishing the memory. “Yet you were fired anyway. Why don’t you tell me a bit more about that?”

The girl lifted her head a bit higher. “I’ll say it again. I don’t have to tell you anything.”

Roman’s fists clenched, and his knuckles went white. “You wanted him gone! You wanted him gone so that you could take over the pub with your buddies.”

“What the hell? No!” She paused to consider something, staring at the countertop. “Listen crazy man, I’m not happy he’s dead either. We’ve had way worse coworkers than him. And he was useful!”

That got Roman’s attention. “Useful? For what, pray tell?”

The girl’s gaze held determination. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t have to tell you anything.”

Roman closed the distance between them in two quick strides and leveled his face with hers. His hands gripped the countertop.

“I don’t give a damn what you ‘have to do’. Because you are going to tell me right now what you did to my... To your coworker. It couldn’t matter less what you want.”

The girl considered Roman’s words. “Nah.”

Roman roared. “You tell me what you did to him! Tell me what master scheme you concocted and how you roped him into it and how you killed him for it! Tell me this instant or I’ll make sure you join him!”

The girl rose to meet Roman. “My deal with Randall had nothing to do with the accident! My coworker didn’t even know about it—like hell does it matter if I tell you! And you’re just gonna say I’m lying!”

“Try me! Try me, you filthy stain on this earth!”

“No! I don’t have to tell—“

“IF YOU SAY THAT VILE PHRASE AGAIN—“

“Whatever, fine! IT DOESN’T MATTER ANYWAY!”

“WHAT DOESN’T MATTER, YOU—”

“WE WERE STEALING!”

The girl’s scream ripped through the place. Roman was surprised that the windows all stayed intact.

“We had a system! Me and the guys would send your friend to do some stupid task while we lifted cash or booze or whatever we wanted! Randall worked at La Bandera, and his boss was an idiot, so he took whatever he damn well pleased! We pooled our stuff! We saved it for parties on the weekends! We got fired because we got found out! That’s all it was!”

Roman’s blood ran cold. No way. He’d spent almost two months searching for this girl! He refused to believe that she wasn’t guilty of his accusations.

“Lies. Why did you let yourselves get found out? How did you get another job with that on your record? Why did you call him in to work? WHY DID RANDALL HIT HIM WITH HIS CAR?!” Roman was yelling so hard he was fairly sure he’d burst a blood vessel, but he didn’t care. He’d gladly destroy every blood vessel in his body if this girl would take back her words.

“We were used to having a coworker to use as a distraction, we got careless! And it SUCKS that we did! You think it was easy to get a job after this crap? I worked myself to the bone to get someone to hire me—I had to pull favors to even get one at this hellhole, and the other guys are all still jobless and broke. Less than broke, thanks to the fines we got hit with for theft! Jake and Cal took jail time, for god’s sake! And the reason we called your coworker in was because we were gonna talk about the deal with him. We were damn sure he caught us taking stuff, we had to come up with something to make him keep his mouth shut! We told him if he didn’t join us or keep quiet we’d get him fired or—“

“OR KILL HIM! You have a motive!”

“BUT HE WAS FINE. He wasn’t gonna stop us! And even if he wasn’t fine, why the hell would we kill a man when it would be way less work and way less… compromising to just get him fired? And even if I wanted him dead, why would I kill him in a way that gets Randall, the person practically running the deal, killed as well?!”

“Becau—“

“Yeah, me and the guys aren’t the greatest people. We steal. We drink hard. But that doesn’t mean we’d kill two people just because… I don’t even know why! What are you accusing me of? I have a crummy job, I’m broke, my friends are either also broke or in jail, people are dying around me, and you think I wanted this crap!”

“I—“

“Don’t ask me what Randall hit that guy for! Might’ve been wasted, might’ve been angry, might’ve had a broken brake or something. I don’t know!” The two stood at a standstill, faces red, hands clenched, voices raw from screaming. The girl’s nails were digging into her palms.

“I’ve never known anything less,” she choked out.

The restaurant felt dry with silence for a moment as they stood, panting, staring each other down.

And then Roman’s world fell apart.

All the fight left him. His hands unclenched. The air wheezed out of his lungs. He gazed, defeated, at the girl he’d hunted down for weeks. He could see the turmoil in her eyes.

She really was telling the truth. Roman knew it was the end of the line.

She noticed his posture change. “Get out of here. And don’t come back unless you have a DEATH WISH!” She screamed, and Roman felt her breath on his forehead. He bit down on the inside of his cheek, hard, fighting back tears as he turned and did just that.

Ding ding. The bell cheerfully announced his departure.

He began the trek back, not even bothering to turn his phone flashlight on. He was still panting, but not from exertion anymore. He listened to the sounds of the night, looked up at the stars, counted his steps by twos again. Nothing worked to steady his breathing.

It was done. All of his sleuthing had turned up nothing. He began to stumble.

By the time he made it to his car, it was all he could do to keep from collapsing onto the concrete. He opened the car, fiddling with the key much longer than necessary due to his shaking hands, and sat down in the driver’s seat.

He took a deep breath. Flexed his hands.

And practically slammed his forehead down on the wheel.

Sobs wracked his body. He couldn’t hold them in anymore.

Why had he gone through with this? It wouldn’t have fixed anything, it wouldn’t have changed what had happened. It would only have made him angrier. He didn’t even have proof of his claims, he never had proof—only speculation. Guesswork. Conclusions he’d jumped to… How had Logan put it? Cognitive distortions? All of that and hope—hope that there was someone to blame; that it wasn’t an accident; that there was a reason why Virgil was dead, beyond universal powers that no one could control.

Wait a minute. Logan. Oh no, Logan was going to be unbearable.

Roman silently cursed himself so passionately that he began to curse aloud. He had nothing anymore. He’d thrown everything away for this—his friends, his reputation, his job, his dreams, and for what? Some abstract concept of vengeance? And now...

Now he nothing to distract him from how completely, thoroughly alone he was.

Tears were dropping onto Roman’s jeans like rainfall.

Roman stayed like that for an indeterminate amount of time, finally letting himself feel. When Roman had started the search, he hadn’t just abandoned his livelihood—he’d abandoned himself. Sure, he’d made excuses, saying that he was doing it for Virgil... But he knew now that had used the search as a way to run from what had happened. He’d buried his sorrow in flimsy evidence, so deeply that he now feared the misery was cemented within him. The grief had been a whirlpool, and he had been in a lifeboat, paddling furiously away.

Roman cried out in pain. He’d gone so far down the path of denial that he didn’t know if... Wasn’t sure if...

Had Roman ever properly grieved?

Through his sobs, Roman had the crazy urge to laugh. It was truly amazing. Even after Virgil’s death… Roman was a terrible boyfriend.

He stayed there for more than an hour, letting emotion after emotion wash over him. He was done hiding from himself, and he’d stay as long as he needed in order to find the strength to leave. When he’d finally steadied his hands, when he’d cried out every drop of moisture in his body, he took a shaking breath.

Two hands gripped the wheel. Four tires began to spin.

One car rolled out of an empty parking lot, carrying an empty man inside of it. Empty.

Roman’s story was over.