Yo! This is a Prinxiety Theatre AU fic iv’e been working on for a bit, so i would love any feedback/ criticism. (this sucks, I know.)
Also,I promise it gets fluffier, but there is gonna be some angst.
Warnings: Blood, Swearing, abuse mention(later on),
Pairing(s): Prinxiety, ( some more to be added later on )
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The last words of the song fell off of his lips with a sigh, bringing short close before starting up again with the next number. Repetition after repetition, the words there but without the feelings. That’s how rehearsal was to Roman, practice and practice with no emotion. No, the best part was being in the midst of it all, all or nothing when you were out on stage singing for a crowd. There, there was the real point. The entire reason he got into theatre, actually. The lines seemed to fall with passion, emotion. That’s what he wanted. Not the constant drone of practice practice practice. In the moment- that was his favourite. He was about to start with the next song, looking out into the empty rows of seats in the auditorium before a hazy voice interrupted him over the speakers. ”Everyone into the rooms in five, dress rehearsal starts soon” He repressed a sigh before making his way back through the winding halls of Sander’s High auditorium.
Hey, at least he had a new assistant, he didn’t have to do everything by himself. Virgil had started barely a month ago.I mean, Virgil wasn’t really his assistant, but he had been a pretty great help around the theatre. He’d even been able to get Roman to be there on time, dragging him from talking to his friends behind the school. Within the first week, Virgil was “quite a hard cookie to crack” as patton would say it. He was pretty hesitant at first, a bit stiff when it came to interaction. But eventually Virgil had warmed up to him, creating this sort of unique bond between the two. They had fallen into a small routine, Roman would recite his lines in the dressing room, allowing Virgil to listen and correct him while he fixed his face. Oddly, he had seen Virgil humming Roman’s songs under his breath, or flipping through the script book he had been assigned with each play afterwards. He figured Virgil must know them by heart. Atleast things became a little brighter with him around, he fit in perfectly with the hectic schedule. Always ready, prepared, in line and in order. Perfect. Almost, too perfect.
But before he could finish that thought, he was already pushing through his dressing room door, scrolling through his phone while plopping down on his seat. The room was bright and cheery, with a small closet off to the side of the greater room. The bigger room was simple, a dresser with a large mirror around it, riddled with fairy lights, trinkets, but most of all, photos of his fathers. He’d been adopted when he was five by Patton and Logan, easily accepted into the house along with his dog and best friend, Ruthy.
That was when virgil walked into the room, quietly laying out the makeup and prosthetics needed for roman’s character;.
“I’m gonna put on some music, that okay?”
Roman was surprised at the comment. Virgil wasn’t one to conversate, much less initiate. But hey, progress was progress.
The music played faintly while Virgil stated to comb through Roman’s hair. It was nice, feeling oddly rough hands running across his scalp. He leaned back into the touch, allowing himself to relax a little. Once he was done, he opened his eyes, only to try (and fail ) to suppress a giggle at the sight before him. Virgil had started humming to the beat, swaying his hips as he stepped around the chair to start on roman’s prosthetics. Quite the lovely voice. He thought, giggling. Virgil spun around at the small noise, face redder than a fire truck.
“Hey!” he exclaimed, a little to loud.
“You know it’s rude to laugh at someone’s voice.”
Oh, he’d never seen that face before.
Virgil he had his hand on his hips, a playful and open gesture if it weren’t for the face he was making. He was scowling, but it was just about as intimidating as a kitten. Laughter bubbled up in his throat, cascading out into airy breaths as he nearly fell off of his chair. Virgil was smiling now, a rare face that stretched up into his eyes. Roman savoured the moment, the bulbs from the dresser reflected off of Virgil’s hair, creating a halo of light-brown hair that shone in his eyes. The room was bright and airy, lights danced in his pupils through half-shut, teary lids.
There was a loud banging on the door, causing Virgil to sort of jump and curl into himself. Before he had time to think about that though, a muffled voice called out to them “Yeah, you two slackers can laugh it up when we drag your asses out to stage. Get the fuck out here if you want to keep your part, princey.” he said, sneering out the last word. Yeah, that was Devon. Or as most preferred to call him, Deceit. Their snobby, narcissistic, ignorant manager.
Both stopped dead silent, the air in the room seemed to drop a few degrees at the look of Virgil’s face. This always happened when Deceit was around, without fail. Maybe someday Roman would be able to break that lock Virgil had wrapped tightly around him, hopefully without Deceit as Virgil’s shadow. Virgil hastily made his way to the makeup bag, throwing Roman a tight smile.
Virgil checked his phone, making sure the time was right. Sure enough, it was 10:30, 30 minutes after closing. It had become a regular routine with himself to do this, making sure Roman and everyone was done for the night, and then having some time to himself. He went along doing his usual thing, tidying up the lounge and sweeping up the stage. Cleaning had always been therapeutic for him, being able to sweep the floor while absent-mindedly singing along to the songs on Roman’s iPod. It’s not like his parents would notice he was gone, they rarely ever did. He sighed, pushing the thought away as he got the broom from a cleaning closet nestled in the hall full of dressing rooms and prop storage. He then started his routine, weaving his way through the mess of hall taking care to sweep any obstacles blocking his path, while slowly making his way to the stage.
He stepped out onto the stage, noticing how the spotlight was still on, focused on the microphone stand in the center.
Great, now i’m gonna have to go all the way upstairs to turn it off.
He let out a huff of frustration, jumping when a shrill of static echoed through the speakers. He strode up to the microphone, adjusting it to his short stature before testing it a couple times. Sure enough, it was on, and it wouldn’t hurt to just test it out, right? He looked around, checking. He stood by the microphone, taking out an iPod from one of the many hidden pockets in this hoodie. After doing a few warm-ups he had seen Roman doing the day before, he finally settled on a song. It was called My My My, by Troye Sivan. Roman had been practically screaming it, fake-serenading his own mirror dancing around the dressing room like a fool. Unsurprisingly, he did this ass while not noticing the giggling Virgil just outside of the door,taking a video that he was definitely going to use as blackmail soon.
Virgil glanced around again, making sure no one saw him in his self-indulgent riff he was about to go off on. Roman had downloaded the background guitar to have “artistic flair” when he sung, so Virgil plugged that into the speakers, waiting for the song to come on.
Breathing in and out, he let his eyes shut close, listening for the start of calming guitar as a cue. Then, the song started.
Shine on, diamond, Don’t make me wait another day | ‘Cause passion is passion You know it just as well as me |
He started in low, melodious tones, his voice perfectly flowing with the beat as it picked up.
Now, let’s stop running from love, Running from love Let’s stop, my baby | Let’s stop running from us Running from us , Let’s stop, my baby |
He stopped for a breath before picking up with the music, his voice now light and airy as it carried through the empty auditorium.
Oh my, my, my I die every night with you | Oh my, my, my Living for your every move |
Then he slowed down, experimenting with the tone of his voice before he allowed it to relax, flowing and stopping with strums of the guitar.
Roman walked quietly through campus, making his way back to the auditorium for his playbook he left in this dressing room.
He opened the front door, only to hear a voice that seemed to circle the air around him. It was relaxed and flowy, lulling Roman farther into his state of already half-asleep. He turned to see the source, but his breath hitched when he found it.
Virgil was standing in the middle of a stage, holding a microphone gently in his hands and singing one of Roman’s favorite songs. His hips were swaying gently to the beat, seeming to put his entire body into the trance of the music. And wow, how did Roman never notice his hips? Roman was giddy now, jumping at the chance to see his assistant sing. Virgil had only talked about it once before, barely even mentioning the fact that he was at the head of the choir at his old school. Roman quietly creeped up around the auditorium, deciding this was much more important than a script book, and sat down in a front row seat that directly faced center stage.
Virgil kept singing, and Roman loved what a relaxed state he was in. He seemed completely unguarded, perfectly calm as the song filled the room. (Roman’s favorite song, might I add.) Roman blamed the bad air conditioning on the fact that he felt his face heating up, pink dusting his cheeks. But before he noticed the song was over, Virgil had already opened his eyes.
“Holy shi-!” they both jumped as Virgil tripped over himself, slamming face-first into the floor. Witch would have been funny if he want seething with anger. “What the actual fuck roman? You can’t just stare at someone without even telling them that you’re there!” Virgil shouted across the auditorium, his heart rate beating a mile a minute as he stumbled to his knees. Je stopped glaring daggers at roman to look down at the spot on the floor he had just come up off of. There was a small pool of blood, along with some running down over his face. SHITSHITSHITSHIT, Roman though, pushing himself out of his seat and vaulting over the stage edge to help Virgil. “Ohmygodohmygod are you okay?? Imsosorry are you okay? Do you need anything??” Roman was stuttering, spilling over words as he tied his best to apologize to the Virgil that had yet to look up from the floor.“You- l-leave. N-now.” was all Virgil said, trying to get away slowly yet never ripping his eyes from the crimson pool on the stage.
I promise it’ll improve in later chapters when i have more time to edit and write, but for now this is all i got.
