#I'm a big Sanders sides fan and I could NOT sit through it

[sunshine-embry]

im genuinely excited for when the rest of the Thomas Sanders fans realize he actually CAN do wrong

[lefaystrent]

Everyone's talking about Virgil Angst but meanwhile I'm sitting here thinking about Roman because like?? Presumably he's on Broadway right? And to wake up finding you're a known broadway star has to be a dream come true even if it's jarring that suddenly finding yourself so much older. But like Roman has no memories of the years between hs and now. He wakes up, finds he's performing in a show that very day. bUT NOT ONLY THAT, it's a new show, one he's never heard of so he has no lines 1/?

no lyrics, noblocking memorized. And he's expected to perform. So a thespian's nightmareright there. Maybe for extra Angst points the understudy is out sick. Or hejust forces himself to perform, not wanting to disappoint or miss this"chance" to be on Broadway. Either way it doesn't go well and Romanis left with his spirits crushed and still completely lost as to how he endedup in the future. 2/2

Back to theFuture, part II

Fandom: Thomas Sanders,Sanders Sides

Pairings: platonic LAMP

Word Count: 2620

Masterlist Link

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Roman wakes up with a pillow beingthrown at his face.

“Chop, chop! Time to go.”

Roman groans, “Is it time forschool already?”

The person laughs.

It’s then that Roman realizes thatit’s neither of his parents, nor one of his friends who would sometimes sleepover.

Roman sits up, shirtless but that’susual. What’s not usual is the man fixing his hair in the mirror of a largevanity table.

“Who are you?” Roman asks,instantly suspicious. He snatches up a hair brush that’s lying on the bedsidetable, wielding it like a sword. “Where am I? What do you want with me?”

The man meets his eyes in themirror, sees something funny, and rolls his eyes with a laugh. “Alright, Mr.Big Shot. Save the acting for the stage. We’re gonna be late if you don’t hurryup and get dressed. And Dot will have both of our asses if we’re late foropening night.”

Opening night?

Stage?

Cute guy?

Oh, this had to be a dream.

Roman was good at dreams.

“Very well then. Wouldn’t want todisappoint all of my adoring fans, would I darling?” Roman boasts, to which theguy snorts and tells him to hurry up again.

Roman slips away and finds thebathroom. He’s debating whether or not to snap his fingers and conjure up amagnificent outfit. That is, until he catches a glimpse of himself in themirror.

He screams like he’s in a horrormovie, which maybe he is.

“What—what’s wrong?” the no-nameguy from earlier yells, banging on the bathroom door but Roman had locked it.

“I’M OLD!!!”

He’s over thirty now, and to a guywho was just seventeen yesterday, that’s pretty old my dude.

Frantic, Roman throws open thebathroom door and demands, “What magic did you cast on me?”

“What?”

“My face! Look at it!” Roman screeches,looking into the mirror once again and rubbing at his face as if the signs ofaging would disappear. “I mean, I’m still gorgeous, BUT I’M OLD!!!”

The guy looks at him like he’scrazy, which maybe he is but wow, no need to judge. “Uhhhh, are you going througha mid-life crisis right now? Because can you do that later? When, ya know, wedon’t have somewhere to be?”

“I was just seventeen yesterday,”Roman tells his reflection mournfully.

“Okay, if this is the kind ofbaggage Roman Prince has, remind me not to sleep with him again.”

Roman chokes at that.

“E-excuse me? We did what?!”

“Just cut the crap already,” theguy grunts and leaves. “I’ll be waiting outside,” he calls before a door slamsclosed.

Roman is left alone with hisreflection.

He snaps his fingers, but nothinghappens.

He gives a grin anyway. “Just gottaget into the swing of things is all.”

*

Roman meets the guy outside. Hedoesn’t bother asking for his name, since it’s not important to the dreamanyway. And really, this isn’t unlike a lot of Roman’s other dreams. Waking upto a cute guy? Check. Performing in a Broadway musical? Check.

Being the headlining actor for saidBroadway musical?

Super big check.

They’re in the theater now, andRoman is smiling and greeting a bunch of people who seem to know him. He goesalong with whatever they’re saying. He runs into the director Dot that theno-name guy mentioned earlier. And somewhat confusingly, he finds his dressingroom. It’s amazing and wonderful and in such detail, and sitting on the chair bythe dressing table is the script they’re performing tonight. Roman picks it upwith a wide grin.

He nearly drops it.

He’s the headlining actor for aplay he’s never even heard of.

Okay. Okay, okay okay.

Roman is in his dressing room—HISDRESSING ROOM ON BROADWAY. This whole place is designed by him to work how hepleases. If he just looks away and looks back again it’ll change—

Nope, that didn’t work. He squintsdown at the font, hoping to place the title.

“A New Lease on Life.”

From a skim through it’s somethingabout a parasitic demon trapped in the body of a magically gifted human?Roman’s character is the parasite.

“I know musicals are weird, butwhat in the name of Julie Andrews,” Roman says to himself.

But this is a dream. It’s okay. Hecan just…get up on stage and have the time of his life!

That’s not how it happens though.They do last minute run throughs. Roman is not magically landing the lines.Hell, he doesn’t even know them! The director yells at him to stop messingaround, and Roman is honestly hurt and disoriented enough to start crying rightthen.

But this is supposed to be hisdream! He can’t cry. He’s a Broadway actor! He’s got this!

*

Remember when he said ‘he’s gotthis’?

Yeeaaah . . .

The evening is upon them, theaudience files in, and Roman is standing on stage with no clue as to what he’sdoing.

He skimmed the script earlier,curious because usually he couldn’t read things in his dreams. He says thelines he remembers, but he misses a cue, and then the actor who’s playing therole of the character he’s possessing hisses under their breath what his lineis. It’s appreciated, but Roman can’t hear it over the thundering roar in hisears. The audience is waiting for something incredible to happen and Roman . ..

Roman’s waiting too.

*

This isn’t one of Roman’s dreams.

This is a nightmare.

Roman is a deer caught in theheadlights. He’s sweating and breathing so loudly that surely the audience musthear it. The lights are too bright and he’s standing on the edge of the stagein the middle of what’s supposed to be this sinister monologue.

This isn’t working. He just needsto take a breath, take a step back, listen more carefully to his costar’s constanthissing, and maybe things will get back on track.

Roman’s leg buckles when he triesto move it. He’s too close to the edge of the stage. He thinks for a momentthat he can catch himself, but his palms are slick with sweat and he slipsright over. He lands on his back, the wind knocked out of him, and he doesn’tremember much after that.

He wakes up, not in his bedroom athome but in his Broadway dressing room. Someone’s there, someone that Romandoesn’t recognize.

“Sloan picked up where you leftoff,” she says. She’s looking at Roman with pity.

“Sloan?” he questions. In thedistance, he can hear the muffled noises of the show going on.

She looks pissed off now. “Youknow, your understudy? Maybe if your head wasn’t shoved up your ass all thetime, you’d remember the names of us little people.”

She storms out of the room.

Roman lets his head thump back downon the bench someone laid him on.

He could wallow in his misery. Hecould let this nightmare beat him down. He could curl up and have himself anice cry. Princes are made for bawls after all.

“Sorry, but this prince has toleave before midnight,” he says.

He hops up to his feet. His headhurts and there’s a painful twinge in his leg and arm from where he must havefallen on them. But he can still move. He has to.

Roman turns his back on Broadway togo search for answers.

As he’s walking down the sidewalk,he ignores the busy city life. He pulls out his phone, immediately searchingfor his emo sidekick’s number.

He doesn’t find it.

What he does find though areseveral missed calls from Patton.

“Curiouser and curiouser,” hequotes. He calls Patton up.

“Roman?!” Patton answers after thefirst ring.

“Hey Padré! I hope you’ve got sometime to chat because you will not believe where I am right now!”

*

Roman was all the way in New York.

That’s a little more than a carride from Florida.

Logan had known that Roman became aBroadway star. He’d even told Roman that he would one day become one, but thatwas back in high school when Roman was an upset seventeen-year-old and Loganwas an eleven-year-old kid who knew too much. The news might have given Romansome form of comfort when he was figuratively down, but he certainly hadn’tbelieved it as Logan foretelling the future.

When Logan woke up as twenty-nineagain—after the initial freaking out period—he decided to contact his friendsto test a hypothesis. He needed to encounter someone who he’d never been affiliatedwith before in his future time, people like Roman, Virgil, and Patton.

Roman was too far off however. Notto mention it’d prove difficult to request a celebrity’s time, one that wasn’tsupposed to know you.

And Logan did doubt that any ofthem knew him. He suspected that he hadn’t been pushed forward through time butreplaced back into his own time, a timeline separate from the past one he’dbeen in. Nothing in his house had changed, no signs of his friends. No texts orcontacts on his phone to match.

So Logan searched for the othertwo. Virgil proved to be all but nonexistent upon his initial online researching.Patton immediately garnered results.

“An advice columnist,” Logan hadsaid to himself, unable to smother down the smile that tugged up his lips.Patton had made quite a name for himself in northern Florida. He’d been hostedseveral times on talk shows and was working on promoting his second self-helpbook that had recently released.

Logan had set off to find Patton,and find him he did.

And Patton . . . Patton had rememberedhim.

And even though Logan felt trulysorry that this disorienting situation caused his friend a great deal ofdistress, he couldn’t help but feel a wash of relief knock into him at the factthat his friend was still his friend. That those memories weren’t worthless ora vivid dream.

And then, once they had workedthrough establishing the existence of time travel, Patton suggests that theothers might be in the same boat.

“What boat? We’re not in a boat.”

“Figure of speech, Lo,” Pattonsmiles a little, despite himself.

If he and Patton are here afterjumping through time, it’s not impossible that Roman and Virgil could be thesame.

“They might not be here,” Logansuggests, swallowing down a sharp feeling of disappointment. “Whatever happenedto us, they may not have been a part of it.”

“Or they might have,” Patton pushesstubbornly. He can see the same hope welling in him, the same selfish desire tonot be alone. “We’re always hanging out together. They might have . . . gottencaught up in it? Whatever it is.”

“. . . and you already tried callingRoman?”

Patton tries all day. Logan wandersthe house a lot, investigating what kind of person Patton grew up to be. It’s .. . interesting to say the least, seeing his friend who had previously been ateenager suddenly as a grown adult, older than himself at that. Logan pondersover whether Patton feels the same amount of puzzlement. Although, Patton doesn’tseem to be interested in much that requires moving from the couch.

Ever since Logan theorized them notbeing friends in this timeline, Patton has become lethargic. Logan is ill-preparedto deal with this kind of Patton.

That night, Logan hears Patton’sphone ring. Logan doesn’t pay it much mind. The phone had been ringing off andon ever since Patton had run away from work that morning. Logan continues to pokearound the kitchen, relishing his normal body and the height that allows him toeasily reach into the tall cabinets.

“Roman?!” Patton screams from theliving room.

Logan immediately abandons any notionof dinner.

“Did he call you?” Logan blurtsout, racing into the room. It’s an unnecessary question, because what elsecould have happened? Patton waves his hand at him to shush him.

“Where are you kiddo? Are you okay?”Patton asks. He clutches the phone to his ear with both hands as if he couldhold Roman there.

Impatient, Logan sits right besidePatton and leans in to eavesdrop.

“Where else would a star like me beother than Broadway?”

Yes, that’s Roman’s proud voicefiltering through.

“Broadway?” Patton repeats, lookingat Logan questioningly.

“He’s in New York,” Logan affirms.

“What is he doing there?” Pattonasks.

“Is someone else there?” Roman interrupts.“You’re talking to someone else when you have me on the phone?”

“Sorry, Ro. I was just talking to—um . . .”

“To?”

“To, um . . . Logan.”

“Oh, well tell that nerd that I’mon Broadway and I’m fabulous, even if I am old now.”

Patton and Logan share a look.

Logan pries the phone out of Patton’shold and puts it on speaker. “You remember who I am?”

“Who? Wait, who’s that?”

“That’s Logey, kiddo.”

“That doesn’t sound like the littletwerp I know. Wait, is he super old now too? Are we all old geezers? Man, thisis a really weird dream.”

“Yes, it’s me. Yes, we’re older,”Logan answers. At least Roman is understanding the situation they’ve beendropped in. “Roman, I need you to answer a couple of questions for me please.”

“If I’m older now, why do I have toput up with more study sessions from you?”

“This isn’t school-related, Roman.”

“Please, Ro. It’s important,”Patton urges.

“Fiiine, if you must.”

“Did you wake up today in anunfamiliar setting with no memory of how you got there?”

“Yeah? Nothing too unusual.”

“How—how is that not unusual foryou?”

“Happens all the time in dreams,duh. Use that big brain of yours, Jimmy Neutron—wait, you’re not a kid geniusanymore. I’m going to have to come up with new nicknames. Not to worry, I’mgreat at improvising!”

Great at ignoring reality as wellit seems.

“Um, Roman?” Patton prompts. “Whatdo you mean by dreams?”

“This isn’t a dream,” Loganpresses.

“What else could it be?” Romanlaughs, and it doesn’t matter that the sound is slightly distorted through thephone. Both Logan and Patton can tell that there’s something off about it.

“Roman, that’s not—” Patton starts,but Logan cuts him off.

“Roman, do you have Virgil’scontact saved perhaps?”

“No, I don’t actually. Weird,right? Oh, I know! He must be hidden away from us in a tall tower in amonster-filled forest. Never fear, we shall rescue our emo in distress!”

Patton bites his lip, staring atLogan. “He doesn’t have his number either? What does it mean, Logan?”

“It could mean that Virgil doesn’thave a phone,” Logan tries, but neither of them buys it.

“Virge . . .” Patton whispers, eyeswelling up.

Logan focuses back on the phone.Roman keeps asking if they’re still there. “Yes, we’re here. And that soundslike an excellent idea, Roman. Why don’t you meet up with us here in Floridaand we’ll brainstorm a plan of action in order to locate Virgil.”

“Can do!”

Later, after Logan has helped Romango over how to book a plane ticket (“No Roman, you can’t just teleport here.Think of this as a . . . side quest, like in the video games you like.”), heends the call and turns to Patton. Patton’s sitting there, arms wrapped aroundhis legs and face buried in his knees.

“We’ll find out what happened tohim,” Logan tells him.

Patton doesn’t respond.

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