#agp fluff

[anxiousgaypanicking]

Comfort Items

Part Three: Baggage Synopsis: Twin princes had been cursed centuries ago, forced to become mere items and subjected to whatever their owners wanted them to endure. Cuddles, pressure, or even being tossed out or passed down, until they could overcome their own arrogance and learn what it's like to love and to be loved, in all senses of the word. Ships: Intrulogical/Roceit Taglist: @arodynamic-enby @arizona-tate @asdfghjklicia @hypnossanders @transmanrayner @under-the-blue-moonlight

The older twin prince had the entire world spoon-fed to him, with the utensil being made out of only the finest silver. Everywhere he went he was reminded of his inevitable fate - that of which to be crowned and clothed in gold and jewels, and being handed control over everything and everyone.

So, he decided he could use his status. 

He would dress up and look down on the citizens that he was supposed to be caring for. He would sneak them into the garden and recite poetry while on his knees. One by one he would kiss their knuckles, and one by one he would shatter their hearts. Their pain was exhilarating, and he loved their cries of desperation. They loved him. They needed him. 

Around town, people could hear him beckoning, that love was a hole in their hearts that he could easily fill, promising splendors and fun and a tragic ending. 

And this was a story children were told. And children told their children. And everyone knew it. So it was fabled.

…

He’s alive. He’s alive and not ripped to shreds. He’s alive.

“The purpose of poetry is to convey and evoke certain emotions while keeping a somewhat ambiguous tone throughout. Melancholic but rhythmic.” 

Janus scoffs at the description. “That’s not always true. Some people write poetry in order to express themselves or the hardships they’re dealing with. Not everything has hidden meanings; some things can be written for the sole purpose of being blunt.” 

Logan eyes him. “Is that the kind of poetry you write?”

“What makes you think I write poetry?” 

“You’re defensive,” Logan states. “You also know a lot about the subject, and you’re simply poetic by nature. If you don’t write poetry, I recommend you take it up as a hobby. You’d be good at it.” 

Once more, Janus scoffs. “Yeah, sure. Perhaps I will.” 

He’s alive. He’s alive, and wasn’t handed to some spoiled, jam-covered kid. He’s alive.

Logan adjusts his backpack, turning to the side to avoid touching a group of kids crowded in the hallway. His bag then hits somebody’s arm, and they shoot Logan a scowl. Logan utters an apology, but otherwise keeps walking. 

“Why is your bag bigger than normal?” Janus asks, as they round a corner. He’s looking back at Logan’s bag, which seems stretched past its usual limits (which is already an impressive feat, considering the folders and textbooks he already keeps in there). 

Logan looks embarrassed at the question, but clears his throat as he mumbles “Remus is in there.” 

Janus snickers, adjusting his own bag. “Really, Logan? Bringing toys to school?” Janus teases, and watches as Janus huffs and rolls his eyes. 

Little does Logan know, Roman is snugly packed into Janus’s bag as well, it’s just not as obvious. 

Janus frankly didn’t see the point in bringing every textbook he was given to school; he hardly used them. Why waste the extra space? 

“If anybody sees, you’ll never hear the end of it,” Janus then states, which has Logan sighing. 

“I know, I know,” Logan sighs, as he adjusts the straps of his bag. “I just felt bad about leaving him at home!” Logan bites his lip as they head into the classroom, and is even careful when setting his bag down. “I’ve never owned a stuffed animal before. Even when I was little, my parents preferred building blocks and books over plush toys.” 

“Separation anxiety?” Janus blinks his eyelashes mockingly, and grins when Logan huffs. 

“I don’t have separation anxiety, especially over a stuffed animal. That’s absurd.” Logan clears his throat, before making a waving motion with his hand, sweeping across the hallway. “Now, back to the topic at hand: poetry.”

“Logan, please, I’m not going to get into poetry.”

Logan looks as though he wants to stomp his foot on the ground. “I’m not saying you have to, I’m just saying that you might find some enjoyment out of it, whether that be through writing or reading it.”

“Oh yeah? Then name a poem right now that you think I’d like.” 

Stopping in his tracks, Logan looks at Janus like he’s absurd. “What?”

Janus smiles smugly. “You heard me.”

“You’re putting me on the spot. I can’t just… come up with a poem I think you’d like.” 

Smiling as though he’s won - despite having made no actual argument at all - Janus shrugs and proclaims “there. Poetry is not for me. End of discussion.” 

They move into a classroom, and sit down side by side. Both of them gingerly set their bags onto the floor, but neither of them notice their care echoed in the other. That is, until Logan struggles to press his bag against his desk enough for it not to present as an obstacle to people walking past. Someone’s bound to trip on the bulging backpack, and Logan would rather not have that happen. 

“If you’d just left Remus at home, you wouldn’t be having this issue.”

“I’m just worried my parents will see it and believe it to be… misplaced. Or lost.” Logan presses his fingers together, looking away from Janus’s playfully judgemental eyes as he speaks. “They might try and donate it, and I won’t be home to offer them the explanation that I’d fixed it up and was intending to… keep it. Or something.” 

“Your parents are hardly ever even home.” 

Logan’s lips quirk into a frown, as he stares at his hands, which he folds neatly on his desk. “They come home sometimes.”

Janus leans against his hand, resting his cheek against his knuckles as he adds “and when they are, they usually retreat into their room, and go right to sleep.”

“They work long hours.” Logan adjusts his glasses. “You try performing surgeries or practicing law, and then tell me how often you’re home and awake.” 

“I don’t even have a job and I’m hardly ever even home as is,” Janus retorts. “Your house is much nicer, anyway. Did I tell you I’m pretty sure we have termites?”

If the bear in Janus’s bag could scream, it would. Sure, Janus’s voice was muffled through the thick material of the backpack, but that didn’t mean he was completely unintelligible. And though Janus looked put together and well-groomed, Roman didn’t want to be stuck in a house with a bug infestation! Termites?!

“You did not.” 

Janus huffs, and twirls a chipped faux-gold ring on one of his fingers. “I don’t know if we’ll be able to call a pest control company.” 

“If you need money-”

Janus stares at Logan. Logan abruptly stops talking, and sighs as he turns back to his desk with a muttered “right.” 

There’s silence between them, but not in the classroom, as it slowly starts to fill with students eager to chat, and annoyed to learn. One of them accidentally kicks Janus’s bag on their way to their seat, making Janus quickly scramble to gather it up and glare at the kid. 

“Idiot,” Janus hisses, as he adjusts the zipper on the bag. It’s Janus’s fiddling that admittedly draws Logan’s attention to the item, which has him noticing it looks… fuller than usual. 

“Did you take an extra textbook home with you or something?”

“Hm?” 

Janus glances between Logan and the bag, before a light pink blush quickly spreads over Janus’s cheeks. He quickly says “yes,” before clearing his throat and more calmly adding “I’ve got to get better grades if I’m going to make it anywhere in life,” but his response leaves Logan unimpressed. 

Raising an eyebrow at the display, Logan holds his hand out. Begrudgingly, Janus forks over his bag. 

Logan opens it without asking - which, frankly, Janus expected he’d do - and gasps as he peeks inside and sees Roman’s soft red fur. Lip jutting out in disapproval, Logan looks between it and Janus, before stating “and you had the audacity to criticize me? Hypocrite.” 

“I told you! Termites!” Janus snatches his bag back, and reaches inside to pet over Roman’s head before he quickly zips the bag back up. “I don’t want the bear that… I am holding on to-”

“Nice save.”

“-to be covered in bugs! That’s disgusting.”

Logan adjusts his glasses, smug as ever. “Uh-huh. Will that be your excuse tomorrow, too?”

“It’s better than yours.”

Logan gives an unimpressed smile, before the teacher walks in, and punctually addresses the class. Immediately, Janus slides his phone out and hides it beneath the desk, while Logan leans forward in his seat, clearly invested in whatever their teacher has to say. 

Stuffed in their bags, both bears are thinking completely different things. While Roman is intensely focused on the muffled mention of “termites” he’s heard exchanged between the two men holding onto them, Remus is more shocked that both him and his brother have persisted the test of time. 

Sure, at first he believed this stupid curse would only last a few years and they’d come out of this with minimal harm done and a life lesson or something, but it’s been way more than a few years. So much time that Remus couldn’t even guesstimate how long they’ve been alive. If being confined into an inanimate prison even qualified as being alive - Remus wasn’t really sure it did. 

But, having also experienced his fabric being torn, he was aware that pain was real, and it was intense. So much so he couldn’t even deem it pleasurable, as each tear in his plush body felt like an open wound until it was thankfully stitched shut (and even still, the needle felt giant as it slid in and out of him). 

Surely, if pain was still possible, death was too. 

And Roman wasn’t dead! That’s what fascinated him. He’s alive. He’s alive, Remus thought, the two words looping in his mind as his beady eyes were forced to stare at the thick material surrounding him, feeling the pressure of being squished between books and folders alike. 

Roman could have been ripped up, thrown to a dog, shipped overseas; he could have been an unfortunate byproduct to circumstances outside of his control. And yet, out of sheer luck , he was tucked safely into the bag directly across from him. 

But, well, Roman wouldn’t call that luck. He’d define it as “fate.” 

After he gets over his internal screaming over termites, he begins thinking as a way to block out the annoying droning of their teacher that he can hear even through Janus’s bag. 

It makes him think of being home, all those years ago, drooling over a beautifully carved table as intelligent wizards and so-called doctors would come and speak to him and Remus, attempting to teach them things they very simply just didn’t want to learn. Those men would always get so angry with the two of them. Roman doesn’t miss that one aspect of life one bit. 

But even being forced to listen to the incomprehensible philosophies of men in weird cloaks would beat being unable to do anything at all. No speaking, singing, dancing; no method of creating or sculpting things, which absolutely beat Roman’s heart to a pulp. 

He aches to create. He aches to build. He aches to do anything but sit and wait until this owner passes him along to the next, who gives him to the next, who eventually donates him again. 

Maybe, though, just maybe - and Roman truly does put emphasis on that word, as it’s a struggle for him to get his hopes up after centuries of disappointment - the fact that he and Remus were brought together once more was some sort of sign. Some blessing from the stars above that perhaps their freedom was just around the corner. Just a couple of days, maybe a week even, away. An arm’s length. 

Fate. Much better than luck.  

***

A slur is shouted in Logan’s general direction, and Logan was truly starting to wish his parents didn’t need both of the cars they owned. He had a license, but with no vehicle to drive, it was admittedly useless. 

But the group of kids stalking behind them saw Janus and Logan walking the sidewalk together as an invitation to be imbeciles, it seemed. 

“You think they’d grow out of this,” Logan mutters, as he ignores a snide comment regarding his body type. He’d heard all of their insults before, and while they might affect someone else, Logan genuinely could care less about what his classmates had to say. He’d seen their test scores, and thus would take any statement made by them with a metaphorical grain of salt. “Or at least get some new material.” 

“I mean, throwing you in the dumpster was new.” 

Logan glances at Janus, as a smile slowly spreads onto his lips. “And impressive. You wouldn’t think kids that scrawny would be capable of lifting an air mattress, let alone a whole person.”

A sudden thud alerts Logan to the fact a rock has hit his bag, which has his lips falling immediately into a more annoyed frown. Janus looks at the rocks on the side of the road. 

“I could always toss one back.” 

Logan shakes his head. “They’re not worth it; you’ll just encourage their behavior. They’re being childish.” 

Another rock is tossed at them, hitting Janus’s bag this time. 

“Yeah, well, they’re pissing me off.” 

Janus moves to turn around, perhaps shout at them or something, but Logan grabs his upper arm and holds him steady. Firmly, Logan responds with “no, Janus. Stop it. Unless you want them to follow us around the entirety of senior year, it’s best to just ignore it. They’ll get bored of us eventually.” 

Truly, it was mystifying how some other kids their age - almost legal adults - could still be so immature. Logan believed that bullying should have died out four years ago, back in junior high, but clearly some people just had nothing better to do. 

How Janus and Logan became targets of that bullying was a mystery in itself. Both of them generally kept to themselves; Janus didn’t like people (for reasons that seemed very obvious as he and Logan are followed down the street), and Logan typically preferred people he could have intelligent conversations with (which eliminated a majority of the people they went to school with). 

The two of them pass two large houses, and nudge each other in the direction of their backyards. They slip between the houses, and hop one of their fences, cutting through their yards in order to skip a block over, to Logan’s street. 

There’s no car in Logan’s driveway when they reach it, but neither of the two boys expected there to be. 

The house is silent as they make their way up the stairs and into Logan’s bedroom, but the serenity is quickly cut off by Janus groaning as he falls face first onto Logan’s bed. 

“I hate people.” 

Logan lets out a closed mouth laugh, though it’s less amused and more deflated, as he sets his bag against the side of his bed and crouches down to pull Remus out. “You’re being dramatic. Certainly there’s some people you like. Like me.” 

“You’re pushing your luck,” Janus responds, rolling onto his side to watch Logan set Remus against his pillow. Janus stares at the bear as Logan zips his bag back up, and then moves it to the side of his desk instead. Janus pokes Remus’s stomach right as Logan turns around, which has Logan setting his arm between Janus and the stuffed animal. 

“Hey! Don’t jab him.” 

Janus snorts, before he fetches Roman too. He sits up in order to set Roman on his lap, making the bears face each other. Logan slides behind Remus, and sits him up too, wrapping his arms around Remus and squeezing tightly. Remus feels pressure build up in his body, but strangely it doesn’t feel bad. He still mentally sticks his tongue out at the affection though, wishing this creep his age (or, what would be his age if he hadn’t existed as a plush toy for a couple hundred years) would get a hobby aside from fetching stuffed animals from a dumpster. 

“We look like we’re set up for a tea party,” Janus quips, as he holds Roman loosely in his arms. Despite Janus’s supposed indifference towards the bear, it looks to be in good condition. The bright white prince suit the bear is in seems to be even more pristine than it was when Janus had first found the bear. Perhaps he washed it? 

And once more, Remus and Roman are facing each other. Directly across from one another, and unable to say a word. 

Luck. 

Fate.

[anxiousgaypanicking]

Oreo

Synopsis:  As a joke, Roman's forced to ask Virgil out after losing an oreo. Flustered, and somewhat embarrassed and humiliated by the connotation that dating him would be such a bad thing, he says yes out of impulse, and must now deal with what being Roman's "boyfriend" entails. Taglist: @renys @falsemood

Part Eight: Movie Theatre Mayhem Masterlist

“He’s running late,” Virgil hisses as he sits on Logan’s porch. Janus sits next to him on his phone, and Logan sits next to Janus with a book out. 

“He’s not running late,” Logan objects, flipping to a new page. “The movie doesn’t start until six. It’s only 5:30.” 

“That doesn’t even factor in the previews,” Janus adds, nudging Virgil playfully in the side. “The trailers and advertisements start at six; the movie itself probably won’t even play until a quarter past.” 

Virgil’s leg jumps as he sits. “I’d still prefer we leave early.” 

Janus gives him a smirk. “Why? Excited to meet up with your boyfriend? It was very kind of him to offer to pick us all up; you might want to consider thanking him somehow. Like with a kiss, perhaps-?” 

Virgil shoves Janus away, scooting away from both him and Logan. Janus snickers openly at his groan of disgust, while Logan presses the back of his hand to his mouth in order to hide his amusement (though, in Virgil’s opinion, he’s doing a terrible job). 

“What movie are we seeing anyway?” Logan asks, though he doesn’t really sound like he cares - more like he’s just trying to move on. “I believe we decided against the horror one?”

“Roman said it’s called ‘The Misadventures Of Ms. Marjorie,’ or something,” Virgil answers, pulling his knees to his chest. “I think it’s some stupid kids movie, but there isn’t really anything else playing.” 

“It’s a musical,” Janus further explains, turning to Logan. He shows Logan his phone, which has a synopsis of the film pulled up. Logan sets his book down on his legs in order to properly read through it, and seems to glance back up at Janus, before nodding in appreciation. 

Virgil meanwhile pushes his head into his hands with a groan. “Is it?” he responds, sounding more aggravated by the minute. “I can’t believe that’s what you and Roman decided on.” 

“It’s less stupid than plotless gore,” Logan replies. “It would have been dull watching poorly-achieved special effects splatter around what’s supposed to be a bloody scene. That, or outright bad computer-generated imagery used to create what could otherwise be done ten times better with props. At least a kids movie will have a story to follow along.” 

Grumbling under his breath, Virgil really has no counter and so just makes a few angry noises to just his discontent, though he’s mostly ignored by the other two. 

His phone sits right beside him, and he subconsciously keeps his hand rested on it, waiting absentmindedly for any vibrations. And when it does vibrate, he has it up within seconds, unlocking it and pulling down his notification bar in hopes Roman has some explanation for why he’s still not here… twenty till. 

Instead, there’s a message from Virgil’s father. 

‘I’m sending you grocery money. Extending my vacation by another week or two. Love you,’ followed by Virgil getting another notification of money being sent to his account. It’s enough to cover groceries - enough to cover a month’s worth of groceries in Virgil’s case - and it makes Virgil click his phone off and drop it back onto the porch, pulling his legs tighter to his body as he tucks his face into his knees and stares barely over them out towards the road. 

Janus and Logan are talking quietly beside him, as they’ve both set down their entertainment in favor of each other’s company, but Virgil can’t find the energy to join them. 

At 5:50 is when Logan starts to look a little antsy, and leans forward a bit to direct his words to Virgil as he asks “any word from Roman? At this point we’re set to miss the trailers, and I’m not too thrilled with that notion.” 

Virgil gives a half hearted shrug. “I don’t know.” 

Logan raises an eyebrow. “Can you check?” 

Staring at him, Virgil feels the brash impulse to chuck his phone at Logan and make him check, or ask why they can’t communicate with Roman considering they had no qualms regarding tagging along, but instead he just bites his tongue and lifts his phone briefly. Seeing no new notifications, he curtly responds “he hasn’t said a thing.” 

Reaching towards Virgil, Janus sets a comforting hand on his upper arm, which encourages Virgil to take in a deep breath. 

Focusing on breathing for just a moment, Virgil immediately finds himself feeling a little better, and so adds quietly “I’ll… I’ll send him a text, and ask what’s taking him so long.”

“You did remember to give him Logan’s address, right?” Janus jokes, which has Virgil frowning at him, but relaxing nonetheless. 

But as he pulls up Roman’s contact in preparation to text, a familiar white car comes rolling slowly into view, with it parking on the curb shortly after. As it stops, Logan and Janus look towards Virgil for affirmation that this is in fact Roman, and the flush on Virgil’s cheeks says everything they need to know. 

“¡Mi vida!” Roman calls, waving towards Virgil, and hurries towards the porch. “I’m sorry I took so long.” 

Virgil stands immediately, and avoids Roman’s affectionate hands, making a beeline towards the car instead. “It’s fine,” he sharply replies, in a way that lets Roman know it’s in fact not fine. “Let’s just hurry and get there before we end up missing the movie.” 

He gets into the passenger seat and watches Roman through the window as he talks a moment more to Logan and Janus, before they follow suit to the car as well. Janus and Logan slide in the back, while Roman gets into the driver’s seat, buckling up and checking around to make sure everyone’s done the same. He then flashes Virgil a sweet smile that Virgil responds to with a piercing glare.

“I am really sorry I’m late,” Roman begins again, as he starts the car. He speeds a bit down the block in an attempt to make up for lost time, though it just makes Virgil feel carsick as they hit a few turns too fast. “Remus’s tutor ended up having to cancel, and there was a whole issue between our mom and dad involving… custody stuff.” Roman looks uncomfortable, even while walking through the rather vague explanation. It has Virgil actually turning to him with a bit more curiosity, but Roman stares straight ahead at the road, lips pressed shut. Displaying visible discomfort, Roman didn’t look as though he was going to elaborate any further. 

And so Virgil shifts away again and musters up a meager “okay.” 

The car ride is silent past that point, with not even Janus and Logan making conversation in the back. The air is thick, and Virgil’s fingers run along the window’s buttons, debating whether or not he should roll them down to try and make things feel less hot and cramped. 

However, he doesn’t get the opportunity to before they’re pulling into the movie theatre parking lot. 

“Ha!” Roman exclaims, as he shifts the car into park. “We’re here! And with five minutes to spare! That’s plenty of time to get concessions and get settled!” 

“I’ll pass on the concessions,” Logan says, as he steps out and onto the asphalt. “I’d rather get into our auditorium as soon as possible.” 

Circling around the car, Janus stands a bit too close to Logan as he nods and says “I’m with Logan on this one. I’m not necessarily hungry for oversalted popcorn anyway.” 

Roman smiles at them as he moves towards Virgil, bringing out his wallet and pulling out two twenty dollar bills. Passing them to Janus and Logan, he explains “I assume we’re all going to sit together, but because I’d like food you guys can just buy your tickets separately. That way you won’t have to wait up.” 

Janus immediately plucks the money from Roman’s hands, as Logan can’t help smiling and thanking him for his consideration. Virgil frowns. 

With Logan and Janus walking ahead of them, Roman keeps at Virgil’s sluggish pace, and links their fingers together without hesitation. The action causes Virgil to whip his head towards Roman, hissing out an embarrassed “what the hell do you think you’re doing?” which just has Roman giving him a shy smile. 

“Well,” Roman answers, cheeks pink, “this is like a date.” 

“We’ve already been on a ‘date’ asshole; I don’t understand why you’re smiling like a dope.” 

Roman shrugs. “That was like… a trial date. This is like a date date.” 

“There’s no difference.” 

Cheesing from ear to ear, Roman responds “there totally is.” 

By the time the two of them step inside, Logan and Janus are already making their way down the hallway in line to their theatre, though Virgil watches Janus glance back and smirk at them as he sees their hands intertwined. Virgil is almost tempted to rip free of Roman’s hold, but doesnt, and instead lets Roman lead him to the concession counter. 

Virgil pulls out his phone while Roman strikes up a short but friendly conversation with the worker, before he tells Roman what seats Logan and Janus got so they can sit by them. Getting a good look at the concession screen, Virgil can see the theatre is completely empty, which does make him feel a little better. Then Roman’s ordering a large popcorn and two drinks, before nodding towards the candy racks. 

“Hungry for chocolate or anything?” he asks, though he seems more like he’s encouraging Virgil to grab something as opposed to just merely asking. 

Virgil doesn’t answer him verbally, but reaches over to grab sour Airhead bites, which he tosses onto the counter with a grunt. 

Seemingly pleased, Roman hands Virgil the two empty cups. “Could you please get me cherry coke? And then you can get whatever you’d like,” which has Virgil walking off immediately to go do as he’s told, giving them both a little ice and a lot of soda as Roman finishes up his transaction. He comes over while Virgil’s pressing the lids on and then trades Virgil the drinks for the popcorn. 

“I’m not sure how you like your popcorn, so butter and salt how you’d like!” 

“I don’t care how it’s done.” 

Roman seems to soften a bit, and his smile falls as he places the drinks on the counter. He sets a hand on Virgil’s upper arm. “If you don’t want to be here, we don’t have to be. We can go home if that'll make you happier.” 

Virgil feels guilt swell in his gut as his head falls away from Roman’s gaze. Wordlessly, he pushes the tub under the butter machine, and moves it around so that the entire top layer is coated. He then gives it a little shake in an attempt to mix it around, before adding a few dashes of salt and setting it before Roman, as if presenting it to him. 

“The stuff underneath won’t be as good, but whatever,” he says, which again has Roman frowning. 

“Virgil, I’m serious. We don’t have to stay.” 

Uncomfortably shifting his weight back and forth on his feet, Virgil wraps his arms around himself. “Are you wanting to leave? Because I never said I wanted to.” 

“You just…” Roman trails off, and then also looks away with a sigh. “You just look miserable. If you stay here while upset, you're just going to end up associating this place with feeling upset. Or… or me with being upset. I don’t want to be the first thing you think of when you feel bad, and I never want to keep you somewhere that’s making you feel that way.” 

Roman’s phone vibrates in his pocket, which briefly throws him off, but he ends up shrugging it off and pushing Virgil’s drink towards him. 

“Please… do you actually want to stay?” 

Virgil stares at the drink, and then takes it. Though it’s difficult, he ends up giving Roman a small smile. “Yeah. I want to stay. There’s just… a lot going on.” 

Groaning playfully - seemingly relieved by the tonal shift - Roman goes “tell me about it,” and then chuckles to himself. His ease regarding the situation does help alleviate some of Virgil’s own tension, and he watches as Roman grabs three straws. He gives Virgil one, and takes one for himself of course, before winking at Virgil as he slides the third into the popcorn. Then, he very carefully positions it under the butter dispenser and pushes the button, causing the butter to spill down and into the straw, where it’s efficiently and cleanly transported to the popcorn at the bottom of the tub. And Roman lifts the straw slightly until he’s sure the middle is coated too, and then gives the tub a few more shakes. 

He then proudly lifts the tub up. “There! Now it should all be just as delicious as the top!” 

Virgil can’t help but snicker at his dramatics. He grabs his coke and candy, and walks with Roman to their theatre. “Where’d you learn to do that?” 

Roman doesn’t answer for a moment, his smile seeming a bit more forced now, before blinking twice and responding “my mom. She was a stickler for making sure the popcorn was all properly coated. Before the butter machines were moved to the self-serve counter, she used to terrorize the concessionists to make sure they did it right. Everyone was relieved when it became a do-it-yourself thing.” 

Virgil bumps lightly against Roman’s side as they walk, and neither of them say anything more. 

Once they get to their seats, the lights have already dimmed and the trailers are playing. Janus and Logan are talking between each other, but both greet the duo when they arrive. Virgil sits between Janus and Roman, with Roman and Logan sitting on the outsides. They’re in the middle of this otherwise completely barren auditorium, making it feel a lot more vast than it actually is. 

All of the previews that play are brightly-coloured, animated PG films that Virgil really has no interest in, but Roman sets the popcorn in his lap and then whispers in his ear a variety of praises, ranging from “the animation in that one is extremely experimental, and I really like it,” to “the CG there looks kind of average, but I’ve heard the story’s going to be really good,” which encourages Virgil to pay more attention to the preshow. He starts to notice the nuances in character movements he wouldn’t have picked up on otherwise, or certain words that the characters say that apparently allude to earlier movies, and when the previews end, Virgil almost wishes they weren’t late getting here so he could have seen more of them. 

The lights in the theatre darken completely as the movie starts, with all four of them reclining their seats back to get comfortable. Janus reaches over to take a handful of popcorn. And then the studio’s logos flash across the screen, leading into a live-action film with a very bubbly undertone, similar to Mary Poppins but somehow even more whimsical. 

“What’s the plot of this movie again?” Virgil quietly inquires as the main character - presumably Marjorie - starts singing. 

“Marjorie falls into another world and has to adjust to the crazy rules implemented there,” Roman explains, as he takes a sip of his coke. “Think about like… Where the Wild Things Are but with less of a ‘home is where the heart is’ moral. This is more so about how being curious is a good thing, with a dash of learning to question authority.” 

Virgil raises an eyebrow. “That feels like a rather complex message for a musical.” 

Roman smiles wide. “I know, right?! People think kids are a lot dumber than they actually are. A lot of them internalize the actions of those they look up to, including figures in media! If they see Marjorie questioning ‘well, why do we do this?’ then they’ll mimic it, which’ll help them learn more about the world! It’s actually really thoughtful…” 

Sensing there’s more to that sentence, Virgil goes to ask Roman to elaborate, but he hears Roman’s phone vibrate against the seat before he can. 

Roman’s cheeks go red in embarrassment as everyone turns to look at him, and he apologizes as he quickly fumbles to pull it out. He doesn’t silence his phone as he clicks it on, instead checking a notification. Virgil doesn’t mean to snoop, but can’t help noticing a message that says ‘You have to come over. You’re a kid, Roman, you have no choice in the matter.’ 

Roman’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows the spit in his mouth before he shuts his screen off and slides it between his thighs, so that he can feel it if it goes off again, but so it won’t make a noise. He then turns back to Virgil with a weak smile. 

“Sorry,” he says, “what was I saying?” 

“Kids will echo what they see in movies?” 

“Right! Yes, well… not every child has a good role model to look up to, which is why some kids grow up acting… bad.” Roman sounds like he has someone in mind. “Of course, you’re responsible for the things you choose to do, but not everyone knows better, if that makes sense. Sometimes it’s all they’ve seen. And that’s why people like Marjorie-” Roman waves his hand towards the screen, where Marjorie is in the middle of skipping through her daily routine, smiling at the people she walks past and buying a hot dog for a kid who lost his money, “ -are more important than people realize.” 

Staring, Virgil just watches the way Roman’s eyebrows crease. He’s still smiling, but he doesn’t look happy. 

“... Do you wish there were more people in the theatre?” Virgil then asks. 

Seemingly surprised at the question, Roman doesn’t have an immediate answer, but after a moment nods his head. “I do. Though, this movie has been out for a while. There was a chance it was popular when it first came out, and the lines slowly dwindled as more and more people came to see it.” 

“That makes sense.” 

Roman seems pleased at Virgil’s understanding, and then turns back to the movie. He takes some popcorn into his hand - letting Virgil keep the tub even when Virgil attempts to give it back - and tries to stay focused on the screen. 

But as Virgil watches Roman in his peripheral - weirdly focused on him instead of the film - he watches as Roman checks his phone again. And then again twenty minutes later. And the third time it happens, and Roman unlocks his phone, Virgil can’t help but read over his shoulder. 

He can’t see well in his current position, but he does see ‘...if you don’t, I’ll take David back to court’ followed by ‘do you not love me? Is that why you won’t come?’ and then ‘it’s that failure of a brother of yours poisoning your mind. You know I love you, Roman, I just want what’s best.’ 

Roman starts typing, but his thumbs quickly still. When Virgil looks up from his phone and to Roman’s face, he sees tears welling up in Roman’s eyes. 

Hearing the faint vibration in Roman’s hands, he turns his attention back to the screen to see ‘I’m your mother, Roman.’ 

Phone screen shaking slightly, Virgil can see that Roman’s trembling. His other hand is pressed over his mouth, and he’s fighting back tears - a feat that is only impressive for a few seconds until inevitably they fall past his cheeks and onto his laps with every blink of his eyelids. He’s silent, but that doesn’t mean he’s any less… terrified. His chest rapidly rises and falls, as if he’s struggling to breathe. If Virgil could hear him, he’s sure Roman would sound like he was gasping for air. 

Before he realizes what he’s doing, Virgil reaches over and sets his hand atop Roman’s, subsequently covering up the screen. 

Roman immediately turns to him with wide eyes, and is quick to turn away again to wipe his face. He smiles at Virgil - a smile that’d be rather convincing under different circumstances - and opens his mouth to apologize, but Virgil is shoving the half-empty popcorn tub into Roman’s hands before he gets the chance. 

“Let’s go get a refill,” he whispers, and Roman shuts his mouth and nods. 

Virgil grabs both of their drinks as Roman carries the tub out, and they convene at the self-serve counter. Roman’s quiet, and Virgil is at first as well, until he’s done filling their drinks up. 

“Are you… going to take the popcorn up for a refill?” Virgil asks, which has Roman - who was just staring at the tub - nodding absentmindedly. His thoughts are clearly elsewhere, and Virgil can imagine why, so he walks beside Roman as they pass their popcorn to the concessionist. It’s filled and handed back, but instead of going back to the movie, Virgil guides Roman to sit on a bench right outside their auditorium. 

He then passes Roman his coke. “Drink,” he instructs, and Roman does. Then, he picks up a few pieces of popcorn and brings it to his own mouth, before motioning for Roman to do the same with the simple encouragement of “eat.” 

That has Roman shaking his head. “I’m not hungry right now,” he replies, sympathetically. 

“Eat,” Virgil further pushes. “Trust me… just for right now. At least a handful. And then you won’t have to eat anymore if you don’t want to.” 

Roman looks unsure of Virgil’s words, but he doesn’t seem to have the energy to argue, and so does as Virgil wants and eats a handful of popcorn. He chews slowly, and wipes the excess salt on his pants, but after he’s swallowed he looks back towards Virgil. 

“Why’d you want me to eat?” he asks, and Virgil can see that though Roman’s eyes still shimmer with noticeable wetness, they’re at least not filled with full-on tears. 

Sighing, Virgil scoots a bit closer to him on the bench, letting their shoulders touch. “It’s… it’s like…” Virgil struggles for a moment, as he places his own drink between his thighs, resting his hands on the sides of it and rubbing over the condensation that drips slowly down the sides. “It’s like… a grounding mechanism? Typically when people get anxious or panicked it triggers a primal fight or flight response, even if there’s no one to fight and nothing to flee from. And because it’s a response that we had hundreds of years ago to protect us from danger, there are sometimes really simple ways to calm down following it. So your brain thinks ‘hey, if we’re running from something, we don’t have the time or safety to stop and eat,’ so if you sit down and eat something, it can help calm you down because your brain will realize that if you’re safe enough to eat, then you’re safe overall…” Virgil folds his hands around his cup, and weakly adds “does that make sense? Logan could probably explain it a lot better than I could… but it typically helps me, so I thought maybe it’d help you.”

Roman’s quiet, but after a moment eats another few pieces of popcorn, and then gives Virgil a closed-mouth smile. “Yeah. It helped.” 

Virgil glances towards him, away, and then towards him again. 

“We can… we can go back into the theatre if you want. Or we can stay out here. It’s up to you.” 

Roman smiles wider, more embarrassed this time. “It’s up to you, actually. I’ve seen this movie before.” 

“You have?” 

Roman nods. “I didn’t want to just tell you outright because I didn’t want you to think I’d be bored by the film or anything, but I came to see it when it first came out. I love animation of course, but I also love musicals, and this movie was getting high reviews from critics so I thought I’d come and see it myself.” 

Virgil reaches for some popcorn. “And you liked it enough to come see it a second time?” 

“Yes.” 

When Virgil doesn’t respond to that immediately, Roman awkwardly laughs and ends up further insisting “but really it’s only because there was nothing else playing. If you and Janus and Logan didn’t come to the movies, I probably wouldn’t have bothered with it.” 

“If you like it, then there’s no problem with you coming to see it again.” Virgil squeezes his coke, and ends up playing with the straw with his fingers. “When I was little, I used to have a stack of burnt DVDs. Apparently they belonged to my mom, but a lot of the movies were kid films, so they were entertaining enough to keep child me occupied. Well, one of the DVDs was The Nightmare Before Christmas. I don’t know if you can tell, but that’s exactly the kind of movie I would like.” 

Roman chuckles at Virgil’s words, and so Virgil relaxes further against him. 

“I watched it over and over again on loop. Of course, there were skips caused by scratches on the back of the disc - I was a child after all, and was left with a DVD that had no case to go with it - but it was watchable for a good long while. So believe me when I say I get wanting to watch a movie you like a few times over. Sometimes multiple watches help you appreciate nuances you didn’t see before.”

Roman’s hand creeps into Virgil’s lap, slowly guiding Virgil’s fingers away from his cup and entwining their digits together. 

“I think you’re very smart,” Roman says, quietly. “Thank you for sitting out here with me. Even though I totally would have generously gone and got us refills myself if you’d have let me.”

Virgil snickers, and pushes Roman away, saying “well, in that case, I’m sure you won’t mind properly buttering the popcorn then.” 

Huffing, Roman stands with the tub. “You just want to get me off the bench.” 

“Oh? Are you not feeling so ‘generous’ anymore?” 

“You’re lucky I-” 

Roman cuts himself off abruptly, cheeks going dark red, and gives Virgil a proper, cheeky smile as he scoots off without another word. Virgil watches him from afar as he heads down the hallway, and leans a bit to try and catch bits of Roman’s body peek into view as he moves about the self-serve counter. 

He’s so caught up with watching, in fact, that he doesn’t notice Janus and Logan leaving the theatre until Janus taps him on the shoulder, startling him and causing him to nearly crush his drink between his thighs. 

“You missed the end of the movie,” Janus says, as he grins at Virgil’s embarrassed display. 

“Got too caught up talking,” Virgil admits in reply, grumbling under his breath. “Didn’t realize how long it’d been.” 

“Shame,” Janus says, “Mary’s growth throughout the movie was truly spectacular.” 

“Marjorie,” Logan corrects, “but I’m inclined to agree nonetheless. I really admire her inquisitive attitude. I think it’s very realistic to question rules in a new environment, especially considering how odd some of them were.” 

“What about the music?” 

“For an original soundtrack, not too bad,” Janus answers. “I think jukebox musicals are guaranteed to sound great if proper music is picked out, so I’m always a little skeptical when a movie makes its own songs, but these ones weren’t horrid. Maybe a bit too cheesy, but nobody’s perfect.” 

Logan reaches for Virgil’s drink, which Virgil hands to him. “I personally didn’t care much for the music. I never understood why characters will randomly burst into song and everyone will treat it like it’s normal… it’s absurd!”

“It’s fiction,” Janus says with a laugh, as Roman comes back to them. 

“Oh…” he breathes, as he sees everyone convening around the bench. “Is the movie over already?” 

“It seems that way,” Virgil responds, as he pushes himself to his feet. 

Roman frowns, but it’s a very overdramatic pout as opposed to any real disappointment. “Well that sucks! Though, I guess now we have popcorn for the road…” he hums in thought as they begin walking towards the exit. Janus and Logan - having stolen Virgil’s cup - fill it with what they want before they leave, and then they all get to Roman’s car. 

It’s only once the car’s turned on that Roman suddenly lights up, and turns in his seat so that he’s facing everybody. 

Motioning wildly to the popcorn tub he’d set on Virgil’s lap, he excitedly proposes “what if we all came back to my house for a movie night?! My dads and I can hook up a sheet in the guest room, and I’m confident we have a bluetooth projector somewhere! And that way we can play whatever we want!” 

He looks between each of their faces with cute anticipation, which has Virgil brushing his bangs out of his face as he’s the first to answer “sure. I don’t have anything else going on tonight.” 

With Virgil’s confirmation, both Logan and Janus answer with affirmative “sure, why not?” and “that sounds pleasant” respectively, which has Roman happily patting his hands against the steering wheel in a rapid battering pattern. He’s nearly shaking with sheer delight, which Virgil can’t help but smile at as he relaxes in the passenger seat and pops a few pieces of popcorn into his mouth. 

Roman opens his phone to put on some music for the ride home, connecting it to the speakers and setting his phone carelessly in his cup holder. It’s unlocked, and the screen is on. 

Halfway through the first song, Virgil barely hears the phone vibrate over Roman’s belting to some cheery love-song, and instinctively glances towards it. When he does, he sees the words ‘I’ll see you next weekend’ followed by a singular period - sent separately from the prior sentence - only for the message notification to disappear up into Roman’s notification bar, reduced to just a little text icon. And suddenly Virgil’s prior pleased mood melts away, because something about that message has his hands clamming up. 

It makes him feel uncomfortable. It makes him feel sick. It makes him feel dread.

[anxiousgaypanicking]

Comfort Items

Part Four: Thunderstorms Synopsis: Twin princes had been cursed centuries ago, forced to become mere items and subjected to whatever their owners wanted them to endure. Cuddles, pressure, or even being tossed out or passed down, until they could overcome their own arrogance and learn what it's like to love and to be loved, in all senses of the word. Taglist: @arodynamic-enby @arizona-tate @asdfghjklicia @hypnossanders @transmanrayner @under-the-blue-moonlight

“Logan, I hate to break it to you, but I don’t think this is the way to your house,” Janus comments, as Logan intentionally takes a turn leading him further away from his street. “I understand math was a bit extreme today, but I didn’t think it’d scramble your brain.” 

“I don’t understand what math has to do with my navigational skills,” Logan replies, as he continues confidently in the “wrong” direction. “In fact, I know exactly where I’m trying to go, and it’s not my house.” Then, as he pauses on the sidewalk and turns to Janus, Logan asks “why does that affect you anyway? The way to my house wouldn’t be the way to your house, either.” 

Janus shrugs. “I thought we could spend a bit of time together.” 

“You spent ‘a bit of time’ at my house yesterday. So much time, in fact, we ended up sharing my bed.” 

“Am I not allowed to want to see you two days in a row?” 

Logan keeps walking. “That’s not what I said. I more so meant that we already are together most of the week, so your phrasing doesn’t make much sense in that context.” 

“Have you ever considered that this is why you’re bullied?” 

Narrowing his eyes, Logan gives Janus a displeased look. The bruises on his ribcage throb as a reminder of his past altercations, in which he was left rather annoyingly hurt. Though a lot of the dark marks have faded into a pale yellow, they’re still there, and they’re still sore. “If you’re trying to make a joke, it’s not very funny.” 

Janus looks briefly uncomfortable, more so out of guilt than anything else, before reiterating “why are we straying so far from your house? You never gave an explanation.” 

“To avoid being tossed into a dumpster again.” 

“Right, right. And where are we going to avoid that unfortunate scenario?” 

“The library.” 

Immediately, Janus is groaning. “The library? Seriously? We could have just lingered back at the school to avoid bullies! Now we have to walk all the way across town twice!” 

“It’s not all the way across town,” Logan counters, “that’s a hyperbole. It’s only about a fifteen minute walk from here. And it’s nice outside; I thought you’d appreciate the sunlight.” 

“I’d appreciate the sunlight more if we were suntanning on the beach.” Janus adjusts his backpack straps. “I don’t enjoy carrying around textbooks for an extra thirty minutes on top of the seven hours I have to lug them around at school.” 

That has Logan smiling a little. “As if there are actual textbooks in your bag.” 

Janus - who had fallen back to do his dramatic trudging - jogs a little to catch up with Logan, so that they’re walking side by side. “Fine. Maybe there isn’t much schoolwork in there. Sue me.” 

“I don’t understand why you carry Roman around with you, honestly,” Logan then says, as the library comes into view. Though Logan isn’t currently in any physical danger, he feels himself relax as he sees it, flooded with a wave of relief as though this entire time he’s been attempting to escape from assailants, even though he’s sure they’re probably currently waiting for him on his street. “I feel as though he’s more likely to be damaged at school than he is at home.” 

“With all the bug spray we drench everything with, I doubt that.” Janus then jabs his fingers into Logan’s back, feeling it’s way more firm than his own, but also quite a bit bigger than it traditionally is. “Besides, at least I have a reason. What’s your excuse?” 

Logan’s cheeks go pink. “I. Well. We’ve already had this conversation before!”

“Yes, yes, but you never having owned a toy before doesn’t justify carrying it around like an old baby blanket. In fact, it’s quite odd that you’re this attached to this new thing, considering you’ve never had the opportunity to get attached to stuffed animals in the past. It isn’t nostalgia, and you’re barely a child anymore, so I doubt it’s because it makes you feel safe. Hm…” Janus thinks, tapping his chin as he ponders what the reason could be. “And we can’t say separation anxiety, because you made it very clear that wasn’t the case.” 

Logan huffs. “That’s because it’s not. I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do with him.” 

“Him? Not ‘it?’” 

Giving Janus an unhappy look, Logan crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m serious. Am I supposed to just leave it on my bed? Against the pillows? Is it a toy or a decoration, and if it’s a toy why is it such high quality, and if it’s a decoration then why was it clearly made to be cuddled? It’s all… confusing.” 

“You’re the only person I think I’ve seen have a crisis over what to do with a stuffed bear.” 

“Well… why do you bring Roman everywhere? If you can’t just leave him at home then why keep him at all?” 

Janus pauses for a moment, and then shrugs as he grabs the library door for Logan, and holds it open for him. “I’m not sure.” 

“You stole it, didn’t you? Why’d you steal it?” 

Janus finds himself a bit baffled at the question. “I’m… I don’t know. I’m a klepto; I see something, I take it!” 

“You’re not a klepto. There has to be a reason.” 

“I think you’re applying too much logic to a situation I was just trying to tease you about.” 

Logan smiles again. “Technically, I teased you first.” He greets the librarian politely, and she nods back at him, as Janus follows Logan to the back of the building, far from the entrance and other people, as Logan finds a table and sets his bag down. 

Their words die down once they’re both settled and seated, with Janus unzipping his bag to pull Roman out, setting him on the table. Logan does the same, putting them side by side. 

“I assume you’re not going to look for a book or anything?” Logan asks, as he then pulls out a folder of schoolwork. He sets it on the desk in front of his own seat, though doesn’t open it.

Janus folds one leg over the other and gets comfortable, before pulling out his phone. “Nope.” 

“Okay. I’m going to go search for a novel or two; would you please stay with the bears?” 

Grinning at Logan, Janus coos “scared they’re going to get stolen?” 

His words make Logan roll his eyes. “Admittedly, yes. We’re near the children’s section, and I don’t want a kid coming over and snatching either of the stuffed toys thinking they’re library property. Then I’d have to take them back, and the child would cry, and it’d be a mess.” 

Nose scrunching, Janus responds “I hate kids,” and that’s assurance enough in Logan’s mind. 

He walks off to go find himself a good read, while Janus ignores the two stuffies in favor of scrolling through his half-dead phone, which has been drained due to its constant use throughout the school day. There’s nothing else interesting for him to do. 

That is, until he gets a bit curious about the stuffed animals. They are rather high quality - even Remus, who was found in poor condition by Logan. They almost look like build-a-bears in terms of their design, though they’re a bit smaller than typical build-a-bears would be. Maybe they were a limited release of some sort? 

Though, as Janus reaches over and flicks another look at Roman’s tag, he’s reminded that there’s no brand. Just a name. 

So, he lifts his phone and takes a picture of the two, before deciding to do a cross-image search, hoping to find a quick answer of sorts on google. And yet… there’s nothing. 

Of course, pictures of stuffed animals do pop up. White bears, brown bears, green bears, even prince-adjacent bears, but there’s no exact match whatsoever. Even limited edition beanie babies would have some obscure image posted once in their life! Maybe… maybe these were hand-made? But being handmade wouldn’t explain the tags. Only companies do that. 

Janus makes a face of frustration as he plucks Roman off the table, kicking his feet up onto it after as he holds Roman against his thighs. 

“Did your company go defunct or something?” Janus asks, though he obviously doesn’t expect an answer. “Or were you recalled? Those seem like the only explanations as to why you and your brother don’t seem to exist anywhere online.” 

Online? Roman tries to question - only having heard vaguely of the internet - but he’s stuck being silenced. 

Janus squeezes Roman’s midsection suddenly, before poking at the sash crossing over Roman’s body. “Maybe you were made overseas… you look like you’re mocking royalty.” 

Roman would gasp if he could. Mocking? He wants to say, incredibly offended, I am royalty!

Remus meanwhile would be cackling at Janus’s words. How brash a peasant, and one who looks like a mess himself! It’s almost ironic, considering the bits and pieces Remus has heard, that Janus would be so judgemental towards a stuffed animal when he himself seemed to live in filth. But the idea of Roman being undoubtedly upset by Janus’s casual comments is entertaining enough for Remus to truly not care, instead picturing Roman’s spoiled, pouty lip jutted out and him stomping his feet as he tries to argue against the pointed criticisms from their kingdom’s citizens. 

“Golden straps? A sash? It’s very… costume-y.” Janus then leans back a bit to get a good look at Remus. “And don’t even get me started on you.” 

I could say the same thing, Remus thinks, as if he could say anything at all. 

But Janus is quiet after that, keeping Roman in his lap as he goes back to mindless nonsense on his phone, and sits quietly until Logan comes back with three books neatly stacked in his arms. 

Two of them he sets on the floor, and one he hits lightly against Janus’s legs, softly scolding “don’t put your feet up on the table, it’s rude,” before setting his book on the desk himself. 

Janus rolls his eyes, but brings his legs back anyway. “What books did you get?” 

“This one is about single variable calculus in order to help me further understand the derivatives we’re completing,” Logan says, as he pulls a worksheet from his school folder. He fetches a pencil from his bag, and opens the textbook to a pre-sought chapter, going between reading it and filling out his paper. 

“I can see that,” Janus mutters in reply, making a face of disgust. “I thought you understood derivatives.” 

“I just want more practice.” 

Janus thinks Logan doesn’t need the practice, but alas, he looks over at the other two books piled by Logan’s bag. “What about the others?” 

“One’s nonfiction that delves into detail about space exploration, written by someone who spent a month on the international space station. It’s full of thorough observations about the nuances of zero gravity and life in different conditions, making comparisons between Earth and space in various ways in order to paint a larger picture of what life would be like among the stars.” Logan then glances at the second book. “The other’s uh… it’s fiction. A fable. I didn’t pick it out purposefully; one of the staff members told me they were planning on tossing a bunch of old books.” 

Logan sets his pencil down, and scoots his chair back to grab the fictional work from beneath the space book. He holds it in his lap, brushing his fingers gently over the visibly worn cover. 

“I’m carrying too much already to have taken more than three, but I’ll have to come back at some point before they throw out everything. It’s so saddening to see so many books just be… trashed. I have a half-empty bookcase they’d look perfect on, though. And I’ve been searching for new books to read anyway.”  

You seem like quite the snoutband, Remus scoffs internally, though if he knew the modern term “nerd” he’d probably have just said that instead. 

“But what’s the fable about,” Janus rephrases, and Logan turns it around. 

“I don’t know… I admittedly just grabbed a book at random.” His thumb glides over an inscribed synopsis on the book’s backside. “Here. I’ll read the given description. ‘A tale of two princes who tended more to themselves than their kingdom, cared more about fun than leading fiercely, and who ultimately met their demise at the hands of a fair witch. And this is a story children are told. And children tell their children. And everyone knows it. So it is fabled.’ Huh.” 

“Sounds lame,” Janus yawns.

Sounds… familiar, Roman thinks. 

“But at least it’ll be a nice contrast to what you read normally,” Janus then continues. “Maybe you’ll realize fiction is better than fact every once in a while.” 

“Doubtful,” Logan murmurs, as he flicks the fable open to the first page. No author’s note - which he’s not too surprised by, considering the book's apparent age - but there’s no written publication date or copyright sign. In fact, as Logan skims the first few pages, and then looks at the book’s spine, he can’t even find an author. His brows narrow in a mixture of confusion and frustration. “Do you think there are many books titled ‘A Tale Of Two Princes?’” 

“I don’t know. Why?” 

Logan hands Janus the book, who looks completely uninterested in it. He gives Logan a bored look, but Logan just directs him to where the author’s name would be. “There’s no author listed,” he explains, “and no date of publication. It’s like this is a self-published, uncredited draft, but it’s bound with a cover so I don’t understand.” 

“Maybe it’s someone wanting to stay anonymous,” Janus reasons, as he pushes the fable back into Logan’s hands. “If I wrote fairy tales I’d want to stay hidden too.” 

“Be nice,” Logan scolds, though he bites his lip as he flips through the book. “Honestly, though, the lack of identification in this book makes me significantly more interested in it.” 

“More interested than you are in your calc book?” 

Logan lets out a singular, clearly fake laugh, and answers “yes, of course. My calculus textbook was written by Marcus Antcormick. ‘A Tale Of Two Princes’ was written by someone we don’t know. I feel like one of those is significantly more fascinating to think about.” 

“I’m not so sure about that.” Janus kicks his feet back onto the table, setting his soles atop Logan’s hardcover textbook, though his soles land carelessly on the book’s open pages. “I think an unattributed calculus book would be way weirder than a one-off fairy tale. One of these things has actual supposed importance and credibility basically tied to the qualifications of the author. Anybody can write a made-up schtick. Not just anyone could write a calc walkthrough.” 

“Anyone could write a mathematics book,” Logan argues. “They’d just have to learn thoroughly about the material. It’s not impossible.” He then stands and pulls Janus’s feet off his book, before sitting once more. He sets the fable back on the ground as he resumes his writing. “I’ve thought about eventually writing textbooks, but I’m not good at… simplifying material. I understand it as-is and I have a hard time understanding why others can’t.” 

“You think they should be able to?” 

“No.” Logan lets out a hum. “I know everybody thinks differently. I just don’t understand what it is they’re not understanding. If it was English, I’d get it. A lot of documents or passages we have to analyze are incredibly verbose, redundant, or utilize vernacular far beyond what some people our age have been exposed to. But math is just numbers, and most of us learn the same equations at the same time.” His pencil taps against his paper, and he looks towards Janus with a rather contemplative glimmer in his eyes. “I guess… I guess me not understanding why they struggle with math is similar to them not understanding the equations.” 

“I suppose.” Janus groans as he stretches out in his chair, holding Roman tight against his chest. “I think the logarithmic is just bullshit, personally.” 

“It’s important.” 

“It’d be important if I was planning on writing a mathematics textbook. Luckily, I’m not-” 

Janus cuts himself off abruptly as he feels his phone vibrate in his lap, where he’d set it while talking to Logan. He lifts Roman slightly to glance at the screen, and sighs as he answers the phone. He turns his face away from Logan to further muffle the voice on the other end, and speaks quietly himself, though Logan hears him say “okay,” and “I already said I would,” followed by Janus sighing when the phone’s hung up. 

Slowly, Logan closes his textbook. “Everything okay?” 

“Yeah. I just have to go home like… now, which is farther away from here than your house is.” Janus looks legitimately peeved for a second, though quickly plays it off with a light joke of “I’m tempted to come home with you anyway and take a few snacks from your pantry as comeuppance for dragging me along, but I'm feeling kind today.”

“You chose to follow me,” Logan reminds him. “Why do you need to rush home anyway?” 

“Delivery. My parents need me to bring it inside.” 

Though Janus doesn’t specify what’s in the package, or even if it’s valuable, Logan knows why he has to bring it inside. Living in a not-great area means it can be swiped right off their porch in a matter of minutes, regardless of if it’s pricey or not. And Janus’s parents probably aren’t home anyway. 

Janus sighs as he stuffs Roman back into his bag, being weirdly careful not to squish or force his arms into any uncomfortably bent position, and then slings it right onto his shoulders. As he stands, Logan can see one of his legs trembling, as if overexerted. 

“All this walking is going to kill me,” Janus mutters, before telling Logan outright “you really need to learn to drive. It’d be easier on my knees.” He groans. “Ugh, I’m getting so old.” 

“I know how to drive, I just don’t have a car,” Logan replies, before adding “and you’re not ‘getting so old.’ You haven’t even turned eighteen yet.” 

Janus raises his arms above his head to stretch them out. “God help everyone else the day I do.” Once he’s satisfied with the ache being alleviated from most of his body, he gives Logan a short wave, and then heads out, walking fast to hopefully get home sooner, leaving Logan alone, with Remus still seated across from him on the table. 

“I guess I should head out too, huh?” Logan says aloud, though he’s speaking to no one in particular. He looks towards Remus the same way he’d look expectantly towards a friend for a response, but of course, none comes. 

In fact, even if Remus could respond, he’s too focused on the proclamation of Janus’s age, and thus Logan’s own assumed age! Not even eighteen? Why, neither are we! He thinks. Him and Roman never reached eighteen years of age… not before they were turned, at least. And while the argument could be made that technically they’re years and years older than they actually are, they’ve spent most of that time in a weird, blacked-out state. Though they were cursed, at least whoever cursed them was merciful enough to not make them constantly aware. If they were stuck awake every moment of every day, they’d probably be way more miserable… even more so than they currently are!

I can’t imagine being this pathetic before eighteen years, Remus then scoffs. Is this what you do all day? Read literature and bore each other with meaningless anecdotes? Where’s the fun? The excitement? Didn’t we meet inside a waste bin? 

Logan packs his folder back into his bag, and tucks Remus in there as well, much to Remus’s disdain. 

I hate being cramped in here, he’d complain, if he could. I’ve spent most of my time in this form in darkness, and you constantly shove me back into it. Honestly, I’m starting to miss the trash!

Though he’s placed in the front of the backpack, he can still feel the pressure of Logan’s many items pressing on him from all sides as Logan adjusts the bag’s straps on his shoulders, and then gathers up his pile of books. 

He hands them to the librarian along with his library card - which he keeps neatly secured on his keyring - and then packs those into his bag as well. It makes it heavier, and he struggles to get it zipped, but eventually he manages, though Remus ends up crushed by the books being smashed into his face and body. 

Do you really need so many? He groans, as he’s surrounded by literature from all sides. He does get the opportunity to read the back of the fable, though, recognizing it as being the one Logan read aloud earlier. 

It sounded incredibly familiar… not in a way he’s read before - he wasn’t much for reading, personally - but instead as something he’s… experienced. 

‘A Tale Of Two Princes’ Remus reads. Huh. Sounds fucking immature. I expected something more… engaging, Logan. Truly, I’m disappointed. 

Reading in general was quite a drag, but having an owner he seemed to enjoy it was going to bother Remus to no end. At least the kids that owned him would take him on adventures to the park or leave him to be chewed up by their pets! And while unpleasant, Remus found he quite enjoyed how interesting it was to feel the pain of wood chips or dog fangs scratching into his fake fur. He would even go so far as to say he liked it! But Logan was just so… boring. 

Remus is bounced around with every step Logan takes on his trek home, and since he’s learned through context over the years what “cars” were, he can’t help but agree with Janus about the fact Logan should truly invest in one. 

Logan walks a lot quicker home than he did to the library, assured that no teenage bully would linger for more than ten minutes on his street. Nobody his age is patient enough for that, especially when that waiting would just lead to a brief and painful physical encounter. Their mindset is most likely that of “we could beat him up another day.” And they could… unless Logan made going to the library a consistent stop. Hm. Maybe he’d have to finish those books tonight; then he could exchange them tomorrow.

It was unlikely, considering he still had work to do (such as that unfinished worksheet, and some brief literature homework), but he’d have free time tonight!

As he nears his porch, he sees that the clouds are greying overhead, and hums to himself as he believes there’s probably going to be a storm tonight. Perhaps he’d set out a kettle and sip tea through the thunder - he wasn’t going to be able to sleep with the noise anyway. 

As he heads inside, he’s greeted with both of his parents being home. 

“Hi,” Logan greets them, as he moves through the door. His mother - Caroline - turns around. She’s on the phone with somebody, notably listening more than speaking, but she gives him a nod of acknowledgement. His father - Anthony - has documents laid out on the table. Logan peers at them, and sees printed out screenshots of messages, though he can’t read the texts contained within. Anthony doesn’t respond, and Logan presumes he’s too engrossed in his work to be aware of his surroundings. 

He walks around them to the cupboard, which he fetches a kettle from. He fills it with tap water, and then sets it on the stove to boil. Then, he heads up to his room. 

He sets his bag on the ground and pulls out his books. He sets the calculus textbook on his desk along with a few folders filled with the work he’ll have to do tonight, and then sets the other two books and Remus on his bed. Remus is tucked up against his pillows, comfortably pressed in the corner of two, and the books are stacked before him. Logan then sets his bookbag at the foot of his bed. 

Pushing his door open with his foot, Logan makes sure he’ll be able to hear the pot whistle from upstairs, and then sits at his desk to finish his math worksheet. 

Since he got about halfway through at the library, he’s able to finish it up by the time he hears the kettle begin to whistle, and waits until it’s screeching to finally head downstairs and tend to it. He’s down there for a bit, leaving Remus bored in his bedroom, until he comes back up with a mug with a tea bag in it. Logan dips the bag repeatedly into the mug, and then stirs the tea with a spoon, before bringing it to his mouth and blowing some steam away before taking a sip. He sets the cup on the corner of his desk and sits back down, as rain slowly starts to beat against his window. 

Remus is left incredibly understimulated as he rests in Logan's unentertaining room. There’s barely anything to look at along the walls, on his desk - there’s nothing anywhere!

Remus couldn’t imagine having such a drab residence. His own room was filled with golden trinkets and the bones of game he’d skillfully hunted. He had taken time to pick their bones clean and smooth out their imperfections before framing the structure around his room or fixing the innards into decor. Rib bones turned to windchimes, or small hearts pickled in a jar for a splash of colour amongst his shelves. 

Though, his most prized decorations were ripped outright away from his citizens. An indigo scarf yanked from a woman, pregnant with child. And a golden chain, thin and handcrafted with the minimal material found panning in the river. Remus loved how pretty they looked ripped up and hanging messily from hooks or nails in his walls. Honestly, if Logan could ever fight back against those people picking on him, Remus encourages him to take a souvenir! At least it’d make his room less mind-numbing!

A large crack outside has Logan turning slightly in his chair, taking a swig from his mug as he watches the rain pour down outside, a lot harder than it was moments earlier. As Logan watches, there’s a flash of lightning, brighter than even the light in his room, and it’s gone as soon as it hits. 

The wind is loud against his window, and Logan sighs as he hopes the storm seizes soon. He’s got school tomorrow, and would rather not be up all night. 

He turns back to his work, and finishes up with his borrowed calculus textbook, before closing it and setting it on the ground next to him. As he moves on to his literature work, he’s once again absorbed in his writing, and Remus is back to listening to the raging storm mixed with the scratching of paper. 

At some point, Logan heads back downstairs to get a refill of tea, and Remus is able to hear a very muffled conversation between him and his supposed caregivers. 

“Do you have to go back to work right now?” Logan asks. “It’s late.” 

“It’s surgery,” Caroline responds. “Just because it’s dark outside doesn’t mean my patient can postpone her liver failure. We just found a donor.”

“It’s storming pretty bad out there,” Anthony interjects, before he lets out a long sigh. “But, I suppose the rain won’t stop death, either. Just… drive safe.” 

“I will.” 

“I love you,” Logan says, followed by the front door slamming. No words follow after, and Logan comes back upstairs with a second cupful of heated tea. He stirs it slowly, but doesn’t drink it. He turns back to his work, but Remus doesn’t hear him write at all. Just soft drinking and silence. 

It isn’t until Anthony comes upstairs sometime later that Remus is finally greeted with something interesting. 

“Hey… uh… your friend is outside.” 

Logan gives him a weird look. “What?” 

“At the front door.” 

Logan stands up and heads downstairs again, and Anthony glances at the bed, giving Remus a funny look. Remus would stick his tongue out at him if he could. As Anthony leaves the room, Logan’s stepping back into it, with Janus following closely behind him. Janus is completely soaked; even the bag he’s wearing sags with water.

“I hate the rain,” Janus hisses, shivering in his sopping clothes. “And your dad just… left me on the porch!” 

“I think he was giving me the opportunity to turn you away,” Logan says in response, as he digs comfortable, baggy clothes out from the back of his dresser. He gives them to Janus, who rushes to strip out of the wet fabric clinging to his body. “I think he was also shocked to see you at the front door for once.” 

“I’m not going to scale a tree in the middle of a storm,” Janus huffs. “Last thing I need is to be struck by lightning.” 

He pulls on Logan’s clothes, and immediately throws himself into Logan’s bed, shamelessly bundling himself in the blankets. His eyebrows are creased, seemingly stressed. Remus can hear his teeth chatter. As thunder booms outside, Janus’s knuckles go white on the sheets. Even his face is pale. 

As Logan scoops up Janus’s clothes and dumps them into his hamper, he asks “what are you doing out in the storm anyway?” 

“Roof was leaking,” Janus mumbles. “And there was a draft. It was chilly.” 

“I’ll see if I can find my mom’s heating pad.” Logan wipes his damp hands on his pants, before turning back to Janus, who is buried so deep in the covers that only half his face is visible. His eyes are intensely fixated on the window, and he looks shaken anytime lightning strikes outside, and nearly winces with each loud crackle of thunder. So, Logan asks “are you alright?” 

Immediately, he’s met with a glare. “That’s a stupid question,” Janus snaps. 

Logan looks unphased. “Don’t be rude; I’m just concerned,” he says, as he kneels to grab Janus’s bag. Opening it, he’s not surprised to see Roman, though Roman is just as wet as everything else. He picks him up and squeezes one of his paws, frowning when water begins to drip down the sides of his fingers. But it’s not like Janus’s wet hair wasn’t already soaking into his pillows, so he gives Roman to Janus despite not loving the idea of water in his bed. 

“I don’t need this teddy bear,” Janus huffs, as he takes Roman anyway. “What I need is for the storm to cease.” 

“Storms don’t just magically stop.” 

“They should!” Janus dramatically hits his hands against the mattress, only to jump at another burst of thunder. He swallows the spit in his mouth, before jokingly mumbling “the weather should just… do as I say.”

“You sound like a spoiled prince.” 

Both Roman and Remus immediately make noises of complaint, but of course those pitiful disagreements never reach the two humans’ ears. 

Though, the mention of princes has Logan humming as he reaches to grab his fable. He sets it on his bed, and then rolls Janus gently over, until he’s laying against the pillows stacked neatly against the wall, and pressing into Remus with his shoulder. Both of them are uncomfortable with this position, so Janus grabs Remus and holds him too, as Logan slides into bed next to him. 

He gets under the blankets just enough to cover his thighs, and then sets up the book. 

Janus gives him a look. “Are you really going to read right now?” 

“Of course,” Logan simply responds. “I’m almost finished with my work anyway, so taking some time to read won’t hinder my productivity.” Logan then glances Janus’s way, and gives him a small, considerate smile. “I… also assumed a distraction would be appreciated.”

“I don’t need to be distracted from anything,” Janus replies, through gritted teeth, though Roman would have to disagree with him considering how hard Janus is squeezing his plush body. If Roman could choke, he’d be fighting for his life right now. Despite his words however, Janus cuddles closer to Logan’s legs as lightning flashes throughout the room. 

“Consider this an excuse for me to practice reading aloud, then,” Logan says, as he flips open to the first page of the fairytale. There’s not even a table of contents, which bothers Logan a bit. “We can start at the beginning. ‘Chapter One. At the peak of spring, when birds were singing and flowers were blossoming, when orchards were graced with precious fruit and fields tilled in preparation, twins were born within the grandeur castle. Few were present for the birth, aside from the queen, king, and midwife, but there was a feeling of premonition that spread throughout the village that day. A horrible, distressing feeling, as if the citizens somehow knew the horrors to come…’”

Though Remus hates books, and Roman was struggling in Janus’s tight grip, they both can’t help but listen to this tale. Again, they’re both struck with a strange sense of familiarity, in the worst possible way. Logan’s voice remains neutral, if not a tad interested as he reads, as Janus stays silent, with the only disturbance being the storm raging on just outside. But even that doesn’t distract the twins… no, they’re stuck taking in Logan’s words, trying to recall where they first heard them. Sometime in the past… sometime very, very far past.

[anxiousgaypanicking]

Oreo

Synopsis:  As a joke, Roman's forced to ask Virgil out after losing an oreo. Flustered, and somewhat embarrassed and humiliated by the connotation that dating him would be such a bad thing, he says yes out of impulse, and must now deal with what being Roman's "boyfriend" entails. Taglist: @renys @falsemood

Part Seven: Aftermath Masterlist

A loud bang wakes both Virgil and Roman up at the same time following the aftermath of their late night, leaving Virgil heaving as he bolts upright, attempting to catch his breath after being startled conscious, while Roman immediately juts his bottom lip out and dramatically flings his blankets away, before turning and stomping towards his door. 

“You could stand to be a little quieter, you know!” Roman prissily shouts, pulling his door halfway open. In response, heavy footsteps come running down the hall, followed by Remus suddenly jumping on Roman, tackling him to the ground.

Virgil crawls to the edge of the bed and watches the two tussle, with Roman rolling them over and easily keeping Remus pressed to the ground, but that angle just allows Remus to spot Virgil, which immediately has Remus grinning and squirming to get away. Roman lets him go, despite Virgil’s immediate anxiety at the sight. 

“Woah!” Remus exclaims, making a mad dash for Virgil - who scrambles as far back on the bed as he can go. 

Remus reaches the edge of the bed and slams his hands down against it, rapidly looking between Virgil and Roman. He snorts. " Geez, Roman. When I dared you to ask this loser out I didn’t expect a whole relationship to blossom out of it.” 

“Stop, Remus,” Roman sternly says, a lot more serious than he was mere seconds ago. 

Remus turns to look at Roman over his shoulder, a sick grin on his face, before looking back at Virgil. “You’re all snuggled up in his bed, huh? You think he likes you?” 

“Remus-” Roman is grabbing Remus’s upper arm and pulling him back, before pushing him back towards the door. “Out.” 

“Is he going to be here later?” Remus asks, as he’s shoved rather firmly out past Roman’s bedroom door. He lingers in the hallway to add in a sing-song voice “I’ve got some mandatory tutoring after school and - if you’ve ever watched a good porno - you’d know things might get a little freaky!”  

Roman slams his door shut. 

Virgil’s hand is pressed against his chest, eyes wide and focused on the comforter he’s kneeling on. Roman stands at his bedroom door for a few moments, breathing deep, before turning back to Virgil. 

“I’m so sorry,” Roman says, as he moves towards Virgil, but as his fingers slide against Virgil’s shoulder, Virgil hits him away. 

He doesn’t say anything; he just gets up and slides out of bed, before shoving his hand down the side of his jeans, pulling the seams away from his legs. Sleeping in them was the worst mistake he could have possibly made, though it’s not like he had any other option. 

There’s silence between them, and it hangs heavily in the air. For about a minute, they just stand there, both of them avoiding looking at each other, until finally Roman’s alarm rings and breaks the silence. 

Roman quickly turns it off, and softly says “we have to get ready.” 

Virgil sneers immediately. “I don’t have anything to get ready with.” 

Roman comes around Virgil’s side and gives him a small smile, though Virgil doesn’t return it. “You can borrow my comb,” he offers, as he gently takes Virgil’s hand. “And I keep spare toothbrushes under my sink.” Roman guides Virgil through a side-door, and into a conjoined bathroom. 

He directs Virgil to a lower cabinet. “There,” he says, as he grabs a rag and wets it with warm water. 

Upon opening it, Virgil does indeed find a collection of unused, multi-coloured toothbrushes with toothbrush covers clamped on every one of them sitting inside a small white vase. There was also a collection of cleaning products, bath salts, and other luxuries. Virgil grabs a purple toothbrush.

“Why do you have so many toothbrushes?” Virgil asks, as he runs the bristles beneath the running faucet. Looking around for toothpaste, Roman hands him a tube. He puts some on his brush, runs it under some more water, and then starts brushing his teeth. 

“A lot of my buddies don’t remember to bring theirs over when they sleep over,” Roman explains, as he grabs his own toothbrush. His vibrates. “And I absolutely can’t stand bad breath. Especially because they’re really into invading personal space.” 

Virgil spits into the sink, before mumbling “gross.” 

They finish brushing their teeth, and then Virgil haphazardly runs Roman’s comb through his bangs before handing it to Roman who picks it clean of loose strands before more carefully working it through his own hair. Virgil stares at him for a moment, before leaving the bathroom, and searching for his phone. 

He digs around the bed sheets, thinking it probably slipped out of his pocket or something, only to see it plugged in on the floor, next to Roman’s phone which is a lot nicer, and also plugged in with a separate cord. 

Frowning, Virgil snatches his phone off the charger. 

He sits on the edge of Roman’s bed, turning his cell on and clicking around mindlessly on a view apps, before his phone lights up with a text from Janus. 

‘If you don’t come downstairs and answer your door, I'm going to break through your window.’ 

Virgil stares at the text for a second, before snorting and pinching the bridge of his nose. It takes him a few minutes to respond, but eventually sucks it up and says ‘i’m not at my house. you and Logan can just head to school.’ 

Janus responds almost instantaneously. ‘Where are you?’ followed by ‘Did you run off to join your estranged father on vacation?’

‘funny.’ Virgil’s fingers are rough against the keyboard. ‘no.’ 

‘Then where are you?’ 

Virgil hesitates. He looks over his shoulder and back towards the bathroom, where he catches Roman applying cream to his face, rubbing it firm into his tan skin. After a few seconds though, he looks towards Virgil, and smiles when their eyes meet. Virgil quickly looks away, and quickly replies ‘Roman’s.’ 

Janus is quiet for a few moments, with three dots popping up, disappearing, and then popping up again. Virgil can only imagine what he’s going to say. 

‘You DO like him’ Janus texts, with ‘I fucking knew it!’ following it up. 

‘i’m only here because he invited me over.’ 

‘So? You still accepted the invite.’ 

Roman comes into the room to grab a change of clothes. He and Virgil again look at each other, before Roman gives a meek smile. 

“You can wear some of my clothes, if you want,” Roman offers. “I don’t know how well they’d fit, but that way you wouldn’t have to go in what you slept in.” 

Virgil scoffs. Roman’s clothes wouldn’t fit him at all. “I’ll pass.” 

Roman heads back into the bathroom, presumably to change. Virgil looks back down at his phone. 

‘You still accepted the invite’ Janus argues. 

More defensive now, Virgil replies ‘i didn’t want to go home and be alone.’ 

‘You could’ve come over here.’ Janus punctuates his message with a broken heart emoji, sent solely to make Virgil cringe. ‘To my house, I mean. Me and Logan would have loved to have you over.’ 

‘and interfere with the plants you guys had already made? no thanks.’

‘“Plans,”’ Janus repeats, and Virgil can only imagine him rolling his eyes at his phone screen, not dissimilar to how Virgil was rolling his eyes at Janus’s words. 

‘We’ll discuss this at school’ Janus then insists, making Virgil groan. ‘Don’t be late again.’ 

Roman emerges from his bathroom properly dressed, and tosses his clothes from the night before in a nearby hamper. He grabs his phone from his charger, and then gathers his bag.

“You ready?” he asks Virgil, who clicks his phone off, as though embarrassed at the idea of Roman looking over his shoulder to find Janus mocking them for hanging out. 

“I guess.”

Roman leads Virgil outside and to his car, making small talk as they get in, though Virgil doesn’t seem too keen on reciprocating his formalities. 

“Can’t believe the week’s almost over,” Roman says, in an attempt to make conversation. “It’s already Friday.” 

“Yup.” Virgil leans against the window as Roman starts the car. 

“Would you… would you want to do anything with me this weekend?”

“I already spent last night with you,” Virgil bitterly responds. “Isn’t that enough?” He turns to look at Roman, who’s staring out the windshield. His lips are pressed into a thin line. He glances over at Virgil, and quickly looks away. 

Virgil shifts uncomfortably in his seat, and sort of half-heartedly adds “I… I also don’t know if I’ll have stuff going on or not. Like… my dad could come home, or Janus could come over… just… yeah.” 

“Well, if you don’t have anything going on….” 

Virgil sighs. “I’ll think about it.” 

Roman smiles, and reaches over to grab Virgil’s hand, causing Virgil to look down at their entwined fingers. Roman had been holding his hand a lot lately. Not like Virgil minded. 

Virgil then cringes. He didn’t mind? 

He flexes his fingers, feeling them start to sweat, but Roman doesn’t mind, and just gives his hand a reassuring squeeze. They stay affectionate up until Roman pulls into the school parking lot, which is when Virgil finally wrangles his hand out of Roman’s grasp. 

Roman glances at him, and then chuckles. “What? Embarrassed?” 

“Yes.” 

 Roman laughs as he exits his car, with Virgil throwing his door open before Roman can circle around the side to chivalrously open it. 

Virgil hurries away from Roman as Roman tries to walk beside him, but eventually their paths diverge and they both head towards their own lockers. Unfortunately, Virgil finds Janus waiting for him at his. 

Smugly, Janus begins with “so.” 

“So,” Virgil mockingly repeats, as he opens his locker up. Janus sneaks around it so that he can gauge Virgil’s facial expressions as Virgil grabs some folders from his locker. 

“What did you and Roman do last night?” 

Janus’s innocent tone contrasts with the mischievously nosey expression on his face. 

Rolling his eyes, Virgil truthfully responds with “I took a nap and then we went on a walk. That’s it. 

Janus groans. “That’s it? That’s so… underwhelming.” 

Pushing his locker shut, Virgil turns to Janus, his annoyed expression shifting into one that’s calmer. Sure, Janus is teasing him, but Virgil can appreciate the lack of judgement from him, especially considering the few stares he gets even without Roman at his side. 

“What did you and Logan do?” Virgil asks, in an attempt to change the topic. “Anything exciting?” 

“No, unfortunately not.” Janus walks slowly with Virgil, who eases up his typically fast-paced gait to accommodate. Janus’s lips are thinly pressed together, as if suppressing groans of pain with each shuffle forward. “He helped me with some homework, and then I made him dinner. We sat on my roof for a bit. Nothing special.” 

Virgil hums. 

Janus, however, directs the topic back to Roman, though now it seems like it’s solely to feed his own curiosity. “What was his house like?” 

“Big.” 

“Was Remus there?”

“Only this morning.”

“What were his parents like?” 

Virgil adjusts the straps of his bag. “They were sweet. Talkative. Gay.”

Janus smiles, nodding, as though pleased by this revelation. “All good things, it seems.” 

As they near their classroom, Janus suddenly slows to a stop. He glances around, attempting to avoid any eavesdropping ears, before lowering his voice and asking “did you guys sleep in the same bed?”

Virgil immediately shakes his head. “No. Hell no. He slept on the floor.  

“And let you sleep on the bed!” Janus gasps, before dramatically sighing “what a gentleman!” Upon seeing Virgil frown, Janus snickers and continues his line of questioning. “What about your guys' walk? Did you kiss under the moonlight?”

"No."

"Did you hug under the moonlight?"

"Nope."

"Did you at least hold hands under the moonlight?" 

Virgil bites his lip, and Janus gasps again.

“Premarital hand-holding!” Janus accuses him, before shaking his head in playful disapproval. “Virgil, I honestly expected better from you!” 

“He grabbed my hand!” 

Virgil intentionally excludes the part where Roman lifted and held him. 

Janus elbows Virgil’s side. “I think that means he likes you, too.” 

“I don’t like him at all!” Virgil argues, pushing Janus away from him. “And he doesn’t like me. He’s just entertaining this stupid… idiotic… childish game! The moment things are broken off, it’ll all stop.” 

“Sure it will,” Janus sings, before stepping into the classroom, and settling down at his desk. Virgil looks towards his own seat, and frowns when he sees Roman sitting in a chair in front of it, already turned around and facing where Virgil will inevitably be sitting. 

Virgil trudges to his seat, where Roman’s smiling at him. 

“Do you want to go see a movie tonight?” he asks, before Virgil’s even sat down fully. 

“What?” Virgil asks, as he settles into his desk. “What made you think of taking me to see a movie?” 

“Remus mentioned a really good horror movie that was coming out soon, and I was hoping you’d go see it with me.” 

“I hate horror movies.” 

Roman sighs in relief. “Oh, thank god. I hate them too.” Roman laughs softly. “I would have sat through one with you, obviously, but admittedly blood freaks me out. And knowing Remus, horror and gore are basically a two-for-one deal.” 

Virgil raises an eyebrow. “Why?” 

“Hm?” 

Virgil plays with his hands under his desk. “Why would you sit through a horror movie? If you knew it’d freak you out, then why even risk going to see it?” 

“Because if you liked it, then it’s just an hour or two of discomfort.” 

“That’s… that’s weird.” Virgil’s eyebrow is raised, staring at Roman in a mixture of surprise and confusion. “You shouldn’t do that. You shouldn’t force yourself to be uncomfortable for my benefit. Or for- for anyone’s benefit.” 

Roman chews his inner cheek, looking suddenly troubled. He avoids Virgil’s eyes. 

Suddenly, Virgil feels an urge for things to be more light-hearted again. He doesn’t much like Roman without a smile on his face; it feels… bad. 

“If you can find another movie, though, I’ll consider going with you,” Virgil says, shrugging. He looks to the side and sees Janus, who’s leaning forward on his desk with his head resting atop his knuckles, smirking at Virgil’s words. Virgil’s face immediately goes bright red in embarrassment, but Roman’s countenance lights up in excitement. 

It has Virgil hiding his face. He doesn’t understand why Roman is so excited over this. 

He’s probably just happy to be getting out of his house, Virgil tells himself. Most people would be. He isn’t excited to see a movie with me. He’s excited to see a movie in general. 

“Can Logan and I come, too?” Janus suddenly asks, causing Virgil to raise his head in surprise. He himself is relieved at the question, but nervously looks towards Roman. Much to his surprise, Roman seems excited at the prospect. 

“Of course!” Roman replies, leaning closer to Virgil. “You can help us decide on a movie. Is that okay, Virge?” 

“Don’t call me that,” Virgil mumbles, looking between Janus’s winking face and Roman’s excited one, before nodding, “but yeah, that’s fine. That sounds fine. If Logan’s fine with it then sure, I’m fine with it.”

“Logan will be fine with it,” Janus quickly assures him. “As long as we don’t watch something stupid.” 

He pulls his phone out, presumably to text Logan, while Virgil turns to Roman, who seems overly gleeful at this opportunity. He reaches across the desk to grab Virgil’s hands, and squeezes them. Virgil flushes, but doesn’t pull his hands away, letting Roman simply caress his knuckles and gaze at him until the first period bell finally rings. 

[anxiousgaypanicking]

Oreo Masterlist

Synopsis: As a joke, Roman's forced to ask Virgil out after losing an oreo. Flustered, and somewhat embarrassed and humiliated by the connotation that dating him would be such a bad thing, he says yes out of impulse, and must now deal with what being Roman's "boyfriend" entails. 

Focus Ships: Prinxiety, background Loceit/Intruality

Part One: Dickbucket (Derogatory) Part Two: Lost An Oreo Part Three: Pain And Plans Part Four: Wonderful Part Five: Oversleeping Part Six: Sleepover Part Seven: Aftermath Part Eight: Movie Theatre Mayhem

[anxiousgaypanicking]

Oreo

Synopsis:  As a joke, Roman's forced to ask Virgil out after losing an oreo. Flustered, and somewhat embarrassed and humiliated by the connotation that dating him would be such a bad thing, he says yes out of impulse, and must now deal with what being Roman's "boyfriend" entails. Taglist: @renys @falsemood 

Part Four: Wonderful Masterlist

Virgil lets out a groan as he hears a motorcycle engine rev outside. Internally, he debates ghosting Roman, or texting him telling him he changed his mind, but inevitably decides against it. 

He grabs his house key, before making his way to the front door. Locking it behind him, he double checks to make sure it’s locked, and then triple checks to be fully confident. 

Hesitantly trudging towards the motorcycle, Virgil sees that Roman has taken his helmet off. His hair was disheveled - no doubt disturbed by the helmet pressing against it - but he was smiling wide. The motorcycle itself was bright white, with gold accents.

Roman was standing beside it, having parked and turned it off once Virgil had come outside. 

“Someone’s excited,” Roman teases, as Virgil’s eyes look over the bike.

Virgil huffs at the statement, scowling as he glances towards Roman’s face. "Don't say that; it sounds sexual." 

Roman laughs, before turning to lift up the seat. Beneath it was a storage compartment. 

He pulls out another helmet, slimmer than his own, and instead of being the same white and gold as Roman’s, this one was just a solid black. He hands it to Virgil with a comforting smile.

"You ready to go?" Roman asks, as he swings himself over the motorcycle seat, pushing up the kickstop with his foot. 

Virgil watches him as he does so. "Yup." 

"You know how to ride a motorcycle, right?" 

"Yes, Roman.” Virgil rolls his eyes. He feels his chest tighten. 

Roman smiles at Virgil’s bitterness, looking at Virgil expectantly, before placing his helmet on his head. Virgil runs his thumbs over his own, before he slides it on too, and climbs onto the motorcycle after. Nervously, he slides his arms around Roman’s torso, heart racing. Once again, the motorcycle revs, before Roman’s wrist rolls forward and it starts up, pulling forward and away from Virgil’s house. 

The wind against his body makes him shiver, his hoodie flapping around him. Without thinking, he pulls himself closer to Roman, chest leaning against his back for warmth. 

Despite the chill, Virgil’s smiling wide beneath the helmet, eyes observing the blur of buildings they pass by. 

But, the ride is over in a matter of minutes, as they pull into the parking lot of a small, local diner. Virgil slips off the motorcycle first, Roman following suit. They take their helmets off and hang them on the bike handles, before Roman’s fingers brush against Virgil’s, subtly slipping them between Virgil’s own.

Virgil is too exhilarated to notice. 

Roman keeps a hold of Virgil's hand as they walk in, leading them to a booth. Slowly, he pulls his hand away, and sits on the bench opposite of Virgil so they could sit across from each other. 

A waitress comes over, and hands them menus with a soft greeting. Roman smiles at her. Virgil looks down. 

His eyes scan over the menu as he attempts to appear busy, while Roman makes small talk. He compliments her nails, and asks where she got them done. His eyes briefly flicker up to look at them, and he notices how genuinely Roman smiles at her. 

She smiles back at him, glancing at her nails herself as if she’s admiring them in a new light, before she shakes her head slightly as if to dismiss the topic, asking instead if they’d like anything to drink. 

“Just water,” Virgil responds, awkwardly, as he flips the menu open. Pancakes, burgers, chicken tenders; the choices were endless. 

“Just water?” Roman asks, one eyebrow raised as he smiles, plotting. “Are you sure you don’t want anything more exciting? They have hot chocolate, tea… milkshakes! Wouldn’t you rather have a milkshake?” Though he was partially teasing, there was a soft air to his voice. He was genuinely asking, though also somewhat encouraging Virgil to agree. 

The waitress looks towards him.

“I mean… I guess. A milkshake then.” 

The waitress’s pen taps against her notepad, prepared to write. “What flavor? We have the classic vanilla, chocolate, strawberry…” 

“What about a cookies and creme variant?” Roman prompts. 

Virgil flushes at the notion, and the reminder of why they were on this date in the first place. He dreads the waitress’s response. 

“Oreo? We do. Is that fine with you?” She directs the question towards Virgil, who wants to groan into his hands. 

“Sure,” comes his response, through gritted teeth. She smiles, scribbles it down, and then turns towards Roman. 

Roman nods to her, before tilting his head towards Virgil. Voice low and playful, he asks "do you wanna be cliche with me? One shake, two straws?"

Virgil snorts, finally meeting Roman’s eyes. "That's one of the stupidest things I've ever heard come out of your mouth, which is surprising, considering I've heard you introduce yourself." 

Gasping dramatically, Roman places a hand over his heart."Are you calling me stupid? How dare you!” The waitress laughs at Roman’s theatrics, and even Virgil can’t help the grin that rises to his face.

"You figure it out," he quips, matching Roman’s playfulness. 

Despite not getting a solid answer, Roman turns to the waitress and asks for one large shake with two straws, turning to Virgil afterwards. 

“That way, if you decide to want to share, we can always toss one out,” Roman muses, and Virgil’s cheeks go pink at the idea, huffing as he shoves his menu towards Roman. 

“Shut up,” is his only response, but Roman laughs lightly regardless.

Virgil laughs along with him. Something about Roman’s own happiness seems to be infectious. 

He doesn’t notice that Roman’s smiling at the sound, not used to hearing Virgil actually express his enjoyment. Sure, they don’t hang around each other often, but whenever Roman’s able to observe him, the most he ever sees is a slight upturn to his lips. Never… this. 

Smiling really suited Virgil. 

"Quit staring at me, jock," Virgil suddenly says, after a moment. It startles Roman out of his daydreaming state. Virgil’s eyes are narrowed, but he’s still smiling, cheek resting on his hand as he stares into Roman’s forest-green eyes

Roman smirks in response, puffing his chest out as he exclaims "I couldn't help myself. With a face as pretty as yours, it's almost impossible to look away." 

Though, instead of the typical huffy or flustered response Roman’s used to seeing by now, Virgil laughs again. “That was super cheesy. Does that ever work on anyone?”

"I don't know; did it work on you?"

Virgil snorts, crossing his arms over his chest. "Hell no." 

Roman sighs, sounding mockingly disappointed. Eyes closed remorsefully, Roman laments “well, it was worth a shot nonetheless.” 

Eventually, the waitress comes back with the Oreo milkshake and two straws. She sets them down on the table, and winks at them as she leaves. Virgil rolls his eyes in response while Roman chuckles, reaching forward to hand Virgil a straw of his own. 

Both of them tear the paper covering, with Roman sliding his to the edge of his straw and blowing it at Virgil, before the two of them stick their straws into the milkshake.  

Roman’s the first to take a sip, and he smiles immediately after doing so. "Oreo was a great choice. This tastes amazing." 

"It's just an Oreo shake, you dork," Virgil responds, as he takes a sip. “There’s nothing overly special about it.” 

"Maybe it's just being here with you that makes it taste better." 

Virgil smiles briefly, before his smile drops and he sighs right after. "You… you really need to stop that.”

“Stop what?”

Virgil fidgets with his hands under the table. “All the flirting. You know I don’t like you. And I know you don’t like me.”

Roman’s smile falls as well. "I never said that."

"You didn't have to," Virgil shrugs, casually taking another sip of the shake. His shoulders were tense though. "Your posse says enough." 

Frowning now, Roman leans back. "They don't speak for me. I never said I didn't like you. The things that Remus says shouldn’t be internalized. He’s mean to everyone.” 

Virgil just shakes his head and looks away, almost disappointed. He uses his finger to stir the straw in the thick milkshake.

Roman looks on, confused, as he tries to think of anything he could have done that might have upset Virgil, along with anything he could say to aid the situation.

Unable to come up with something, Roman changes the topic. 

"I didn't see your parents when I picked you up. Were they just inside?" Roman asks, hoping the out-of-the-blue question will lead to a lighter conversation. He wanted to subdue the otherwise thick tension between them. 

Virgil shakes his head. “He’s on vacation.” 

"When will he be back?" 

Shrugging at the question, Virgil turns his attention fully back to Roman. He sees nothing wrong with that answer, but Roman gasps, less dramatically and more serious this time. 

“You don’t know?” 

Face flushing with humiliation, Virgil shrugs again. "He never told me. He just said he’d be back; he didn't say when. It’s not like he’ll be gone forever." 

"So…so you've just been alone?" Roman prods. 

Virgil awkwardly clears his throat. "Not really. He left two days ago. I spent the first night alone, and then I spent the night at Janus’s yesterday, so I haven't been completely alone.” 

Roman nods, not completely convinced, but understanding nonetheless. "Are you spending the night with him again?"

"No," Virgil responds, huffing slightly. “He and Logan are hanging out tonight, and I don’t really feel like intruding.” Virgil’s fingers tap against the table, before he snorts. “Besides, the last time I spent the night over there, I woke up with a boyfriend.”

Grinning proudly, Roman goes “and that’s such a bad thing?”

"Considering you’re the boyfriend I woke up with, yes. That’s a horrible thing.”

It’s Roman’s turn to roll his eyes, as he pulls the Oreo shake closer to him, taking a sip himself, and dramatically sticking his tongue out at Virgil afterwards.

"Do you like being alone?" Roman then asks, after a moment.

Virgil hesitates, before sighing. “Not really, but there’s not much I can really do about it.” 

Roman frowns, but doesn’t ask any follow up questions, instead taking an obnoxiously loud sip of the shake. 

Then the waitress comes back. 

“Have you guys decided on what to eat?” she asks, and both Roman and Virgil exchange a wide-eyed glance. 

Roman laughs awkwardly. “No, sorry! We haven’t even gotten a chance to look at the menu,” he admits, while Virgil hurriedly flips his menu open and scans the items on it. 

“Chicken tenders,” Virgil suddenly blurts, before his face goes red with humiliation as the waitress turns towards him, confused. 

He clears his throat, and clarifies “I’d like the chicken tenders, please.” He sits stiff, rubbing his hands together beneath the table. “Just a normal basket, with fries maybe.” He then looks towards Roman, who gets the hint and quickly opens his own menu. 

“Would you like any dipping sauce?” the waitress prompts, writing down his order.

“Ranch?” It’s more of a question than an answer, but the waitress seems satisfied as she makes a note of that as well. 

She then turns to Roman, who sets his menu down as he proclaims “I’d like a burger. Please. With no tomato.” 

“Fries on the side?”

“Yes please.” Roman gathers the menus together and hands them to the waitress, who accepts them with a thankful nod. 

As she tucks them under her arm, she asks if he’d like any sauce for his fries, to which he politely declines. She then turns and walks away. 

Virgil sighs in relief as soon as she's gone. 

Roman laughs. “That was panic-inducing,” he jokes, musing at Virgil’s uttered reply of “no kidding,” before Roman pushes the shake back towards him. Virgil accepts it with open arms, and takes a sip, absentmindedly picking a straw. 

They finish the shake together in the time it takes for their food to arrive, chatting every now and then, as the sky outside begins to grow dark. 

When the waitress comes back, she has two plastic baskets of food with her, a checkered and flimsy piece of paper inside of it, on which their food sits on. Both of the platters are stained with grease, but both Roman and Virgil offer thanks to the waitress as they look towards their food. 

Roman’s the first to pick his food up, taking a large bite of the burger, leaving Virgil to laugh as juice runs down his chin. 

Quickly, Roman grabs a napkin and wipes at his mouth, but he chews quickly, laughing once he’s choked it all down. “Wow,” he mutters, smiling. “This is really good.” 

Rolling his eyes at the dramatics, Virgil picks up a chicken tender, and dips it in the ranch. He’s a lot more courteous with his bite, but there’s something so appealing about the warm taste of greasy food. Despite the slick residue it leaves behind on Virgil’s fingers. 

“Pass the ranch?” Roman then asks, meekly, leaving Virgil to huff and roll his eyes as he sets the small container of ranch between them. 

Roman immediately reaches forward to slather two fries with it, before popping them into his mouth.

They eat their food in mostly silence, with the occasional comment or short exchange every now and then, but really both of them are content with just eating for now. Surprisingly, there’s nothing weird about enjoying a meal in the other’s company. 

When they’re finished, Roman waves the waitress over and requests the bill. He pays with his card, before pulling out a hefty stack of cash from his wallet and setting it on the table. Virgil meagerly pulls out a few bills and lays them aside Roman’s pile. 

Once he gets his card back (and sees the way the waitress’s face lights up with pure joy), Roman grabs Virgil’s hand, and pulls him outside.

By this time, the dark blue of the sky has gradually faded into a warm gold as the sun sets. The ombre of colours draws Roman’s eyes. Virgil watches the wide-eyed way he stares at the sky, how his pupils trace the merging of the colours, before his head lands facing the sun, a warm smile on his face that contrasts the chilliness of the evening. 

“How much do I owe you?” Virgil asks, drawing Roman out of his enraptured state. 

Roman looks at him, puzzled, a confused smile on his face. “What do you mean? You don’t owe me anything.”

“My half of dinner,” Virgil clarifies, as he’s handed his helmet. He holds it firm as he stares back at Roman, who merely shrugs off Virgil’s statement. 

“Eh, don’t worry about it,” Roman replies, as he raises his helmet above his head. “Consider that my thanks for such a nice evening.” 

He then promptly pulls his helmet onto his head, effectively ending the conversation, and any of Virgil’s further protests. 

Climbing back onto the motorcycle, Roman then slowly pulls out of the diner, and drives a bit slower towards Virgil’s neighbourhood. Even after pulling up to his house, Roman’s slow to park the bike. 

Sooner than Virgil would have liked, they’re stopped on the curb. 

Virgil slides off, pulling the helmet off of his head and handing it back to Roman, who pushes the kickstop down before getting off himself. He sets his own helmet on one of the bike handles, before tucking Virgil’s back under the seat.

"I guess this is where we part ways, huh?" Roman says, laughing slightly, as he looks between Virgil and his house. 

Virgil scoffs at his dramatic lamenting. "I'll literally see you tomorrow," he responds, unamused, but with a small smile on his face. “Now shoo. I need alone time to recoup.” 

Roman sighs, smiling. “I guess I’ll meet you by your locker, then.”

Virgil snickers, backing up towards his door. “Don’t count on it,” he teasingly calls out, before unlocking his door and heading inside. He kicks the door shut behind him, locking it after, and then leans back against it, letting himself slowly sink to the ground as he sighs.

Roman had essentially been flirting with him the entire time, had paid for their entire (albeit cheap) meal, and had given him a (very fun) ride both to the diner and back to his house. 

This sucked.

Roman was being a genuinely good person. He’s been polite and respectful. Thinking about it, Virgil realizes he has little reason to hate him.

That “date” was horrible, and Virgil enjoyed every second of it. Wonderful.

[anxiousgaypanicking]

Oreo

Synopsis:  As a joke, Roman's forced to ask Virgil out after losing an oreo. Flustered, and somewhat embarrassed and humiliated by the connotation that dating him would be such a bad thing, he says yes out of impulse, and must now deal with what being Roman's "boyfriend" entails. Taglist: @renys @falsemood

Part Five: Oversleeping Masterlist

Does he even have a reason to despise Roman? A real reason? 

He knows he hates Remus, but he can’t drag Roman into his brother’s bullying. Well, technically he could, but it’d be immature. 

Huffing, Virgil tries to think of a reason - perhaps an annoying interaction they’ve had or teasing that was taken too far - but he ultimately comes up short. He just seemingly decided one day after seeing him around Remus that he didn’t like the man. Overlooking the fact they’re brothers in order to justify his bitterness. 

Virgil squeezes his eyes shut. 

Okay, he’ll admit that was a bit unfair of him. Deciding that he didn’t like Roman just because of who he’s related to was silly. 

But, at the same time, Remus harassed him and his friends constantly. How could someone as wonderful and caring as Roman be related to someone who’s so pathetic that he picks on other people to feel some semblance of self worth? 

Virgil’s fists roughly hit against his pillows, letting out a frustrated groan as he struggles to sift through the thoughts flooding within his mind like unruly waves crashing against a beach. He can’t focus on anything for more than a few seconds; a thought would come, he’d feel guilt or justification, and then a new thought would take its place. 

He sits back up, adjusting his position on the couch, before he turns and presses his face into a new cushion. Closing his eyes once again, the “date” he’d just gone on plays in his mind like a movie. 

Roman’s smile… The ease by which he talked... 

And his laughter. 

Virgil pulls his knees up to his chest, sighing as he urges himself to relax. The sweet taste of a milkshake on his tongue seems to linger. A wave of exhaustion overtakes him as the exertion of today finally catches up. He’s not an extrovert by any means, and spending the entire day out with Roman was taking a toll. 

He leans back on the couch, yawning dramatically, before pushing his face hard into one of the cushions. He lets his eyes close. The date seems to play in his mind like a movie, and he lets the memory of Roman’s soft chuckle lull him to sleep. 

***

He wakes up the next morning with a headache. 

His phone is beeping repeatedly, and when Virgil looks at him, he’s quick to push himself onto his feet. 

Groaning as a wave of vertigo overtakes him, he watches a call from Janus suddenly end, adding to a culmination of missed calls currently capped at “16,” but still threatening to increase. He doesn’t bother answering, instead quickly unlocking his phone as he stumbles towards his room, being met with a barrage of texts including ‘where are you?’ and ‘class started fifteen minutes ago!’

Fifteen minutes. And to make matters worse, Virgil can tell he’d overslept, meaning he feels exhausted as ever. Next time he gets home early from a date, he’ll try to keep himself up until ten. 

Quickly, Virgil sends an ‘i overslept’ text to the group chat, met with the singular reaction of a thumbs-down emoji from Logan. Truly helpful. 

He quickly gets ready, shrugging off his dirty clothes in favor of a different hoodie and another pair of black jeans, before patting his pocket to make sure he has his house key. He throws his backpack over his shoulders, and nearly trips down the stairs. 

Under his breath he curses himself for putting off getting his driver’s license. It’s not a long walk by any means, but with him already being late, having a quicker mode of transportation would definitely help. 

Essentially sprinting, he can feel himself getting sweaty, and he shakes his head and groans as he realizes he forgot deodorant or toothpaste. Gross. 

When he finally hauls his ass into school, he desperately explains his situation to the main office, and is given a late pass which he shamefully carries as he makes his way to his first class. He looks a mess, and he knows it, and so tries to keep his head down as he walks inside. 

Every head raises to stare at him, including Janus’s, and the teachers. He shifts uncomfortably where he stands. 

"Mr. Addams," she addresses him, sounding rather annoyed. "Glad to see you're finally joining us. Do you have a pass?” 

Virgil raises her arm to hand her the slip, and she reads over it before nodding and setting it on her desk. 

“The office will adjust your attendance,” she says, dismissively, and Virgil walks to his desk in the back of the room. His chest aches as he feels everyone’s eyes following him. How stupid does he look? Did he remember to lock the front door?

He collapses into his seat, feeling his legs throb as he keeps a hand on his chest, trying to steady his breathing. Running here took so much effort, and keeping his eyes open wasn’t proving to be any easier. He feels as though he’s going to fall to the ground unconscious at any moment. 

He resists the urge to lay his head down on his desk, and tries his best to pay attention, not wanting to upset his teacher any further. She already wasn’t pleased with him; he’d hate to do something that would result in a stern talking-to, or even worse, a referral. 

In the corner of his eye, Virgil watches Janus type on his phone under the desk, though his head stays straight. His eyes look between Virgil and the teacher. Though he’s curious, Virgil doesn’t bother to check the vibrating phone in his pocket, not wanting to risk fumbling and dropping it. He’d already drawn enough attention toward himself today. 

Thankfully, the bell rings after just a short while for Virgil, and he trudges out of the room, Janus at his side.

“Geez, you look like shit,” he comments, making Virgil roll his eyes. He rubs at his face, focusing around his eyes, as he tries to wake himself up more. “How are you feeling?” 

“Like I might pass out,” Virgil groggily responds, before forcing himself to stretch. As he reaches his arms over his head, he lets out a slight groan, and then relaxes again. It didn’t help much, but his body feels less strained. 

Janus sets a hand on his back. It’s a light touch, but it’s clear he’s helping guide Virgil, if only a bit. 

That doesn’t keep Janus from grinning, though. “Don’t worry. All you have to do is stay alive until lunch, and then you can fall asleep on that hunk of a boyfriend you have.” Janus wiggles his eyebrows, attempting to entice some bitter or embarrassed refute from Virgil, but all he gets is a slight hum in response. 

Janus whistles. “You must really be tired, hm? Not a glare? No shoulder punch?” He stops their walking to set the back of his hand against Virgil’s forehead. “Are you sure you’re just feeling tired? You’re not running a fever or anything, are you?” 

Virgil finally scoffs, and pushes Janus’s hand away. Janus was right in a sense though. He just had to make it to lunch. Then, he could take a quick nap! Hopefully, he’d feel better after that.

Thank god tomorrow was Friday.

Virgil sleepwalks through his next few classes, but it doesn’t seem like any of his teachers notice. Janus and Logan accompany him through a few of them, but he hardly notices. With his head down, he struggles to keep awake, and resorts to kicking his leg in order to stay awake.

Finally, after what seems like centuries to Virgil, lunch comes around. 

His eyes burn, and he feels like he’s shaking with every step he takes. He just needs to make it to the cafeteria. Then, he’ll be okay. 

As he’s walking - rather slowly - towards the loud chatter and open double-doors, an arm wraps around his shoulders. Virgil jumps, and stiffens as he cranes his neck upwards, only to see Roman. 

“Lacking the pep in your step, I see,” Roman jokes, and Virgil can’t help the small smile that graces his lips. 

“I’m tired,” Virgil clarifies, as he lets Roman guide him forward.

Roman chuckles. "You shouldn't be; you told the teacher you overslept.”

Virgil rolls his eyes, but Roman suggests “you can nap at lunch. I don’t think all the screaming would make the greatest white noise, but to each their own.” 

Virgil laughs softly. “Janus told me a similar thing.” He leaves out the bit where Janus joked about Virgil falling asleep against Roman. Being reminded of that, he’s quick to pull himself away from Roman, who eases his grip and allows Virgil to do so. 

People whisper as they pass. It was still big news that Roman decided to date some social outcast! Virgil still needed to ask how people found out about that, though, with Roman’s love for affection and his brother’s big mouth, he definitely had a few guesses. 

Once they sit down at their table, Virgil immediately slumps over it, and tucks his head into his arms. Roman, who’s apparently decided this was his new table as well, pats Virgil’s back comfortingly. 

“I take it you’re no longer completely against dating Roman?” Janus teases, alluding to the fact they walked in together. 

Virgil just shrugs, too lethargic to care at the moment. 

Janus laughs. “Better watch out, Roman! Virgil might actually be falling in love with you.” He winks, and Roman smiles, but Virgil lets out a string of muffled words at Janus’s teasing. 

They’re mostly incoherent, but Janus can just assume the obvious; Virgil was obviously saying something along the lines of “I could never fall in love with someone like him.” 

Roman has no qualms laughing at Janus’s words, though, cheeks a nice pink at the idea. Virgil actually falling in love with him? Never. And Roman becoming equally smitten? He doesn’t see it happening. 

There were no real romantic feelings between them, and Roman knew that. But he’s not a quitter, and if Virgil insists on being in this “relationship,” then Roman will make sure it’s the best relationship Virgil’s ever partaken in. 

Sneaking a glance downwards, Roman’s met with Virgil’s (supposedly) sleeping figure. He was breathing rhythmically, so Roman assumes he’s finally managed to drift off. 

Out of courtesy, Roman lowers his voice, and when Logan finally comes over to join them, he does the same. Logan has a book out as he eats, but he has no problem talking while reading, as if that wasn’t an impressive task. And as lunch carries on, Logan and Janus become more invested in each other, leaving Roman to eat his lunch quietly, side-by-side with Virgil. 

When the bell rings, Janus and Logan get up and walk off together, leaving Roman with a sleeping Virgil. 

With a sigh, Roman gently shakes Virgil awake. Virgil groans, before weakly swatting at Roman’s hands. His accuracy is horrid, but Roman’s arms retreat anyway, giving Virgil space to stretch. 

“Don’t touch me… you heathen….” Virgil yawns, blinking his eyes open. 

Roman grins. “Heathen? That’s an awfully mean thing to call somebody who’s looking out for you. Here I am, selflessly making sure you get to your next class on time, and you insult me.” Roman sets a hand on his chest, feigning being struck, as if Virgil’s insult had punched him square in the torso. 

Virgil stands, yawning again, before cracking his back. Then, he begins walking. Roman walks with him. They don’t share the same class this period, but it’s in the same general direction.

“Believe me, Roman, I could call you worse,” Virgil threatens, voice gravelly. He still sounds exhausted, but he looks a bit better. Hopefully, with a quick cat-nap, he’d be better suited to finish the rest of the day. 

Roman laughs, but doesn’t respond. Silently, they head to Virgil’s class, before Roman waves and turns away to walk to his own, leaving Virgil to settle himself at his desk. 

Their afternoon classes are uneventful, and the two are both fairly happy when the dismissal bell rings. Roman runs to his locker, which is already swarmed with fellow football players, other boys trying to associate with the “cool” jocks, and girls desperate to talk to them. 

He manages to worm his way to his locker, but in attempting to grab his stuff and leave, he’s stopped by Remus. 

“Hey, loser,” Remus greets him, with a wide smile. He’s leaning against the locker next to Roman’s. “Have you convinced that outcast to break up with you yet?” Remus picks at his teeth with his pinky as he waits for an answer, seemingly intrigued. 

“No,” Roman replies, as he shuts his locker a bit louder than necessary. “I haven’t been trying.” 

Remus looks a little surprised. “Why not? Don’t tell me you actually caught feelings for that accident?” 

Roman narrows his eyes, turning to Remus with comically red cheeks. He was frustrated, but such a look could easily be mistaken for fluster. A strange compulsion to defend Virgil wells up in his chest. Maybe it was because Virgil wasn’t here to stick up for himself. 

“So what if I have?” is his immediate jest, threatening Remus to raise any sort of objection. “Is that such a problem?” There’s a glare not normally present in his soft green eyes, and it makes Remus jut his chin out in a mixture of curiosity, and amusement. 

Roman doesn’t actually have feelings for Virgil, but he has respect and basic decency. Unlike Remus, apparently.

“You barely know him,” Roman continues, as the increasing volume of his voice draws the attention of the people around them, “and from what I’ve seen, he’s a better person than you are.” 

“That’s not a hard bar to surpass.” 

Roman groans, before stomping his foot dramatically. “Whatever, Remus! Get out of my way; I’m going to see my boyfriend.” 

He pushes past Remus, purposely bumping his shoulder against his brother’s, before stomping off, leaving Remus there, intrigued. 

Roman takes deep breaths as he makes his way to Virgil’s locker, where he hopes the latter is. And he’s pleased when he sees Virgil there, though Virgil looks exhausted. 

His forehead is pressed against his locker, eyes closed. He was holding his bag by his strap, though it hangs down, being drawn to the floor. 

Roman sets a hand on Virgil’s shoulder, and apologizes immediately when Virgil jumps. His eyes are wide as he stares at Roman, before sighing out a short “what do you want?” Ever so polite, Virgil wastes no time getting straight to the point.

Roman smiles. “I came to ask if you wanted to come over!” 

“Why?” Virgil responds, voice sounding tired. It’s enough to make Roman shift his weight from one leg to the other, debating whether or not he should just drop the topic. 

“You mentioned earlier that you didn’t like being alone,” Roman replies, smile faltering slightly. “I came to provide you an alternate option!”

“Who said I’d want to spend time with you instead?” 

Roman lets out a sigh, adjusting the bag on his back. “I guess you have a point. I’ll take that as a no, then.” He turns to leave. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow-” 

His hand is immediately grabbed, and Roman turns to see Virgil looking a little anxious. He quickly masks it when they make eye contact, and releases Roman’s hand just as quickly.

“I never said no,” Virgil replies, wiping his hand on his pants as though Roman had infected it with germs. “I’ll come over. Are your parents okay with this?” 

Roman just shrugs in response, but he smiles wide. “I’m sure they won’t mind.” 

He takes hold of Virgil’s hand, pulling him through the school and out the front door. He pulls a pair of car keys out of his pocket, and leads Virgil to a slick, white car. Not a single splatter of mud or pile of bird shit over it. Roman unlocks it, and even opens the passenger side door for him.

The seats are comfy, and Virgil settles into his with a pleased groan, as Roman gets into the driver’s side and starts the car. 

“I could fall asleep right now,” Virgil comments, making Roman laugh. 

“It’s a short drive,” he assures Virgil. “I have a comfy bed you can fall asleep on at home instead.” 

Virgil lets his head fall to the side, staring at the window as Roman drives them out of the school parking lot, and down the street. They go straight for a while, before Roman turns down a certain street. The houses lining the sidewalk were giant, and looked incredibly old. 

Virgil’s eyes go wide. 

“The historical district?” Virgil exclaims, pressing his forehead against the window. “But… but the houses here are super expensive! Do you really live here?” 

Roman nods, and slows his car as he turns and drives up a nice paved driveway, leaving Virgil to stare at the large house they’re pulling up to. It’s white with many, many windows, and a faded blue roof. Large pillars act as support, and a giant yard is freshly trimmed, with marble decorations. Flowers grow along the driveway and the path to the front door. 

Roman parks the car on the driveway, behind two black cars parked side by side. He pulls a key out of his pocket and walks Virgil to the front door, before unlocking it. He shuts the door behind them, and then interlocks his arm with Virgil’s. 

“Dad, Papa, I’m home!” Roman then calls, giving Virgil’s arm an assuring squeeze. “And I brought somebody you might want to meet!”

[anxiousgaypanicking]

Oreo

Synopsis:  As a joke, Roman's forced to ask Virgil out after losing an oreo. Flustered, and somewhat embarrassed and humiliated by the connotation that dating him would be such a bad thing, he says yes out of impulse, and must now deal with what being Roman's "boyfriend" entails. Taglist: @renys @falsemood

Part Six: Sleepover Masterlist

"We'll be right there!" comes an excited response, with the sound of fast footsteps following suit Mere minutes later, two men come sprinting down the stairs, the shorter of the two nearly tripping on the bottom step. The taller of the two greets Roman with a big hug, though compared to Roman’s might build he looked just as small as the other. 

“Who’s that?” the shorter one asks, smiling softly but keeping his distance. 

Roman smiles wide, and his arm moves to be wrapped around Virgil’s waist. “This is my boyfriend! Virgil.” Roman gently wiggles Virgil back and forth, and Virgil’s face flushes dark. “Virgil, these are my dads: Bruce and David.”

David - the shorter one - offers up a small wave, while Bruce smiles. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Virgil!” Bruce exclaims, as he reaches his hand out for Virgil to take. Virgil’s fingers feel crushed by Bruce’s firm grip. “I hope Roman’s been treating you right.” He backs up after, and waves them further into the house. Virgil and Roman follow them to the living room. While Bruce leads the way, David lags behind. 

“How’d you two get together?” he asks, walking side-by-side with Virgil. Between the two, David looked more like Roman. Tanner skin and darker hair, with the same nose and eye shape. Though, Virgil notes he shares Remus’s birthmark; a white streak runs through his hair. 

Roman glances at Virgil, and then vaguely answers “a game.”

"A stupid one,” Virgil clarifies, as he pulls away from Roman’s hold. “One that exists to make people feel bad.” He glares at Roman, who avoids his eyes. 

Bruce lets out a laugh, as he gets settled on a nice, big couch. David settles next to him, leaning against Bruce and intertwining their hands, letting Virgil see the matching wedding bands. 

“Most games are like that,” Bruce says, before turning to David. “Remember when we were kids, and were playing spin the bottle at Karen’s sixteenth birthday party?” 

David smiles, but Roman looks uncomfortable. “Yeah, of course I do. And how when she spun the bottle, it landed on me.” 

"I swear she was cheating!” Bruce interjects. “But when she went to kiss you, you chickened out. Boy, was she mad!” 

Roman lets out a sigh, as he grabs Virgil’s arm and gently guides them away from his now reminiscing parents. He leads Virgil up the very steps his parents descended, and down a beautifully decorated hallway. There are plenty of family pictures featuring the four; with David and Bruce standing happily behind the twins, but Virgil notes there are none of them as children. Only as teenagers.

Roman turns into a room, and leaves the door open behind them, before flopping onto his bed.

Virgil steals a second to look around the massive space. The walls were bright white, with the trimming being painstakingly painted gold. He has a king sized bed with red bedsheets, and a plethora of fluffy pillows that are a mixture of gold and white. A massive flatscreen television sits directly across from the bed, and his dressers and end tables are lined with trophies and clay figurines, clearly homemade but equally as impressive. 

Along with the figurines, there were also some canvases and framed art pieces hanging up. 

His eyes then settle back on Roman, who’s been watching Virgil analyze his room. Virgil looks away as soon as he’s caught, but Roman chuckles.

“If you’re about to ask if you can lay on my bed, my answer is yes, so long as I can lay beside you,” Roman coos, playfully, which has Virgil huffing as he sets his bag heavily on the floor. 

“No thanks. I’ll sit on the floor.” 

Roman laughs, as he sits up, making grabby hands at Virgil. “I’m just messing around. Feel free to come sit. Or look around, if you want. Just don’t break anything.” 

Virgil gives a small smile. “I won’t.” 

He does circle around the room, studying each painting and picture decorating the wall in hopes it would reveal anything about Roman. Once again, Virgil only sees family pictures post childhood, with hardly any even featuring Roman’s friends from school. 

Then, he moves to Roman’s bed, and settles down on it. Though, he makes sure to keep his distance from Roman. 

Roman turns onto his side, using his arms to cradle his head as he stares at Virgil. “Do you want me to turn on a movie or something?” he asks, watching as Virgil leans back against the pillows, and then turns to bury his face in them. The mattress and pillows were extremely comfortable, and Virgil could feel his body sinking into them. 

A muffled response is all Roman gets, so he clicks on a movie anyway. Virgil can’t help but groan when he hears the Disney jingle, already picturing the castle sliding onto screen and lighting up with fireworks. 

Virgil’s arms slide under one of Roman’s pillows, reaching towards the cool fabric with a soft, comfortable sound. It didn’t matter what Roman put on; he wasn’t watching the movie anyway. He buries his face deep into the pillow, and lets himself stretch out and relax. 

Somehow, his eyes relax, shutting, as he lets himself linger in a half-sleep state, before his mind eventually fades to black. 

***

It was near midnight when Virgil finally stirs. He feels the bed shift, waking him up fully as he shoots up, wide-eyed and startled. He even jumps when he sees Roman, who’s leaning over onto the bed from a pallet made of loose blankets and pillows on the floor. 

It takes him a few minutes to remember where he’s at, as Roman gently sets his hand atop his. 

“Calm down,” Roman says softly, though there’s a hint of playfulness in his voice. “It’s just me.” 

“Shit,” Virgil immediately curses, as he stifles a yawn. He feels around for his phone which has promptly slipped out of his pocket, and checks the time. More profanity spills from his lips when he sees the time. 

“Fuck. I didn’t…” Virgil rubs his eyes, pausing to reevaluate his sentence, before sighing and slumping over, resting his head in his hands. “I didn’t mean to just come over and fall asleep. I’m sorry.” 

Roman smiles and shakes his head. “It’s fine, mi amado.” 

“I don’t speak ‘asshole,’” Virgil bitterly responds, narrowing his eyes at Roman, though it’s hard to look threatening as he lets out another yawn. “What’d you say?”

“I didn’t say anything bad, if that’s what you’re wondering.” 

“But what’d you say?” Virgil presses, but he’s ignored and laughed at as Roman lets out a soft chuckle, causing Virgil to groan. 

“You’re a bitch.” 

Roman raises his eyebrows, before sassily responding “ I’m not the one barking out orders.” 

Virgil frowns and immediately moves to grab one of Roman’s pillows and toss it at him. Roman leans back onto his pallet in an attempt to dodge the pillow, but it misses horribly anyway. 

Roman laughs, before he lets out a sigh. “My parents said you could stay the night if you wanted, as it’s already late anyway, but if you’d rather go home I can drive you.” 

Virgil thinks for a moment, checking the time once again. A quarter past midnight. 

He sighs, and shakes his head. “No thanks. I’d rather stay here.” As he looks towards Roman, he sees the latter’s raised eyebrows and skeptical, playful look on his face, which immediately has Virgil feeling embarrassed and defensive. 

“Not because I like you!” Virgil’s quick to add, with a huff. “Or your fancy-ass house! I’m just too tired to tolerate spending ten minutes in a car with you. Especially this late at night!” 

“But spending the next seven hours in my bedroom is a different story?” 

Virgil crosses his arms over his chest. “Is there a comfy bed in your car? Didn’t think so.” 

Roman laughs, and Virgil stiffens at the sound, before he’s crawling to the end of the bed and swinging his legs over the side. “You don’t have to sleep on the floor, Roman. I was just kidding about the bed; I can sleep on the pallet.” 

Roman immediately shakes his head. “No. I’m not letting you sleep on the floor.” Roman leans onto his mattress, crossing his arms and laying his head atop them as he stares up at Virgil with those gorgeous, lush-green eyes. “You already napped in my bed; you might as well just sleep in it too.”

“I doubt I’ll be able to go back to sleep. I’ve already slept so much.” 

“I’ll stay up with you then. I’m wide awake.” Roman smiles, and Virgil finally has to tear his eyes away from him and look at something else. 

“Good,” he responds, after a moment. “You’ll provide nice entertainment. You are a clown, after all.” 

Laughing, Roman asks “are you only able to insult me?” 

“Maybe.” 

“Well, in that case, I retract every nice thing I’ve ever said about you.” Roman sticks his tongue out childishly, and then grins wide, but Virgil just looks back at him, smiling, but with furrowed brows.

“The fact you’ve said anything nice about me at all astounds me.” 

"Why?"

Virgil shrugs, a half-hearted smile on his face. “Because I’m not that easy to compliment. It’s not that hard to see, Roman.” 

“I disagree,” Roman says, almost immediately, sitting up a little more seriously. “I could compliment like… ten different attributes of yours right now.” 

Virgil raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing on the corners of his lips. "Doubt it." 

“Oh?” Roman begins, leaning upwards. “Is that a challenge? Don’t tempt me, Virgil; I’m incredibly competitive.” 

“You’re not competing with anybody-” 

“Your bangs look soft and pretty hanging over your eyes, but I wish those beautiful irises weren’t so hidden. Your eyes are so dark they’re black, and are intensified by your makeup, which, while unusual, shapes your face well and pulls attention to your eyes overall. I’ve never seen someone with such an intense, alluring stare.” Roman speaks poetry into the air, and leans even closer to Virgil as he continues. 

“You know how to dress your body. Maybe I’m biased because skinny jeans are form-fitting, but you always look good. It’s certainly a statement, but one you’re not afraid to make. And black nails really suit you.” 

Virgil’s fingers flex, his nail polish chipped. 

“And your voice…” Roman sighs, fluttering his eyelashes dramatically. “You speak primarily with your lower jaw, making you look passive despite the often biting undertones. But there’s usually a lot of emotion. If not in your voice, in your words . You’re passionate about things, and are quick to defend them. Like your friends, and yourself.” 

Roman holds seven fingers up, but he’s nowhere near done. 

As Virgil’s hands dig into the sheets, Roman moves closer, adding “you’re smart, and exceed in your classes, even if you don’t tend to participate in group discussions. I’ve seen some of your tests being passed back. You always have upwards of eighty, while most others have seventy or less.” Then, Roman smiles, cheekily. “And try as you might, I see you doodle on your paper during class, or even on your hand with a marker. It always looks deep and interesting.” Roman takes Virgil’s hand, and pulls his arm closer, thumbing over his forearm where barely noticeable marker stains persist; little marks that Virgil didn’t even know were still visible. One would have to look hard to notice the darker splotches of skin. 

“You should show off your art more,” Roman says, softly. “I’m something of an artist myself. I’d appreciate it.” 

Virgil ignores him, instead breathing out “and… the last one?” 

He reaches to grab one of Roman’s pillows, squeezing it against his chest in anticipation as he looks over Roman’s nine fingers. There’s silence for a moment, before Roman grins, and sits back on his knees, clearly not intending to share the last one aloud. 

When Virgil realizes this, he huffs out “you’re such a jerk!” and then tosses the pillow he grabbed at Roman, this one getting closer, but still missing and landing on the pallet behind him. 

“Stop throwing all my pillows at me!” Roman laughs, as he tries to grab and hand the one just thrown back to Virgil. “You’re not going to have any to sleep with!” 

“You have plenty up here. I have many spares I can use to hit you in the face.” 

“You couldn’t hit me if we were standing chest-to-chest,” Roman insists, snickering. “Hell, I’m like five feet away from you and you’ve missed twice!” 

“Third time’s the charm,” Virgil mutters, as he lays back down, and then tosses and turns in the sheets. His smile fades to a more neutral expression, before he turns to face Roman, looking over the side of the bed. 

“Roman?” 

Roman, who’s laid back on the pallet, stretched out and arms behind his head, looks back up at Virgil, responding with a sweet “yes?” 

“I’m bored.” 

“You’re bored?” 

Virgil huffs out a laugh, before elaborating “I’m bored. Let’s go on a walk.” 

Roman raises an eyebrow. “So, let me get this straight, you’re not willing to be driven home this late at night, but you’re perfectly fine taking a walk?” He shakes his head. “That makes no sense.” 

“I’m complicated,” Virgil muses, which earns a laugh from Roman. 

“No,” he then responds, shaking his head with a hum. “No, I don’t think you’re complicated. I think you’re trying to be subtle.” His smile stretches into a more devious smirk. “I think you just secretly want to stay here with me, and that’s why you don’t want to go home.” Roman leans up, and his fingertips dance over Virgil’s, as Virgil’s arm hangs off the bed. “Just admit you enjoy spending time with me.”

Virgil lets out a groan, and very quickly grabs another pillow, and throws it down. This one smacks Roman right in the face, leaving Roman to let out a muffled “humphf!”

As Virgil snickers, Roman groans, and pulls the pillow off his face.

“Ugh! I’d be safer taking you on a walk than staying in here,” he jests, playfully. “At least there are no pillows for you to throw outside.” 

“There are rocks.”

Roman narrows his eyes. “You wouldn’t dare.” 

Virgil sits up, and slides off the bed, landing on his knees at Roman’s side. “You’d really consider taking me on a walk, though?” 

“Of course,” Roman responds, immediately. “Why wouldn’t I? You ask, and you shall receive, my wonderful boyfriend!” Roman makes teasing kissy noises at Virgil, who immediately lets out a noise of disgust and scrambles away. 

 Virgil shudders, as though Roman grossed him out to his core. Sternly, he declares “don’t do that.” Roman smiles. 

He stands himself, and grabs Virgil’s hand, as he leads him out of his room. There’s a dim light on in the room next to Roman’s, but it’s ignored as Roman pulls him down the stairs and through the living room. Both of them are quiet, out of respect for Roman’s dads, as they slip out the front door. 

Quietly, Roman leads Virgil a little down the sidewalk, before he squeezes Virgil’s hand and smiles. 

“Alright,” Roman starts, his breath fogging due to the cool night’s air. “Anyplace specific you’d like to go?” 

Virgil takes a moment to answer, before whispering “anywhere you want to take me.” 

“Then we’ll just walk wherever the sidewalk takes us,” Roman decides, pulling Virgil forward. 

They walk slowly side by side, Roman humming a soft tune that sounds suspiciously like a rendition of “Once Upon A Dream” from Sleeping Beauty. Neither has let go of the other’s hand. 

Virgil is comfortable in the silence for a bit, before he suddenly clears his throat and goes “so… are you adopted?” 

Roman laughs aloud at the question, urging Virgil to quickly add “you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to; I don’t mean to be nosey or insensitive.” 

“I don’t think you’re either,” Roman assures him, through a few loose chuckles. “I’m not adopted. Bruce is my step-dad. My dad and mom got divorced a couple years ago; Papa and Dad married earlier this year.” Roman sighs, though it’s hard to tell if it’s out of adoration, or disappointment. “They’re newlyweds.” 

Virgil nods, as Roman squeezes his hand again, before suddenly Roman’s tugging his arm a little harder. 

“All right, my turn. What are your parents like?” 

Virgil’s a bit surprised at the question, but after a moment he answers “it’s just me and my dad. My mom died when I was young. I don’t remember her at all.” They take a few steps in silence, before he adds “he never remarried. I don’t think he wants to, but I don’t see him much. He works out of the house, and when he has free time he chooses to travel. So he’s mostly out of state, really.”

“Do you wish he was home more?” 

Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, Virgil uncomfortably pulls his hand from Roman. 

“I guess? I don’t know him that well. We just sort of live our lives next to each other. We both have other things going on. Sure, he’s lonely, but I think if he rushed into things he’d be more unhappy. If he ever wants to get remarried, he deserves someone who loves him and wants to spend their life with him.” 

“You deserve that too,” Roman replies, in a hushed voice. Virgil turns to look at him, questioningly, prompting Roman to let out a nervous laugh. “Which is why you have me, of course! I’ll treat you like the prince that you are!” 

He leans forward and scoops Virgil up, tossing him effortlessly over his shoulder, earning at first a surprised gasp, and then a bout of laughter. 

“Roman!” Virgil shouts, squirming as Roman carries him like he’s a sack of flour. “Put me down!” 

“Never!” 

Virgil laughs some more as Roman starts to jog with him, bouncing him up and down. “If your goal is to treat me like a prince then you’re doing a horrible job!” 

“How about I do a little better, then?” 

Roman readjusts their positions, so that Virgil’s off his shoulder and now being cradled in his arms, held bridal-style. Virgil’s arms wrap around Roman’s neck, and he’s smiling dopily, though his face is flushed, something Virgil’s sure is obvious even in the darkness of night. 

He holds to Roman as Roman carries him forward, before suddenly he says “you can put me down now, Roman. I’m sure carrying me isn’t easy.” 

“You underestimate how strong I am,” Roman responds, grinning wide. 

“That’s not-” Virgil snorts, and tucks his face into Roman’s chest. Believe him, he can feel the muscle clearly beneath the thin fabric of Roman’s shirt. But that’s not the issue. “The thing is, I’m not… exactly the lightest person out there.” 

Sure, skinny jeans were a common piece of clothing present in his wardrobe, but the name was misleading. They’d be better off called “form-fitting” jeans, or “tight” jeans, and frankly Virgil’s pudgy stomach often hung over the waistline if he didn’t hoist them up past his belly-button! 

But Roman doesn’t bat an eye. 

“So?” he prompts, squeezing Virgil’s body in a manner that’s meant to be comforting, but just makes Virgil flush. “Once again, I’m very strong. I don’t care how much you weigh. As long as you’re not starving yourself or over-eating, and you’re healthy, I don’t care. And it’s not my business.” 

Roman then grins cheekily. “Isn’t that what you always say? That it’s not my business.” 

Virgil smiles, a bit sheepishly. “Yeah,” he mumbles, hiding his face further in Roman’s chest. “I suppose.” 

Roman carries him a few paces farther, before he softly asks “do you actually want to be set down? I won’t if you don’t want me to; I’ll hold you for as long as you’d like, but I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” 

“Yeah,” Virgil sighs. “I’m ready to keep walking.” As much as he enjoyed being carried, the action of being cradled flustered him.

Roman sets him back on his feet, and then shoves his hands into his pants pockets. Virgil flexes his fingers, before glancing at those very same pockets.

He decides to tap his fingers against his leg. 

“So…” 

Virgil turns to look at Roman, who’s clearly trying to think of a different conversation starter. He seems to debate a few, before settling on one, and continuing with “so, why did you say yes to my Oreo?” 

Fingers tapping harder against his thigh, Virgil shrugs. “I don’t know. I was angry?” 

He sounds very unsure of his answer, and that’s because he is. Sure, Virgil was angry. But that was only part of the reason. Impulsivity can only explain the initial acceptance; not anything that followed afterwards. 

“What were you angry about?” 

Virgil turns to look at Roman like he’s stupid. “I was angry over you, over Remus, over that stupid fucking game-” 

“You keep calling Oreo stupid,” Roman interrupts, bringing them to a halt on the sidewalk. He looks confused. “But, you’re actively playing. Forgive me for being puzzled, but why do you hate this game? And if you really hate it, then why even entertain the concept?” 

“To humiliate you,” Virgil responds, feeling his face warm with shame and humiliation at the admission, as though he’s finally admitting to the both of them that he’s out of Roman’s league. Roman stays quiet, giving Virgil the space to look away and suck a deep breath in. “It’s… it’s insulting to the people you ask out sometimes,” Virgil further clarifies, gritting his teeth. “Usually, when someone loses, their friends either pick out some secret crush they haven’t confessed to, or someone gross they think will embarrass them.” 

He kicks a rock, and shoves his hands into his own pockets. “And… and Remus told you to ask me.” 

He steps forward, but Roman catches his arm. 

“Virgil… I didn’t know.” 

Scoffing, Virgil tries to pull his arm away, and Roman does in fact let him go, but he moves to stand by Virgil’s side. 

“Virgil, genuinely. I didn’t know. I guess I never thought about it from that perspective. I can see how that’d be degrading.” 

Glancing upwards, Virgil sees Roman’s brows furrowed in concentration as he seemingly processes what Virgil told him. There’s no doubt, or malice. Just… contemplation. 

Roman’s fingers graze Virgil’s knuckles. 

Their hands once again fold together, fingers sliding into crevices until their palms are pressed against each other. They turn on the sidewalk, and start heading back the way they came without a word.

It’s only when they’re right outside the front door that Roman speaks again. As he slowly twists the doorknob, he looks back at Virgil. 

“You don’t humiliate me, by the way,” he says, softly. “And it makes me sad that you think so little of yourself in order to believe that.” 

Then he’s opening the front door and holding it chivalrously as Virgil walks inside, hunched over, as though trying to make himself appear smaller. He doesn’t say much as he heads back up to Roman’s room, but there isn’t much he thinks needs to be said. But he does think he’s going to lay down and try and get some more sleep. If not to make sure he’s well rested, then to simply avoid looking at Roman, who silently tucks himself into the pallet on the floor, leaving Virgil wide-eyed and alone with his thoughts snug in Roman’s bed. 

[anxiousgaypanicking]

For the writting challenge, this screams Janus and Remus

Three Years Later, The Coffin Was Still Full Of Jell-O

Platonic Demus Warnings: smoking

god this fit them SO WELL

“You promised!” Remus exclaims, as he tosses Janus a shovel. He’s holding his own, spade worn and dirty but functional nonetheless, meanwhile the one he brought with for Janus seemed pristine.

Janus groans, as he flicks a lighter on and off. His cane lays beside him, the gold handle reflecting the bright fire with each quick snap of his thumb. “Yeah, I promised, but I didn’t expect to be dragged out here at two in the morning,” he hisses, before holding his hand out. Remus reaches into his pocket and pulls out a cigarette. He tosses it to Janus who lights it and sucks in a breath, before he breathes it out and watches Remus raise his shovel and tap it against the headstone.

It’s unmarked, aside from a single engraved word that reads “Promise.”

“This was singlehandedly the best idea we’ve ever had,” Remus says, as the tip of his shovel drags over the headstone, before it lands hard in the dirt, and Remus starts scooping it up. Flowers are uprooted as the shovel digs further.

Janus holds the cig between his lips as he sucks in more smoke, breathing it out through his nose before he picks up his own shovel. Despite the fact he doesn’t want to help, seeing as he was exhausted and would rather be doing anything this late.

But, as Remus said, he did in fact make a promise, and here he was fulfilling it.

Remus better thank him.

Midway through digging, Janus passes the cigarette to Remus who sucks in a deep breath of it before puffing out an ‘o’ of smoke. He does the same thing Janus did, keeping the butt held tightly between his teeth, before his shovel comes down on something hard.

With wide eyes, he looks up at Janus, before he tosses the shovel aside and spits his cig out all the same, stomping on it with his muddy boot to put it out.

He gets down on his hands and knees and leans down into the shallow hole they’ve dug, running his hands over the solid material that his shovel had smacked against earlier, before he runs his hands to the side, straining to get a good grip on it.

With a groan, he goes “don’t be a dick, J-anus,” and Janus sighs as he reaches his hands down into the grave as well, bare fingertips running against the dirty surface while the rest of his hand is protected by black leather gloves.

Bracing himself, he and Remus both pull upwards at the same time, just barely managing to get the coffin somewhat off of the ground. His arms strain as his fingers feel like they’re being sliced by the edge of the material, before he and Remus set it against the ground with a thud, finally having gotten it fully up.

“We look like grave robbers,” Janus pants, as he collapses back into the soft dirt, only for a small plastic spork to hit the side of his face, slipping off moments later and landing carelessly in the dirt.

“Technically, this is our grave,” Remus says, as the backpack that was previously over his shoulders hits the ground with a heavy thud.

It’s not like they needed these bags anymore, having graduated the day prior. No more high school, and considering both of them believed sitting in a plain room with someone talking for seven hours was torture, no college either.

But their sophomore year of high school was special. It was when Remus’s parents got divorced, it was when Janus broke his hip, it was hurtful, it was hard, and it was magical.

Which is why they’d done this.

Something stupid to lighten up their otherwise shitty lives, both of which had gotten significantly better since then, but they were gonna abide by their promise regardless.

“Three years from now. When we graduate-”

“If we graduate,” Janus corrects him, and Remus smiles cheekily, rolling over on his rooftop so that his head is against Janus’s chest. Janus doesn’t bother shifting his position, although his hand comes to rest in Remus’s hair, his own head facing upwards to look at the stars.

Remus snickers, hand tightly curling in Janus’s shirt. “If we graduate, we should do something to commemorate. To celebrate our friendship.”

“That’s… awfully sweet of you.”

Remus chuckles, stating “don’t go around telling people that. I have a reputation to maintain.”

“You sound like your brother.”

“Ew!” Remus shoves Janus away, falling back on his spine against the tiled roof. “Just hear me out!”

Janus lets out a laugh of his own, easing him with “okay, okay. Continue.”

“It’s been a really shitty year. For both of us. So I was thinking we do something stupid now, and then after we graduate we revist it or whatever just so we can see how far we’ve come.”

Janus hums, clearly considering it, despite the fact he wasn’t one to be stupidly cheesy.

“Okay, Remus,” he says, with a grin. “What did you have in mind?”

Remus pulls a crowbar out of his backpack, thumping against the coffin just to make some obnoxious noise, before he braces it against the side. He pushes on it, and after a moment the lid cracks, and Remus drops the crowbar in favor of pushing the lid of the coffin off, revealing the joy that lays underneath.

Even Janus sits up to catch a look, moving his lighter closer and watching the way the gelatin reflected it.

“Holy shit…” Janus mutters, as Remus sits on his knees on the other side of the coffin, grinning ear to ear. By this point, he’d pulled out a spork of his own, and was holding it giddy.

Janus couldn’t help smiling either, letting out a laugh of pure amusement. Neither of them could believe that three years later, the coffin was still full of Jell-O, but here it was, just as pristine and vibrant as their friendship was, a perfect reflection of them in a more delicious sense. And in its own, weird way, it was beautiful.

[anxiousgaypanicking]

Book Signing

kind of a short, second part to my radio hosts au that can be found here

“A book signing?!” Roman exclaims, as he paces back and forth between the kitchen. “They’re doing a book signing?! We don’t even know what they look like!” He has his phone out; the bright screen illuminates his green eyes, of which are shining with both excitement and anxiety. It was a strange look to see on Roman’s face especially, but one could expect such a mixture of emotions when faced with the once in a lifetime opportunity to meet your celebrity crushes.

Even when neither Roman nor Remus even knew what they looked like.

But oh, oh, how they both adored their voices, and the stories. Roman could do without the vivid descriptions of gore and dismemberment, but Remus thought that made it so much better, especially considering Janus and Logan hardly let expression flow through their voices.

One would think that listening to two grown men talk about horror and tragedy from around the world in such monotone voices would make you think they’re sociopathic at the least, but it was in fact quite the opposite.

As long-time listeners of the show, the twins had learned the hosts’ main purpose was to educate their listeners on the horrors that occur around the globe, and to help spread awareness in the event such things ever happen again (as most are often caused by lack of safety concerns or by overlooking simple things).

Additionally, as read in the book the two hosts would be signing later today, both of them confessed to having issues with expressing emotion. Logan Berry was autistic and had trouble over-empathizing with old news. He was overly respectful and factual towards victims and families of things like crimes and such, however, which was a rare occurrence.

Names were given, details were offered, and he refused to make a mockery of tragedies, especially since it would be disrespecting the lives lost.

Janus Dolion on the other hand had undergone severe trauma himself. The book didn’t go into that much detail, but it is stated he’d witnessed a lot of death head first in his life, and undergoing such desensitized him to most things that would horrify others. His joking and often sarcastic quips were always more so directed at Logan or the nature of the story (sometimes even the authors of some articles), and after reading the book it was awfully clear a lot of it was done to cope.

However, he too was extremely respectful to the victims, noting first hand that when people make a mockery of horrid incidents, it can be really upsetting for the victims families, and for victims themselves.

“I think that’s kind of the whole point, dumbass,” Remus responds, checking the same article on his own phone. “It gives fans an opportunity to meet them firsthand after learning more about them specifically.”

“Yeah but… anyone could pretend to be them…”

Remus raises an eyebrow. “Are you saying you don’t want to go?”

“No! No, I absolutely want to go.”

Suddenly, Roman’s letterman jacket from high school is being thrusted into his arms, as Remus heads to the front door, keys spinning quickly around his index finger as he grins, wide and excited. “C’mon then; it starts in like ten minutes.”

So they went.

Roman is excited, albeit nervous when they walk into the library. A fitting place for a book signing, although Roman and Remus did get lost on the way there. There’s already lines of people, grouped around each other or certain tables. There’s a stand with the hosts’ book that can be purchased for them to sign, with a slouching man with purple hair selling them.

The two walk past, holding their own copies of the book rather tight. Roman’s looked pristine and perfect, as if it were a fresh copy, meanwhile Remus’s had tears at the edges, as well as highlighted sections within the book, and even doodles on the side that the book reminded him of.

He never cared about the things he vandalized, and so didn’t see the atrocity in “ruining” a good book like Roman said he was. He loved the book, and it was shown through his happily scribbled notes and underlined sections.

As they move near the front of the library, they see there’s a much longer line, filled with people excitedly buzzing about getting to meet the famous hosts, and Roman and Remus glance at each other as they both realize this must be the signing line.

It doesn’t move that fast; both Janus and Logan are known to get caught up in conversation, but Roman and Remus couldn’t find it in themselves to care.

They can’t see the two at all through the thicket of people in front of them, and every time a group moved away, there were statements of “I didn’t expect that” and “wow” that made Roman rock on the heels of his feet in excitement.

He wanted nothing more than to just gaze upon their faces and finally have an image to put with their voices.

Remus suspected they were both hot, and both he and Roman have pitched theories on what these people may look like. Upon getting the book they got a few hints as to what their appearance may be. Logan has glasses, Janus has scars, Logan dresses like a college professor (a quote straight from Janus) and Janus dresses like a Victorian goth with a modern grunge twist (a quote straight from Logan).

And, well, when the twins got to the front of the line, they realized those descriptions did not disappoint.

What did disappoint however was their own interpretations, as none of them could even compare to the way the two looked in real life, and sensing the speechless twins were baffled by both of their unique appearances, Logan and Janus smile. 

[anxiousgaypanicking]

“This is Logan Berry, tuning in,” comes the familiar, monotone voice from the radio, and Remus turns the radio up, earning a groan from Roman, who was behind the wheel. 

“They say the driver gets to control the radio,” he says, with a huff, but Remus is amused when Roman makes no effort to turn it off.  

“I’m here with my co-host, Janus Dolion, and today we’ll be discussing a horrifying crash that occurred on the twenty-fifth of May, 1950.”

“Ugh,” Roman says, rolling his eyes. “That was so long ago! Why don’t they discuss more recent things?”

“Shhh, you little brat,” Remus responds, rapidly waving his hand in Roman’s direction. “They have before. Like the decapitation of that one kid at Six Flags!”

Roman’s hands tense on the wheel. “Don’t remind me.”

“Then don’t complain.” 

Roman’s bottom lip is jutted out in a pout, but he quits whining, and Remus bounces in his seat. 

“On that day, the twenty-fifth of May, at around six-thirty pm, a crowded tram was riding through the busy streets of Chicago,” Logan begins, voice briefly displaying something other than his typical indifference. Amusement, perhaps? 

The first time the twins listened to this specific radio host, they were both startled by the way he talked about these past, horrifying events, but they soon realized the host - Logan - was simply just happy to be educating his listeners on the fascinating horror that has happened in the past. 

Janus, on the other hand, was a bit more of a mystery. He occasionally told stories of his own, but usually stuck to interjecting witty quips throughout Logan’s retellings of history. Their dynamic was frankly endearing, and the stories they told, mixed with the beautiful sound and intonation their voices carried, was extremely alluring. 

To add to their mysteriously charming nature, there were no photos of the duo anywhere. A quick Google search of “Logan Berry” or “Janus Dolion” always resulted in zero answers. No pictures; just an explanation that they host a radio show. 

Many fans theorized that those weren’t their real last names, or even their real first names! Privacy had become an issue in today’s day and age. 

“The crash between the tram and the tanker truck hauling gasoline resulted in the liquid spilling across the streets, until eventually ignited, resulting in one massive fireball that would signal the start of one of the most horrifying and deadly public transit disasters in Chicago’s history,” Logan speaks, voice lowering as he neared the end of his synopsis. 

Janus snickers. “I think the most horrifying part of this was deciding to name this event ‘Green Hornet Streetcar Crash,’” Janus interjects. 

“Oh, hush,” Logan responds, earning light laughter from the both of them, and as Remus’s grinning face glances towards Roman, and sees that his brother is smiling slightly, clearly just as amused by the light banter as he is. 

The only disappointing thing is that they’d be home before their show ended. Fortunately, Remus was sure he could convince Roman to drive around for just a bit longer. Just long enough for them to hear the ending. 

hello! yes! watch fascinating horror on youtube; i implore you. i absolutely adore his content, and how respectful he is about these real-life horrifying accidents and the victims that were injured and died as a result. hes also super informative, and his content his entertaining!!

anyway, today i give you radio hosts janus and logan. tomorrow? who knows

[anxiousgaypanicking]

"At that moment he wasn't listening to music, he was living an experience."

Platonic or Romantic Analogical <3

(For the random sentence writing prompt)

At That Moment, He Wasn't Listening To Music; He Was Living An Experience.

Platonic/Romantic Analogical (Interpretive) Virgil has synesthesia and Logan's mute

Swirls of dark purples and blues infected his vision, mixing and shifting right before his eyes. His entire room was clouded in a misty haze, as if someone had set off one of those coloured smoke bombs and it had filled the space completely.

However, everything Virgil was seeing was invisible to Logan’s eyes, although he and Virgil laid side by side, hand in hand, one earphone in either their left or right ear respectively. Logan could only hear the music, the sounds, the rhythm; against his thigh, Logan tapped the beat to the song, wanting to keep up with it.

But Virgil could see everything. He could see the beauty in the music, the colours spinning round. At that moment, he wasn’t listening to music. He was living an experience.

He feels the hand against his own squeeze and he turns to look at Logan, who’s looking back at him. With his free hand, Logan signs ‘what colour is the song?’

His hand movements are slow, as if not wanting to sign too fast and risk having to repeat himself; to ruin the moment. But Virgil just turns to lay back on his back, staring at his ceiling.

“It’s purple,” Virgil sighs out, voice hushed. “Purple and blue. Lavender with hints of periwinkle that dance around. They’re spinning.”

Turning back to look at Logan, the logical man signs ‘is it pretty?’

“Yes,” Virgil breathes out, as the song fades to an end. “It’s so pretty.”

‘I wish I could see.’

Virgil lets out a breathy laugh. “You want to see just so you could know. You would want to live the experience solely to have the experience. It can get distracting sometimes, and we both know you’d be annoyed with that.”

He watches Logan’s face curl into a smile, and a hand comes to his mouth as if to stifle the silent laugh that comes out.

It was Virgil’s turn to stare, before he quietly goes “I wish I could hear you.”

Logan simply smiles at him, squeezing his hand again.

‘What would my voice look like?’ he asks, as he turns his body, clearly interested in his answer. ‘If you were to describe it the way you describe songs, how do you think it’d look?’

Virgil thinks for a moment, before he holds up his free hand, putting only his thumb down while keeping the rest of his digits pressed together and standing straight up. Moving at the elbow, he slowly turns his forearm, and therefore his hand side to side.

‘Blue,’ Virgil replies, and Logan smiles. “That is how you say blue, right?” he then asks, and is relieved to receive a happy nod.

“Blue and purple. Just like this song,” Virgil begins. “I don’t think it’d be as free form though. More… sharp. More angles in the colour; not as many swirls. Like… I imagine your voice to be… square. Does that make sense? Like, in terms of shapes, the song we just listened to was like a circle, or more specifically a spiral, but your voice would be a square. Sharp. Rigid. But full of intellect, which is where the colour comes in.”

“You’d be blue because you would sound intuitive, and you’d be purple because you’d combine the stability of blue and the passion of red. Composed, but still determined.”

‘You really think all of that?’

Virgil sighs as he squeezes Logan’s hand, a calm smile appearing on his face. “Yeah. That’s what I think your voice would look like.”

‘That’s a nice thought.’

And it was.

[anxiousgaypanicking]

Mute

Logan walks down the hall, hands clasped together in front of him, eyes darting around. He’s evaluating the scenery in front of him; silently, he judges the colour choices. Gold trim where it’s unnecessary and engravings that seem almost out of place in the halls.

However, it wasn’t his place to mention it, as he was in an unfamiliar place; an unfamiliar castle, to be specific. His parents were dining with this kingdom's rulers, leaving Logan to his own devices. 

The other rulers had said something in passing about one of their own sons, following it up with a bunch of hateful words. Not wanting to deal with that, he had left. 

He was trying to find said prince's chambers, but it was a tad hard without a map or a guide. 

Of course, people rushed by him in the hallways, but they paid him no mind, and he didn't have the patience to stop them and ask, which he knew would lead to either confused glances or him being dragged back to the dining room, so, he played it by sight, relying on his eyes to tell him the room may be. 

After walking for a bit longer, he hears loud, fast footsteps rushing up behind him. He turns around, before a sword is suddenly pressed to his throat. 

Logan raises his hands in defense, eyes narrow as he examines the person threatening him. 

The person was wearing a loose purple shirt, with a sheath attached to a loose belt that hung around his waist. His eyes were two different colours, a dark, royal purple, and a bright green. They showed slight fear, although his face was twisted into a scowl. His dark brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail.

"Who are you?" the man hisses, pressing the blade harder against Logan’s throat. Logan quickly answers the man's question, never peeling his eyes away from the other man’s face.

After a weird look, and Logan having to repeat himself, he seemed to understand.

"Oh," the man says, rather awkwardly, as he lets his sword fall to his side, although he keeps his eyes trained on Logan. It was clear he was still skeptical of the man. "I apologize, Prince Logan," he says, although Logan could clearly hear he didn't entirely mean it. Logan couldn’t blame him; he was just doing his job, after all. "What were you doing wandering around, anyway?" 

Logan explains he was trying to find his way to the other prince's chambers. Specifically the one the parents had been speaking about at dinner.  

"Why?"

Logan hesitates, before explaining he wanted to speak with him. 

The man narrows his eyes, before sighing, waving his hand as he turns around. "Follow me," he orders, curtly.

Logan does just that.

He doesn’t bother striking up a conversation with the man, his eyes instead taking in the sights of the hallways yet again. Unlike when he was walking alone, people actually turned to stare at the two of them as they passed, now regarding Logan with curious eyes. He simply raises his chin in response, not bothering to even wonder what others may think of him. 

The stranger, supposedly a knight or merely a guard, appeared to be a man of his word, as they quickly arrive at a large set of doors, framed with silver that had intricate details carved into them. Despite the fact silver within a castle, specifically around a prince’s door, often resembled dislike or distrust, Logan believed it was quite beautiful. He had to resist the urge to run his hands over it. 

The guard opens the doors for him, revealing a beautiful sight. Dark green furniture was scattered about, and a giant window near the back of the room had been pushed open, allowing sunlight to stream in. Ripped curtains dangled near the sides, which matches the scratched up nature of the rest of the room. 

Walls were covered in scratch marks, some furniture was ripped or torn open, the stuffing within them having spilled out and been kicked everywhere, and there was clearly no attempt made to clean it up. 

The sunlight specifically illuminates a rather pale figure with brown hair that just barely reached past his shoulders. The figure looks over when his doors are opened, and brightens at the sight he sees. Him turning also allows Logan to see that familiar white streak in his hair that the other prince was born with. 

"Oh! Logan!" he greets, scrambling off his bed rather ungracefully in favor of pulling Logan into his room and into a tight hug. "Hi! I didn't know you were here!" 

Logan smiles, before making a few actions with his hands. 

Two of his fingers turned sideways, with the rest tucked away, followed by him making a fist and sticking his pinky up. 

He pauses, before continuing with another fist, except this time the pointer and middle finger are crossed and pointed upwards. Then his fingers are all curled in with his finger tips barely touching his palm. Then his thumb tucked under his ring finger and is resting atop his pinkie. Then his ring and pointer finger pointed straight up, with the rest of his fingers closed. And lastly, a fist with his thumb coming to press in front of the closed fingers. 

'Hi Remus,' he signs, smiling wider.

[anxiousgaypanicking]

Writing Masterpost!

a culmination of everything i’ve written; both consecutive stories and individual shots. 

rules for requesting here

posting schedule here

my ao3 here

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Sanders Sides

-------------------------- Fluff --------------------------

Comfort Items (Intrulogical/Roceit) Twin princes were cursed to become mere stuffed animals - comfort items - until they could learn to love and be loved in every sense of the word.  - Part One: Dumpster Diving - Part Two: Reunited - Part Three: Baggage  - Part Four: Thunderstorms Oreo (Prinxiety) As a joke, Roman's forced to ask Virgil out after losing an oreo. Flustered, and somewhat embarrassed and humiliated by the connotation that dating him would be such a bad thing, he says yes out of impulse, and must now deal with what being Roman's "boyfriend" entails.  - Masterlist

Volleyball Logan AU (Intrulogical/Logince) Logan plays competitive volleyball for his school, and ends up being thrown into a love corner with each of the twins pursuing his attention. - Setting and Swooning - An Awkward Interaction

Miscellaneous  Things that I get in-the-moment inspiration or requests to write about. - Deprivation (Intrulogince)  - Radio Hosts (Roceit/Intrulogical) - Mute (Intrulogical/Platonic Intrulogical) - Book Signing; Radio Hosts AU (Roceit/Intrulogical) - Three Years Later, The Coffin Was Still Full Of Jell-O (Platonic Demus) - At That Moment, He Wasn’t Listening To Music; He Was Living An Experience (Platonic/Romantic Analogical)

-------------------------- Angst --------------------------

Miscellaneous Things that I get in-the-moment inspiration or requests to write about. - Unsafe Binding (Trans Logan) - Manipulation (Janus Therapy Arc)

-------------------------- Smut --------------------------

What You Need (Intrulogical) Logan is a struggling college student who’s barely getting by. Desperate for a way to pay for necessities, he finds himself a sugar daddy.  - Masterlist

Hunger Hurts (DLAMP) Janus is an old-fashioned vampire, living secluded in an archaic mansion past the outskirts of town. On one particular night, four intruders decide to snoop around his house, leaving Janus delighted at the opportunity of a few free meals. However, he decides he has plenty of time to play with the group before killing them to satisfy his own gluttony, and so decides to keep them around as his temporary pets… nothing more, nothing less. - Masterlist

A Tender Hand (Analoceit) Janus inherits a farm from his grandparents, only to discover that two of the animals they have are... quite different from the rest. - Part One

Hypnovember 2020 A month of hypnosis prompts. - Masterlist

Kinktober 2023 A month of kinktober prompts. - Masterlist

Miscellaneous Things that I get in-the-moment inspiration or requests to write about.  - Masterlist (Part One) - Masterlist (Part Two)

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Good Omens

-------------------------- Smut --------------------------

Miscellaneous Things that I get in-the-moment inspiration or requests to write about.   - Masterlist

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[anxiousgaypanicking]

ever since i posted that thing about logan playing volleyball and remus being a “fan,” its been stuck in my head. so... here’s a lil story about it. it’s been a year since i’ve played, but i remember the rules semi-decently ;) Setting and Swooning

“Set,” Roman shouts, setting the volleyball over his head, and into the middle. 

There comes a yell of “mine” before Logan rapidly approaches the ball, jumps up, and swings, spiking it over the net. He barely listens to the scattered yelling of the other team before the referee blows his whistle and straightens his arm on Roman and Logan’s side, indicating a point had been scored for their team. 

Roman cheers, and so do the people on the bleachers who were rooting for their team. All except for one. A certain bored brother, who was watching the whole game with unamused and frankly uninterested eyes. He didn’t care enough to learn the rules, and thus watching the game was practically a confusing mess. 

Or, that’s what it would be, if Remus actually cared enough to watch the game. Instead, he was more focused on leaning back in the bleachers and eyeing the lower half of the players on the court. 

He knew it was considered disrespectful, but the outline of their asses shown clear through the flexible spandex. 

Besides, he actually had the consent of one teammate. Initially, he did stare solely because he was bored and perverted in what else could entertain him besides guys and ass, but, after some none too subtle stares, and a whole shocking reveal as Remus found out who that player was, he finally asked if he felt comfortable with Remus continuing to stare. 

And surprisingly, he had said yes!

So, he spent his current time staring at the lower half of the player who’s jersey displayed a proud “3″ on the back. Logan. 

Most people didn’t realize Logan was even on the volleyball team. He seemed more the reserved and studious type, and while yes, he was, he still liked to keep his body as healthy as his mind. 

Plus, sports were a good way to get anger out. 

Volleyball specifically showed off his body though. Logan was surprisingly muscular, with rather defined legs and, in Remus’s opinion, a great ass. All the squatting that had to be done in volleyball definitely played a part in both. 

When the players start moving again (as there was a pause for rotations, and then as the next server got themselves ready), Remus groans, earning a glare from his mother. 

If only she knew his peril. Due to their seats, whenever the players moved, he couldn’t focus entirely on their bodies. 

Which, admittedly, wasn’t the point, as one was instead suppose to focus on the literal game being played, but that was irrelevant. 

There’s a pause, before a kid tosses the ball up, runs, jumps, and hits it, serving it over the net. There’s a yell of “serve” from the other team, before they all practically go for it at once. Poor communication leads to a poor game being played, and that showed here. 

The ball hit the floor, not even being touched by any of the other players, which earned frustrated groans from them, and their coach. 

The home team on the other hand, aka Logan and Roman’s team, grinned, and did a short stomp while cheering “A-C-E; ace!” Despite having asked Roman what that meant, he had forgotten. All he really cared about was seeing Logan’s normally so neutral face soften slightly into a slightly proud, slightly relieved smile.

It only really happened during volleyball games. Logan really only emoted during games, whether it be through angry scowls, or pleased cheers. It was unfairly cute. 

Deciding he was quite tempted to just run onto the court and scoop Logan up, he sneaks a glance at the scoreboard. 19-7, the home team in the lead, although that wasn’t surprising in the slightest. 

The first game had already been played, with the home team winning that as well, which means he only has to wait until one of them (probably the home team) got to twenty-five. 

Unfortunately, he was impatient, so he groans again, as his leg bounces rapidly. He was so bored, but he’d rather stare at Logan than his phone, even if the more he stared, the more he wanted to jump onto the court. 

Stupid impulses. Stupid urges. Stupid sexy Logan.

There’s another serve, another scramble, another point to the home team, and another cheer from them. Remus could only hope that this one person serves the rest of the game. 

And, he almost gets his wish, up until the other time finally bumps the ball, sending a free ball back over. Normally, that would provide an excellent start to an eventual set and spike, but Roman misses his set, the ball not going up high enough, and Logan ends up spiking into the net. 

The other team cheers, and the home team looks bitter. Remus watches as the coach pulls them to the side (specifically Roman and Logan) to scold them. It was an easy ball that should have ended with a point for their side. And even if the ball was too low, Logan should know to try setting it or tipping it over the net. 

He watches Roman shift his weight back and forth on his feet, presumably ashamed, and watch as Logan’s foot taps rapidly against the ground, annoyed, but focused on receiving the pointers nonetheless. 

While he didn’t like hearing that he had messed up or done bad, Logan still enjoyed feedback. 

After a few more moments, Roman and Logan run back to their positions, Roman lightly nudging Logan before they stay still and watch the serve. 

If Remus didn’t know any better, he’d assume Roman was crushing on the athletic nerd. And, in all honesty, Roman had before. But after being turned down, Roman forced himself to get over it. 

Remus likes thinking about that moment. It was upsetting for his brother, of course, but that meant Remus’s sexual (and, he supposed, romantic) feelings had the potential to be returned. 

Although, he highly doubted it. 

Even if they never would be, at least he still got to stare at that ass every time he was dragged to one of these boring games. 

The serve goes over, and Roman shouts “serve!” The libero gets it, bumping it to the front row, where Roman sets it to the front left player. They tip it over, and it hits the ground right past the net, earning cheers for the home team again. Another point is added to their side 

The team rotates around again, and as Logan’s rotated back to serve, the libero is rotated out, the middle front player taking their place. 

Roman shoots Logan a thumbs up, and Remus leans forward in his seat. He may find volleyball boring, but Logan was an impressive player. And while he jump served, Remus was more focused on the way he approached the jump, before serving the ball over the net. 

Roman always gushed about how Logan had such good control, and as Logan’s hard serve barely landed past the net on the opposing team’s side, Remus could low-key see what he meant. A point is given to the home team, and the ball is rolled back to him. Logan adjusts his glasses, before he bounces the ball a few times. He tosses it up, and lets it fall and bounce back against the floor. 

He glances to the refs, and one of them whistles, before motioning to the net, indicating Logan was free to serve. 

He bounces the ball once more, before tossing it up and jump serving yet again. It’s another short serve, that once again lands right past the net. 

There’s angry groans from the opposing team, before Roman hears somebody say “he serves short!” 

He watches as they adjust their position accordingly, and Roman turns around to nod to Logan, who nods in return. He serves again, this time regularly, and the ball goes past the front row, and a little past the back. There’s exasperated noises, as they miss it again. 23-8. 

“Two more, Logan!” Roman shouts, as they bring it in for another quick ace cheer. The other team members also playfully pat his back and encourage him, and Logan backs up behind the serving line. 

“Two more,” he repeats to himself, drawing in a deep breath, before tossing the ball up into the air again, serving it over. The other team hits it, bumps it, specifically, but person they bump it to bumps it over. Logan bumps the free ball to Roman, who serves it to the current middle front player, who tips it over. One of the front row players on the other team tries to get it, but they can’t manage to bump it up, and the ball falls to the floor.  

There’s loud cheering. Logan didn’t join in in the premature celebrating, instead shaking his arms and head in an attempt to cure the end of the game jitters. 

“One more,” he says, and Roman smiles. 

“One more,” the setter repeats. “You’ve got this.” 

“One more,” Remus says to himself, staring at the scoreboard, and then looking back at Logan. Logan hits the ball against the ground a few times, before looking over to the bleachers. He makes eye contact with Remus, who grins at him. Even from a distance, Logan can tell Remus is rooting for him. 

He never would have expected that the class-clown, and honestly the class hindrance, to genuinely cheer for him (let alone attend a volleyball game, but Remus didn’t have much choice), and it honestly amuses him. 

The whistle blows, and Logan takes a deep breath, before tossing the serve up and jump serving it over. 

There’s shouts from the other team, as the ball gets just barely bumped up from the floor as a result of a dive, before bumped up again. One of the opposing middle front players jumps up to spike it, and Roman and the middle front player jump up to block it. It hits their hands, before falling back on the opposing side, bumping against the player before falling to the floor. The whistle blows, and there’s a moment of silence as it seems like everyone holds their breaths, waiting for a result. 

Did it count? Or were they going to call it a violation. 

After what seemed like an eternity, the refs nodding back and forth to each other, they extend their arm to the home team’s side. The final score read 25-8. 

Cheering erupted in the gym, with Roman picking Logan up in a hug. Logan looks proud in his own way, a smile over his face. Teammates slap his shoulder and pull him in for hugs, before they line up to shake hands with the opposing team. Afterwards, the coach calls them over to congratulate them. 

After that talk, the coach orders them to put away the net and get changed. 

Parents and fans stand and cheer, and some of them run out onto the court, Remus included. He wasn’t running to Roman, however, and Roman didn’t expect him to. He runs to Logan instead, immediately hugging him and picking him up. He happily spins him around, cheering “you did it! You fucking did it!” 

There’s hardly time to reprimand him for disturbing Logan as he tried to put away the net, before Remus’s has set him down and has immediately moved to running his hands over Logan’s body. 

“You’re such a good player,” he says, eyes drifting from Logan’s legs, to his eyes, and then back to his legs. “I mean, I don’t understand the game much, but you’re very strong and you seem to be very good at playing.” 

Normally, anyone would grow quickly annoyed with Remus’s rambling, especially if he was both feeling someone up and checking them out while doing so, but Logan didn’t seem to particularly mind. If anything, he was rather amused. 

“I appreciate the compliments,” Logan says, running a hand through his sweat-slicked hair in an attempt to brush it out of his face. “I need to finish getting down the net, but afterwards I planned to grab some food and head home. Would you care to come with me?”

His parents worked late, so he’d be home alone. He lived within walking distance, and also had the money on him to grab some food, and he decided that walking with Remus would be more fun than walking alone. 

“Sure,” Remus replies with a shrug, his hands coming to rest against Logan’s ass. “As long as you promise not to change out of your uniform.” 

“What about the knee pads?”

“I suppose you can take off the knee pads.” He groans as he responds, and it earns a soft, and rather cute, laugh from Logan. 

“Okay. I’ll be right back.” 

Remus was practically swooning as he watched Logan walk away. He appears to effortlessly carry the metal poles back to the storage closet, before he heads to the locker room with a fellow teammate. 

And Remus has to admit, he’s started going to the volleyball games willingly, specifically to have interactions like this. 

To get the chance to spend time with Logan. 

[anxiousgaypanicking]

Intrulogince (I’m Deprived)

“Loooooogan,” comes Roman’s drawn out whine, and Logan can only sigh as he wonders what Roman’s going to say to him now. 

“What?” comes Logan’s curt reply, not turning around his chair to even give Roman the time of day. He’s aware that regardless of what he says or how bitter he sounds, Roman will barge into his room anyway. 

And that he does, throwing open the door rather rudely, the knob slamming into the wall at the action. 

“Remus keeps-” Roman begins, only to be suddenly shoved to the floor. 

“Hey there sexy wolverine!” Remus says, with a giggle and a rather flirty eyebrow wiggle. “Are you busy?”

“Yes, actually-”

“Great! Anyway,” Remus cuts him off, strolling up to him and turning Logan’s chair himself, being met with Logan’s narrowed eyes and sour scowl. He pays no mind, instead wrapping his arms around Logan’s neck and plopping down in his lap, earning a prissy whine from Roman. 

“I wanted to sit in his lap!”

“Sucks.” Remus sticks his tongue out at his brother, before pulling Logan closer. “As I was saying, Roman and I are arguing over what movie to watch, and we want you to come pick for us!” 

“Mostly, I want you to come side with me,” Roman says with a pout, scooting to the edge of the chair and pouting up at Logan, who’s hand instinctively runs through Roman’s hair, earning a soft sigh from the prince.

Under different circumstances, he’d just tell them to settle it themselves, but both boys were looking at him pleadingly, and it’s clear they wanted him to do more than just pick out the movie. Roman was practically clinging to his calf, and Remus had a tight hold on him in general. They’d missed him. 

Well, he had been cooped up in his room for quite a while. They deserved to see him for at least a little bit. 

He knew how much both of them thrived off attention, and having the honorary position as their boyfriend, it was expected that he give him that attention (even if he was rather bad at doing so). 

He sighs. “Fine. But that means you two need to move momentarily.” 

He watches as they both smile, equally pleased that they’d convinced him to come with them, and they both hurriedly scramble away from him, allowing Logan room to stand up and brush his pants off, before he just begins walking to the living room, listening to the two roll over each other in an attempt to be the first to follow after him. 

Roman ends up succeeding, strong arms wrapping around Logan’s waist as he surveys the Netflix screen. 

“I want to watch the Princess and the Frog,” Roman says, resting his chin atop Logan’s head. 

Remus comes barreling down the stairs seconds later, having little regard for his on safety. “Yeah, well, I want to watch The Conjuring.”

“You’ve already seen The Conjuring!” comes Roman’s protest, as Remus crawls over to Logan, nuzzling up against the logical side’s legs. 

“And you’ve already seen the Princess and the Frog. Yet, here we are.” 

“Movies about romance triumph movies about horror any day!” 

“The Conjuring is a romantic movie,” Remus argues, with a huff. “Supernatural horror is like my biggest turn on.” 

“I know that’s false,” Logan says, with an eye roll. “I don’t doubt it’s on your list, but I know it’s not your biggest.” 

Remus winks in response. 

“I don’t want to watch either,” Logan then says, being blunt and honest, as per usual. “What about some sort of documentary? I’ve been quite interested in the ocean, lately. Just a minor fixation.” 

The twins hardly have to look at each other before they’re racing to the remote, rushing to turn on some sort of ocean documentary. 

It was honestly amusing how they wrestled with one another for the opportunity just to do something as simple as turn on a show Logan will enjoy. He’d discouraged their bickering, but fighting over him seemed to be their way of bonding with each other. As long as things didn’t get seriously violent, he let them be. 

“Boys,” is all he says, and they stop immediately to look at him. He holds his hand out and Remus hands him the remote, both of them rolling off each other, before climbing onto the couch, leaving space between them for Logan to sit.

Logan quickly clicks on a random ocean documentary, before setting the remote back on the table and moving to sit between the twins. The moment he does, Remus’s head falls into his lap (thankfully still attached to his body, which he had moved to lay down so he could rest against Logan’s comfy thighs), meanwhile Roman wraps an arm around Logan’s waist, pulling him close and resting his head against Logan’s. 

They both seemed content to watch the ocean documentary, and he had no doubt that both of their creative minds were expanding on a plethora of ideas pertaining to the ocean, both of them taking the theme in their own direction. 

And he was sure they’d both be eager to show him all their ideas, whether in written or art form, later. He’d eagerly listen, as he always did. 

He smiles at the mere idea, pulling both of his boys closer, the three of them content within each other’s presences.