NO OK YOU KNOW WHAT I THINK ABOUT THIS A LOT AND I WILL LITERALLY SCREAM IF I CONSIDER THIS FOR TOO LONG
Contains: anGST, self deprication, fear of death, misunderstanding, communiCATE YOU FOOLS
Prinxiety kinda? Could be romantic or platonic *shrug*
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Virgil’s heart nearly stopped when he heard Roman come into the kitchen behind him. He spun around, clutching the slice of buttered bread in one hand, butter knife in the other. “Ah-!” He swallowed. What was Roman doing in here at this time of night? He’d been swapping around his sleep schedule specifically in an attempt to avoid the royal. Fat lot of use that had been, clearly.
Roman glanced up casually. “Good evening, Anxiety,” He hummed, opening the fridge and ducking his head in, peering at the contents.
What was he playing at? Was he trying to throw him off guard? Strike when Virgil wasn’t expecting it? Virgil’s shakey grip on the butter knife tightened. “Uh… hi,” He croaked.
“Making a sandwich? Capital idea. I think I might have a ham and cheese, myself,” Roman nodded, pulling items from the fridge and bumping it shut with his hip. He sauntered over to the counter, standing next to Virgil, starting to put together his own food.
Virgil’s mouth felt dry. He stared down at the bread, blankly dragging the knife back and forth across the slice as he thought. Was this going to be his last meal? A peanut butter and jam sandwich? God, he was going to die without being able to tell Logan they’d run out. That sucked.
He tensed as Roman’s shoulder brushed against his, and he looked up at the royal Side. Roman was a head taller than him- something that had always irritated him, not that it mattered now, nothing really did, did it?- and he sighed desolately.
“What’s on your mind, Rude-y Gloom?” Roman’s voice made him flinch back, pulling his gaze back down to his sandwich, trying to still his trembling hands.
“I’m fine, Princey.” His voice cracked slightly. He hated that. He hated sounding weak. Vulnerable. Damn it, Virgil, can’t you even die with some dignity? Have a spine for once in your life? A voice in the back of his mind hissed.
He dropped the knife, grabbing onto the counter as his legs wobbled beneath him. His breath rushed out of him, his chest suddenly aching. He dimly heard Roman’s voice, unable to focus on the words. His vision began to swim. Would he get a chance to even say goodbye? Goodbye to Thomas? Goodbye to Logan? Goodbye to- oh, god, he was never going see Patton again. His eyes filled with tears.
He felt Roman’s hand touch his shoulder and he jerked back as if he was burned. He stumbled backwards with a cry, his legs buckling under him. He collapsed backwards, falling against the cabinets, yelping weakly as the back of his head smacked against a handle.
“… xiety? Anxiety!” He raised his head- it was so heavy- and blinked sluggishly, meeting Roman’s wide eyes. The Creative Side was on his knees in front of him, hands half-raised, an uncertain look on his face.
Virgil tried to scoot away, his head spinning- pointless useless they’re all better off without you- and whimpered hoarsely. His whole body shook like a leaf, each breath difficult to drag into his lungs.
“Anxiety, look at me, come on,” Roman said, his voice cracking a little. Why did he sound so upset? Did he not want to kill Virgil then? What, did he want to chase him for sport or something? It was as good as Virgil deserved, he supposed. “Anxiety, can I touch you?”
“… No,” Virgil croaked, the echo in his voice only putting him more on edge. “Don’t… don’t want to…” He choked back a sob.
Roman dropped his hands, nodding. “Okay, okay, that’s fine,” He murmured. “What don’t you want, Anxiety?”
Virgil looked up from underneath his feathery bangs, his miserable, terrified, frantic eyes meeting Roman’s wide, concerned, uncertain gaze. He doesn’t care, if you lower your guard he’s just going to kill you, you idiot! Every part of him, every single iota of his being, was screaming at him to run, to fight, to do something… but he knew that Roman was right. “I… I don’t want to die,” He whimpered. “But I hurt Thomas. I get it.”
Roman flinched back, frowning. “What… Anxiety, you’re not going to die. Why would you think that?” He asked softly. He reached out and gently touched Virgil’s hand.
Virgil shrank back, pressing himself harder against the wood of the cabinet. “You said it yourself. You find what makes someone’s life difficult and you-” He broke off in a sob, the tears spilling over onto his cheeks- pathetic stupid useless soft idiot. “And you kill it. I get it.”
Roman’s eyes lit up, only to be crushed by sorrow as he understood what Virgil meant. “Anxiety,” Virgil was surprised to hear that Roman’s voice sounded as broken as his in that moment, “I’m not… I would never… I don’t want to hurt you, Anxiety. I promise.”
“You’re lying. I’m useless. Stupid. I just ruin everything.” Virgil shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut as hot tears streaked down his cheeks. The thoughts whirling in his head came spilling out of him in a rush as he hiccupped and sobbed. “I make Thomas worried about stupid things, I just bring everyone down, you don’t need me, I’m bad, just get it over with, just kill me already!”
He felt Roman’s arms wrap around him before he could react, pulling him forward against the other’s strong chest. Crushing- no. A hug. A hug? A hand gently rubbed circles against his back. He clung desperately to Roman, however much of a lie this was, however much Roman could be readying a dagger behind him right this second, he didn’t care. He needed this. To cling to the false hope that he mattered, that they cared, that he was wanted and needed among them.
He felt Roman’s hand come up, running gently through his soft hair, and whimpered, burying his face against Roman’s chest, feeling the smooth silk of his sash beneath his cheek, inhaling the sweet scent of flowers- was that perfume?- in between the sobs that wracked his small, thin frame.
The only sound in the kitchen for a few minutes was the violent, heartbroken sobs ripping themselves from Virgil’s mouth as they clung together, sprawled on the floor, Roman cradling the Anxious Side as if he were something precious that he was scared to let go of.
“Anxiety…” Roman’s voice wavered, and Virgil felt the faint rumble in his chest as he cleared his throat and began again. “Nobody is going to hurt you. I swear it on all I hold dear. I may not see eye to eye with you on… nearly anything, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to run you through.”
Virgil didn’t say anything for a few moments, slowly trying to calm his sobs. He took a deep, shaky breath. “I… really?” He squeaked, his voice barely audible. He was pleased that the echo had mostly faded.
“Really,” Roman affirmed, leaning his cheek against the top of Virgil’s hair. “Really truly. I’m sorry for worrying you so.”
Virgil considered this for a moment, then sighed, sagging against Roman’s chest. He was exhausted. “… S'fine. Just me being stupid and jumping to conclusions again, I guess.”
“You’re not stupid,” Roman argued, slowly lifting the two of them into a sitting position. “Not at all. It was poor word choice on my part. I don’t agree with you on damn near anything, but that doesn’t mean that you aren’t a part of Thomas, just like the rest of us.”
Virgil licked his lips. “… I’m fucking tired.” He muttered, choosing to skim over Roman’s heartfelt statement. Why did panic attacks always have to take so much out of you? Jesus.
“I’m not surprised. Tell you what, how about I finish these sandwiches, we eat, and then both of us get ourselves back to bed?” Roman hummed.
Virgil paused, then nodded. “Y… yeah. That sounds good,” He murmured, his voice a little softer.
Roman slowly stood, guiding Virgil to sit down at the table before he plucked the sandwiches off the counter and returned. “Goodness,” He said through a large mouthful, “Is that the last of the Crofters? That’ll tick Logan off.”
“Logan can be ticked all he wants,” Virgil retorted with a half-hearted eye roll as he finished his snack. “I want some goddamn jam.”
Roman chuckled, then shoved the rest of his sandwich in his mouth. He got to his feet and paused. He swallowed, then looked back down at Virgil. “… Are you going to be alright?” He asked softly.
“Yeah. I’m fine, Princey.” Virgil looked up and smiled a little. “For real this time.”
Roman nodded. “Well… you know where my room is, if you need. Goodnight, Anxiety.” He turned to leave, starting towards the stairs.
“Wait!” Virgil blurted out. It didn’t feel right, Anxiety was his purpose, not who he was. It wasn’t right. He had to-
Roman looked over his shoulder, eyes a little wide. “What’s wrong?” He asked, concern creeping into his tone again.
Virgil paused, licking his dry lips, then sighed. “Uh… don’t let the pea bruise you, Princess.” It wasn’t the right time. One time comforting him in a panic attack did not make them friends.
Roman chuckled as he went upstairs. “I shan’t. Sleep well, Anxiety.”
Virgil stared after him for a moment, then closed his eyes. Well, there was one less thing he had to worry about.
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