Pane-fully Obvious: Chapter 12
Prologue Link, Chapter 11 Link
Ao3 Link
Warnings: Emotional Distress, Self-harm, Disordered Eating, Physical Pain
Chapter 12: Curtain Call for Two
“I found him!” Patton announced from the doorway, his eyebrows furrowed. “He locked himself in a bathroom stall, the poor thing.”
Virgil grabbed his backpack off the floor, adjusting his glasses as he stepped toward the door. His movements were brisk, his steps echoing faintly as he left the dim library for the moonlit hallway. He needed to find Roman. “Where is he?”
“It took me a while to find him. I checked almost every classroom before I thought of the bathrooms, but he’s here." Patton stopped just outside the grey door, tugging at his cardigan sleeve. “Should I stay close? I could help if you’re not sure what to say.”
Virgil opened his glasses case and tucked them away. "Thanks, Pat, but I need to handle this myself." His eyes shifted toward the bathroom door. “You can wait out here if you want.”
“I’ll do that.” Patton returned with a soft, reassuring smile before lowering his voice. “I’m here if you do need me though.”
Virgil gave a faint smile and nodded. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open. “Roman? You in here?” Virgil’s voice was soft, but his eyes scanned the stalls with quiet urgency, pausing at the one closed door at the far end.
“Virgil?” Roman’s voice came, followed by a sharp curse. “Just… just a minute.”
Virgil tilted his head, watching the shadows shift under the stall door. The scuff of hurried movement and a muffled thud followed, Roman clearly scrambling to compose himself. Setting his backpack on the sink, he called again. “You okay in there?”
“Of course! Nothing can keep this Prince down!” Roman’s voice rose theatrically, though a faint waver betrayed the false bravado.
"Are you sure? Paris said some nasty things…"
Roman flinched, his mask slipping for just a moment before he straightened his shoulders and pushed open the stall door, it creaking in protest with the movement. He strolled stiffly toward the sink, his posture too rigid, too controlled.
“Yes, I’m sure! Why wouldn’t I be?” Roman splashed cold water onto his face, the droplets running down his cheeks. He avoided the mirror entirely, his gaze darting anywhere but his own reflection. Instead, he turned back to Virgil with a smile too bright to be real.
Virgil grimaced, his chest tightening as he took in the puffy red eyes that Roman’s smile couldn’t disguise.
Roman looked away, clearing his throat softly, the sound barely audible. "I'm okay now, really."
“You want to talk about it?” Virgil asked, hesitating as his fingers brushed over the edge of the paper towel dispenser. He pulled one free and handed it to Roman, peering up at him behind his bangs.
Roman dabbed at his face with the paper towel before holding his stomach with a wince. “I’d rather not,” he muttered, the words tinged with both exhaustion and reluctance.
“Okay.” Virgil nodded in understanding, rubbing his arm. “It’s just… I don’t think liking guys is gross or freaky, I mean I kind of like guys- I mean I do like guys, not kind of…”
Roman lifted his gaze from the sink, his lips turning up into a hopeful smile. “Really? Me too. I like guys, they're…” He blushed as he realized Virgil’s own lips quirking up.
“They’re what?”
“Neat…”
Virgil chuckled softly, the tension in his shoulders easing as he raised a hand to his neck. “Yeah, I guess I think they’re pretty neat too. So…” Virgil tilted his head, studying Roman’s face carefully. “You good enough to perform tonight, or…?”
“I think—” Roman’s face twisted sharply, his words breaking off as he braced himself against the sink. His hand shot back to his stomach, clutching his shirt as pain curled and twisted inside him. A low whimper slipped through his clenched teeth, his breath hitching.
“Roman?” Virgil’s eyes widened, and he rested a steadying hand on Roman’s shoulder. “What’s wrong? Roman, what’s going on?”
“No—nothing.” Roman’s legs gave out, betraying him as he lowered himself to the floor, arms wrapping around his middle. He let out a faint whine, his face scrunching as he curled into himself. The hollow, gnawing ache in his stomach burned, relentless and consuming.
“Roman, this isn’t nothing.” Virgil crouched beside him, scanning him with his blue, worried eyes. “I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong. Please, tell me.”
Roman growled low in frustration, his body curling tighter in on itself as the pain twisted in his stomach. “Hunger pangs.”
“Hunger pangs?” Virgil repeated, disbelief heavy in his tone. He stood up quickly, rummaging through his bag, hands shaking just slightly as he pulled out a slice of bread and unwrapped it. “Here, banana bread. You can nibble on this.”
Roman took the slice without a word, biting into it slowly, eyes closed as if focusing on the motion of chewing more than the taste. Virgil vanished from the bathroom for a moment, and when he returned, he was holding a bottle of water. He unscrewed it carefully, but before Roman could reach for it, Virgil pulled it back, narrowing his eyes as he looked at him closely.
“Why are you getting hunger pangs, Roman?” Virgil’s voice softened, tinged with concern.
Roman reached for the water with a sigh, his throat dry as he swallowed. “I just… forgot to eat today, that’s all.”
“Forgot?” Virgil pushed the water into Roman’s hand, guiding it gently to his lips, his eyes never leaving Roman’s face. “Roman, if you’re starving yourself—”
“Woah, easy, Virgil,” Roman interjected quickly, lowering the water, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I’m not starving myself on purpose. I’ve just been… stressed. There’s a lot going on.”
Virgil leaned forward slightly, his hand hovering near Roman’s shoulder. The concern in his voice deepened. “I get it, stress can make it hard to eat. But you can’t keep doing this to yourself, Roman. How are you supposed to perform in a musical if you’ve got no energy?”
Roman’s eyes flickered downward, his stomach easing slightly as he leaned back against the wall. “You’re right…” he murmured, voice small. “Maybe I should just let Janus go on instead.”
Virgil’s eyebrows pinched together. “That’s not what I’m saying, Roman. What I mean is you need to take better care of yourself.”
“I’m trying.” Roman muttered, finishing the last of the banana bread, scrunching up the plastic wrap into a ball as he sighed. “I’m really trying.” He repeated defeatedly.
Virgil slowly got back up to his feet, extending his hand toward Roman with a small but sincere smile. Maybe in more ways than one. “I was thinking of grabbing some of the Swedish meatballs they’re selling at the concession tonight… You want to join me for some during the intermission?”
Roman’s eyes flickered up to meet Virgil’s, the faintest spark of hope in them. He hesitated for just a moment, then allowed his lips to pull into a tentative smile. “You’d want me to?”
Virgil smiled, his voice warm. “Of course. I’ll bring them to you, since you’re not supposed to go anywhere.”
Roman nodded, his lips turning up into a slightly brighter smile. “I’d like that then.” He exhaled, drinking the last of his water. "How long do I have before mic check starts?"
Virgil checked his phone. "Forty minutes-ish."
Roman shook out his hands, clearing his throat. "I guess I'll have to make do with what time I have to get made up then."
Virgil hesitated, scratching his neck, glancing at Roman before offering, "I could… I could do your makeup for you. I brought my kit just in case…"
Roman raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes. "Would you? I mean, Edvin’s no edge lord, but I’m sure the makeup team’s got their hands full. I could make do with what I’ve got for tonight."
Virgil rolled his eyes, a smirk tugging at his lips. "I can do more than just foundation and eyeshadow, you know." He returned his kit to his backpack with mock annoyance. "You know, I don’t have to do your makeup. I could leave you to do it yourself."
"No. I'll shut up, I promise. Just please do my makeup." Roman implored, batting his eyelashes at Virgil as he grabbed his arm.
Virgil shook his head, struggling to hold back his amusement. "I don't know, Prince, there are plenty of other actors needing their makeup done, and they'd be way more appreciative of the time and effort I put into making them look ‘stage ready.’" He pointed out with a teasing grin.
Roman pouted. "Okay, now you're just teasing me."
Virgil sighed dramatically. "Fine, I’ll do it." He pulled his black makeup bag out of his backpack, unzipping it and pulling out a few tools. "Could you sit on the counter for me?"
Roman nodded eagerly, settling onto the counter with a grin. "Of course I can, Virgil J. Scuttle."
Virgil quirked an eyebrow. “Makeup artist?”
“Yup.” Roman placed his hands on either side of him to keep himself steady.
Virgil moved closer, positioning himself in front of Roman with some foundation ready to go on the back of one hand and a little sponge in the other. "Could you also, um…" Virgil motioned awkwardly toward Roman's legs, making a vague opening gesture. "Could you, you know, move them a bit? I need access to… well, your face."
Roman raised an eyebrow, his smirk deepening. "I never would have expected you'd be so forward."
Virgil rolled his eyes, stepping closer to start working. “Well, I never would have expected you'd be this annoying.” He quipped back, his own smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he focused on Roman’s makeup.
Roman sputtered, offended. "I am not annoying! I'm charismatic! People find me charming!"
Virgil snorted. "Name one person who’s actually called you charming, other than your grandmother."
"My Aunt." Roman replied defensively.
Virgil burst out laughing, but quickly slapped a hand over his mouth, self-conscious of the sound. He turned away in embarrassment, trying to hide the sudden warmth rising in his cheeks. What was he doing? How had he gotten so comfortable around Roman so quickly? He had spent so long avoiding Roman to please Charlotte, and now here he was, messing around with him like they had known each other for years. Was it weird that it actually felt like they had? Like he was talking to a good friend of his? The realization unsettled him for just a second.
Roman took Virgil’s hand in his, gently pulling his attention back to him with a frown. "Why'd you stop?"
Virgil pulled his hand away, shaking his head. "It’s nothing." He muttered, resuming his work on Roman’s makeup, but his mind felt distant. The way they had been talking to each other—it felt so familiar, almost too familiar. What was it about Roman that made him feel so at ease around him? Was it just his charm, or was there something more beneath the surface? Virgil tried to focus, but the thought lingered. He finally set the lipstick down and grabbed a paper towel, handing it to Roman. "To get off some of the extra lipstick, so it doesn’t get on your teeth."
Roman sighed in mock exasperation, but his gaze softened. He glanced down at the paper towel in his hand before looking up at Virgil with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "And what if I wanted to show my appreciation instead?"
Virgil’s eyes narrowed slightly, his heart skipping a beat as he looked up. “Don’t even think about it.” He warned, taking a few cautious steps away from Roman, his hand instinctively going to pack away his makeup kit.
Roman hopped off the counter with a graceful ease, standing beside Virgil before gently taking his hand again, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of it. “Thank you, Virgil. This… This really helped. A lot more than you could imagine.”
Virgil blinked down at the lip marks left on his hand, his mind temporarily blank.
"I should get into costume now, but I’ll see you at intermission." Roman chuckled, giving a small wave of his hand before pressing his other palm against the door. He walked face-first into it, his cheeks immediately heating up. He quickly pulled the door open, stepping out with a flustered smile.
Virgil snapped out of his daze, a small smile tugging at his lips, only for it to falter as his heart continued to race. Did he... kind of like Roman? He frowned, trying to shake off the thought, but it lingered, stubborn and insistent. His gaze drifted back to the door Roman had just exited through. Why did it feel like he was missing something so painfully obvious? Sighing, he turned and made his way back to the sound booth. He’d figure it out eventually—right now, he needed to focus on checking the lighting system before the show. Not on the butterflies stirring in his chest, or the lingering mark on his hand that seemed to pull his attention back, again and again.
Chapter 13