Roman was reading over his lines when he noticed it.
The silence.
Looking away from the M play, he stood up and stretched before searching the house.
Bedrooms clean and clear, Kitchen spotless, laundry is clear, and now as he stands in the playroom, just as he was going to panic a small rustle alerted him to what he was searching for.
A small toddler was curled up in a tight ball holding a weighted blanket and a Lilo and stitch book in the oversized beanbag chair.
Roman smiled and took a quick picture of his son, being this cute should be illegal.
Roman then moved on to the kitchen to make his little Dark Prince a snack before dinner.
Virgil had been with him for an entire year and this is the first time he fell asleep in a semi-acceptable place!
Roman prepared apple slices, carefully cutting the way Virgil likes them. Then took extra care to position the sippy cup to an exact 30° angle, which was natural for him now.
He didn't notice his child toddle in until he felt a familiar weight on the back of his legs, "V? Are you ok sweetheart?"
"Seepy."
Roman smiled, already hearing the eyes being rubbed. He put two carrot sticks next to the apples, "Oh, do you not want a snack before I start dinner?"
Feeling a small tug on his pants, Roman turned to see Virgil looking up at him with wide eyes, "apepels? Purple juice?"
Roman nodded, "Apples and purple juice, wanna snack kiddo?"
Virgil nodded and went to his little kid table, strictly for snacks as Roman says.
As Roman gave his son his snack, he thought about how he got here and smiled. Because there is nothing he would trade in the world for Virgil.
❝ if you wanna talk, i’m here. ❞ gimme that prinxeity
Summary: School can be rough, especially when one’s peers already see them as the “odd one out.” It only gets worse when Virgil’s headphones get snipped. After trying to stand up for himself and instead gets painted in the wrong light, the school calls his Dad—but Roman only gets one side of the story.
Pairings: Parental/Familial Prinxiety.
Warnings: Bullying mention, crying, brief mention of an anxiety attack, thoughts of being left, fear of parental rejection, brief mention of physical violence, brief mention of an absent parent, negative self-talk. (I think that’s it, but let me know if I missed anything!)
Word Count: 2849 words.
A/n: I have been yearning to write something like this for ages and I have finally gotten around to doing it. It was a fun little write that turned out a little longer than I anticipated, but I had fun nonetheless.
Enjoy!
— — — — — —
“I can’t believe someone actually chose you.”
“I think it was more of a mistake. Not like he really knew you before he chose you.”
“You’re such a sourpuss. It’s like you never have anything nice to say. What happened that made you so miserable?”
Virgil had huddled down further into his jacket, the words stinging far more than he expected them to. The bus ride had been miserable and the day at school had been so much worse.
Some jerk had snipped the wire in his headphones while he was wearing them, thinking it would be so funny, which had then resulted in Virgil punching the kid in the jaw. Which then resulted in being sent to the principal’s office because the kid was a crybaby. Said principal didn’t even listen to a word he had to say, trying defend himself and explain the full story, but had instead only been lectured on what he had done wrong.
Then his Dad had been called and had been given the wrong half of the story. He was kind of surprised that the principal hadn’t asked his parent to come in. Maybe it was because it was the end of the day.
Virgil wasn’t worried about his Dad freaking out, he knew he would probably just get that disappointed look in his eyes that made Virgil’s stomach squirm in regret. So, he wouldn’t even acknowledge him.
“Physically violent and an orphan. Wow, I’m surprised anyone even gave you a second glance.”
“Weird eyes, bitter, resentful and a jerk. Huh. Who knew someone like you could be loved by someone as nice as your so-called ‘Dad’?”
Pulling his hood up higher over his head, he stuffed his hands into his pockets and stayed silent the entire bus ride home. Even with Patton trying to talk to him, get his mind off of everything that had happened that day.
“I’m sure your Dad won’t be too mad once he gets your side of the story,” Patton had tried to comfort him, “he seems pretty understanding and really, you were defending yourself.”
Virgil wasn’t so positive, but he did appreciate that Patton was trying. Even Logan had tried to say something encouraging, but Virgil had only turned away from him. His friends had shared a soft look. Virgil hadn’t given them a lot of details about the incident, but Patton had had an itching feeling that the kid Virgil had gone after, was the same kid that had been bullying him for ages.
Logan and Patton had both gotten off at their respective stop, but not before trying to at least make Virgil feel the least bit better.
“Thank guys, but it’s not necessary.”
“Virge, you know we love you. Just… everything’ll be alright, okay? We’ll see you on Monday. Right?”
“…yeah.”
Then the bus had pulled away and Virgil was one of the last three kids to be dropped off. He stayed hidden away in the back of the bus before it was finally his stop. The whole trip was absolutely miserable without music. He was just miserable in general. His knuckles hurt, his chest felt weighted and he felt guilt sinking into his stomach like a rock, making his unease ten times worse.
The tween stepped off the bus after giving the driver a quiet “thanks” before adjusting his bag and heading on his way.
As soon as he could see his house in the distance, he felt bile rise in the back of his throat. It was sour and bitter and Virgil had half a mind to bolt in the opposite direction. That way Roman wouldn’t have to be faced with his disappointment of a son.
No, you’re not running away like a coward. You’re not a baby. Go in there, ignore Dad like the big kid you are and leave it at that.
He fiddled with his hands, picking at the skin around his nails as he stepped up the stairs and onto the front porch. Dad’s truck was in the driveway, which meant Dad was home. Feeling sicker with every step he took, he opened the door and stepped inside.
The minute Roman heard the door open, he peeked around the corner of the kitchen from where he was finishing up with the dishes from lunch. Spotting the tween toeing off his shoes at the door, he wiped his hands off on the dishrag before heading into the mudroom.
“Hey bud, how was—”
Virgil’s shoulders tensed as soon as he heard his voice and it seemed the minute his shoes were off, he made a beeline straight for the stairwell. His hood was up and his head was ducked down.
“—school.”
Letting out a small sigh, Roman tucked his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. He had a feeling this would happen, but he had expected at least a word or two from the kid before he bolted.
Roman knew he would need to talk to him, but he didn’t think it was going to be this difficult. He knew Virgil had a hard time opening up—the nice woman at the orphanage had told him that too; to be kind and patient and understanding. To let the tween come to him in his own time, but when he had gotten that call earlier, it already warranted that they would need to talk.
First, though, Roman needed to know the full story. The principal had only told him what Virgil had done and not what the other kid had done to deserve it. It wasn’t like Virgil to just act out like that. There had to be some sort of motivating force.
Though, he also knew he should give Virgil some space for a little bit. He’d give him an hour before going up to ask what’s going on.
So, he leaned down, tidied the shoe area before turning back around and finishing up with the dishes.
—
The hour had passed and there hadn’t been a sound from upstairs. Not a creak in the floorboard, opening or closing of a door, no angsty teen music blasting through the speaker to drown out the world.
It was starting to worry him, Roman wasn’t going to deny that.
Deciding that enough was enough, he slid the bookmark into place to mark the page before setting it down on the coffee table in front of him.
Turning the banister and heading up the stairs felt as though there was a weight on his chest. There had to be so much going through Virgil’s mind right now. What was he worried about? Roman had seen the kid go through some rough anxiety attacks on his own because he didn’t feel safe enough coming to him yet. It almost made Roman feel as though he had done something wrong as his father these past two years.
Oh God, had he done something to make Virgil feel unsafe when expressing his anxieties? If he had, he needed to find a way to remedy that immediately.
Roman refused to be the father that his kid was afraid of.
He was not going to be like his own father.
He stood outside Virgil’s door for half a moment, just listening. For anything really. Laboured breaths, sobs, choked noises, music.
It took a moment, but he could hear Virgil heaving quietly, as if he was stifling it.
Raising a hand, Roman knocked on the door gently enough not to startle the tween too much. “Virgil? Are you alright?”
The soft sounds stopped and Roman felt his stomach drop. His own anxiety spiked slightly at that. There was some quick shuffling from inside and he worried his lower lip. He wanted to open the door and make sure Virgil was alright, but he also didn’t want to invade his safe place without permission. The only time he had ever done that was when Virgil had woken up screaming in the middle of the night when Roman had first brought him in.
“I– I’m fine, Roman,” the choked voice came suddenly.
Immediately he knew something was very much not right. Virgil almost never called him by his name unless he was trying to distance himself.
He was frightened that something was going to happen to him.
It was something he had done when Roman had first adopted him. Virgil had refused to call him “dad” to keep himself from getting attached just in case Roman decided to send him back.
(Which he would never do in the first place!)
“Virgil,” Roman started after a moment, trying to sort through everything that was going through his head. “Can I come in?”
There was a long hesitation after he had asked that. The silence seemed heavy and uncomfortable but he needed to ask.
“It is more than okay if you say no,” he continued after a heartbeat, wanting to make sure that Virgil knew his opinion was very much important to him. “I will respect your decision. But I just want to make sure you’re alright, okay?”
There was more shuffling from behind the door and Roman was more than ready to take his leave and wait until Virgil came to get him for help. Before he could do anything of the like however, there was the sound of the door unlocking and footsteps leading away from the door itself. Roman took that as permission to enter the room.
When he did, the blinds were drawn shut tightly so no light could come in from the outside. The nightlight he had bought for the kid was flicked on in the corner of the room. That only happened nowadays when Virgil wanted some semblance of comfort, since that nightlight had granted him many nights of comfort when he had first been brought into the home.
The next thing Roman noticed was Virgil himself, sitting curled up on his bed with his hood up and his face pressed into his arms. His shoulders were trembling with silent sobs.
His features softened further and stepped quietly into the room after gently shutting the door behind him.
Roman didn’t say anything until he was sat on the edge of the bed, just an arms length away from the tween keeping his knees tucked up close to his chest, as if to protect himself.
“I think I know what this is about,” he started softly, keeping his hands to himself, but leaning comfortably enough on the bed to show that he was there, so if Virgil eventually looked up he wouldn’t be startled by his parent’s proximity. He brought a leg up to lean on comfortably. “I’m not going to force you to say anything, but if you wanna talk, I’m here.”
Virgil sniffled, but didn’t seem to react to him more than that.
Roman took a breath. “I want to start this off by saying I’m not mad.”
That shocked the tween enough to actually look up at him, blinking tears from his multi-coloured eyes. He hiccuped softly, not bothering to wipe at the tear trails leaking down. “You– you’re not?”
Such a sad voice, it broke Roman’s heart is what it did. Virgil was so afraid of being punished, that having some sort of positive result come out of a situation like this was almost unheard of. “No,” he reassured him, keeping his eyes steady with Virgil’s and keeping his voice level and calm. “I’m not mad at you because I feel like I didn’t get the whole story from your principal when I got that call.”
“You didn’t!” Virgil was very adamant about that, not wanting to be painted as the villain in this. He wasn’t a bad kid, he wasn’t! And he didn’t want Roman to think he was, because if his Dad believed it then that meant he wouldn’t be able to stay. And God, Virgil’s life had only gotten better since Roman had adopted him. “He didn’t tell you even half of it. It’s typical.” He scrubbed at his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie, tilting his head away from the adult.
“Then why don’t you tell me what happened,” Roman prompted him gently, giving a nod to show that he was really listening.
Virgil worried his lower lip before uncurling slightly. Just enough so that he was sitting cross-legged and actually facing Roman. However, his hood was still up and his hands were fiddling with the ends of his jacket sleeves and the loose threads there. He took a breath to steady his voice before sniffling again.
“There’s this kid, uh, he’s been…been bothering me for awhile now.” He quickly continued before Roman had the chance to say anything to that. “And today, I guess he just thought it’d be funny if he–” Virgil choked on a sob, trying to stifle it and Roman ached so badly to reach over and touch him, to offer physical comfort but he wouldn’t until Virgil was reaching out to him first. “He thought it’d be funny to cut the wires of my headphones while I was wearing them and then I just- I just…”
His hands clenched slightly and Roman got the picture quite clearly.
“You reacted before you knew what you were doing,” Roman finished for him, clasping his hands together and ducking his head to try and meet Virgil’s eyes, but the tween was avoiding looking at him altogether.
“God, I’m—” he sucked in a sharp breath, nearly choking on it, “I’m sorry I’m such a screw up. You take me in an-and show me all this love and I just go and— and throw all that away. I’m such a failure.”
“Hey now,” Roman quickly cut that line of thought off immediately, sitting up a bit straighter at that. “You are not a screw up and you are not a failure.”
Virgil shook his head, seemingly too lost in his thoughts at this point to listen clearly. “…god knows why you ever wanted me.”
“I have always wanted you.” There was such a surprising firmness behind the statement that Virgil finally looked up at him. Roman moved a little bit closer to him, but not enough to encroach on his sacred space. “I have never once doubted that, do you understand me?” After a second, he got a tentative nod. “Punching some kid in the face may not have been your proudest moment, but that doesn’t make me want you any less. We all make mistakes Virgil, and that’s okay. You got emotional because what that kid did was downright horrendous and uncalled for. I’ve made mistakes, too. And I can promise you that they’re almost all worse than punching some punk jerk in the face.”
Virgil scrubbed his eyes at that. “What could you have possibly done that’s worse?”
Roman cracked a small grin at that. “My brother and I got into some dumb shenanigans when we were your age and older,” he told him. “Some of the things we did could have gotten us arrested if we had been caught. So you getting suspended from school for a couple days is okay.”
“You and Uncle Remus almost got arrested?”
“Could have,” Roman corrected, wanting to make sure that he drove home the fact that neither of them had ever been caught in the act. “Now, I’m not going to say that I’m okay with you punching other kids and getting suspended, nor will I endorse that behaviour. But I want you to know that I’m not mad.”
Virgil’s expression crumpled further and before long, he was crawling forward and burying his face in Roman’s chest. The adult responded immediately by pulling the tween into his lap and holding him close. He pushed Virgil’s hood down before letting his fingers card through the dark brown hair and dyed tips in a repeated and hopefully soothing motion.
“You’re a good kid, Virgil,” Roman promised him, even as Virgil heaved in his arms, clinging to his father with all he had. “And I know that. This does not change a thing.”
That almost seemed to make the tween cry harder, so he spent about ten minutes just soothing the boy in his arms. Quietly rocking them back and forth in a gentle and loving motion. Giving Virgil that softness that he craved without truly ever asking for it straight out.
“...thanks, Dad.” Virgil’s voice was soft and hoarse and Roman may not have heard it if Virgil wasn’t pressed right up against him.
“Of course.” It was sentimental and meaningful, before; “am I the best dad or what?”
Virgil laughed wetly, pulling away and wiping at his eyes again. But they were drier this time. “I don’t know if I’d go that far.”
“What?” Roman gasped, feigning offense. “Well, would I be the best dad if I took you out to get some more headphones?”
Pausing in his motions of swiping at his face to clear more of the wetness away, Virgil blinked to him in the darkness of the bedroom. “…maybe.”
Roman nodded his head toward the door. “Come on then. How about this; you clean yourself up and then we head out in about twenty minutes and get you a brand new pair, alright?”
Patton is a single dad trying his best to take care of his son Dee, who has a speech impediment that makes him speak in opposites. One day a kid called Roman decides to be Dee's friend.
(WARNINGS: Mention of child abuse and serious child injury)
"Don't talk back to me young man, I've still got your receipt" (maybe like parent roman to virgil trying to playfully scold him but virgil takes it seriously?)
“Virgil,” Roman called. He walked into the kitchen where Virgil was doing his homework. He placed a hand on Virgil’s head and smiled down at his adopted son. “Do me a favour and do the dishes for me?”
Virgil sighed dramatically. When he had first arrived at Roman’s house, he had been shy and defensive. Thankfully, Roman had managed to gain Virgil’s trust and the young boy had let down his defensives, revealing his sassy and witty nature. “I got homework,” the ten-year-old groaned playfully. “Really, can’t you do it, Papa?”
“Don’t talk back to me young man,” Roman said back. He teased,” I’ve still got your receipt.”
Maybe Roman had meant to continue the playful banter he and his son had had going. But, whatever his intention was, it wasn’t for Virgil’s breath to hitch and for his skin to pale with terror.
“Virgil,” he said, concern creeping in his tone. He crouched down. “Hey, I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.”
Virgil was staring down at his homework, seemingly unable to look away. He was trembling and Roman placed his hands on Virgil’s arms. “Hey,” he whispered again.
“Please,” Virgil whispered. Tears leaked out of his eyes and down his cheeks. “Please, don’t send me back. Please, I’ll, I’ll be good. I’ll be, be,” a soft sob escaped him and then he couldn’t hold them back.
“Oh, my little Prince,” Roman moaned. He pulled the little boy out of his chair and into his arms. “I’m so, so sorry, Baby. You’re so good, Darling. You’re such a good son, VeeVee. I shouldn’t have said that to you. Shhhhh.” He kissed Virgil’s head and swayed them back and forth. “Shhhhhhh.”
Virgil clung to Roman’s shirt, sobbing and whispering, “Please, please don’t leave me. Don’t send me back, Papa, please!”
Roman picked him up and walked from the kitchen to the couch, lying down and holding Virgil close to his chest. “Shhh,” he cooed. “Shhhh, I’m not sending you anywhere, my son. You’re mine, Sweetheart. I’m not sending you back ever.”
He laid there until Virgil cried himself to sleep. And then he closed his eyes, not falling to sleep himself, but thinking about how much this was going to set his son back.
