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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 Eleven: Double Date

Masterlist

Virgil's phone - which has been ringing quite persistently the past two weekdays - lights up with another call that has Virgil groaning in bed.

He assumes it's merely Janus or Logan trying to get ahold of him, as they'd been doing since Virgil stopped showing up at school, or the worst case scenario: Roman, who's been trying to talk to Virgil about what happened, but when he flips his cell over, he nearly throws up when he sees his father's caller ID.

Today would be the third day of school in a row that Virgil's skipped, which means the administration likely took initiative and called Virgil's dad to report his absences. And Virgil was not looking forward to the many ways this conversation could go wrong.

Was he about to be lectured for missing class during a period of time where he was otherwise being trusted at home? Was his father going to threaten to come home early and ground him? Was Virgil going to be ordered to march his ass to his high school and explain to the office that he was choosing to stay home out of nausea, as the idea of going and being around people was making him sick?

Nervously, Virgil answers.

"Hello?" he shakily says, his voice coming out rather coarse. He hasn't spoken much, since he's had no one to speak to, and water has been his last priority whilst he's been rotting in his bed.

"Hi, Virgil," comes Virgil's father's voice. His father - Clay - sounds gentler than Virgil remembers his voice sounding, but Virgil also hasn't heard from him in a while. "Your school's been calling me. You haven't gone in the past three days."

Virgil shrinks against his mattress, tangling his greasy body in the blankets. "I know," he mumbles, guilt ridden. "I just... haven't been feeling good."

"Are you sick?"

The question is asked genuinely, but Virgil still winces at it, and is compelled to answer honestly despite the fact he could easily lie. "I don't know. More anxious than anything. But that anxiety is making me sick."

There's a pause, before shuffling is heard on the other end. There's ruffling paper, and a faint knock, but instead of acknowledging anything on his end Virgil's dad instead says "did something bad occur? At school, I mean. Bullies, failed tests... anything that's happened that could be causing it?"

This time, Virgil can't bring himself to spill the truth. So, he says "no. I don't know why I'm like this."

"Do I need to come home early?"

Virgil shoots up so fast in bed he gives himself a fresh wave of motion sickness. Still, he splutters out "and cut your vacation off early? Are you kidding? What kind of a son would I be if I did that to you?"

"Virgil-" Clay starts, but he's quickly cut off.

"You don't have to come home. I can just... deal with it. I'm sorry the school had to call you in the first place." Virgil's forearm slides over his face, wiping away the liquid that's accrued on his cheeks. Virgil isn't interested in trying to decipher whether it's nervous sweat or guilty tears. "I can just go in late today." The punishment for it will be lunch detention, but that's hardly a punishment when it's getting Virgil out of the otherwise overstimulating lunchroom. And even better, away from Roman.

But Clay's voice cuts through with a simple "it's two o'clock, Virgil. School's almost over."

"Oh."

Virgil swallows the spit in his mouth, before planting his head in his hands. His phone sits on his thighs, where the sounds barely come through over the noise of Virgil's panic attack.

He can hear his father trying to speak, but he can't exactly hear what he's trying to say. All he can hear is his own heart beating in his chest, rapidly banging against his ribs as if it's trying to escape. It's like the feeling reverberates throughout his body, flooding his brain with the echoes of each beat, where their volume never decreases. Just loud bump after loud bump after loud bump. His head throbs with the cacophony of sounds, as the sound of his heart pumping clashes wildly against his trembling, shallow breaths.

He lays back down in bed even though he wishes he wouldn't. His knees are pulled up against his torso as he hooks his hands over his shins, keeping himself curled up into a ball.

He doesn't even really understand why he's upset. He's been skipping school on purpose, and now he's upset he's receiving consequences? What a childish tantrum to be throwing.

An apology tries to make its way out of him, but Virgil can't enunciate anything through his gritted teeth.

But Virgil's dad's voice finally comes through - perhaps because Virgil's actively taking in every sound he hears regardless of how badly it overstimulates him (creaks from the house settling, the birds tweeting just outside his window, the wind as it knocks against the side of his home), or due to the fact Virgil's phone being sandwiched between his legs and his chest causes it to echo slightly - and Virgil finds that it's steady enough for him to focus on, at least for right now.

"If you're sick, I can schedule you a doctor's appointment," Clay says, in a tone that's very clearly attempting to be empathetic. There's an air of awkwardness that Virgil's father naturally carries that's almost comforting in its familiarity. "Or if something is going on at school, I can call and have a discussion with the administration."

"No, no, no," Virgil gasps out, and so his dad immediately works to quell him.

"Okay. I won't. Do... do I need to call you out for the rest of the week?"

"I don't know."

"Should I call Mr. and Mrs. Berry and see if they can come check on you?"

Virgil rolls over in bed, slamming his fists against the soft mattress, which luckily absorbs the shock of the impact quite well. "I don't know!"

The silence that follows worsens Virgil's feelings of guilt, and he falls onto his other side as he grabs his phone tightly in his hands, and cradles it close to his chest. Shame causes his face to flush dark red, eyes stinging with tears. "I don't know," he repeats, voice cracking. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

More silence. It's not pleasant silence either; the air is thick with something that Virgil can't help but interpret as negative.

"I really don't mind coming home early," Clay then reiterates, gentle yet firm in his delivery. "It might be good for both of us. My work has been harassing me with emails non-stop. Their persistence makes me feel like never going back!" He laughs, but not because what he's saying is funny. "I understand feeling so... anxious that you want to run from things. But work's important, and so is school. And I'm afraid your mom would haunt me until the day I die if I let you drop out."

Virgil sucks in a slow, shaky breath, before he sits up again. This time, his head only throbs slightly. "I'm not going to drop out," he eventually says, "despite how much I want to sometimes."

"School year's halfway over, at least. And then all that's left is your senior year. And then no more school forever, if you don't want it."

Virgil doesn't know what he wants. His phone screen lights up again with another notification. He doesn't bother checking who it's from, or even opening it, as he instead glances at the time. It's almost three. Fleetingly, he wonders if it's Roman again. He doesn't know if he dreads that outcome, or craves it, and so chooses to ignore it entirely. Either way, it worsens his nausea.

But what is making him feel better is listening to his dad, who's gone quiet again, likely having run out of things to say.

So, despite the fact Virgil's still trembling, he asks "how's your vacation been?"

"Good," Clay responds, though his answer is short and pointed. "How's the house?"

"Clean." Though his moves are lethargic, Virgil pulls himself out of bed, and is ashamed at how unsteady he is on his feet. "I haven't really been cooking anything, so there's no dishes. And Logan and Janus have only really come over once or twice, so there's been no messes or anything."

"No parties?" Clay inquires, in a manner that's clearly intended to be playful.

And despite the fact Virgil isn't even slightly in a joking mood, he still forces himself to lightly respond "no parties."

"Good," comes the relieved sigh, which does sound a tad too real to be entirely feigned. "Not that I ever thought you were the type to throw parties, but who knows. Maybe you'd take after your mother in that regard."

Virgil feels a bitter pang in his chest as he makes his way down to the kitchen. He passes a photo of her and his father up on the wall. There's a thin layer of dust overtop it, but to Virgil his mother is as clear as ever. He looks like both of his parents obviously - most children do - but if he was standing in between them, it would be clear he far more resembled his father. So to hear he doesn't take after her in other regards either was... hurtful. Even though it shouldn't be.

"You've mentioned before that she was a bit extroverted..." Virgil mutters, as he fetches a cup from the cupboard. He fills it with tap water, and sips it as he lifts himself onto the counter.

"She was more than a bit extroverted," Clay chuckles, audibly revitalized. "Magia never ran out of energy. She could run circles around anyone. Two days after your birth she was trying to host a family reunion! Your uncle and I had to wrestle her onto the couch and convince her to sit there and rest."

Staring down into his water, Virgil watches the water ripple as his hand shakes. He hasn't seen his extended family in ages; not since he was in elementary school. He wasn't particularly close to any of them, but it's not like he wants to be isolated from them completely. But as he tries to remember the last time he saw his maternal grandparents, aunts, uncles, or cousins, he finds their faces... fuzzy. "Is..." Virgil begins, before hesitating, "is there ever going to be some sort of... family reunion again? I haven't seen Grandma or Grandpa in a while, and my aunts and uncles don't really ever stop by..."

More static shuffling comes through the phone. "Uh..." is all that Virgil can make out for a while, before there's a deep, sad exhale. "I'm not sure, buddy. Maybe the next time I get a few days off. Between my work and their own personal lives, there's not a lot of time for family."

Another stabbing pain is inflicted onto Virgil, who dumps the rest of his water out. "Sorry. You're right."

For the third time, Clay asks "are you sure you don't need me to call the doctor? You sound fatigued. I'm sure Mrs. Berry wouldn't mind driving you to an appointment if the need arises."

Virgil's arms wrap around his waist, hugging himself protectively. "I'm sure, Dad. Sorry to bother you when you're supposed to be relaxing and stuff."

"It's fine. I'll be home in a week. If you think you'll need to call out of school tomorrow, text me and let you know so the school won't bother either of us. I'll go ahead and call the attendance office and tell them you've been sick as well, so you don't end up in trouble or anything."

"Thanks, Dad."

"You're welcome, kid. I love you. There's some Pepto-Bismol in the medicine cabinet if you think you need it."

"Thanks. Love you too."

Clay hangs up the phone, and Virgil stares down at his lock screen, which is flooded with notifications. There are only a few missed calls, but a surplus of missed texts, which Virgil frankly feels far too sick to even glance at. He feels too sick to do anything. So he doesn't do anything.

He trudges back up to his room, and lays back in his bed, feeling just as bad - if not worse - than he had before his father called. Because now he's not only judging himself for making the most embarrassing and impulsive decision of his life, but now he's further cursing at himself for bothering his dad whilst he was supposed to be on a stress-free vacation after months of strenuous working. How selfish, pathetic, and inconsiderate was he? Very, it seems.

Virgil doesn't know what he's going to do tomorrow. He should try and suck it up and go to school like he should have been doing this whole week, but it's not what he wants in the slightest.

Surely, he must have a preference one way or the other, but regardless of how he tries to view things, there seem to be cons everywhere. If he goes to school, he risks having to confront what he did to Roman. He's also aware of the fact that Roman's probably told at least someone by now, and considering the folk in Virgil's graduating class, he doesn't exactly trust any of them to keep their mouths shut. Does everyone at school already know? Do they think Virgil's strange for kissing Roman during what's supposed to be an otherwise innocent game of Oreo?

Do people playing Oreo kiss each other...?

And he doesn't even want to think about what Roman must think of him. Sure, Roman's been set on spoiling Virgil rotten the same way he would any proper romantic partner, but Virgil wasn't a proper romantic partner.

Virgil was just some... outcast that got a sick joke played on him. And like the idiot he is, forgot his place in this comedic skit.

He wasn't the delivery. He was the punchline.

Now, the only other option he has instead of going to school is staying home, which has the obvious drawbacks of being stressful on his father, who'd have to call the office and come up with some reason as to why Virgil both can't come into school, and also can't obtain a doctor's note. He can't just say Virgil's too anxious; what school accepts "anxiety" as a valid excuse for being absent? Not Virgil's, that's for sure.

He'd also fall behind in terms of schoolwork. More behind than he is already.

What if he's missed a test? It's probable. He can't remember any mentions of a test coming up, but that doesn't prevent pop quizzes or random unit assessments that would end up distributed during the days Virgil's out. It'd be just his luck to show back up to class only to be told he's permanently fucked up his grades forever due to his reckless skipping.

There was no winning.

He tosses and turns atop his mattress, debating trying to just go back to sleep so he doesn't have to think about anything, but before he can even start to get comfortable he hears knocking reverberate throughout the house.

It's surprising enough that Virgil's anxiety temporarily subsides.

His room's upstairs; whoever's knocking on the front door must be knocking incessantly.

And despite his fears over who could be standing there, Virgil still forces himself out of bed, because if it's a murderer coming to kill him then at least he won't have to choose between going to school or staying home.

It's that potentially relieving scenario that convinces him to open the door, and when he does he's greeted by Logan, who's holding a small stack of papers, Janus, and Logan's mother Caroline.

"Your father called," Caroline states, as she walks right inside without being invited. In her hands is a wrapped container of some kind. The dish that she carries to the counter is made of glass, and Virgil can tell there's food in it, but he's unable to tell what kind. Even after the aluminum foil atop it is peeled back, Virgil's left dry-mouthed and cautious. Logan's mom doesn't explain herself though, as she instead shoves the food into the oven, and turns it on to reheat. Then, she wipes her hands on her pants and crosses her arms over her chest. "He says you've been feeling ill, and you've been missing class. Are you running a fever?"

Her hands cup his face before he can answer, pressing her knuckles against his forehead. She holds him for a moment while Janus snickers, before she pulls away. "You don't feel warm," she announces, before reaching for Virgil's hand.

His pulse is being taken manually, with Caroline counting out the amount of beats that occur in a one minute span, before frowning. "Your heartrate is accelerated, though. Were you doing anything active before we arrived?"

"Does sleeping count as an exertive activity?" Janus mutters in response, which has Virgil shooting a glare his way and Logan even setting a steady - albeit warning - hand on Janus's shoulder.

"No," Virgil answers her, but his voice comes out more gravely than he would have liked. "I'm just... anxious about the amount of schoolwork I've missed." His answer causes Janus to raise a suspicious eyebrow, but if Janus doubts the validity of his words, he doesn't verbally express such, and instead sticks to just signaling to Logan that something's up.

"Lucky for you, Logan's also been worried about the amount of material you've missed," Caroline hums, before stepping back to nudge Logan forward. With outstretched arms, he passes the papers in his hands to Virgil, allowing Virgil to see it's an armful of homework, worksheets, and activity pages from each of his classes. "He mentioned fearing you falling behind, so he talked to your teachers and got copies of the assignments you haven't been able to complete." She checks the oven temperature momentarily, and then clicks the oven light on to check her food. "He generously offered to run through the coursework with you as well, to make sure you were all caught up."

"How thoughtful," Janus coos.

Just a minute later, Caroline searches around for oven mitts before pulling the tray from the oven. It's set on the stovetop, and then three plates are brought out from Virgil's cabinets, with three scoops of food being set onto them.

"What is that?" Virgil asks, as Caroline hands him a platter. Virgil has to rush to toss his schoolwork onto the counter in order to accept it.

"Broccoli chicken divan," she explains. "We had it made for a super early dinner for Logan, since his father and I both work tonight, but when Clay called and said you were ill I figured it's close enough to broccoli-cheddar soup to be soothing."

"It's like a casserole," Logan then whispers as he passes Virgil by. "Chicken, broccoli, condensed soup. It should help you regain some energy due to the protein, veggies, and carbs in it."

Logan and Janus head to the couch, and Virgil joins them. Caroline doesn't make herself a plate, but she does follow them out there, eyes studying Virgil closely.

"Are you showing any concerning symptoms?" she interrogates, as Virgil settles between Janus and Logan. Janus leans back from him slightly, clearly making fun of the potential that Virgil's contagious. "Nausea, vomiting, diarrhea... You can tell me; I'm a doctor. It's a shame my equipment's at the office; you look like you're experiencing shortness of breath, but there's really no way to confirm..."

"It's just anxiety, I promise," Virgil quells her, and though she looks skeptical, she eventually relents.

"Okay. Logan, are you fine walking home tonight?"

Logan rushes to swallow the mouthful of food he's chewing on. "Yes, ma'am."

"Alright. If you change your mind, let me or your father know, and we'll send you some money for an Uber. Janus, you should let your parents know you'll be here at the Addam's house and not ours like you were supposed to." Janus nods his head, and pulls out his phone like he's preparing to text them, though he never opens up their messages. "And Virgil, if you need to go to the hospital, feel free to call. I'll make sure someone gets you into urgent care."

Cheeks burning red, Virgil mumbles "thank you, Mrs. Berry."

With that, she's quick to gather herself and head back out the door with a quick exclamation of "love you, Logan!" leaving no time for Logan to even reply.

Once they hear her car pull out into the street, Virgil exclaims "my dad called your mom!?"

"He did," Logan answers, "while Janus and I were in her car, too. She picked us up today."

"Oh my god." Virgil's fork clatters against his plate as he hides his face in his hands. "This is the worst day of my life."

"There have been worse days," Logan points out, at the same time Janus jokes "there will be worse days," neither of which make Virgil feel much better. Still, Logan temporarily moves his food to the side as he states "my mom's right, though. You look... unwell. And though I also can't pinpoint any particular affliction you may be suffering, it's not exactly normal for you to disappear for days without warning."

Janus leans back into the couch. "That's typically my schtick."

Ignoring Janus's quip, Logan sets a firm hand on Virgil's arm. "Are you okay? Is everything okay? You know you can talk to us."

Virgil shoves his food away, and after almost spilling it, has to set it on the coffee table. "Not about this."

"About what?"

Virgil glares Janus's way, and Logan reaches across Virgil in order to set a weirdly comfortable hand atop Janus's thigh, in order to quiet him for now. "Okay, so you feel like you can't talk to us about the thing that is very clearly bothering you. What about admitting this... thing is preventing you from telling us?"

Groaning, Virgil stands in order to sit near the corner of the couch, where he scoots as far away from them as possible. "Maybe because you are two of the most judgemental people I know? If I say anything it gets me laughed at or looks exchanged. And I need this to be taken seriously, because this is serious, and I feel seriously bad about it. And you guys are great, sure, but not when it comes to... me. Or my feelings."

Neither Logan or Janus refute those words, as they both instead sort of uncomfortably look away, before Logan's eventually sighing "you're right. But I can assure you that in this situation, we'll be completely non-judgemental and open-minded about it. It's never our intention to make you feel worse."

"You do have our full permission to forcibly shut us up, regardless of how you go about doing such," Janus reminds him. "Everything's a tad humorous, but that doesn't mean laughter's always appropriate. And I swear on this chicken divan that I will stifle any amusement that arises." He raises his right hand, and despite his playful words, Virgil does receive a rather genuine look. "Logan's right, though. We're not trying to make anything worse than it already is, and I'm truly sorry that it's been insinuated we've done so in the past."

Virgil rolls his shoulders, suddenly feeling mild discomfort over how weirdly open they were to listening to him, and offering to change.

"I..." Virgil rubs the back of his neck, "expected some arguing. Or a little resistance."

Logan cocks his head to the side slightly. "Why?"

"I don't know... so I could justify not telling you, maybe? So there'd be some proof that I can't trust you?" Virgil wants to storm back up to his room and rot beneath his covers until mold consumes his body. "I don't know. I did something stupid because... because I'm stupid."

"You're not stupid," Janus immediately argues, as he slowly leans against Logan's side. "Everyone makes stupid decisions, but that doesn't make all of them stupid people. And if any of them are the least likely to be stupid, it'd be you."

Heat rises to Virgil's face as he feels humiliation creep through his body. "Promise you won't judge?"

"We promise," Janus and Logan affirm in unison.

And though the voice in Virgil's head repeatedly insists that they're pranking him, they're messing with him, they're lying to him, Virgil also knows he can't keep this a secret forever. And Virgil would much rather Janus and Logan find out through him than through anybody at school, where the words would no doubt be twisted to all hell. So, heart pounding and vomit swelling in his throat, Virgil finally admits "I kissed Roman." And then, to further clarify things, he blurts out "at the football game. After everyone went home. He was singing and it was pretty and I acted on impulse and I kissed him."

The immediate aftermath of Virgil's confession is what Virgil dreaded most: complete silence. And though Virgil had just spoken out about their private glances, Logan and Janus can't help but exchange another one.

But instead of the laughter or teasing Virgil's come to expect whenever his friends hear about him and Roman, they both look kind of... unsurprised.

"Is that... it?" Logan begins, attempting to express his confusion without sounding insensitive. "No offense, Virgil, but with how you're acting I'd more easily believed you murdered him and hid his body in a back alley somewhere."

"All of this over a kiss?" Janus whispers, as though processing the situation.

"Is... is that not shocking?" Virgil stutters. "I don't like him. I hate him! And I kissed him!"

Janus raises an eyebrow, doing a rather poor job at hiding the smirk on his face. "You don't typically get the impulse to kiss someone you hate," he says, before sliding to the edge of the couch so he can more easily take in Virgil's body language to decide his next move. "Unless it was an intrusive thought of some kind. Were you... disgusted by the thought of kissing Roman?"

Virgil swallows the spit in his mouth. "No..."

"Was it inappropriate in that instance to kiss him?"

"Yes!"

"Why?"

Virgil's hands still for a second, before he throws them up in the air. "Because... because... because! Because I didn't ask his permission first!"

"Is that the only inappropriate aspect?"

Virgil groans again, rubbing his palms aggressively over his eyes. "I guess."

"Then it sounds like you didn't do anything wrong," Logan soothes him. "But I don't think that's your main worry. You don't think you've done something wrong by societal standards. You think you've done something wrong by your standards. Does that sound about right?"

"Scarily so," Virgil utters. "How-"

Janus settles his chin on his hand, giving Virgil a knowing look. "You're not that hard of a person to read, Virgil. And you care way more about your relationship with Roman than I think anyone else does. Sure, there are some people at school who are jealous or baffled by the fact you're dating the Roman Prince, but you know they're not going to feel anything when they find out you've kissed them. In fact, I'd be shocked if people weren't assuming you two were kissing already! That's all couples our age do anyway."

"That's a fallacy," Logan immediately huffs, weirdly flustered by the comment. "You can't fabricate a claim like that when your only basis is what we do."

"We're not the only couple that makes out all the time. Haven't you ever walked back by the band hallway..." Janus shudders dramatically, as though relieving utterly traumatic horrors, which considering what the music hallways in their school looked like during school hours, wasn't too far off! It was a breeding ground for mononucleosis and the improper usage of instruments.

Momentarily stunned, Virgil quickly grabs Logan's shoulder. And though he'd normally seize this opportunity to deflect, this time the subject change is solely a result of Virgil's shock. "Wait, what do you mean 'we're not the only couple?' Are you two together?"

Logan gives Virgil a bemused look. "We've been together..." he says slowly, before pressing his own hand against Virgil's forehead. "Are you sure you're not ill? Janus and I have been in a relationship for months now."

"Since the summer," Janus states.

"Since the summer," Logan repeats. "Hasn't it been obvious?"

"Hardly!" Virgil pushes himself off the couch so he can pace instead, which he does over the length of the living room. "Why didn't you guys ever tell me?"

"I thought we did," Logan murmurs, as Janus shrugs.

"Maybe we should be more affectionate," Janus teases, the quip more playfully directed at Logan than Virgil. "If he didn't know we've been dating, then other people at school may get the impression we're both eligible bachelors. And we can't have anyone thinking that."

Logan shifts slightly away from Janus, so that Janus can't reach him. "I am not accompanying you to the band hallway."

But while Janus and Logan bicker, Virgil now feels twice as sick. His best friends have been in a relationship this whole time without telling him? It feels like Virgil's trust has been utterly betrayed, even if looking at them now - the way Janus's hand rests comfortably on Logan's inner thigh, how close they get while speaking to each other, the inside jokes they share - Virgil can see how obvious it really has been. And so, he circles back to the couch, and collapses onto it, utterly drained and upset.

They both turn to focus on him once he's back.

"So you kissed Roman, and it's been bothering you so much you haven't been going to school," Logan backtracks. "Are you planning on dropping out permanently?"

"No," Virgil breathes, slinging an arm over his face. "I don't know what I'm going to do."

"You could start by talking to Roman," Janus then suggests. "I'm sure refusing to interact with him has been worsening your anxiety. You don't know how he feels about you kissing him, right? Then you should text him and ask."

"Or call," Logan interjects. "Actually hearing his voice may lessen your anxiety, as there's less opportunity to misinterpret his tone."

"I don't want to call him," Virgil hisses. "I don't want to talk to him. I don't want to even think about him. And I can't get my brain to stop." He holds his head tight, before dragging his knees up to his chest. He rests his forehead against them, hiding his frustrated expression and teary eyes. "I don't know what I want to do. But I feel like any conversation between us is bound to... go wrong." He's not the best when it comes to talking things out, and the last thing he needs is to end up yelling at Roman because he's stressed out, over a kiss Roman didn't even ask for.

Janus moves on the couch so that he's sitting right next to Virgil, so that Virgil has a friend either side of him. "Would it be better if Logan and I were there too?" he inquires, which Virgil really has to consider for a moment. "You don't have to talk about anything serious right away, but getting to speak to him would give you a good read on his feelings. And if Logan and I stay with you, then maybe you'll feel less strained by the prospect of having to sit down with him one-on-one."

Virgil lifts his head slightly. "Maybe. I don't know what will help."

"We can always try that," Logan assures him, "and if at any point you feel it's not working, we don't have to continue with it."

"We also don't have to do anything at your house," Janus adds. "That way you don't have to associate your home with stress and relationship drama. I'm sure Roman would meet you anywhere you ask him to; he's like a lovesick puppy in that regard."

"Where would we go instead?" Virgil grumbles.

Janus glances at the chicken divan sitting on Virgil's counter. "We could go out to eat," he proposes. "No offense to Caroline or anything, but broccoli chicken divan barely holds a candle to greasy, hastily cooked fast food. And I'm conveniently in the mood to get food poisoning."

"I'm not starving or anything, but I could go for a sweet tea," Logan responds. "Or a small dessert of some kind."

Virgil's mind immediately flickers back to the diner Roman took him to. It was their first "date."

So, it's what he brings up. "There's this diner off of 53rd street," he says, before clearing his throat. "We, uh, could go there."

"Does Roman know where that's at?"

"He's the one who introduced me to the place, actually." Virgil grabs his phone, and unlocks it, but quickly shoves it into Janus's lap. He could send Roman a message himself, but in doing so he'd have to address the many frantic texts he's sent Virgil over the past few days. "You can text him off my phone, or yours. Just tell him to meet us there."

Janus does look like he's considering using Virgil's cell, but quickly uses his own instead, adding Roman's contact to his phone before sending him a message with no introduction. When he waves his phone in front of Virgil's face, it reads 'Double date at the diner right now. We're bringing Virgil if you bring the cash.'

Virgil can't help but snort when he sees it. "Very classy, Janus."

"Thank you," Janus sweetly responds, batting his eyelashes with faux innocence. "Now we better get going. It's a long walk; and none of us have a car."

***

By the time the trio arrive at the diner, they're all utterly exhausted.

"Who's idea was it to walk all the way out here?" Janus groans, rubbing his hands over his hip, and down his leg, massaging away the ache in it.

Logan - the only one out of them who's taken the walk in stride (literally) - offers his elbow for Janus to lean on as he pulls his leg behind him to stretch it. "It was yours. I could have called for an Uber."

"You could have at least tried to talk me out of it."

Logan glances at Virgil. "I think walking was for the best. A bit of exercise can be relaxing. How's your anxiety, Virgil? Has it lessened at all?"

"I think it's worse," Virgil answers, zipping his hoodie up quickly. His hands quickly slide into his pockets, and his eyes are fixed on one of the windows. Roman's sitting at a booth. He has a drink on his table and four menus splayed out, but he's not looking at them. He's instead staring at his phone. When Virgil checks his own cell, he sees a few more missed texts.

Is Roman waiting on him? On some sort of response? An acknowledgement?

Considering actually seeing Roman in person is a lot worse than texting him, Virgil finally has the confidence to open his screen up to his messages, where he sees Roman's recent batch are all skeptical over the validity of Janus's text. After all, Janus didn't introduce himself.

There's a significant lack of emojis present too. Just 'I got a weird text to come to diner and that you'd meet me here. I'm here. If it was a ploy or a prank or something please let me know.'

Then 'Virgil?'

Then 'virgil :('

Virgil's gut twists. Throwing up feels almost guaranteed, and if it wasn't for Janus taking a swift hold of his arm, Virgil would have crumpled right in the middle of the parking lot.

"You're okay," Janus assures him, without Virgil needing to express his discomfort. "It's awful, I know. Your brain is quite mean to you. But if your body keeps listening to you, then you're going to end up hurling on some poor waitress's feet."

"Very comforting, Janus," Logan lightly scolds him, as he pats Virgil's back sympathetically (though rather awkwardly). "If you'd really like to lessen your chances of vomiting, then I recommend humming. It's said to suppress your gag reflex and stimulate your vagus nerve! This stimulation then sends a trigger to your parasympathetic nervous system to enter the digestion phase, which should help relax you slightly as well."

Neither Janus nor Logan's words do much to actually quell Virgil's rampant, overwhelming thoughts or bodily cramps, but they're pulling him inside before he can freak out and insist they walk him home instead.

It's almost embarrassing how Virgil's eyes immediately whip towards where Roman was seen to be sitting as soon as they're inside, and Virgil feels a second, stronger wave of nausea overtake him when Roman turns just as fast when he hears the diner door open. They make eye contact before Virgil stares down at his feet instead, having to be dragged over to Roman's table.

"Hi," Roman greets them, his voice quivering slightly as Janus and Logan sit down across from him, leaving Virgil to shakily settle into Roman's side. Roman quickly clears his throat, before more steadily asking "how are you feeling, Virgil?"

Without looking up, Virgil answers with a curt "sick," which causes Roman to wince and shrink back.

He scoots all the way to the end of the bench, pressing his side against the window in order to minimize the amount of space he's taking up. Virgil can guess Roman's doing it in order to give Virgil more space, but it just makes Virgil feel disgusting.

What if Virgil's merely mistaking Roman's actions as polite and attentive, when in reality Roman's trying to get away from him?

Is Roman upset that Virgil kissed him? Is he sickened by it?

"Do you have enough room to spread out," Roman then questions, despite the fact he keeps his voice hushed. "I... I want to make sure you're comfortable."

"I'm fine," Virgil quickly spits, though he wraps his hands tightly around his waist at just how bitterly his words are conveyed. Even Janus and Logan can't help looking slightly bothered by his tone, even though they both soften at the reminder that Virgil's just... stressed. But their minor judgement has shame creeping through Virgil's veins, and it actually causes him to force himself to calm down slightly. He feels physical discomfort when turning to look Roman in the face, but the smile Roman gives him almost makes it worth it. "I'm just... ill. Unwell."

"Contagious?" Roman asks.

Virgil frowns, deep and sudden. His eyes fall to the unopened menu in front of him. "I don't know," he dismissively replies. "Probably not."

Roman, sensing he's messed up somehow, tries to reach for Virgil's hand, but Virgil quickly pulls it away before he can be touched. Quietly, he murmurs "you better not risk it," as he slides his hands between his thighs, trapping them out of reach.

A waitress comes over before anything can be said. "Hi!" she preppily greets, notepad in hand. "What can I get y'all to drink?"

Logan orders water for himself, and Janus winks at Roman before ordering coffee. Virgil says he doesn't want anything, but Roman gets two waters anyway. And though Virgil wants to get mad at Roman for ignoring what he said, when the second glass is brought to the table and Virgil actually gets a few swigs down, he can't help but be grateful.

He's unsurprisingly dehydrated, and the water is admittedly refreshing.

It manages to ground him enough that when the waitress comes back asking for their actual meal orders, Virgil actually quickly flips open his menu and skims through it.

Luckily, Logan and Janus take a while on their order, requesting different substitutions or specifications, and discussing what sides they want to share, before Logan asks for a milkshake as well. Roman orders slowly, as though he's buying more time for Virgil to look for what he wants, and once Roman's finished ordering his food Virgil has a solid enough idea of what he wants that he can point at the menu.

"A burger, please," he utters, tilting his menu so that the waitress can see the exact meal he's pointing at. "Fries on the side is fine."

And with that, she's off.

"Eating will likely help ease your anxiety," Logan then says, as his foot knocks against Virgil's beneath the table.

Before he can explain why though, Roman's smiling slightly as he adds on "the process of eating soothes your brain out of that fight or flight response." Though, after he says it, he sheepishly coughs out "right?"

Logan looks momentarily surprised, but nods after a moment. "Correct. Where'd you learn that from?"

Roman motions Virgil's direction. "He explained it to me once. At the time I almost couldn't believe it, but having witnessed firsthand that it works, it... really does work." There's silence for a moment, before Roman segues "speaking of work, have you been brought your schoolwork? I... texted you asking if you wanted me to swing it by your house at some point, but..."

"Logan brought it to me," Virgil admits. "Or, well, his mom kind of did."

"I would have gotten it to you with or without her help," Logan interjects. "You're already overwhelmed by life; it's for the best that you're not overwhelmed by schoolwork, too. Especially considering junior year is stated to be the worst year of high school."

"Don't remind me," Janus groans, already rubbing his eyes. "I need to find out when the SATs are scheduled so I can conveniently experience a family emergency."

"The SATs aren't that bad," Logan chastises, "and you won't lose anything by taking it, even if you don't do great. Our school is paying for them so we don't have to; it'd be best to seize the opportunity to fill one out while you can."

Janus snorts. "Why? To increase my chances of getting into a college I won't be able to afford?" He rolls his eyes. "Oh, Logan, don't you know I'm going to die tragically young?"

"You're not going to die young," Logan huffs, "quit being dramatic."

Virgil can only watch them banter for so long before he rests his head against the table, trying to repress yet another sigh as their lighthearted jokes remind Virgil of his own lingering sickness. But then, Roman's hand cautiously rests against his back, rubbing lightly up and down his spine. His touch is light enough to easily be willed away if Virgil so wished, but firm enough to feel present.

"They've got quite the dynamic, huh?" Roman jokes under his breath, causing Virgil to lift his head slightly.

"I guess..." Virgil drearily responds.

Roman squints, and then whispers "are they... dating?"

That question has Virgil sitting up suddenly. "Yes," he answers, loud enough to catch Logan and Janus's attention for a brief moment, before they inevitably go back to focusing more on each other. "Apparently they have been, and I've only just found out today."

"I thought they might be considering the whole 'double date' thing, and the fact they're so clearly in love..." Roman swoons, before shaking his head slightly in order to focus. "But I wanted to be sure before making any assumptions. Things have been so... confusing lately." Roman's hand falls from Virgil's back, and lands in his chest. He plays with his fingers, before suddenly going pink in the face as he turns back to Virgil and rushes to assure him "not that that's your fault or anything! Just in general. With the end of football, Remus, and my mom. Everything's been kind of a lot."

Virgil shrugs. "I get that. Things have been kind of a lot for me too."

"Maybe everyone's antsy leading up to Christmas break," Roman then theorizes. "School's always a bit... crazy leading up to the holidays."

"Thanksgiving break comes first," Logan immediately butts in to remind them, huffing at the blatant disrespect towards the holiday that comes first. "And if by 'crazy' you mean everyone's unable to maintain a respectable level of self control, then I'd have to agree. If I get hit in the back of the head with one more pencil because some antsy kid couldn't stop spinning it between his fingers, I'm going to snap."

"They're eager to get some time away from school," Janus groans. "When is Thanksgiving break anyway?"

"Next week," Roman immediately answers. He looks a mixture of nervous and excited, as his eyes drift towards the window beside him. "Do you guys have plans to do anything with the time off?"

The waitress comes back with Logan's milkshake, which he eagerly accepts, while Janus plucks his straw from his drink, wipes it off, and slides it wordlessly into Logan's sweet shake. Logan doesn't stop him, and inserts a straw of his own, with both of them then drinking from it at once. As Logan wipes his mouth with a napkin, cleaning off some whipped cream from the corner of his lips, he answers "nothing specific. I was hoping to do some studying for end-of-semester exams, because all of December is just going to be tests."

Roman looks towards Virgil, and Virgil shrugs. "My dad might be back in town, but he'll probably have to go back to work that week."

"Well hopefully you'll at least get to see him." Roman stirs the ice in his cup round, and round, and round. "My family is hosting my grandparents and cousins at our house for a few days. We're going to have a big dinner and stuff." He strokes some of his hair out of his face, before adding "my dad's extended family can be... kind of overwhelming. They're a lot like Remus. Very rowdy, very vulgar, no sense of personal space... But they're better than my maternal side, at least. Every family reunion over there was an interrogation about my football career or my love life. No questions directed towards my academics, interests, friends..."

"Which side do you prefer?" Virgil asks.

"My dad's side, no doubt about it," Roman answers with a laugh. "Even if they freak me out sometimes, they're good people." He squeezes Virgil's shoulder. "They'd love to meet you, I'm sure. If you're not busy over Thanksgiving, you can always come over and say hi..."

Virgil shuffles to the edge of the bench, causing Roman's hand to fall from him. The idea of meeting all of Roman's family sounds... stressful, especially if they're more like Remus than Roman. But the fact Roman wanted to invite him at all is flustering, and actually eases Virgil's rampant internal dialogue that insists Roman finds him utterly and completely disgusting.

Though maybe Roman's only baiting him into coming over so that Roman can then air out Virgil's actions to his entire extended family. Maybe his intentions are to humiliate Virgil in the most public and personal place possible. And the fear of such a thing being true causes Virgil to only mutter "maybe. We'll see," in response, not wanting to agree to anything concrete out of fear that the thing he's agreeing to will ruin his mental state for the rest of his life.

But Roman looks more hopeful than hurt at the ambiguous answer, and his slightly relieved expression makes Virgil feel guilty for even wanting to refuse.

Their food is served minutes later, with Virgil's burger being laid in front of him. As soon as he smells it, he regrets ordering food at all, as the scent of meat and salt make him feel horrid.

He starts to wonder if he really is sick due to the way his stomach cramps at the first whiff of food, and he eventually has to excuse himself to the bathroom to just go sit in the small, single-person restroom by himself, away from all of their meals.

His arms are wrapped tightly around his stomach, and the groan he lets out at the way it twists is audibly reminiscent of someone in pain. This can't all be from his anxiety, and yet Virgil knows it completely is. It's all a result of his brain, torturing him for being the rotten, selfish, disgusting person he is. And as his thoughts play that sickening mantra on loop, Virgil finds himself closer and closer to actually throwing up the little water and food he's ingested over the past few days.

It's right before he starts retching that there comes a knock on the door.

Immediately, Virgil attempts to swallow down the burning bile that's already creeping up his throat, in order to not steal this bathroom away from someone who actually needs it, but before Virgil can reply 'just a second' and wash his hands (despite not having actually touched anything), Roman's soft voices comes muffled through the thick door.

"Are you okay?" Roman asks, clearly trying to keep his voice down so he's not drawing attention to the restroom. "Are you throwing up? I... I brought medicine with me. I didn't know if you had any available, and I know your dad's on vacation, so Dad and Papa gave me some different anti-nausea medications to offer you." When Virgil doesn't immediately respond, Roman says "I have Tums, Gravol..." he sounds like he's ruffling through his pocket, and he stammers as he reads out "Dramamine...?"

And though Virgil wants to keep ignoring Roman, he heads to the door anyway, unlocking the bathroom and quickly pulling Roman inside before anyone catches wind that there are two people huddled together in the restroom.

In Roman's hands are the different pills, each being in plastic baggies which makes sense, considering it'd be a lot harder for Roman to carry around multiple containers. On the bags - poorly scribbled in marker - are the medicine names. When Roman catches Virgil staring at them, he quickly explains "we didn't know if you had any allergies, and we didn't want to cause any sort of reaction. So they're labeled. Here." The pills are shoved into Virgil's hands. "You don't have to take any of them if you don't want to. But if you do want to, they might help."

"They won't get rid of my anxiety," Virgil grumbles, but despite that he still opens up the bag of Tums and grabs two tablets from within. “How’d you know I was sick anyway?”

“Why else would you avoid coming to school?”

Virgil doesn’t answer, and instead pushes the two pastel tablets into his mouth.

The artificial fruit flavor makes him gag, but he forces himself to chew them anyway, even if he's bending over the bathroom sink and gulping down water from the tap moments after. He sees Roman cringe in his peripheral, and lifts his head shamefully, but if Roman's judging him at least he doesn't do it verbally.

"You can keep the other pills, too," Roman says, "and take them home with you."

Virgil stuffs the extra pills into his pockets, and though he wants to tell Roman that he didn't have to bring anything, Virgil instead says "thanks."

Roman doesn't respond for a moment, and though Virgil didn't say anything necessitating a response, the silence still upsets him. Luckily, before he can end up stressed enough to make some sort of snarky remark, Roman's asking "do you want to try and pick at your food, or do you want me to ask for a box? You don't have to eat it right now if you don't want to, but you can have the leftovers."

Virgil frowns, deep and guilty. "Sorry."

"For what?"

"Making you waste your money. I know... Janus implied you were going to pay with his text, and he shouldn't have, and I should have just brought money anyway but I didn't think about it. And now I'm not even eating the food you're probably paying for."

Shifting back and forth on his feet, Roman questions "do you think you'll eat it at some point?"

"I don't know. I haven't eaten anything in a while. Everything just... makes me feel worse."

"Do I make you feel worse?"

Roman sounds nervous as he asks, and Virgil can imagine he is. And though Virgil wants to tell Roman that no, he's not making things worse, his existence is actually completely valid and wanted, he... can't.

So, he answers honestly instead. "Yes."

Hurt is immediately written across Roman's features, as his eyes well with sudden tears. Roman's no longer looking at him, as if he can't bear to anymore. "Oh," Roman softly breathes, "I'm... sorry."

Virgil's stomach cramps so suddenly that he gags, and then he's stumbling away from the sink and towards the toilet as he retches, with vomit bubbling up from his mouth the moment his knees roughly hit the tiled floor. He hears Roman groan out of nausea as Virgil's bile splashes into the porcelain bowl, but despite his obvious disgust and sickening feelings regarding Virgil's barfing, he still slowly kneels down at Virgil's side.

Before Virgil can ask what he's doing, Roman's hands are softly sliding up his forehead, pushing his hair back and keeping it pressed to his head. And the next time Virgil vomits, the residue that splashes back up and against Virgil's face thankfully misses his hair (where it'd be much harder to wash away considering there's not a convenient shower located within the diner's interior).

When Virgil turns his head slightly, panting hard as his own stomach acid burns his throat, he sees Roman's eyes are squeezed shut, and his head is tucked into his shoulder. He's also crying, but doing so silently, and Virgil feels so ashamed of causing Roman this much pain that he's throwing up again seconds later.

Luckily, after that final regurgitation, Virgil feels significantly better. The constant unrest in his gut has been momentarily quelled, though anxiety is still unmistakably present.

"Toilet paper, please," Virgil coughs, and Roman keeps one hand in Virgil's hair as the other blindly fumbles around for the toilet roll.

A handful of it is torn away, and passed to Virgil, who wipes his mouth, his tongue, and his face, before dropping it into the toilet to soak in his oral excrement. More toilet paper is passed to him a minute later, which Virgil uses to wipe the toilet seat, though he knows he should probably tell an employee that he just got sick in their bathroom so they could sanitize it properly.

Then, he flushes, which is when Roman finally opens his eyes with a heavy exhale.

He sits on the ground next to Virgil, the two of them thigh-to-thigh, before Roman's pulling his knees up against his chest. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, his voice trembling as it comes from him. "I don't know what I'm doing wrong. I don't want to make you feel bad, but if I am then... then... I don't know."

Virgil folds his hands in his lap, his fingers trembling, even while they're resting. And then, he leans against the side of Roman's arm.

"You don't do it on purpose," Virgil mumbles. "I don't think you could stop doing it, even if you tried." He tucks his face into his hands, and stifles a sob that threatens to spill from his throat. "I'm sorry. I just... I didn't mean to... You just..." he can't calm his mind enough to formulate any understandable sentences. And though he doesn't want to ramble, out of fear of sounding utterly awful and crazy, that's what he eventually resigns himself to doing. "I just kissed you. And I didn't want to. But I did want to. And it's confusing, because I'm not supposed to want that, and I'm not supposed to want to do it again. And I've missed you when I shouldn't have, and you're just acting so normal and I wish I could act normal but I don't know how." His palms press hard into his eyes, repressing tears before they even get the chance to fill his eyes. "Everything's just... stressful."

Cautiously, Roman sets a hand on Virgil's back, before rubbing it gently. His hand brings Virgil comfort, which makes Virgil feel both better and worse.

"Are you not supposed to 'want' to kiss me because we're both boys...?" Roman then asks, which has Virgil stopping, and then snorting.

He shakes his head. "No. I don't care what gender you are. I mean... I care that you're a boy, because that's what I'm attracted to I guess." Virgil brushes some of his bangs from his face. "I just... wasn't supposed to ever get to the point of wanting to kiss you. We're still just playing Oreo."

Roman opens his mouth, as if going to say something, before deciding against it, as he instead jokes "well, if anything, I admire your commitment. And if your plan was to torture me in this 'relationship,' then I guess it's working now."

Virgil shrinks. "It is?"

"In the sense that it sucks when you go missing for days on end," Roman rushes to clarify. "It... hurts. It feels like you don't like me."

"What does it matter if I don't like you? Plenty of other people do."

Roman scoffs, smiling in a way that feels bitter and disingenuous. "Plenty of other people haven't met my mom or kissed me." He pulls away from Virgil, but doesn't push Virgil away, letting Virgil continue to lay against his side. "And... I need everyone to like me. I need you to like me. I needed you to like me before we even got roped into this relationship thing. And you didn't because in your mind, my brother and I were one entity."

Though Virgil doesn't like being so truthfully called out, Roman does have a fair point.

And he continues "but... I know you don't think that way anymore. Or at least I thought you didn't. I thought you liked me. And now I'm just... hurting you without even meaning to." He turns his head to the side. "Everything you're feeling is so... grand. It must hurt so much. And to know that I'm part of that hurt is just..." He holds his legs tighter. "You must hate me."

Virgil's eyes widen. "I don't hate you."

"But you don't like me." Roman doesn't sound like he truly believes that, but like it's a fear bouncing around in his brain. "You told me that from the very beginning. You were only holding my hand, going on dates, and spending time with me to humiliate me. And you were upset when it didn't work. When I wasn't ashamed of you, because there's nothing to be ashamed of." He pulls his phone out, clicks Virgil's contact, and scrolls up through their messages. There must be a hundred texts sent with no reply. "And then you kiss me, and you run off, and you disappear for days. Logan and Janus don't know what's going on, and when I ask if I can visit your house they look unsure and say it's for the best I don't. It's for the best I don't."

"I'm sorry."

A shaky sigh breaks through Roman's growing frustration, and the passionate anger melts into a more pathetic sadness. He meets Virgil's gaze, his cheeks wet with tears. "You don't have to be sorry. You just... can't go missing. It's scary, Virgil. It hurts."

"Everything that was happening was scary," Virgil whispers. Roman's arm wraps around him steadily as he further explains "I don't consider myself impulsive, but I am. And I do things sometimes that have outcomes that scare me. And... kissing you was one of those things. Are you... disgusted by me?"

Roman can't help but smile, but only slightly. "No. Not at all. I was with myself for a bit."

"Why?"

"Because you're a boy. And even though I can say I'm gay now, I don't feel like I actually can be. You've met my mom; you should have heard the nonsense she'd spout my entire childhood. And the way she reacted when she found out my dad was dating another man..." he laughs quietly. "I don't subscribe to her beliefs anymore. There was a point when I did, but there were too many fallacies in what she'd say; too many contradictions to ignore. But I'd already internalized that disgust and hatred towards queerness that even while I can say there's nothing wrong with being gay, I still feel like I shouldn't be."

Slowly, Virgil starts "So when I kissed you, and ran off..."

"It was like you were giving me everything I could have ever wanted, and then affirming right after that I'm not supposed to be this way. It's almost like you were grossed out by me. And I was immediately justifying why you should be. Because I'm gay. Because I'm ugly. Because I suck." He rolls his shoulders back. "I don't know if I'm explaining that well. I know I don't make a lot of sense. I feel like you're way better at just... expressing things than I am."

"Have you seen my friends?" Virgil groans out. "If I don't explain things and answer each of their incessant questions then I'm just harassed forever! And when you have to spend some of your panic attacks explaining why you're having a panic attack, you... you learn to dissect yourself pretty thoroughly." He tilts his head upwards. "But you're not bad at it. Everything you were explaining makes sense, and I'm sorry I didn't answer you. You were just the main pillar of my anxiety. You still kind of are. Because I kissed you, and I've been nervous over how you'd respond."

"Well, I responded happily at first. And then you ran off, and I was less happy. And then you ignored me for days, and I was miserable." Roman blows a raspberry with his mouth. "Remus and I spent most of our after-school time wrestling because he kept insisting my crying was getting annoying, but I just couldn't stop."

"So... you weren't mad?" Virgil then asks again, searching for a final bit of consolation, which Roman sniffles as he provides.

"No, I wasn't mad. But answer my damn texts next time!" Virgil's shoulders are grabbed, and he's shaken back and forth suddenly. "I don't fancy being ignored!"

Virgil lets out a nauseated moan. "Roman- please! You'll make me sick!"

That threat has Roman squealing as he releases Virgil instantaneously, before settling back into a softer, sweeter side of himself. Most of the tears that have fallen down his face have dried up, leaving just glistening trails in their wake. Virgil wipes his own cheeks as he sees them, before he eventually pushes himself to his feet. He's a tad unsteady, but Roman's hand settles on his waist before he can fall over.

"How are you feeling now?" Roman asks, which is a question Virgil doesn't quite think he's ready to answer.

But he does anyway. "I don't know. Less bad, I guess. Guilty, and still anxious, and weird, but I don't think any of those can be easily fixed. How are you feeling?"

"A bit glad I decided not to put on mascara today," Roman jokes. "I love the way it makes my eyelashes look, but it'd be streaming down my chin right now if I'd gone with it."

Virgil squeezes Roman's hand where it rests on his hip, though he blushes slightly at its position. "I'm serious, Roman."

"I am too," Roman replies genuinely. "But I guess I'm glad you're speaking to me again. And that you don't think I'm an affront to god for enjoying the fact you kissed me. And honestly I'd ask to kiss you back if you didn't just throw up repeatedly."

"Fuck, yeah." Virgil wipes his mouth on his sleeve. "My bad."

"It's fine. I have gum and breath mints in my car, so you can take your pick." He begins to pull Virgil towards the bathroom door. "You should probably wash your mouth out with water at the very least, and I wouldn't trust the tap here..."

Snickering, Virgil says "noted," and lets Roman chivalrously pull the bathroom door open for him. As Virgil makes his way back to the table, Roman stops to talk to a waitress and then runs out to his car, with two to-go boxes eventually being brought to Virgil right as Roman comes back inside. Roman helps Virgil back his food up, before subtly offering him his pick of whatever minty-fresh coverup he'd like to use to mask the acrid smell on his breath. Virgil takes the gum.

Coincidentally, Logan and Janus have already finished their food, so Roman packs his up as well as he'd barely picked at it.

The check is brought over after, and though Logan offers to send Roman money to cover his and Janus's portion, Roman just insists he pays it all himself, and even leaves a generous tip. Then, he urges everyone into his car.

"Wouldn't want you guys to have to walk all the way back to Virgil's," he quips, which has Logan and Janus looking admittedly relieved.

"Virgil, your boyfriend's so considerate," Janus groans, already eagerly settling into the backseat, and neglecting his seatbelt in favor of classily spreading across the cushions - which involves kicking his feet up onto Logan's lap.

But Virgil doesn't acknowledge Janus's obviously dramatic statement (though, Roman is considerate, it's just the way Janus said it that makes it sound significantly more sarcastic than it is), as he instead presses himself rather firmly into the back of the passenger seat and plays with the bag containing their leftovers. The deep breath he takes in his audible, before he says "actually, instead of going back to my house, I was hoping you and I-" he motions to Roman, and then himself "-could maybe head to your place?"

Roman flushes dark red, and Logan and Janus actively fight to keep themselves quiet.

"Yeah," Roman immediately splutters, rubbing the back of his neck, "yeah, of course we can! Should I drop them off at Logan's, or..."

"Logan's house works. I can guide you there."

"Cool. Amazing. Fabulous, even." Roman struggles to stop staring at Virgil and smiling long enough to focus on the road. And Virgil, surprisingly, can't stop smiling back, though he's eventually able to turn towards the window instead.

But when Roman sets his open hand atop the center console, Virgil wordlessly entwines their fingers, and thinks that maybe things will end up okay after all.

Maybe everything will be okay.

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