TW: Talks and thoughts of self-loathing, discussions about panic attacks (please inform me if I need to add more.)
A week had passed since the whole incident took place. Virgil has been pampered to death by Patton, constantly making the other hot cocoa or cookies for him. Virgil knew that Patton was trying to do, but when he's in the middle of scrolling through tumblr and all of a sudden he's attacked by blankets and dad jokes...you can say that he's getting a little irritated.
And don't even get him started on Logan, who's been bombarding him with an avalanche of questions and recording Virgil's answers on a notebook. While Patton's gone for the concerned dad approach, the logical side has gone more for a paranoid doctor. Virgil has had his heartbeat monitored, temperature checked, sleeping monitored, and breaths timed.
"All appropriate tests to see if the curse had unforeseen side effects," Logan had told him.
Virgil has practically bolted at the sound of a pen clicking or the oven going off. He longs for the alone time he used to despise. The worst thing is that he knows they're doing this because they care for him, though it feels like some elaborate plan to torture him.
Sigh.
Virgil doesn't know how long he can take being treated like a sick child all the time.
Good thing Roman's giving him some space.
At least, that's what he thinks he's doing.
* *
Roman has rarely left his room since the incident. The only times he has was to retrieve food from the kitchen, and even then he'd strictly do this at around midnight to avoid running into the others.
Well, to avoid running into Virgil.
Every time he so much glances his way, Roman is transported back to Virgil's room, looking down at his dear friend who's trapped in a cage of panic. These little 'episodes' became more and more frequent, and it escalated to now not being able to close his eyes without seeing that heart-wrenching sight. Sleeping, something he once could accomplish the second his head hit his pillow, became an impossibility. The few times he managed to sleep, nightmares attacked him left, right, and center. He woke up gasping for air, covered in sweat, the words Virgil's dream self whimpered stuck on loop in his head.
"Why did you do this to me?"
A week.
Virgil hasn't heard from or even seen Princey in a week. He's not even sure if the fanciful side has left his room. The anxious trait has spent more and more time staring at the large golden door than he'd like to admit, but it was the only thing that reminded him of the boisterous voice and obnoxious singing that he longed to hear.
He missed him.
Virgil missed Roman.
He brought the disappearance up to the other two, Patton seeming as equally worried as Virgil, but their concern was quickly shut down by Logan.
"Just give him time. He will come out eventually."
Well, eventually, was taking five more days longer than the anxious side would want.
For the tenth time this week, Virgil plopped himself down in a crisscross directly in front of Roman's door. He didn't know what he was waiting for: a shuffling of feet, a cough, a small chuckle. Anything to signal that Roman was even there. Anything was better than nothing.
Virgil let out a distressed sigh, running his hand through his already disheveled hair. His hand suddenly froze half way through, feeling a small piece of metal. He took it out and realized what it was: a forgotten bobby-pin. He went to discard the pin when an idea abruptly stopped him. He whipped his head around the hallway, searching for any sign of the fatherly or logical side. When the coast was clear, he crawled closer to Roman's door until he was touching it.
"This is a really bad idea," he muttered to himself. Slowly, he let out a deep exhale, then stuck the bobby pin in the lock. After jiggling the piece of metal around for about thirty seconds, he heard a click.
Knew that skill would come in handy one day, he thought to himself. He stood up to open the door, when suddenly a million thoughts bombarded him.
What if he doesn't want to see you?
He's probably been trying to avoid you this whole time.
What do you think you are? Some kind of therapist? You're anxiety. You'll only make things worse.
Shakily, Virgil let out a breath he hadn't realize he'd been holding. He shoved all of those thoughts in the deep pits of his mind and turned the knob.
Roman was buried underneath the covers, trying-and failing- to keep his sniffling to a minimum. With each horrific thought slicing through his heart, he wrapped the covers that much tighter around himself.
Your fault.
You seem more like the villain of the story.
You ruin everything you touch.
He was vaguely aware of the faint sounds happening on the other side of his door. It was merely background noise to the much louder thoughts going on in his head. He somehow managed to curl in to himself tighter when suddenly, the background noises seemed to amplify as he registered what was occurring.
The metallic click of his lock.
...Someone's coming in?
The slight turn of his door knob.
Someone's coming in.
The quiet creak of his door opening.
Someone's coming in!
Feet hesitantly shuffling in.
Someone's coming in!
Roman stilled, hoping that the intruder would think that he was gone: off on a quest, in the commons, the real world with Thomas, anywhere but here. He could make out the trespasser stepping on the many papers scattering his floor. He could make out the ruffling of their clothes they seemed to be running their hands over in a hasty fashion. He could decipher their heavy and uneven breathing.
Wait.
That could only mean-
"Ro?"
Virgil.
A pathetic whimper escaped from Roman's lips at the sound of the other's voice. He mentally scolded himself, but Virgil being there- in his room- stirred the pot of unwanted emotions up even more. He prayed that Virgil hadn't heard the noise, that he notices that he's not in here, that he-
A sudden added weight to his bed stopped his thoughts dead in their tracks.
"Hey, Ro," Virgil said, concern lacing his words. He waited for the anxious trait to continue. And waited. And waited. But Virgil just sat there wordlessly, as if he too were waiting for something. Waiting for Roman.
Shamefully, Roman slowly removed the protection that was his comforter and faced the side he's been trying to keep away from. Virgil's eyes shifted from concern to a heartbrokenness when he saw the usually confident side. Roman didn't blame him. If he looked even half as bad as he felt, he would've pitied himself as well.
"Oh, Princey," Virgil whispered, probably more to himself. The anxious shifted over closer to the Prince (villain) and slowly brought his arms up, offering a hug. "Do you..," he faltered.
Virgil didn't have to finish. Before he knew what he was doing, Roman practically threw himself into his friend's arms, sobbing. Virgil, not expecting the outburst, steadily wrapped his arms around Roman, rubbing soothing circles into his back and whispering comforting words. They stay like that for what feels like an eternity before Roman practically pries himself out of Virgil's grasp.
He doesn't deserve his comfort.
"You okay?" Virgil asks, then immediately winces, as if realizing it was a dumb question.
Roman answers anyway, "not really."
Virgil holds his gaze, as if expecting him to continue. When the Prince doesn't, his eyes wander the room and take everything in: the papers littering the floor, the spell books thrown all over the place, his prince uniform discarded in the back corner. He lets out a small exhale and simply says, "love what you've done with the place."
Roman doesn't retort. He knows his room is as much of a mess as he is.
He feels a hand take his own and holds it. Vigil looks in his eyes as if searching for something. Something that Roman's been burying since the incident. A flicker of understanding happens in Virgil's gaze, and he gives Roman a reassuring smile.
"It wasn't your fault," he said.
Roman feels himself start to break. He launches himself to his feet, to get away from the sudden weight the bed seemed to be pushing down on him. He stood wobbly, back facing Virgil.
"Yes," he whispered, voice cracking, "i-it was m-my fault."
"Ro-"
"You didn't create the Dragon Witch. You didn't ask to go on that mission with me. You didn't ask to fight her," Roman interrupted, anger now seeping into his voice.
"Princey-"
Roman whipped his body around, his face and words full of fury. "YOU DIDN'T SEE YOURSELF!" he roared, tears streaming down his face. "YOU DIDN'T SEE THE PURE TERROR THAT WERE IN YOUR EYES! YOU D-DIDN'T SEE YOURSELF SH-SHAKING SO HARD! YOU DIDN'T...you didn't," Roman trailed off, out of breath. His vision warped back to that closet, back to Virgil having the worse panic attack a person could ever experience, a feeling of horror no person deserves to ever feel.
A hand on his back snapped him back to reality. He was back in his room, somehow on his knees in the middle of his room, with Virgil kneeling right beside him.
"Roman, hey, it's okay. You're okay. We're okay," Virgil reassured. Virgil cupped his hand on the Prince's cheek, which Roman greedily leaned into. "I don't blame you. I never had. What happened was just some freak accident that no one expected to occur. I know that you brought me down there, but you're not the one who picked up the sword. I'm Thomas's fight or flight, remember. And there was no way I wasn't going to fight to keep you safe."
"But I-"
"No buts! I thought back to that day a million times with a million different scenarios. And every time I pick up that sword," Virgil smiled. "I know that you're the knight and everything, but even knights need a little help every now and then."
Roman stared into Virgil's eyes, looking as if he was trying to see the lie in his words. But he couldn't find anything.
Because Virgil wasn't lying.
Roman swallowed the lump that had been sitting in his throat. The thoughts seemed to have been replaced by Virgil's kind words, and it felt as if the world had been lifted from his shoulders.
A week of misery only to be saved by a few sentences.
Roman saved by Virgil yet again.
Roman felt a smile grow on his face, which turned Virgil's grin into a laugh. Virgil stroked Roman's messy hair back. "I missed that smile," he said.
Roman felt his heart leap and heat spread on his face.
What..?
"Do you want to join me and the others for lunch? If you want to, that is," Virgil quickly added.
Roman felt himself nod, but he was too distracted by the warmness spreading in his chest.
"Ok. Cool, cool. Just get cleaned up and...yeah." And with that Virgil turned around and left. His magic mirror, Benny, suddenly started glowing again.
"Are you blushing?" Benny asked, humor in his voice.
"N-no!" Roman flustered, moving his hand to cover his face. "Shut up!"