Also on ao3 here.
University!style AU. Roman, Virgil, Logan and Patton all live in the same halls/dormitory.
Pre-relationship Roman/Virgil. Hurt/Comfort. Insecure Roman. Virgil helping Roman.
Content warning for: alcohol mention, homophobia, swearing.
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Later, Virgil will thank fate that he had fallen asleep with his phone under his pillow.
Now, he wakes to the sound of buzzing in his ear, and he groans, hand searching for the phone. He fumbles underneath the pillow and fishes the phone out, groaning again when he sees it’s Roman calling. He glances at the time: 2am. The after party will have been well under way, and he prepares himself for another drunken phone call.
But, when he picks up, there’s an odd stilted silence. No shouting, no singing. All Virgil can make out is Roman’s unsteady breathing, and a jolt of uneasiness has him wide awake, sitting up in bed.
“Hey. Hello? Roman?”
“Virrr…Virgil, sorry, I think- I lost my keys…sorry. Please let me in?”
There’s the usual slur to his voice (it’s well known Roman enjoys a few too many drinks after a successful theatre run), but Virgil can’t bring himself to complain. His gut is telling him something is wrong.
“Yeah, sure, no problem,” he replies quickly. He throws on his hoodie and wiggles his feet into his slippers. “I’m coming.”
He hurries downstairs, taking them two at a time. He opens up the locked front door and sees Roman standing there, shoulders hunched, swaying slightly. When he notices Virgil, his whole posture relaxes.
“Thanks,” is all he says.
Virgil nods and then, from the light of his phone, spies a glint of something silver on the ground.
“Look. You must have dropped your keys.”
Roman blinks slowly. “Oh. Yeah, I…yeah.”
He bends down and picks them up, and Virgil’s worry increases at the sight of Roman’s shaking hands. He tightens his hoodie around himself, the night air biting, and reaches for Roman’s arm.
“Come on, let’s get inside, it’s freezing.”
They make their unsteady way up the stairs, and Virgil guides Roman into the kitchen, setting him down on a chair. He goes to the sink, and begins the usual routine after any party, filling up a glass of water.
“Okay, take it easy, you’ve just had a bit too much to drink and-”
When Virgil turns around, the bottom drops out of his stomach. Roman has one hand over his mouth, and he’s shaking with the effort of keeping his sobs silent. Virgil is reeling. This isn’t Roman at all. He’s should be happy and light, loud, boisterous, not curled in on himself and hiding.
Because Virgil is all too familiar with the act of making yourself small and quiet. This isn’t right. And, as Roman continues to tremble, Virgil realises this is a practiced effort, and his heart clenches at the thought of this happening before, and no-one being able to hear…
“Hey! Hey hey hey, Roman, what the-”