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tss-whumper · 2 months

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please believe me - a sanders sides whump one-shot

summary: roman has always been a little bit more fragile than he wants to admit. he gets dizzy spells and vertigo, and struggles to walk often because of this. but when he discovers that he can use a cane to better his mobility, he's amazed and delighted...until he tells the other sides, who do not take this well.

word count: 4.3k

content warnings: internalized ableism, ableism, gaslighting, emotional manipulation, bullying, emotional abuse, concussions, dry-heaving, all of the sides except for roman, remus, and logan could be seen as unsympathetic.

Roman liked to consider himself strong. Though he knew that all of the other sides were stronger than him physically, he also knew that he had a lot of stamina and fortitude of his own. After all, he was the only side who would regularly go on adventures of his own imagining, slaying pretend dragons and running through the forest. He also knew that he was often the one asked to do strenuous tasks, because he was the only one who had the energy to go from start to finish without slackening even a little.

But lately, that energy had been burning out quicker than usual.

Roman would be walking through his imaginary forest, and then suddenly, his vision would blur. His head would hurt. His heart would pound. And he would stumble and fall, gasping to catch his breath as his heart raced. But by the time he realized what was happening, he was on the ground, and it was going away. At first, Roman thought nothing of it. Probably lack of nutrition. So he ate more. It helped a little, but not a lot. Lack of sleep? He got his beauty sleep, ten hours a night. But even when he increased to eleven hours, the dizzy spells did not stop.

The longer it went on, the worse the spells got. They would last longer, and be more severe. There would even be times where Roman had to stay on the floor for minutes at a time, just to get his heart to stop pounding and his body to stop trembling. He was always thirsty, always hungry. No matter how much he ate and drank. And he started to grow wary of going into his forest alone. What if he collapsed and couldn't get back up? Each time he fell, it grew harder and harder to pick himself up. It started to feel like his bones were becoming brittle and useless.

Until one day.

He went for a little walk after a frustrating argument with Remus, making sure to keep close to his bedroom door, just in case. But this time, when his vision blurred and he teetered to the side, he held out his arms, grappling for something to keep him upright. And his hands wrapped tightly around a branch of a tree. The dizziness was still there, and Roman could see the world around him moving. But he was still. And he knew that he was still, because the branch did not move. The branch kept him steady, and helped him figure out where to slowly and shakily move his feet to keep walking. The branch made things feel less terrifying, like he had more control over his body and the situation.

It was revolutionary.

Ever since that day, Roman started to cling to branches and trunks and whatever he could to keep himself upright. And it went from being whenever he felt dizzy to all the time, that way, it didn't take him by surprise, and he would know that he had something to hold onto if the dizziness came on in a flash, as it tended to. And Roman felt so safe and secure, and more than anything? He felt brave again.

---

"Janus, your cane is so pretty," Patton marveled one day as all the sides gather for a movie night, "You never did tell us what it's for. Is it just for decoration?"

"Not really," Janus shrugged, sitting on the couch, "It's to help keep me from putting too much weight on my weak joints. It's just easier to walk when I'm holding onto something."

Roman's eyes went round as saucers when he heard this. He stared at Janus' cane, black polished wood, with a curve on one end for Janus to hold onto, and a flat base on the other for it to keep his body steady on the ground.

"You mean you just use the cane, and it keeps you from falling down?" he blurted before he could stop himself.

Janus wrinkled his nose, clearly confused by Roman's fascination with his cane and his disability. He pulled his cane closer to himself.

"I don't fall down," he said, "But it does help with keeping me upright when I'm feeling a lot of pain."

The other sides asked their own questions about Janus' cane and his disability, but Roman couldn't hear any of it. All he could think about was that cane. It was just like the tree branch in the forest. It kept Janus grounded, it gave him something to support himself with when his body gave out. It was perfect.

Roman gracefully excused himself, rushing to his room, stumbling inside and falling to the ground as another dizzy spell hit him. But he didn't mind being splayed out on the carpet, grinning like a child in a toy store as he started to conjure up a cane. The perfect cane. It wouldn't be black like Janus'. It would be red, so Roman could always find it. And instead of having a curved area for the hand, it just went out horizontally a few inches, and the handle was a nice plush material that was nice to hold. The bottom was flat like Janus', but it was wider. Roman thought about the strong trunk of the tree, how the wider the foundation was, the stronger the tree stood. Roman made the bottom of his cane about two inches wide, so that there was plenty of sure flatness for him to lean upon.

And then, it was finished. Using the cane, Roman struggled to his feet, clutching the cane tightly. Getting up was much easier when he had something to hold onto. The world rocked and spun around him, but as he gripped the plush handle of the cane, Roman didn't feel so scared. He didn't feel like one wrong step would cause him to crash back down. Slowly, he dragged the cane forward, and then, he took a step. He did not lean heavily on the cane, but he did rest about half his weight on it. The cane was perfect for orienting himself. Letting his body know where it was in space.

It was amazing. Roman almost cried from joy. How did it take him this long to figure out such a simple solution to his problem? Now, he would never topple over from a dizzy spell again!

---

The very first day Roman walked to the kitchen with his cane, he was all smiles. He dragged it gently in front of him, the way he had in his bedroom. Now, it was decorated beautifully. Roman had gone to the forest and delicately wrapped chains of dried flowers around his cane, making for a simple but elegant decoration. Roman felt as if he was glowing from the inside out. Every step was so certain. Every step felt like flying.

"Roman, what the hell is that?"

Air deflated from Roman's chest as he heard the intense hostility in Virgil's tone.

"It's my cane," Roman said, smiling at Virgil as widely as he could, though fear danced in his eyes. "It helps me walk. I get dizzy a lot, and I've been falling over. The cane keeps me from falling."

"You fall over," Virgil repeated, very deadpan in his delivery, "I've never seen you fall over."

"Well- yeah, it mostly happens in the forest," Roman explained, "When I've been running and playing for a while. But sometimes it comes on all of a sudden. I'm glad I found the cane before it happened in front of any of you guys. It's very unbecoming of a prince to be collapsing at random!"

But Virgil did not laugh at Roman's lighthearted remark. His gray eyes narrowed and he stared at the cane for a long time.

"You know, I hate Janus," he said slowly, "You know that. I hate him more than Thomas hates carrots. But there are some lines you can't cross when making fun of him. I can't believe you'd do something like this, Roman. It's a real jackass move."

"What...?" Roman felt tears form in his eyes, "What are you talking about? What's a jackass move?"

"This! All of this!" Virgil cried out, gesturing to the cane, "Faking some dizzy thing to try and get attention? To try and make some sort of mockery of Janus' literal disability? That's not cute, Roman!"

Footsteps could be heard, and Patton and Janus entered the hallway from the kitchen. Patton was holding a mixing bowl. Janus was holding a spoon in one hand, and his cane in the other. Roman was trying his hardest not to cry, biting his lip so hard that he could feel blood dripping down his gums inside his mouth.

"What's going on in here, kiddos?" Patton asked, "It's a Saturday morning, there's no need to yell."

Then, Patton laid eyes upon Roman's cane. And Janus did too.

"It's another one of Roman's little ploys for attention," Virgil hissed, glaring murderously at the creative side, "He must have seen Janus' cane yesterday and gotten all pissy. Because the attention wasn't all on him."

"That's not true!" Roman choked out, desperate for support as he gazed imploringly at Patton, "I swear, it's not true- I- I've been getting dizzy for weeks! Before I even knew about Janus' cane, I was struggling with this- why won't you believe me??"

"If you were struggling, why didn't you tell us?" Janus asked quietly, "Everybody knows that little Princey can't keep a secret to save his life. Why now? Why this?"

"I..." Roman choked on air. "I didn't want to worry you guys. I didn't know what it was, and- I was trying to fix it on my own. I don't understand. The cane helps me walk, just like it helps you."

"Roman, honey," Patton said gently, approaching Roman and placing a hand on his shoulder, "I'm sure you do get a little dizzy from time to time. That's normal for somebody as active as you. And your diet isn't exactly the healthiest, what, with all that fruit you eat. So much sugar, and you barely eat anything at mealtimes."

"I eat plenty at mealtimes," Roman tried to reassure, "I swear it. This isn't something that can be solved by that stuff- at least, I don't think so."

"I know you want people to pay attention to you," Patton interjected, his voice gentle, but his eyes glistening with a warning, "I know you like being the center of everyone's focus, buddy. But you're a big, strong prince! You're Roman. You're supposed to be a valiant and brave prince. Don't you want to be a prince, Roman?"

"Of course I do," Roman whispered, a tear rolling down his face.

"Can you name any princes who use a cane?" Patton asked sweetly, and when Roman faltered, Patton continued, "Exactly. You're a big boy, Roman. You don't need stuff like this. Let's leave the canes to the actual disabled people, alright? It's the respectful thing to do, sweetheart."

Roman started to feel dizzy. He was not sure if it was from a dizzy spell or from the extreme overwhelm of emotions that were weighing him down. Perhaps it was both. All he knew was that he needed to get out of here. He gripped his cane and turned to go, but he found that something was keeping him there.

Virgil's hands were holding tightly onto Roman's cane, keeping him from moving it. Roman's fragile, trembling fingers were no match for Virgil's strong and certain ones.

"Please," he whispered, "Give me my cane."

"No," Virgil glowered, "You can walk ten steps to your room by yourself. I know you can. I've seen it. You're being a real dick, Roman. I just want you to drop the act, okay? I'm not asking for much."

"I need my cane, please," Roman begged, more tears dripping down his chin and his upper lip. "I feel dizzy."

"Of course you do," Janus muttered, rolling his eyes, "Of course you magically feel dizzy while we're calling you out. And here I was thinking I was Deceit."

Janus turned and walked back into the kitchen. But Patton stayed standing in the doorway, and Virgil stayed holding Roman's cane.

"I'm not backing off from this," Virgil said, "Go. Walk."

Roman realized that he was outnumbered by a long shot. Nobody pitied him. Janus was giving him the cold shoulder. Patton was staring at him with such disappointment in his eyes. And Virgil looked ready to kill him. There was nothing Roman could do. No other way to escape.

Slowly, his grip on his cane loosened. Immediately, Virgil snatched it from underneath Roman, causing the dizzy man to stumble. He caught himself, but it was clear that Roman was trembling wildly, not just out of fear, but out of fragility. His vision was going blurry, and it kept blacking out on him. His heart was pumping blood through his body so fast that Roman felt as though he might burst from the inside out.

But he had to walk. He had to escape.

Slowly, he put one foot in front of the other, even though he couldn't tell which way was truly forward. The ground seemed to zig-zag and contort. But Roman closed his eyes, hoping that the lack of vision would help him better figure out how to move in a straight line. It did not. He only felt more unsure. But when he opened his eyes again, he felt his knees give out, and before Roman could get his bearings, he had crashed down onto the bright white carpet of the hallway.

He didn't even hear the thud of his body hitting the ground. But what he did hear was the cruel, barking laughter of Virgil.

"You can't fool me, Roman!" he called out, "That's some good acting, though!"

"Roman, come on, honey," Patton goaded, "Walking is not hard for you. I've seen you do it hundreds of times. No more of this silliness, okay?"

Acting.

Silliness.

Maybe Patton and Virgil were right. Maybe Roman was faking all of this. Slowly, he tried to sit up. His head hurt so badly. A whimper escaped Roman, but he kept going. He had to keep going. He had to get away from the laughter, from the stares.

So he pressed his hands tightly onto one knee, and tried to prop the other upwards. So he could try to stand up. But as his body lifted off the ground, shaking like a fawn's, the walls and the ceiling swirled around him in such a confusing and dizzying haze that Roman fell right back down again. White hot pain burst through the wrist he fell on, and a sickening crack resounded through the hallway.

Roman waited for more laughter and taunting. He waited for more critiques, more chastising. But none came. Only a deep bellow from a voice that was typically so composed that it sounded like a computer.

"Give me the cane, Virgil."

Roman blinked blearily. He was facing away from where Patton, Virgil, and now, Logan, were standing. He could not tell if Logan was mad at him like the others were, but he could hear Logan's quiet footsteps moving towards Roman's shaking body.

"You gonna beat him with it?" Virgil sneered, "I guess I wouldn't expect anything less from Mr. Anger Issues, but maybe Roman deserves it. He's being such a bitch about this whole thing."

"Maybe he needs a little punishment," Patton agreed solemnly, "I'm not a violence guy. You know that, Logan, but- well...Roman isn't listening to us any other way."

Roman froze up for a moment. Was Logan really going to beat him with his cane? There was not a lot of strength left in Roman's body, but what little he had, he used it to curl up tightly, protecting his neck with his hands, and tucking his head between his legs. He held his breath and waited for the first strike.

But none came.

"This is ridiculous," Logan snapped, "Utterly ridiculous."

The logical side leaned down towards Roman, trying to make eye contact. Roman looked up, but everything was foggy and hazy. He could see three Logan's, but at the same time, he couldn't quite make out the details of any of them.

"I'm sorry," Roman mumbled, "'m so sorry...I didn't mean to- to make fun of anyone, honest! I just- I- I just wanted- to- to-"

"Shut up," Logan whispered to Roman, "You're a bit dilated...you hit your head on the floor, didn't you...?"

Roman didn't know what to say. He didn't know what the right answer was. He opened his mouth to try and say something, to try and plead for mercy, but when he did so, a wave of violent nausea passed through his body, and he retched, dry heaving in writhing spasms on the floor. He had not eaten yet, so nothing came out of his body except for a few globs of saliva.

"He's concussed," Logan mumbled to himself, and before Roman could figure out what was happening, he felt himself being lifted into the air by two large and soft arms. Instinctively, Roman leaned against the touch.

"Oh, please," Patton said with a little laugh, "I never knew you as somebody to coddle, Logan. Especially Roman. You've got to know he's faking. In all the years you've known him, have you ever seen him get dizzy?"

Roman whimpered as he waited for Logan to change his mind. To stop with his kindness and drop Roman onto the floor, joining in with Patton and Virgil.

But no.

"I have," Logan snapped, "I have seen it, and if either of you had a speck of intelligence, you would have seen it too. Roman's been compensating his whole life, probably before he was even aware of it. Don't you remember when we were younger? Roman would always cling to the stair rail when going up and down stairs. Ever wonder why? In the kitchen, every single time I've seen Roman in the kitchen, he's leaning against the counter and gripping onto the side of it."

"If all of this is true, then- then why haven't you ever brought it up?" Virgil snapped defensively.

"It's not my business, first of all," Logan shot back, with just as much ferocity, "And second of all, Roman's a stubborn idiot. He would never admit to having a physical problem, especially because of the torture you two are subjecting him to the second he tries to do something about it! If I'd known that you two would react like this if I had a disability, then I would never tell you anything!"

"K- kiddo, that's not what happened," Patton stammered, "You've got it all mixed up! We weren't doing anything akin to torture, that's- that's such a nasty word, and-"

"Yeah? Is it nasty?" Logan asked, "Well then, consider yourselves nasty. You really thought I would beat Roman with his own cane when he's already showing signs of a concussion? He collapsed right in front of you, and you still don't believe him? It's clear that you don't care at all. And the problem is not the disability. The problem is that it's Roman who has it. You call Roman a fake? You're the ones that are faking, pretending that you care about him. If Roman has any sense in his head, then he'll never trust either of you again after today. Though knowing him...he'll likely give you a lot more mercy than you deserve."

And with that, Logan turned on his heels and marched out of the room, carrying Roman and holding his cane tightly. Roman could not speak. He could not move. Everything was fuzzy and far away, like he was being shoved farther and farther towards the center of the world's largest teddy bear. And throughout it all, his head throbbed, each pulse stronger and more agonizing than the last.

"It's alright, Roman," Logan mumbled, setting Roman down on a surface that he recognized as his bed.

Roman blinked and let out a soft noise as he felt his soft red comforter be pulled over his trembling body, and an eye mask be put over his tear-filled eyes.

"Sleep now, Roman," Logan goaded gently, "You need rest. I'll be here with you. Don't be afraid. Just let yourself sleep."

So Roman let himself sleep. And soon, the room was silent, other than Roman's soft snoring echoing off his bedroom walls.

---

When Roman woke up, his head hurt, and so did his wrist. And the very first thing he saw when he took off the eye mask was Logan's face, staring down at him with an immensely worried gaze.

"Hi," Roman said, a bit awkwardly, "What's going on?"

"Seriously...?" Logan asked dryly, "You get your cane stolen from you, you fracture your wrist and get a concussion due to Patton and Virgil's mistreatment, and the very first thing you have to say is hi? What's going on?"

"What am I supposed to do, make a royal proclamation?" Roman quipped softly, groaning as he tried to sit up. "Why did you say all that stuff to Patton and Virgil? Now they'll be mad at you. Besides, they're right. I am faking. This stupid cane was just a way for me to get attention."

Logan glared sharply down at Roman, causing the man to shrink back against his numerous pillows.

"Don't you ever say that again," he snapped, "You are not faking. And you did not make the cane to get attention. Perhaps you were looking for positive attention when it came to the decorative aspect. But you were not using your disability as a ploy or a game. Don't let the others convince you of something that is so nauseatingly untrue."

"Don't talk to me about nausea," Roman mumbled, "I feel like I'll throw up just looking at food."

"Well, that tends to happen when you're concussed," Logan replied, "But don't worry, Remus is coming back as we speak with some medication that should ease that. But we need to talk, if you're feeling up to it. We need to do something important."

"I'm up for important," Roman said, "Anything but more sleep."

"Alright," Logan said, and he picked Roman up, soon setting him down on a strange cot-like appliance.

Roman winced as he felt straps tighten around his form, keeping him tied down to the table. And he did not remember much after that. He just remembered feeling everything tilt up and down, up and down, over and over. Like a hazy, torturous roller coaster. Throughout it, Roman wondered if this was Logan's special way of punishing him. If Logan had been waiting until Roman trusted him to harm him the way Patton and Virgil wanted him to.

But when Logan was finished, he quickly unstrapped Roman, and placed him back onto the bed, waiting a few moments for Roman to reorient himself and feel well enough to listen and speak again.

"I'm sorry about that," Logan said, "But that was a tilt table test. I was monitoring your levels while moving the table, to check a theory I have about you. And I was correct, as I tend to be."

"A theory...?" Roman mumbled blearily, "What theory...?"

"Roman, it looks as if you have postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome," Logan said, "Otherwise known as POTS. This is a medical disorder that would explain your, as you describe them, dizzy spells."

"You mean...there really is something...?" Roman asked softly, "I'm not faking it...?"

"Yes," Logan said, "There is something. But even if there wasn't something, you are not and never was faking anything, Roman. Mobility aids are nothing more or less than what they are defined as. Items that aid mobility. It does not matter the medical conditions of who uses them as long as they actually help the person in question. If you were getting dizzy spells and you found that a cane helped you in day-to-day life, then whether or not you have a medical disorder, that is a valid thing you can do."

"But Patton and Virgil said-"

"Patton and Virgil are wrong," Logan said firmly, "And so is Janus. It was abundantly clear that you were not mocking or making fun of anything. You were not playing a prank. They were merely uncomfortable with the idea of you being more fragile than they expected. They didn't want to challenge their preconceived notion that you were some...invincible, endlessly strong caricature."

"Princes are supposed to be strong," Roman murmured, his eyes dimming, "Patton's right. There isn't a single prince who uses a cane."

"You are very strong, Roman," Logan protested, "Regardless of whether or not you have a cane, your physical and mental fortitude are unmatched. Why, I don't know anybody else with so much energy, even in the morning. I don't know anybody else who has the determination to live out each day the way you do. It's...astounding. It's admirable. The cane is inconsequential. All it does is help you. The amount of help you need from an inanimate stick does not determine your strength."

"Thanks, Logan," Roman said after a long moment of bewildered silence, "That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

"I know we have our qualms," Logan admitted, seeming a bit embarrassed, "But nobody deserves the abuse you endured. The abuse you've been enduring. You shouldn't have to hide your struggles to be treated with respect. I won't agree with you on everything, but...I'll always believe you, Roman, if you come to me with a personal problem. I trust you."

That was the only thing that Roman had wanted to hear in the whole wide world at that moment. By the time the door opened and Remus was there with medicine, Roman was crying, and Logan's eyes were a little bit teary, and Remus was admiring Roman's cane and threatening to light it on fire, the way that siblings tend to.

"I love you both," Roman sobbed, a wide, grateful smile on his face, "Thank you so much. Thank you for believing me."

---

(hee hee. yes i have pots and i am projecting onto roman. hush. also, i will be coming out with a part two on this one if i remember to, so stay tuned for that!)

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part-time-zombie · 2 months

Text

Not Bad

pairings: platonic dukexiety

summary: Virgil liked to sing, but refuses to do so after realizing no one likes hearing him sing. Well, almost no one...

tags: warnings: hurt/comfort, roman is kind of a jerk at the start, remus is a good friend

word count: 1970

A/N: The first part of this takes place before Accepting Anxiety and Virgil's name reveal, so Virgil is referred to as Anxiety at the start.

Anxiety didn’t like showing up for very long, and for good reason. It had been made very clear to him that he wasn’t welcome, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t care. He was only doing his job, just like everyone else, and even if they weren’t always on the same page he hoped that they’d at least understand that even if they didn’t respect it.

They sure as hell didn’t respect him, anyway.

He wasn’t trying to bother them this time, he was just hoping to grab a quick bite of food and he’d leave again. By the looks of it, they were all more than fine with that, as they tried their best to ignore him as he quickly slinked into the kitchen in search of a snack.

He had come prepared, of course, with his headphones already blasting his playlist loud enough to drown out even Roman’s own dramatic singing. He always found a way to insult Anxiety when he felt like he was being an issue, and he wasn’t about to hear any of it if he didn’t have to.

He perused the snacks in the kitchen while the others busied themselves in the living room, and it seemed they were actually going to leave him alone this time. Letting himself feel emboldened by the thought, Anxiety took his time, quietly humming along to the music under his breath.

It was one of his favorite songs to listen to, one he’d sing along to on occasion when he was alone. There was just something about it that cheered him up a little, and he always felt better hearing it.

Eventually he found something that looked appetizing enough, and he gingerly walked back to the stairs with his snack in tow, not even aware that he was still humming along.

Roman, meanwhile, was very much aware.

“Geez, Anxiety, if you were gonna make us listen to your edgy music you could’ve at least let the actual band play it,” he teased from his spot on the couch. “Or better yet, let me do the singing around here. At least I’m actually good at it.”

Anxiety whipped around to face him, pulling the headphones down around his shoulders. He had already heard Roman loud and clear, thanks to an unfortunately timed lull in the music, but he was hoping he didn’t properly hear what he thought Roman had just said. “What?”

“I’m just saying, music isn’t exactly your strong suit.”

“Roman, be nice,” Patton interrupted, much to Anxiety’s relief.

Roman didn’t listen or let up. “What? I’m just being honest. He’s got a bad singing voice, is all.”

“Technically, there aren’t any ‘bad’ singing voices, only untrained ones,” Logan added.

“Alright, fine, he’s got an ‘untrained’ singing voice, it still sounds bad either way.”

Anxiety felt his face twist into a defensive scowl. It was only humming. He wasn’t even singing any actual lyrics, for crying out loud. Sure, he’s no professional, but Roman didn’t have the right to go and say something like that out of nowhere, especially not when Anxiety and the others have been letting him sing his own lungs out plenty of times.

Then again, that was Roman. He’s the prince, the fan favorite. Anxiety is just… Anxiety. He’s the villain, the problem. Why would they go easy on him? It’s not like they have any reason to, they sure as hell don’t like him. Now they have something else to taunt and torment him about all because he was stupid enough to drop his guard. It just so happens that this something is much more personal to him, and it’s gonna hurt a lot more later on.

It already hurt badly enough now.

Anxiety stormed back upstairs and kept his door firmly shut behind him, turning the music up even louder than before in the hopes that it would drown out the cutting words that had already made their way into his head. The music kept playing, but Anxiety wasn’t singing along anymore.

Virgil slouched at the kitchen table, quietly picking at his cooling breakfast. No one else was in the kitchen with him, much to his relief, as the others had all already finished their food and were busy carrying on with the rest of their morning routines.

Not anymore, never again.

The food was alright, he just wasn’t feeling hungry. Last night had been rather rough for him, and right now all he wanted to do was curl back up in bed and sleep for the rest of the day. Of course, he couldn’t do that. There was plenty of stuff he had to do today, and he knew that if he went back to bed he’d only stress himself out even further about it.

Sighing to himself, he put on his headphones and started up his playlist. It had gone through plenty of changes through the years, with plenty of songs being added and a few dropped, but it still helped him get out of any slump he found himself in, even one as small as this.

He pressed play and let the opening chords of his favorite song fill his ears, already relaxing into the familiar melody as he finished his breakfast.

The music continued to play as he cleaned his finished dishes in the sink, with the playlist eventually landing on Forbidden Fruit. Virgil almost thought to change it, still unsure as to why or how it was even on his playlist to begin with, but he just sighed and let it play out. His hands were still covered in soapy water, and it would be too much of a hassle to dry himself off and fish his phone out of his pocket just to skip one song. Besides, he had to admit it was pretty catchy.

The rhythm worked its way into his head, and Virgil found himself idly humming along as he finished the final dish. He dried his hands on a towel and turned back to the kitchen table, only to nearly jump out of his skin when he saw Remus crouched over it and staring at him with a wide grin.

“Holy shit, Remus, what the hell are you doing?” he gasped, pulling his headphones away from his ears and taking a few deep breaths. “You nearly gave me a heart attack, y’know that?”

“You were singing my song,” he replied, his smile only growing wider.

Virgil’s heart leapt into his throat, and he felt like kicking himself as the realization and shame set in. He had gone and done it again, exposing his dismal lack of talent in another moment of weakness. It’s like he didn’t learn his lesson the first time. “Shit, yeah. Just forget about it, okay? Sorry.”

Remus quirked his head to the side, replacing his grin with a confused pout. “For what?”

Virgil shrugged, only feeling even more awkward. “I dunno, for humming too loudly, I guess. It’s probably pretty annoying, and I bet I only ruined it.”

Remus made a face before jumping from the table. “I don’t think you ruined it. If anything, I’d say you made it better.”

“Yeah, right. That’s just because you’ve got bad taste,” Virgil scoffed.

Remus crossed his arms, expression smug. “If my taste is so bad, why were you singing my song?”

Virgil didn’t have a response to that one.

“Whatever, just leave it alone, alright?” he grumbled, quickly sliding past Remus and out of the kitchen. He wasn’t dealing with this again. Once was enough.

“I can’t just leave it alone,” Remus called after him. “How can I leave it alone when this is the first time I’ve heard you sing in years?”

Virgil stopped and slowly turned to face him. Remus looked sincere, almost concerned. At least, that’s what it looked like, but Remus never feels concerned about anything, least of all Virgil.

“You used to sing all the time back then,” he continued, taking a few steps closer. “It was so awesome hearing you having fun like that, why’d you ever stop?”

Virgil shuffled in place, not looking at Remus. He had heard him? Virgil thought he was safe when he would sing, but Remus was listening this whole time? How much had he overheard before Virgil stopped, and how much did he laugh about with Janus or Roman?

“I didn’t think you’d hear me,” he muttered, nervously fidgeting with the drawstring of his hoodie. “You don’t need to tell me how stupid it was, I know it sounds bad.”

Remus didn’t say anything for a moment, and Virgil looked up at him to see what was going on. His face was slack with confusion and an unreadable emotion.

“Who told you that?” he asked, voice frighteningly low. “Who convinced you that you shouldn’t sing because they’re too stupid to realize how awesome it is?”

Virgil took a step back, almost repelled by Remus’ stare. “Look, it’s no big deal, alright? I know I suck at singing, it’s just a fact.”

“Hell no,” Remus snapped, stepping forward and forcing the distance between them to close. “I loved listening to you sing, and if someone went and made you feel like shit for it then they’re in for a fucking fight!”

Virgil froze, not only because he was very sure Remus would follow through with his threat even if it would be towards his own brother, but also because of what he had said just before it.

“You… like it when I sing?”

Remus scoffed in disbelief, and Virgil worried for a moment that this was all just another joke.

“Of course I fucking like it! There’s a reason I always let you pick the music, and it wasn’t just because you’ve got awesome taste, which you totally do by the way.” He said with another grin.

Virgil narrowed his eyes, searching Remus’ face for any signs of a lie or trick and finding none. This wasn’t Janus he was talking to after all, it was Remus, and Remus always spoke his mind no matter what was on it. When he said something rude it was because he meant it, but the same goes for if he said anything nice.

“You really mean that?”

Remus gave him another smile. “I don’t know which part you’re talking about, but yeah I did.”

Virgil felt himself returning the smile, albeit more subtly. “Thanks, I guess.”

“Don’t sweat it. I just hope this means you’re gonna start singing again, I really do miss it.”

“You know I’m not the karaoke type.”

Remus shrugged. “Maybe you should be. You’re definitely good enough, if you ask me.”

That’s not exactly what Roman told him back then, but he’s been wrong before. He’s actually been wrong about a lot of things, and really so has Virgil. They both thought that it had to be right vs wrong, but Roman hadn’t always been very good, and right now Remus wasn’t being all that bad.

Virgil couldn’t help but chuckle to himself at that realization.

“What’s got you laughing like that?” Remus asked, leaning in far too close to get a good look at the grin that was starting to form on Virgil’s face.

“It’s nothing, just thought of something,” he explained, trying and failing to force the smile away.

“And you won’t tell me?”

“Nope. You wouldn’t get it anyway.”

Remus gave him an exaggerated pout, but Virgil just shook his head and headed back upstairs. He adjusted the headphones back over his ears and let the next song play, this time humming along even louder than before.

Singing really was something personal to Virgil, something special. It made him feel more confident and hopeful on his darker days, and if Remus at the very least liked it, then maybe it isn’t that bad.

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