Dead Man Walking
Summary: After a particularly bad night, Roman seeks out the one person he really wants to see. Unfortunately, that person may not want to see him.
Warnings: alcohol mention, swearing, injury mention, death mention, verbal abuse, mention of physical abuse (nothing too descriptive), vague ending, implied character death (at least, the character thinks they’re going to die), angst, homophobia, not a happy ending
Pairing: Prinxiety
A/N: This is loosely based off of “Dead Girl Walking” from Heathers, and might be part of a series (assuming I actually get around to writing more). If you like this and want me to write a second part, lmk!
Roman stumbled down the sidewalk, stomach churning unpleasantly with each step. His mind was racing, replaying the events from earlier over and over. He shook his head sharply, fighting the tears that threatened to spill.
This was it. This was the end.
His feet continued moving, carrying him onward of their own accord.
What was he supposed to do? If school didn’t end him, home would. There was no way…
His phone buzzed in his pocket. He stopped walking.
Roman’s hand covered the pocket where his phone sat, body trembling as he thought about what it might tell him. Instead of checking it, however, he scanned the area around him, suddenly realizing he didn’t know where he was.
Except he did.
His heart dropped, twisting with a new kind of fear. But… Maybe this was good. Maybe he could, despite his inevitable doom, do one last good thing. A new kind of determination filled him and Roman took off down the street, this time searching for a particular house. When he found it, his heart rate picked up.
Though it had only been a few months since he’d last seen it, Roman couldn’t help but be surprised that the building still looked exactly the same as before.
Before all the mess. Before he became a dead man walking.
He took a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment as his phone buzzed again.
And then he opened his eyes and fixed his gaze on the old oak tree growing beside the house.
He hurried across the lawn, thankful that all the windows were dark, and paused at the base of the tree. For a moment, he simply examined it, eyes lingering on the places worn from the previous times he’d done this. Dozens, probably hundreds of times over the years… He took a deep breath, gripped the tree firmly, and began a slow climb up.
It took longer than usual, both because it had been a while since he’d done this and because of the alcohol still in his system. Eventually, however, he managed to reach the branch that hung closest to the house. Roman panted softly, trying to catch his breath, then leaned out and knocked lightly on the window. For several moments, he waited. When there was no response, he frowned and knocked again, louder now.
A heartbeat later, the lamp beside the bed flicked on and a figure sat up, still for a moment. Roman huffed in frustration and knocked a third time. Finally, the figure clambered out of bed and yanked open the window.
“Roman?“
“Hey Verge.” Roman gave the other boy a wobbly smile, instinctively leaning towards him. He squeaked and threw himself back uneasily, however, as the branch groaned under his weight.
“What the f- Get in here before you break your neck!” Virgil hissed, reaching out to pull Roman inside.
Roman accepted the help, smiling sincerely for the first time in months. Virgil looked less pleased.
“What do you want?” Virgil demanded, arms crossed and scowl locked firmly onto his face. Roman blinked, his smile faltering, then cleared his throat and straightened.
“I needed to talk to you."
"It couldn’t wait till tomorrow?"
Roman’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of tomorrow.
His phone buzzed in his pocket.
"No.” He said firmly. “I just… I saw you, at the show. I was going to talk to you then, but you left before I could."
Virgil shuffled awkwardly. "Yeah, well Pat wanted to see it.” He cleared his throat and fell back into his defensive stance. “Why does that matter? You can’t just show up at 2 A.M. because you feel like it! You’re the one who said-”
“I’m sorry, Virgil."
"What?"
For a long moment, the two stood there, neither certain what to do. Virgil’s eyes were wide and his brows were lifted in shock. His stance eased, though in surprise more than relaxation. Roman, on the other hand, had tensed, wrapping his arms around his stomach and dropping his gaze to stare at the carpet.
"I’m sorry. I… I shouldn’t have ditched you at prom. Or said- I…” Roman bit his lip, fighting tears. He had to get through this, damn it! Sucking in a sharp breath, Roman steeled himself and looked up, determination glowing in his eyes. “I shouldn’t have insulted you in front of everyone. I know- I wish I hadn’t humiliated you like that. It was cowardly and immature and wrong. I’m sorry, Virgil.” When Virgil still didn’t speak, Roman cleared his throat nervously, shifting his weight and hugging himself tighter. “I can’t be brave like you. Being out… it’s too much right now."
It’s not safe.
"But that doesn’t mean I had a right to treat you poorly. I… I just wanted to say… that. And I hope, somehow, you can find a way to forgive me. Or at least, I hope you don’t hate me forever.”
“Hate you?” Virgil seemed to snap out of his daze then, frowning deeply. “Ro, I never- how could I ever hate you?"
"After the way I treated you-"
"I get it.” Virgil shrugged, his eyes dropping as Roman’s shot up in surprise. “I know your dad isn’t… understanding. I get why you couldn’t be out. It just… hurt… that you’d completely cut me- us- out. Patton’s missed you. I’ve missed you. Hell, Logan has too, even though he won’t admit it. We understand why you can’t be out, you know that. What we don’t understand is why you had to… abandon us."
Roman stared at his friend, his first love, vulnerable and scared, and felt his heart shatter. He looked so small. Roman took a deep breath and stepped forward, hand hesitantly finding Virgil’s shoulder. When he didn’t pull away, Roman used his other hand to cup Virgil’s face and lift it so their eyes met.
"I wish I could go back and undo the mistakes I’ve made.” Roman murmured. “But I can’t, and for that I will be sorry till the day I die. I never wanted to hurt you."
"Ro…” Virgil stared at him, quivering under the taller boy’s gaze. They stood like that, neither quite sure what to say now. So much lay between them, unsaid, but understood.
And then, as if by some other worldly force, they were kissing, neither sure who initiated it, but both pouring their entire selves into it. Roman’s hands pulled Virgil closer, silently imprinting every detail of the moment into his memory.
When it finally ended, they stayed close, both reluctant to separate after so long apart. “I missed that. I missed you.” Virgil whispered, leaning his head against Roman’s chest. “Can you stay? Just for the night?”
Roman’s grip on him tightened minutely and his heart thundered in his chest. “Yes.” He finally whispered. “Of course."
Eventually, they pulled apart and climbed into bed, Roman kicking his boots off as he did. "You’re still in costume.” Virgil commented, smiling.
“I was at a cast party, and usually we stay in costume.” Roman explained quietly, eyes foggy. “I left to come here, though."
Virgil hummed his understanding. "I like the sash.” He murmured, tugging lightly on the fabric. Roman smiled and pressed a kiss to Virgil’s forehead.
“Well, a prince has got to slay.” He joked, voice tired.
Virgil chuckled and burrowed into Roman, sighing contently at the familiarity of it.
They lay in silence for a long time, Virgil curled up against Roman’s chest as they squeezed together on the small mattress. Roman wrapped his arms around Virgil, holding him tight.
For several hours, Roman simply lay there, holding Virgil and listening to the sounds of his breathing.
Distantly, he was aware of his phone buzzing occasionally.
It was only when the sun rose just above the horizon, dyeing the world a soft pink, that Roman forced himself to move. Carefully, he eased Virgil out of his arms and stood.
Roman could only stare at Virgil as he slept on, peaceful and still. Longing welled in Roman’s heart and he wished he could do something, anything to show Virgil that this wasn’t like before. This wasn’t an attempt to distance him, but an attempt to protect. He inhaled slowly, hands smoothing out the front of his costume.
Moments later, he was wearing shoes and without his sash, rapidly descending the tree.
As he hurried home, his phone buzzed again. For the first time that night, Roman dug the device out of his pocket and check his notification. As he scanned through them, Roman sighed.
Tomorrow, when he woke, Virgil would likely see all of this. It’d be everything; Twitter, Instagram, hell, probably even Facebook. And it would all make sense. The posts, the pictures. Probably a video or two.
Everyone, not just Virgil, would know that Roman Prince was gay.
Virgil would find the sash, folded neatly on his nightstand. Maybe he’d text Roman, try to help or comfort or question him. Except Roman wouldn’t be able to respond. He inhaled sharply, shoving the thoughts away and refusing to think further than that.
By that point, he’d reached his house. He stood outside, staring at the front door, knowing he had to go in, but not wanting to.
In the moment he stood there, he let himself think about going back to Virgil’s, crawling into his bed, and sleeping through the rest of the day. Of never having to face this. Of a life where he could hold Virgil without fear or hesitation.
He wished there was a way he could avoided this reality forever.
But he couldn’t. This was his life and, for better or worse, he was destined to live it.
Might as well face it head on.
With deep breath, Roman squared his shoulders and walked into the house.
Almost as soon as the door shut behind him, Roman could hear his father shouting. “Roman! Where the hell have you been!?” He inhaled sharply as the man came storming down the stairs, face red with anger and brandishing his phone. Roman only caught a brief flash of Facebook Messenger, red notifications lighting up the screen, before his father threw the device at his head, missing his son by only a few inches. “And what the fuck is this?"
Roman squeezed his eyes shut as the man continued yelling, not bothering to pause and let Roman attempt a response.
As the verbal assault continued, Roman found himself thinking of Virgil again. Remembering the wave of his hair. His smile, his laugh. The way their lips felt together. The way Roman had felt holding him again, how it had been like coming home after a long winter away.
When the first physical blow landed, Roman briefly wondered if Virgil would remember him as deeply and as fondly.
He hoped he would.
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