#and lastly it's clear that whenever i ran out of ideas i just put pet pics but it's fine cuz it's in character

[starlightinhumanform]

Strong As The Sun

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Ship: Romantic Prinxiety, Platonic Analogicality 

Summary: It’s Roman’s last summer before going off to college; he should be spending it hanging out at the beach and having fun. Instead, he is wasting his time away beneath the eye of his cruel manager and behind the counter of the local fair’s Help Center. His day gets a little more interesting when Virgil Sanders collapses into his arms.

Warnings (in order of strength): Moderate language throughout, Description of physical illness throughout, Not panic but Virgil does get pretty upset a couple times. Please tell me if anything needs to be added.  Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Human AU 

A/N: -The Dragon Witch is Ms. Drakon -Because of his anxiety, Virgil clings to ‘comfort items’ (in this case, his hoodie) And lastly: I am not a medical professional!! This is all based on my own experiences with heat exhaustion and may not be entirely accurate. If you are ever in a situation like this, don’t be like Roman! Get some help!  Hope you enjoy! Love you all 🖤✨

Ao3 Link   Fic Masterpost   Fic Request Info

Roman couldn’t put his finger on the reason he loved his job so much. Maybe it was the suffocating heat that made him sweat so much his hair was consistently ruined by the end of every shift. Or maybe it was the entitled older folks who would yell at him for doing what his manager told him to do. It could have been the way his manager yelled at him for... doing exactly what she had told him to do. The best part was definitely the smell- a magical combination of cheap grease, sunscreen, animal waste, and a good amount of human waste.

Yeah, ok, his job sucked. Standing at the help desk of a local fair for 12 hours everyday was not exactly Roman’s ideal summer plan. It was his last summer before college; he should be getting toned from surfing at the beach all day where he would inevitably find his dream man and they would live happily ever after.

“Roman?! Did you hear a word I just said?”

Roman jerked his head up from where it had been resting in his hand (the perfect position for daydreaming himself away from this hell) and tried to look alert, “Yeah, sure! Of course!”

His manager scowled at him from across the counter. She looked like what would have happened if Snow White had made some sort of pact with the evil witch- sickly pale skin, blood red lips, and smooth black hair that never had a strand out of place. She tapped her nails against the desk and raised one perfectly manicured eyebrow, “Well, in that case, could you repeat it to me?”

“No, Ms. Drakon,” Roman hung his head, hoping his pathetic act would earn him some crumb of pity.

His manager just rolled her eyes, turning around and glaring at him over her shoulder, “I was saying you need to do a better job of looking enthusiastic- more ready to help. If you don’t, well just remember: there are plenty of other desperate teenagers who will easily take your place.”

The witch stalked away, stopping occasionally to bare her teeth at patrons in substitute of an actual smile. Roman barely resisted the urge to flip her off but decided it wasn’t worth the risk. He was positive at this point that she had eyes in the back of her head.

He sighed, rubbing his eyes and standing up straighter in an attempt to look more “enthusiastic”- or at least awake. Drakon might have been the epitome of evil, but she was right. It would be as easy as snapping her fingers to have Roman fired and replaced. And that was not something he could afford- literally.

Roman shoved the thoughts aside as a family walked up. He saw so many of the same groups over and over again that they all started to blend together. This one was no different- a loud, angry straight couple surrounded by a horde of unruly children.

The man slammed his fist down on the counter as he approached and Roman plastered on a smile, “Hi sir! How can I help you?”

Yep. Today was going to be fun. It was only noon and he had already a) gotten puked on by a little kid, b) had nearly been fired, and now c) yelled at because apparently the carnival games were arranged incorrectly and it was somehow his fault.

Roman spent the next two hours trying not to space out but it was so hard when he wanted to be anywhere else. He decided he was never going to a fair ever again. Ever. Unless it was with a boyfriend. Who he would win a bunch of prizes for. And take selfies with while they ate matching cotton candy. And they would ride the Ferris wheel together and kiss at the top. Hmmmm, so maybe he would never go to a fair ever again unless certain requirements were met.

If only his Prince Charming could come along now, jump over the desk partition, reach for Roman’s hand, and whisk him away to some place that had air conditioning. He would be tall, muscular, with a strong jawline, and-

“Excuse me?”

Roman glanced down, trying to find the kid who was trying to get his attention.

“Up here?”

He moved his gaze upwards to find a guy about his age wearing a dark hoodie with his hands shoved in his pockets. Not surprisingly, he looked like he was dying from the heat.

“Oh sorry. I thought you were,” Roman waved his hand at his knee, “small.”

The stranger grimaced, “Gonna try not to be insulted by that.”

“Anyways... how can I help you?” Even though the statement was built into Roman’s subconscious script, he really did mean it. The boy kept swaying and Roman wasn’t sure if it was some kind of nervous fidget or because he was actually about to pass out.

“Yeah. Right. Sorry. I’m just kinda- my head-“ He ran his hands through his hair, “Basically I lost my group and my phone is dead and I have no idea where they are and-“

He tried to take a step forward but stumbled, gripping the desk for support. Roman’s protective instincts kicked in immediately. He swung open the little shack’s gate and began leading the boy back to the shade of the awning, one arm swung around his chest to support him.

“I’m fine, really,” He tried to protest but used Roman as crutch as if this was A Christmas Carole and he was Tiny Tim.

Roman snorted as he latched the gate shut behind them, “You’re not ‘fine’- you can barely walk.”

Roman set the boy down on the rough floors, concerned by how hard he was breathing. He grabbed a water bottle from beneath the counter and offered it as he squatted down. This close, Roman was able to get a better evaluation his guest.

The good news: the heavy darkness beneath his eyes was eyeshadow- not some sort of bruise or dark circles that were so bad they could be seen from three feet away. The bad news: basically everything else. His breathing was labored. His face was deathly pale- nearly gray- and beaded with sweat. His black skinny jeans, heavy boots, and oversized purple hoodie were ideal for perhaps a light rain in mid October; at a fair during the sadistic month of July, the outfit looked nearly deadly.

Roman chewed the bottom of his lip. He really wasn’t trained for this sort of thing. His job was to look cute at the entrance and tell people where they could find the petting zoo. But he couldn’t just turn this guy away, “Look, you can stay here as long as you need but if my boss sees you, I’m dead so just try to stay low or something.”

The boy had been gulping down the water bottle but froze suddenly. His eyes widened and he started scrambling to get up. His feet scrabbled beneath him like a puppy who wasn’t used to their legs yet.

“Hey, hey, stop!” Roman hissed under his breath, trying to avoid making a scene, “What are you doing?”

“I don’t want you to get in trouble. It’s better if I just go,” The boy stopped struggling and stared at Roman with eyes the size of a small planet. They were blue, so deep and dark they almost looked purple. Beneath them, the messy eyeshadow was smudged by what Roman realized were tear streaks.

“Shut up, Emo. I’m not going to let you leave until I know it’s safe,” Roman reached out, brushing his thumb across the boy’s cheekbones to wipe away the dark trails the makeup had made.

The boy looked confused but didn’t try to duck away from Roman’s touch, “What are you doing?”

Roman drew his hand back and stared down at it. He felt just as confused as the boy looked. What was he doing? He huffed out a laugh, “I- I’m not sure. I don’t think either of us are thinking very clearly right now.”

Across from him, the boy bowed his head down so Roman couldn’t see his face and started drinking from the bottle again- less desperately this time. Roman got the feeling the conversation was over.

He stood up and shifted so he was more centered at the desk, “I have to look like I’m actually doing my job, but tell me if you need anything. Try to, uh, cool off or something. I’ve got plenty of water bottles over here.”

“Virgil.”

“I’m sorry?” Roman turned to face the shadow of a human in the corner of his shack. The boy was trying to take up less space, but his  lanky legs made it hard to curl up.

“My name is Virgil.”

Roman smiled, “Nice to meet you, Virgil. I’m Roman.”

Virgil nodded as if Roman had given the correct answer and was allowed to go back to his job.

The next hour passed sluggishly. Roman told six separate women asked where the bathrooms were but he could swear they were all the exact same person. He saw the girl who ran the lemonade stand spit into a drink at least twice. At some point, Virgil fell asleep, the back of his head pressed against the gate and his neck bent at an angle that would probably hurt when he woke up. His breathing was still a worrying rasp and Roman couldn’t help but glance over towards Virgil’s corner whenever he got the chance.

Three o’clock rolled in like it didn’t want to come. Roman slammed down his sign that read “I’m On Break Right Now!! I’ll Be Back In A Few Minutes :)” and dared the Karen who was marching toward his stand to take another step forward.

When he was sure the coast was clear, he ducked onto the floor and grabbed another water bottle as he scooted next to Virgil. This close, Roman could feel tremors that were running through Virgil’s body.

“Hey buddy, wake up,” Roman shook Virgil’s shoulders gently, wincing at the heat that radiated through the thick sweatshirt.

Virgil’s eyes blinked open slowly, glassy and unfocused. He searched around the small space before his gaze settled on Roman, “Where am- oh that’s right. I’m still here?”

Roman couldn’t explain it but something about the venomous disappointment in Virgil’s voice hit him in the chest. He shook the feeling away quickly when he remembered what was going on, “You’re burning up. I want you to drink some more water. And I think you’re going to need to take off that sweatshirt.”

Virgil collapsed in on himself, wrapping his arms around his chest and pressing himself against the side of the shack, “I don’t want to take it off.”

Roman could feel his eyebrows scrunching together by their own accord, “Why not?”

Virgil just shrugged and looked away which perfectly conveyed the message of I know exactly why and I’m not going to tell you.

“Ok, ok, whatever. It’s not like that stupid hoodie is seriously damaging your health or anything.”

Virgil flopped his head to the side to glare with two ice-cold flames. Roman got the feeling that if Virgil had more strength, he would’ve gotten slapped.  

Roman pinched the bridge of his nose, searching for options. It’s not like he could force Virgil to take the sweatshirt off- that would be weird for anyone. Besides, he still hardly knew this kid. Maybe he refused to take the hoodie off because he had some giant tattoo from a gang. Did gangs get tattoos? Like the dark mark from Harry Potter? Roman was getting sidetracked and Virgil looked like the type of person who rarely left his house. Ok so definitely not the type to join a gang.

But the fact that they hardly knew each other still stood. If he pushed it too far, he would be crossing about twenty boundaries. On the other hand, Virgil was looking worse and worse by the second. In the space of a few blinks, his expression had faded from a glare to half-lidded stupor.

Roman grimaced as he pressed the back of his hand against Virgil’s forehead. His bangs were damp and his skin felt like a hot pan just off the stove. Roman brushed his hand upwards, combing his fingers through Virgil’s hair.

Virgil’s gaze flicked over to meet Roman’s eyes, unfocused and filmy. But within those eyes, swimming in the purple beneath, Roman could see so much emotion, it almost hurt to look at.  Those eyes pleaded with him, so full of fear.

Roman sighed. He simply couldn’t say no that stare, “Yeah ok. You can keep the damn thing on. But we need to figure out a way to get your fever down.”

Virgil slumped sideways into Roman, pressing into him instead of the wall. The chills running through his body were so strong that Roman almost wondered if they were contagious somehow. He snuggled further against Roman, his head pressing into Roman’s shoulder.

Roman didn’t know what to do. What he wanted to do was wrap his arms around this strange little shadow and never let go. In reality, though, even this much contact was probably worsening Virgil’s temperature.

“Hey,” Roman shook Virgil’s far shoulder slightly to get his attention, “I had an idea. Would you be ok with just unzipping your hoodie? You wouldn’t have to take it off!”

Virgil responded by wrapping himself around Roman’s arm like some baby marsupial, “Too tired. Just wanna sleep.”

Roman could hardly hear Virgil’s muttering through the material of his own shirt. He sighed, “Yeah. Well too bad. Will you please just keep yourself from dying?”

“Ti-r-ed,” Virgil drew out the vowels like a whiny little kid.

“What- do you want me to do it?” Roman huffed out an exasperated laugh.

Against him, he felt Virgil shrug, “Sure.”

“Oh,” Roman hadn’t been expecting that answer. He had asked as a joke after all. Virgil had made such a big deal about keeping the sweatshirt on that Roman felt that he was crossing a line by even touching it.

Roman untangled Virgil’s arms for his and propped him against the wall. The boy moved as if he were a rag doll in Roman’s hands and it was nearly enough make Roman queasy. He scooted over so he was facing Virgil.

He watched him with those big eyes. Big, soft eyes. They carried so much uncertainty, always tracking Roman’s movement without ever shifting their gaze. But they held the weight of trust as well- feeling safe despite not knowing what Roman was going to do. Roman glowed under the trust, feeling like he had been awarded a treasure few could even find. At the same time, he was positive he didn’t deserve it. He didn’t know if he was doing the right things. How could Virgil seem so certain that Roman would help him if even Roman didn’t know that?

Roman reached forward, hands freezing as they hovered over the zipper that hung just below the dip of Virgil’s collarbone. This was weird. He knew these were “special circumstances” but still... it was weird. Roman cleared his throat, “Uh, sorry, this is just kind of awkward.”

Virgil mustered another glare, less deadly this time but still managing to clearly convey the message of Stop being such a useless gay.

Roman cleared his throat again. He probably sounded like he was developing a case of pneumonia, “Right. Sorry.”

Said useless gay took a deep breath and pulled the zipper down. Underneath, Virgil was wearing a plain black muscle tank to match the rest of his dark outfit. Roman had to give him credit for committing so strongly to the aesthetic. A part of him was still surprised that Virgil’s hoodie wasn’t hiding some kind of green alien body.

“Surprised I’m not some kind of green alien?”

Roman realized he had been staring and immediately tried to find something else to look at. His brain apparently decided that the best solution was to reread the safety rules posted on the back wall. He could feel a blush rising to his face and he was pretty sure it had something to do with the way the tank top dipped lowly across Virgil’s chest and hung across his delicate collarbones.

Roman nearly started laughing at himself out loud. He sounded like a repressed Victorian maiden. What he going to do next? Maybe he would stomp his feet and start chanting Show me your ankle! Show me your ankle!

“Hey, help me with this?” Virgil’s strained voice brought Roman’s attention swinging back to the real world. He was trying to shrug the sweatshirt off his shoulders while still trying to move as little as possible.

Roman reached out again, probably too quickly. He was acting so strange. He wished his hands would stop shaking so much.

“Oh, Roman?” A sugar-sweet, poisoned voice floated into the shack just as Roman managed to get the last sleeve past Virgil’s elbow.

“Shit,” Roman hissed under his breath, “That’s my manager.”

Virgil’s eyes went wide but Roman didn’t have the time to reassure him. He threw the nearest thing over Virgil which happened to be a beach towel from the lost and found. It probably wouldn’t help his temperature at all, but at least Ms. Drakon wouldn’t see him.

Roman pulled out his winning grin as he stood up, “Why, hello, Ms. Drakon!”

She responded with an equally bright mouthful, but Roman wouldn’t dare to call it a smile, “Roman, it seems you have quite a crowd beginning to build up!”

He glanced over and suppressed a groan as he saw the trail of unhappy looking people that glared at him from an ever-growing line. He turned his attention back to Drakon, pointing down to the sign propped on the counter, “Yes, ma’am, I see that. I will make sure that they are all satisfied as soon as my break is over.”

Her eyes wrinkled as her mouth widened, but there was nothing friendly about them, “I think you’ve been on break long enough.”

“Yes, of course!” In Roman’s head, a large anvil had just landed on Drakon’s head.

Drakon disappeared into the crowd and Roman turned to the daunting line in front of him. The snake was headed by a group of 12 year old girls. They were easiest type to deal with. Bless their boyband obsessed hearts- they were probably the only reason the counter hadn’t been broken down by a mob of angry middle aged women with expired passes. He gave them a wink, “I’ll be with you ladies in a minute.”

Judging by the giggles that erupted as he sank down behind the counter, he had bought himself a minute or two.

“Hey there,” Roman was trying to be quiet but he was surprised at how soft his voice came out.

He pulled the towel away to find Virgil fast asleep. His breath was definitely starting to even out. The stupid hoodie pooled around him, still attached at the wrists. A tiny hint of a smile tugged at one side of his lips.

Roman ruffled his hands through Virgil’s hair, “Hang in there, buddy.”

He twirled around as he stood up, adding a little more dramatic flair than needed. He flicked the sign down with one finger. The smile he beamed at the crowd was genuine; this time he had something to smile about- even if he wasn’t quite sure what it was.

Another hour passed by with all of the ease of a root canal. A person told him they wanted a discount because their child had found a dead rat in a trash can. Roman tried to explain that it was a good thing it was in a trash can instead of anywhere else. The lemonade girl flipped someone off. She was Roman’s hero.

Virgil only began stirring by the end of it, blinking his eyes open like a owl in daylight. He looked around the shack like he was seeing it for the first time. His eyes were sharper than Roman had seen them before, glittering like obsidian now that they could focus.

Roman tried his best to concentrate on the customer in front of him, but he kept glancing back and grinning at Virgil. It was nice to see him looking more like a human and less like a very unhealthy zombie.

For what seemed like an eternity and a half, the customer refused to leave. Finally Roman made an under-the-table deal consisting of extra arcade tickets and a free voucher for lemonade just to get rid of them. He hoped the lemonade got spat in.

“Coast clear?” Virgil’s small voice came from what Roman had officially began calling Virgil’s Corner. He sounded different- probably because he wasn’t fighting for his life. His voice was still low, but the gravel in his tone sounded far more intentional and less like Holy shit I can’t breathe.

Roman turned around and leaned against the counter, “Ah! Sleeping Beauty awakes! How are you feeling?”

“Would I sound ungrateful if I said I feel like shit?”

Roman made an exaggerated act of thinking about it, “Just a little bit. But also honest.”

Virgil nodded and then looked down at the ground, letting a beat of silence fall between them. Roman got the feeling that Virgil had something to say, but they both had to wait for it to arrive.

Virgil began pulling the hoodie back up around his hunched shoulders, eyes still burning holes through the floor of the stall.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Roman sunk down to the floor, “Don’t put that thing back on. I just got you breathing right again- don’t make us start over from square one.”

He placed his hand against Virgil’s forehead again, “You still feel kinda overheated to me so-“

Roman stopped speaking as Virgil flinched away from the touch. His eyes darted around as if they couldn’t find a single safe place to land. He pulled his arms and legs in, tense and ready to- to do what, though? He looked like he wanted to hide, and run, and fight all at the same time. Virgil had quickly transformed into a cornered wild animal.

“Virgil, what’s wrong?” Roman spoke as softly and slowly as he could but tension was mounting within him as well. Had he done something wrong? Was Virgil hurt?

“They didn’t ask about me, did they?” Virgil spoke as if he didn’t want is voice to be heard.

“I’m sorry, who didn’t ask about you?”

“My group. The ones I came with. They both wear glasses and have brown hair and one’s shorter than the other and the taller one has freckles and was wearing a black button down and the other was wearing a blue shirt and- and,” Virgil’s voice broke and Roman’s heart along with it, “-and they’re my best friends.”

Suddenly Roman remembered the reason Virgil had shown up at his desk in the first place. It wasn’t the heat exhaustion- he had gotten lost.

Virgil succeeded in wrapped himself up in his sweatshirt. He curled into a tight ball, knees pulled against his chest and eyes just barely peeking above top of them.

“Hey, well, they’re probably looking around the fair for you. A lot of people don’t even know about my dumb little shack here! They’ll turn up eventually.”

Virgil shook his head, “They wouldn’t even look for me. They’ve probably left by now.”

“I really don’t think-“

Roman was cut off by Virgil launching himself onto him, wrapping his arms like a vice around Roman’s chest and digging his face into Roman’s shoulder. Shuddering sobs wracked Virgil’s body, all the panic and pain of today running onto Roman’s shoulder and staining his shirt with dark eyeshadow.

But Roman wasn’t thinking about that. He was hardly thinking at all. Roman was angry. Maybe angrier than he had ever been at that Drakon bitch or any of the customers that screamed at him or the kids who threw things at him or the teenagers who would snicker just loud enough so that he could hear them. That was trivial.

He was so mad. Mad at the pigs who stranded Virgil on his own, who apparently didn’t give a shit about his wellbeing, who made him feel so worthless that his immediate assumption was that they had left him behind.

Roman hoped they showed up. He would rip them to pieces.

He wrapped one arm around Virgil as tightly as he could and cradled the back of his head with his other hand. He didn’t want to let go; he wouldn’t let go. Roman could feel Virgil’s nails digging into his back as he gripped Roman’s shirt in fists.

Roman began rocking gently back and forth, moving his fingers through Virgil’s hair and letting his nails scratch softly against his scalp. Soon, Virgil’s sobs subsided into smaller hiccups. Roman could still feel hot tears soaking through his shirt.

They stayed huddled on the floor for a good minute before Virgil slowly raised his head, “I’m sorry, sometimes I get-“

“Hey, don’t be sorry,” Roman ran his thumb across Virgil’s cheek, brushing away the tears that ran down it. Like this, Virgil’s eyes looked ethereal, two pools of pure enchantment. Roman was sure he could spend the rest of his life memorizing the way the sunlight play against them.

“Excuse me?”

“Shit, shit, shit, damn it,” Roman knew he should have put his do not disturb sign up.

Virgil jerked his head up, “Patton?!”

Roman looked up to see another teenager about his age leaning over the counter. He was wearing glasses and a blue T-shirt with the Humane Society logo.

His face melted into a relieved smile as Virgil stood up, “Thank goodness we found you- we’ve been looking everywhere.”

He wrapped Virgil in a hug as yet another teenager appeared. He was taller, with eyes nearly as dark as Virgil’s, and he looked like he might sit down and begin discussing taxes with you at any moment.

This one nodded, “I created a systematic search pattern to use. Unfortunately, we were not even made aware of this place until a rather rude young lady at the lemonade stand directed us over here.”

The one called Patton let go of Virgil just long enough for the other to give him a quick hug before grabbing him into another embrace, “Oh we were so worried.”

Roman felt a pang in his chest. This was good, right? Virgil was safe now. And obviously his friends weren’t  the monsters Roman had assumed them to be. So it was all good. Yep. Definitely. Totally. Then why did he feel so damn sad?

“Yeah, yeah, I’m ok,” Roman looked up to see Virgil wiping off his face as the other two fussed over him, “I wouldn’t be though if it weren’t for Roman.”

The more serious one raised an eyebrow, “Who?”

Roman rose up from the ground, feeling sheepish for a reason he couldn’t explain, “Uh, that would be me.”

“Logan, Patton, this is Roman,” Virgil glanced over and gave him a warm smile, “He helped me out in more ways than one.”

Patton pulled Roman into a squeeze, wrapping his arms around his neck in a way that made Roman bend down, “Thank you so, so much.”

Logan took a moment from talking to Virgil in a tone to stare at Roman, “You got him to take off his hoodie?”

Roman escaped from Patton’s reach, “Uh, well, I think he kind of had heat exhaustion-“

Logan turned his attention back to Virgil, “But you don’t take that thing off unless you’re very comfortable with someone or-“

“Or really like them. Yeah, I know,” Virgil stared at the floor, a bright red rising to his face.

“Oh,” Roman wasn’t sure what else to say. He could feel a blush as deep as Virgil’s tinting his complexion.

Logan looked down at a watch wrapped around his wrist, “Thank you for helping our friend, but we really must be going now.”

“Right. Yes. Of course,” Roman nodded, trying to clear his head. The implications of what Logan had said were quickly replaced by gloom.

Roman hoped the sadness sitting in he’s chest like a lead weight didn’t carry into his voice. He swung open the gate and tried for a smile as Virgil stepped past him.

Roman watched as Virgil stepped down into the dirt, probably the last time he was ever going to see him. Roman almost let him get away. Almost.

“Hey, wait!” Roman leaned out and grabbed Virgil’s hand. He reached for his pocket and waved his phone, “Could I get your number?”

Virgil’s jaw dropped, “You had a phone this entire time?!”

Roman blinked dumbly at Virgil as realization hit him, “Oh my god, I did.”

Virgil looked off into the distance as if he  couldn’t process Roman’s lack of brain cells. At long last he began laughing. It started off as a snicker, developing into a full on cackle and finally dissolving into a wheeze. It was one of the ugliest laughs Roman had ever heard and some of the sweetest music he’d ever listened to. Virgil straightened up from where he had collapsed with his hands on his knees, “Oh my god; you’re so stupid.”

Roman felt his heart drop, “So that’s a no?”

“I didn’t say that either,” Virgil took a step forward and snatched the phone from Roman’s still out-stretched hand.

He gave it back after a few seconds of quick typing and seemed to be about to walk away, but froze, staring intensely at something on Roman’s shirt.

“What is it?” Roman craned his neck to find what Virgil was looking at.

“Well you’ve got something,” Virgil leaned forward, poking his hand against Roman’s chest for a moment before brushing it upwards and flicking Roman in the nose, “Right there.”

Before Roman hand a chance to react, Virgil had turned on his heel and was jogging to catch up with his two companions who were chatting at the gate. He watched as the group headed away, focusing on the purple hoodie in the middle until they turned a corner and Roman couldn’t stare anymore.

Heat still beat down from the summer sky, but Roman was sure that the warmth radiating from his chest could rival any sun.

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~ @phan-fander ~

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