Chapter Text
[1]
“This is such a bad idea.” Virgil told himself, as if saying it out loud would convince him not to do this, make him dump the flower bouquet in the trash and focus his attention on a sane, risk-free task instead.
No such luck, unfortunately, because if he did not do something about his feelings he might just, like, explode or something.
Or, more likely, end up saying something a little too obvious because no matter how scared he was of being rejected it did not seem to stop his feelings from always being on the tip of his tongue when it was just the two of them.
But, honestly, it wasn’t only that. If it had only had to do with his own feelings he never would have convinced himself to do something like this, no matter how difficult it was to act normal around Roman, this was not really for his own sake.
It was for Roman’s.
Roman who hadn’t sung along to Disney music obnoxiously loud in weeks, Roman who came forward with video ideas much more hesitantly than he used to, Roman who didn’t seem to take much pride in his creativity, Roman who seemed to come out bruised more often than not when Thomas tried to be brave and creative and confident.
Roman might be a good actor, a better actor than what Virgil would like when it came to pretending his insecurities weren’t tearing him down, but it was obvious that Roman hadn’t been doing all that great lately. At least to Virgil.
He just wasn’t being his overly confident and annoying self, and Virgil kind of hated it. Someone had to do something, and apparently that someone seemed to be him, because no one else seemed to notice, or be bothered by it.
Problem was just that Virgil was shit at being all encouraging and nice and sincere. He almost never gave anyone a compliment because it made him anxious. He knew that didn’t make sense, why would being nice make him anxious , but when did anxiety ever make sense and what if he ended up insulting him somehow?
And he didn’t want Roman to think he was being sarcastic or anything and he didn’t trust himself to come off as serious. Yeah, no.
So what had he landed on instead?
Flowers, somehow.
Roman needed to be shown that he was loved, and Virgil had some feelings to get off his chest without actually confessing them, and why not solve two problems with one ...bouquet of flowers?
So now there he was, standing right by the door inside his room, holding a bouquet of flowers wrapped in red paper, trying to hype himself up to walk the tiny distance to Roman’s door.
Flowers wouldn’t have been his first idea, or even the last, if it hadn’t been from the lengthy ramble Roman had gone on a few months ago, lamenting the beauty of the flower language, a term that Virgil had never even heard of until Roman mentioned it.
Apparently all flowers had a meaning, or several, or sometimes different depending on which other flowers they were paired with, and that was pretty cool, Virgil could agree.
He hadn’t pictured that he would spend three days obsessively researching flowers and their meanings to put together a bouquet for Roman, though.
He had felt pretty stupid the whole time, it’s not like he knew even the tiniest bit about flower arrangement and he was worried that maybe Roman did and that he was creating the ugliest bouquet ever.
But he had been moderately successful in convincing himself that what they looked like together didn’t matter, only their message did. Pink carnations for admiration, appreciation, and gratitude. White gardenias symbolize secret and hidden love.
Did it count as a bouquet if it only had two kinds of flowers? Or was it all about the amount of flowers? Virgil didn’t even know that, but whatever. It was flowers, and how wrong could pink and white flowers be together?
It would be fine, and Roman would love them, probably.
Hopefully.
Virgil took a deep breath, opened his door just a smidge to peek outside, making absolutely sure that no one was there and that no one was on the way. Then he darted out of his room, practically running over to Roman’s door and leaving the bouquet on the floor in front of it before fleeing back to the safety of his room.
There, it was done. No turning back now.
Virgil leaned against his closed door with a sigh, trying to will his heart to stop racing. He wasn’t sure why, exactly he was so nervous about it, about admitting his feelings with flowers, because it was not like Roman would be able to tell who left them there.
Virgil had made absolutely sure, thought of every possible way that Roman might figure out who they were from.
Sure, there was a small card with the flowers, but it only told Roman where he could find the information about the flowers' meanings to make sure he found the right meaning, nothing else, and he had typed it, not written it in his own handwriting.
He had stopped dead in his tracks mid-flower arranging earlier when the thought of fingerprints had hit him, but then after a near panic attack he had remembered that, oh, yeah, they were all modeled from the same guy and while their appearances had grown slightly different over the years, they all had the same fingerprints...
He’d be fine. (Or at least that was what he tried to convince himself.)
He hoped Roman would like the flowers, that at least the knowledge that someone appreciated him would be of some comfort and that he wouldn’t be uncomfortable knowing that someone had feelings for him.
Well, it was Roman, he’d be fucking delighted. The question was how disappointed he’d be if he found out it was Virgil.
–
Virgil looked up from where he was lounging on the couch as someone was coming downstairs, spotting Roman, which would have made his heart skip a beat even if he hadn’t been holding the flowers that he had left him earlier in his arms.
“Whatcha got there, princey?” He asked before Roman noticed him, as inconspicuous as he could manage and Roman looked over at him, smiling brighter than Virgil had seen him all week.
“Flowers.” He said happily, holding his head a little higher as he took the last few steps down the stairs.
“From my secret admirer !” He added, practically hugging them to his chest as he continued past Virgil and into the kitchen, a slight bounce in his step.
Virgil hummed, not moving from his spot on the couch, hopefully coming off as appropriately uninterested but discreetly watching as Roman found a vase out of a cupboard, taking the utmost care as he unwrapped the flowers and put them in the vase, and Roman’s excitement assured Virgil that this had probably been the best idea he had ever had.