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Virgil had seen his fair share of weird things since he had been accepted as a side. He'd seen the others take part in pointless shenanigans that often left his asking what was wrong with his family. But this? This took all of the weird shit he had seen before and made it seem completely normal. What was this thing, exactly?
It was Roman sleeping on the couch and wearing one of Virgil's t-shirts. How the man even got it was a total mystery. Now, Virgil had no actual issues with sharing his clothes. In his personal opinion, the others should definitely wear more black. The usual pastels and bright colors were jarring and hurt his eyes a small bit. What made this specific encounter so strange was how it made Virgil feel.
His stomach felt odd, his heart wanted to jump out of his chest, he couldn't see it but he knew his face was red under the dark eyeshadow, and he felt extremely light headed. He absolutley hated it. His stomach should not be doing flips at the sight of Roman wearing one of his shirts. His heart should not be pounding like it was. He most definitely should not be silently wishing Roman would wear his shirts more often. And he certainly should not be blushing at how adorable Roman was when he was so relaxed.
As he was having his crisis, Roman began to wake up. Virgil was so focused on calming himself down that he didn't even notice until Roman spoke.
"Virgil? Are you okay?" Roman asked. Virgil planned to play it off. Be cool and act like he wasn't in the middle of a gay panic. But this was Virgil. He could never play things off that easily.
"What the- the fuck are you wearing?" Nailed it.
"Hmm? Oh, right. I forgot I borrowed this. I'll give it back later. Just needed something to wear while my other shirts got washed." Roman answered simply. "No, but seriously. Are you alright? You look like you're about to pass out. Or be sick. Or both."
"Keep it. Don't need it. I can always conjure another. You look good in black and should wear it more often. Wait, no, fuck, uhh." Virgil began to panic even more. " Excuse me!" He gasped out before dashing to the farthest closet away. His head was reeling, telling him to do and say things he was not at all courageous enough to. He was freaking out, his heart was racing, and his stomach felt so fluttery Virgil was sure he would actually be sick.
The second he got to the closet (how ironic), he threw it open and leapt inside, slamming the door behind him. And he screamed. Not a girly, childish scream. Not an "oh my god I'm being fucking MURDERED" scream. Just the kind you would expect from him. Low, panicked, and extremely loud. He didn't just scream for a short amount of time either. That scream lasted for two whole minutes.
I don't think I need to say it, but yes, he lost his voice for the rest of the day.