Prinxiety|Sanders' Sides| Could You Not

Love is Hell

[Requested]

[I put two requests together to make this]
[Frequent use of the word Hell- if any of you are bothered by that, just a heads up, also minor minor mention of self-harm as well as fighting]
[The song used in this chapter is up in the little video box above ^]

[AU where all the sides are real, physical people, going through their senior years of high school]
[Disclaimer: They're not related to each other, we're going to use what Fanfic writers call 'THE MIST' which in this case,  allows characters to interact but...they never address the fact that they look alike- OKAY LET'S GO!]
///////\\\\\\\

Virgil hadn't really thought he would like Stage Arts initially. He had simply put the elective as his third choice because, well, it was that or take another language...and Spanish had already taken enough away from Virgil's sleep schedule as it was, he didn't need to worry about More accents.

Besides, it wasn't all too bad, things were coming together quite nicely over the past school year, according the Virgil. He got to work alone, and everything was dark- for the sake of not revealing back-stage of course, but the reasoning behind it wasn't anything to bother with. Not to mention Hell. Hell was wonderful.

Hell, it was the term used for the storage underneath the School's stage. It was filled with over a hundred-thousand props and dresses, masks and suits, everything a theatre geek could dream for. However, Virgil wasn't a theatre geek, that wasn't why he liked the large warehouse-like structure under the stage. No. It was looking at the theatre geeks. It seemed like there was a new one every day.

Virgil spent his time cleaning up around hell and around the upper-stage area, having bad-luck with ladders and lighting. You fall onetime and break your arm, next thing you know you're being called Hansen for the next few months. That's theatre for you. But, the one good thing about picking up after the others' messes, was the faces. The looks of absolute joy when you saw, you knew that it was, a theatre geek's face just light up when they saw all the still props and gowns, and then how they'd wait for permission from their peer before exploring the entire area and listing off every single item and what musical or play it was from, almost always getting it right.

Virgil wasn't given enough credit for the amount of joy he could feel. At his school he was known as, by the few who actually took the time to acknowledge his existence, the basket-case in the dark. Never stepping into the sun. Always in someone else's shadow. Never...himself.

Virgil could care less about what others thought of him, there wasn't anybody in particular who he really cared how they thought of him one way or another.

Except,

That wasn't entirely true.

There was...someone.

Virgil remember the first time he saw the boy, he was down in Hell, sweeping and dusting and fluffing the costumes, when he showed up. His name was Roman, from what he overheard the boy's Student-Director call him. There was something about him...something that struck Virgil right in the chest. Maybe it was the way he looked at the variety of costumes, maybe it was the way he marveled at each individual prop.

Or maybe,

Maybe it was the way he looked at Virgil.

He looked at Virgil. Met him dead in the eye...and smiled. Not a sarcastic smile, like Virgil was used to. No. This was a genuine smile, one that wasn't just a smile from the lips, but from the nose and the eyes, and the heart. And you know what? Virgil smiled back. Or...at least...he tried.

In the time it took for Virgil to stop gaping, he wasn't all too keen of his surroundings. So, of course, when he lifted his hand to wave, he forgot about the rack of dresses beside him, and instead sent them flying onto the floor with a simple lift of his hand. Next thing he knew he was being scolded by the Student-Director and some more students were beginning to gather, whispering and snickering and deciding which nicknames to bestow upon the innocent, flustered boy, who was fighting back tears as he hastily propped back up all the different attires.