Tally Marks (Prinxiety and Logicality)

I Fell For a Prince, Apparently

Sunlight poured through the open window. Virgil's typical gloom-ridden space felt calm and spacious, the striking decorations forgotten in their anxiety-inducing ways. His spidery curtains, for instance, were drawn wide, graciously revealing a clear sky. The aforementioned light shone directly onto the nightstand next to the bed, holding a few picture frames and a phone with the  dark trait's usual morning alarm.

Except his alarm didn't ring. It was finally the weekend.

His body urged him to get up. Grunting, Virgil pulled his comfortable sheets away, pushing himself upright. When he checked his phone, he smiled a bit to himself.

12:00. That's one of the better sleeps he's had in a while. Even better; Thomas, after a quick check of the calendar, didn't have anything planned for today, and no big projects or videos to stress out over. Virgil glanced at his pillow, the indent of his head and body still warm and inviting. But, he ultimately decided against it. A nice day of relaxation could do him some good, and he already had gotten a lot of sleep.

Standing and popping his neck, Virgil started decided on a shower. He was hungry, so he needed to take a shower before he put on makeup. He might even try something new, like add a pop of color, or eyeliner.

The hot water woke him, wafts of steam calming him more every minute he spent under the water, humming a few songs.

Virgil dried his hair, face, and neck before wrapping the towel around his waist. He reached for his makeup case, unlatching it without thinking about it and rustling around for the liquid foundation. Locating the bottle, Virgil squeezed a small glob of the pale stuff onto the brush, holding the bristles to his cheek and-

His eyebrows furrowed as something on his face caught his eye. Underneath his light bangs on the upper right corner of his forehead, he could just make out a diagonal black line, about a centimeter wide and an inch in length.

'That's...weird.' Virgil lowered the brush, lifting his mop of purple hair. The rigid mark shone darker than coal, putting his usual eyeliner to shame.

Could it have been...one of Patton's pranks? Maybe he'd come into Virgil's room, drew a line on his face with sharpie, and panicked when he'd started to wake up. While pondering this strange turn of events, Virgil absentmindedly plucked a makeup wipe from open package and tried scrubbing the ink off his skin.

It didn't budge. So what was it? Virgil tried vaguely to remember a mind-numbing lecture from Logan about weird black marks, or scars, or something like that from when Thomas was a teenager. It looked and sounded so frustratingly familiar to him-

He grinned, the memory finally clicking. No, it wasn't pocket-protector's speech he was thinking of; it was Princey's. Christ, it'd been a long time, but he could still almost hear how it always went...

"Are you telling me, the Prince, the representation of all your hopes and dreams, that you're not seeing what I'm seeing?!" Roman's voice screeched, in the way that meant, good grief, this was happening again. "Thomas, come to your senses! You are practically an adult, and therefore can accomplish anything in regards to your love life."

Virgil rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to argue, but Roman just ignored him as usual whenever this particular subject came up.

"The line-" The Prince pointed excitedly at the mark halfway up Thomas' forearm, "-is black! He is obviously-"

"Your true love!" Virgil mocked the royal's youthful excitement, standing to his fullest height and raising his foundation brush to the ceiling flamboyantly, a stupid grin on his face as the memory fully resurfaced after all these years. "You must embark on these emotions, and let them whisk you away to your destiny, your happily ever after with the man you-"

Virgil froze. His reflection in the mirror looked so energetic, and happy, and...

The clatter of the brush hitting the bathroom tile rang in his ears. The world spun as he dropped to the ground, pressing his back to the opposite wall and pulling his bare knees into his chest, clutching them in an effort to calm down. He had enough experience to know that this was a panic attack, if a minor one. The freezing wall kept him connected to reality, even if his swarming thoughts kept dragging him back, his ragged, shallow breaths murder on his lungs.

'Just breath. In, and out. Like clockwork. In, and out.'

Ten minutes pass, in which his clenching and unclenching hands shook with the force not to cry out, or pull his hair out of his skull. Slowly, his muscles began to loosen, the nails clawing his flesh weakening in their vice-like grip. Letting out a deep, shaking sigh, Virgil leaned his head back against the wall, reaching upwards to massage his now aching neck. "Sue me for wanting one day where nothing goes wrong..." He whispered into the empty bathroom.

Virgil supported his weight on the counter as he stood, trembling. Cautiously, he raised his hand to push his bangs away. Seeing it again and knowing what it was gave him a feeling of utter helplessness.

'For who could ever learn to love a beast?',  his mind supplied unhelpfully. 'But for who the absolute fuck indeed', he mused, tracing the line softly with his index finger. It was honestly a little breathtaking, almost making up for the damning implications. He had the distinct feeling no matter how much foundation he applied, it wouldn't disappear completely, as if that'd stop him from trying. He couldn't be seen with this, this thing right on his damn face. Nope, he couldn't, not by Patton, or Logan, or Roman-

Oh. Oh, hell no.

This...wasn't because of Roman, was it? The arrogant, dramatic prince, the physical representation of ego. And a black line. Of course it had to be a black line. Even if he wanted to deny it, the line would remain a constant reminder that he, Virgil, had been stupid enough to let himself fall for such an idiot. A loud, annoying, posh, charming idiot.

He held his face in his hands, thinking calming thoughts before heavily applying foundation over the obscuring line. No rash decisions had to be made; he needed advice from someone he trusted.

The only complication? Princey, and when he would eventually discover his red mark turned black.