Prinxiety Short Stories.

Writer's Block

AU: Human, Play-write!Roman
Ship: Prinxiety
T/W: Cursing, light crying, thought spiral, panic attack mention
Type: Fluff
Notes: I have the opposite problem of Roman. I have too many ideas.

~~~~~

Roman growled, taking his auburn hair in right fists. He banged his head on the keyboard repeatedly.
"Nothing!"
Bang.
"No ideas!"
Bang.
"Useless,"
Bang.
"EMPTY,"
Bang.
"BRAIN!"
Bang, bang, bang, bang.
He wanted to scream. Snap his laptop in half. Rip his hair out of his scalp. Go crawl in a hole until the sun exploded. Curl up in the fetal position and cry until he vomited. But he wouldn't. He couldn't. He had to get this done, there was no other option. Get this done or live in a fridge box under a bridge for the rest of his life. Okay, maybe it wasn't that horrible, but to Roman's dramatics mixed with all his insecurities, it sure felt like it.
There was a soft knock at his door. Virgil. Roman nearly sobbed.
"Roman, I know you're in there and I know you're doing that thing where you delete the entire fucking script, rewrite it, and obsessively edit it until it fits your wild standard of perfect." Roman took his finger off of the delete button.
"Ro, please let me in."
"It's unlocked..." Roman took a deep breath, running his hands through his hair. Virgil walked in, holding a plate with a grilled cheese sandwich on it. Roman smiled and nearly cried.
"My shitty day food..." Virgil smiled and handed his boyfriend the plate.
"Only the best for my overworked and stressed out prince."
"I love that you remember that."
"You remember mine, right?"
"Elbow noodles and red sauce, extra pepper. If it's not burning your tongue, there's not enough." Roman quoted from memory, having made the dish more often than he would've liked, considering Virgil only ate it when he was terribly upset. Virgil smiled, pulling Roman up from his chair and into a kiss. The taller man melted into his boyfriend and felt a tear roll down his cheek.
"Love, you're so overworked. Please take a break..." Virgil brushed a tear from Roman's face and Roman held his hand there for a moment.
"Run away with us for the summer, let's go upstate..." Roman sang tearfully and Virgil retorted with another lyric to cheer up his beautiful boyfriend.
"Why do you write like you're running out of time?" Roman made a noise that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob.
"Because I am running out of time, Virgie." Virgil held out the sandwich, which the taller man took, nomming it sadly.
"Talk to me, what's going on in your head?" Virgil's voice was soft and sweet as his arms snaked around Roman's waist.
"I just..." Roman gestured, trying to find the words. "It feels stale... all I want to do is write and I'm so motivated to do it I just... have no ideas and everything I do make my throat hurt and it's just awful and if I don't get this done in time I'm gonna lose my job and..." Virgil had been living with anxiety long enough to recognize a thought spiral (and the beginning of a panic attack if they weren't careful) when he saw one.
"Woah, Ro, slow down." Virgil took Roman's hands in his own.
"Inhale for four seconds..."
"Hold for seven..."
"Exhale for eight." Roman finished the breathing exercise and Virgil finally noticed his appearance. He was sickly pale, had dark circles under his eyes, and his hair was a mess, a stark contrast to Roman's usual coif.
"You are going to burn yourself out and the end product is gonna be worse and you're gonna hate it more. So come sit with me and don't think about it." Virgil led Roman the bed, pulling him close. "I love you, and I hate seeing you like this. You will finish it and it will be great. Please just try and relax for now, alright Ro?" Roman nodded reluctantly, melting into Virgil's arms. Virgil sang softly as Roman fell asleep slowly.
"Look around, look around, at how lucky we are to be alive right now..."