Trade Mistakes - Prinxiety [COMPLETED]

Chapter XXIII

Roman held the unconscious singer against his legs and chest, shaking him with desperation in his voice as he spoke. "Virgil! Virgil please wake up!" he cried, feeling tears welling up in his eyes as he cupped his face.

"Roman! Calm down. We need to get him back to the hotel and have a doctor check for a concussion," Joan snapped, breaking him from his panic.

He shakily nodded, carefully picking him up and holding him bridal style in his arms. The singer wasn't heavy in the slightest, making him subconsciously question how much he'd been eating, but he pushed the thoughts away as he cradled him gently in his arms.

The audience was murmuring, seemingly worried and also annoyed they'd stopped playing. They shouted displeasure as they began to leave the stage.

As they walked away, he heard one of the on site paramedics tell them he'd been injured. Roman honestly didn't care about them. All he could think about was the man in his arms, limply leaning against his chest. He bit down on his lip as struggled to maintain his composure.

The band hurried into the limousine that they'd arrived in, their manager informing them that there would be a doctor waiting for them when they arrived; the guitarist had to hand it to him for being efficient.

Joan and Luis sat in one section while he took Virgil into the one behind it. It only took them ten minutes to drive to the hotel, but to Roman it felt like ten excruciatingly long hours. He was sitting next to Virgil, still unconscious and buckled safely into his seat. He felt his lip quiver, betraying his facade of calmness.

With a heavy sigh, the princely man reached across the seat and gripped his hand. He threaded their fingers together, a tear escaping to roll down his cheek. At his touch, the singer seemed to stir, a groan escaping his lips as he shifted toward him. "R-Roman?" he croaked out, eyes opening to slits. The guitarist gasped, moving over and gripping both of his hands in between his own to assure him that he was there. "What... where-"

"Shh, shh, relax," he said, rubbing circles into his skin. "You took a really bad hit to the head, you need to lay down, and we need to see if you got a concussion."

"C-Concussion?" Virgil said with a whimper, squeezing his eyes shut.

The princely man shushed him again, reaching up to gently rub the back of his head. He tensed up at the touch and then melted into the seat against his hand. "Shh, I'm sure you're fine, but you've gotta rest for me, okay baby?" he murmured, keeping his voice soft so that he didn't make his inevitable headache worse. "Just breathe, just relax..."

He obeyed, eyes fluttering closed as he went limp again. Roman exhaled shakily as relief flooded over him; at least he was okay enough to talk a little to him in the few moments he was conscious. By the time they got to the hotel, he'd woken up again. 

The singer whined in pain and hissed, biting down on his lip. "Shh, I've got you, it's alright," the guitarist whispered as he picked him up bridal style again.

He wrapped his arms around Roman's shoulders, holding on loosely as the other man carried him. When he blinked, his eyes remained closed for a lot longer than he intended. He was vaguely aware of being laid down on a bed a few minutes later. He felt the princely man that had been carrying him move away, making him reach out instinctively. "No, please, don't leave," he cried, feeling his throat close up with panic as he gripped his wrist. "Please..."

"Okay, okay, I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere," the guitarist said, kneeling down onto one knees has he gripped his hand.

The door then opened, and in walked the doctor that their manager had promised would be there to inspect his injury. "Afternoon, I heard that he got hit in the head fairly hard and that you're worried about a concussion?" he recapped, approaching them. 

Roman nodded to confirm, and the doctor sat down on the bed. It took him a few minutes to go through the process of checking for a concussion, but once he'd completed it, Virgil passed out against the pillows. "He's alright, he doesn't have any permanent damage or concussion," the doctor reassured him. "He'll need to rest, but he'll be back on his feet in no time."

The princely man thanked him and headed out into the living area of the hotel room where the other band members and their manager were waiting. The doctor explained the same to them and then left. The manager sighed heavily, rubbing his forehead with a stressed expression.

"Okay, well, we have to be on the road to our next show in like four hours," he said, sighing. "You should stay with him and make sure he stays in bed until then." 

He nodded in understanding and gratefulness. He wanted nothing more than to stay with the singer, and he was extremely glad that his manager picked up on how much Virgil wanted him to be there with him. The other band members followed their manager out of the room as he headed back into the bedroom where Virgil was laying unconscious. 

With a sigh, he sat down on the side of the bed, holding his hand. To his surprise, the singer stirred, opening his eyes and looking up at him. A grin spread across his lips as he looked up at him. "Hey Ro," he said, laughing a little.

With a pained laugh in response, he brought the darkly dressed man's hand to his lips and kissed his knuckles. "You're really freaking stubborn, you know that right?"

"Yeah, but you love me anyway," he mumbled, relaxing back into the mattress with a sigh. 

Roman swallowed harshly at his words. He could tell that he was a little loopy and shaken up after taking such a hard hit to the head, but it was him who brought up loving him. Of course he loved him, but he couldn't really say that. 

"Just go to sleep, love," he murmured, leaning forward to kiss him on the forehead. 

The singer hummed and slipped back into unconsciousness. Once he was sure he was asleep, the princely man pulled his hand back and he crossed the room to sit on a chair across from the bed. He sunk into it with a heavy sigh. 

He began to think about how Virgil had pushed him out of the way of the bottle so selflessly, like keeping him from getting hurt was way more important than making sure he himself was okay. He thought about how desperately he wanted Roman to stay with him while he was hurt, and how he'd said that he loved him despite his stubbornness, like he knew. He sighed again, closing his eyes and getting some rest of his own before they had to leave.

The manager sent him a text telling him their bus was waiting outside the hotel, meaning he had to wake up the slumbering singer. He pulled himself up to his feet and crossed back to the bed, leaning down to place his hand on his shoulder and shake him gently. "Hey Virge," he murmured as his eyes fluttered open with a wince. "We've gotta go."

"Ugh..." he mumbled, sitting up with a wince. Roman, thinking ahead, had laid out some painkillers for him to take, and handed it to him. The singer smiled gratefully as he got out of the bed. "Thank you."

"No problem," the guitarist said as he led the way out of the hotel room.

Their manager had already made sure their bags and belongings were on the bus, so they didn't have to carry them. They made their way down to the lobby and out of the hotel, seeing the familiar looking bus waiting for them. Virgil groaned a little as he stepped out, grabbing his head.

"Hey Virge, how you feeling?" Luis asked as he sat down on the lounge's couch. "You look rough."

He nodded to show that he knew that. "I feel like someone's hitting me repeatedly in the head with a skull," the darkly dressed man explained, sighing in disappointment and guilt. "Sorry I ruined the show for you guys."

"Oh shut up, we're just glad you're okay," Joan said, smiling. 

Virgil grinned at his band mate and the conversation continued, but Roman didn't miss the way his dark brown gaze seemed to flick his way every few minutes for seemingly no reason. He couldn't explain why he was looking at him so much, but it made his heart race.