Roman woke up a few days later still on the alley floor, back aching and neck crooked. He pushed himself up and looked around, confused and tired. He removed his phone from his back pocket and desperately tried to remember how he got there but was just met with a pounding headache. As he rubbed his neck, he attempted to turn on his phone but the battery was flat. With a sigh and a pray he'd be able to find someone, Roman walked out of the alley at the same time Logan and Remus walked out of the bar Logan with a somewhat defeated look about them.
"Hi," Roman croaked out, his voice hoarse and painful.
"What the fuck, Roman! Where the hell where you?!" Logan shouted. Roman raised eyebrows and leant back slightly.
"Good to see you too," He muttered. Logan glared at the shorter man.
"We thought you had been horribly murdered or something!" Remus said looking decidedly less worried than his companion.
"Thanks, bro." Roman rolled his eyes not even remotely surprised by his brother's lack of sympathy. What followed was the normal interrogation of where Roman had been and what had happened, but Roman couldn't remember any of it. It gave him a headache attempting to think about it and no matter how hard he tried he was just brought back to leaving the bar and then waking up this morning.
"We should probably take you to the hospital; You might have a concussion," Logan sighed adjusting his glasses slightly.
"I'm fine. The headache I have is probably better than the hangover I would've had if whatever happened didn't happen," Roman shrugged. Logan shook his head not even bothering to try to convince his friend to go, he knew it would be a waste of breath.
"Hey, look! It's the mountain we were on the other day!" Roman said spotting a photo in the window of shop and then walks in to look at a few others, each from a different angle or with a different effect. Roman started to look at some of the photos as Remus and Logan walked in and started to look at some of the other photos hanging on the wall.
~~
"Everything okay, Virge?" Patton asked frowning slightly at the older man who was glaring at his laptop and spamming the refresh button like his life depended on it.
"Brilliant," Virgil muttered angrily chewing on the inside of his cheek and hitting the refresh button a few more times before groaning and giving up. Patton got up from beside the fire place and walked over to Virgil to see what was annoying the latter so much. Peering over Virgil's shoulder, he saw that it was an e-mail saying that Virgil would need to bring all of the photo's down on a flash-drive, or they couldn't sell them.
"Do you want me to take them?" Patton offered.
"No, its fine. I'll get changed and take them down to the store," Virgil sighed, plugging in a memory stick and copying files into it, "I can't believe they keep doing this. I swear every other week their system is down and they can't open files from e-mails."
After getting dressed and saying goodbye to Patton (and Misty), Virgil started walking to Dolgellau. Like always, the roads were quiet, the only other living creatures being sheep, pheasants and the occasional squirrel, but it was how Virgil liked it. No people meant no drama. No drama meant less anxiety (Not none but less than if he actually - you know - socialised with other people). It was probably the main reason Virgil moved out here in the first place.
As he reached Dolgellau, he pulled his hood up and put his head down as he followed his feet to the little photo shop to hand in the memory stick. He pushed open the door causing a bell to jingle over his head and the wind blowing immediately caused two familiar scents in the room to hit him in the face.
"Oh for f-" Virgil groaned and Roman, Logan and another guy turned around to look at him. Virgil just glared and went to the counter putting the memory stick on the table and tapping his foot.
"Hi, Virgil," a person in an orange beanie came out of the back room, "Sorry about this again, I need to change the company I'm using for e-mails."
"Or- you know, join the twenty-first century and, like, use text message?" Virgil frowned.
"Oh, because you're totally in the twenty-first century, Mr. I-can't-work-a-DVD-player," the beanie-clad person retorted.
"That was one time, Joan!" Virgil sighed but he smiled anyway.
"One time too many, bitch," Joan grinned picking the flash drive up off of the counter and plugging it into the computer, "These are lit."
Virgil nodded and looked around the shop again as Joan began to upload the photos and printing them off. As he looked around he made eye contact with Roman.
"Can I help you?" He frowned stuffing his hands into his pocket and shuffling from foot to foot.
"I don't know maybe..." Roman frowned back earning a strange look from Logan.
"What?" Logan asked, a confused look spread on his face as he raked a hand through his hair.
"I remember your face from the other night, but I don't know why..." Roman tilted his head as he tried harder to remember but it just caused his head to hurt more than it all ready did. Virgil's eyes widened slightly.
"Fuck," He breathed before saying louder, "I don't know what you are talking about. I've been at home since Friday evening editing my photos."
"Are you sure? I- I think I remember you being there and someone else," Roman trailed off. Virgil stared at him in disbelief. How the fuck did Roman remember this? Virgil erased the other's memory so how could he remember it? Wait, he did erase Roman's memory right? Virgil's mind started racing as he tried to remember if he had or not, and he could remember snapping his fingers in front of Roman... Or was that his mind playing tricks on him? Holding back from screaming, Virgil denied the claim yet again, told Joan he'd come and pick up the flash drive tomorrow and then ran out of the shop.
YOU ARE READING
Just one picture ~ Prinxiety
Fanfiction'Virgil's an interesting character.' Or that's how he was always described by his teachers years ago in fifteenth century England. Now he lives in Northern Wales with his adoptive son, almost completely isolated and talking to barely anyone (Well, P...
