Tears and Tea

Looking at his room and realizing what a mess it was—what a mess he was—was what made him fall to the ground on his knees, hands covering his tear soaked face as he allowed for the tears to fall. This time a lot quieter. It wasn't rare for Roman to feel so alone but it still made his heart throb, and he didn't know if he was making up these situations in his imagination or if they were actually happening. The imagination was a scary place. A place that you could rarely predict what would happen. A place where, if you're not feeling too great, it could make you feel worse rather than comfort you. It's a place that Roman oftentimes tried to stay away from because recently he's been getting some not so happy thoughts. Going to the imagination only made those thoughts accentuated and more present in creativity's mind and it felt like a punch in the stomach.

So here he was. After dipping from the imagination. He was only there because Thomas was dry for ideas, sending out a tweet to his fans to see what they'd like to see, just as Logan requested because "Roman is unpredictable. He can't do his job correctly right now, so we must rely on other sources," or something. All the creative side heard was ringing in his ears and felt his mouth dry out. And he'd been trying really hard recently, he had been. He couldn't "do your job as the others and I need you to do right now." He wasn't doing good enough is what he heard, completely dismissing Patton's gasp and attempts to reprimand it.
Just like he dismissed the knocking at his door. However, he jumped out of his thoughts when he heard a voice.

"Roman!" yelled...someone. Roman's mind couldn't help him right now, unable to depict who exactly it was. All he could think was how he wanted to stay there forever. Laying on his side in a loose fetal position with puffy, red eyes and tears smothering his face and sweaty hands. It was nice to just lay there. And for a bit he thought he'd imagined the voice—or maybe the person walked away—but those thoughts were put aside when he heard the voice again after a jiggling of his locked door's handle.
"Roman? Please open up. I know something's wrong," he said, somewhat mumbling the last part.

Frowning, Roman placed the voice as Virgil's, heart beating a bit quicker momentarily before he picked himself up, crawling over to the bed and leaning against the foot rest while sitting.
Taking another deep breath, Roman spoke up, "Everything's a-okay, Hot Topic, no need to worry," he hummed, trying not to cringe at how hoarse his voice sounded after all of his sobbing and crying.

Hearing a huffed from the other side of the white, wooden door, Roman could tell he was glaring, making a chill go through his bones and forcing himself to suppress a guilty whimper.
"Ro, it's 3 a.m. No one has seen you since noon," Roman closed his eyes and scrunched his face. He hadn't realized it had been so long. It wasn't his fault the imagination is very realistic, and he lost track of time. Holding his breath, they both let silence fall upon them, "Sorry," Virgil muttered, Roman realizing he was feeling anxious, "I-I'm just worried I'm sorry," he rambled. When he heard no instant response, Virgil muttered another apology, holding his breath.

Letting go of his own, Roman tried to keep his thoughts at bay, "It's okay, Virgil," he said. At that, Roman heard a hitch in the other's voice. Roman never called anxiety by his name. Only if he was calming him down or something, "I-I suppose," Roman trailed off, trying to put his jumbled mess of his thoughts into the words, "I haven't really been feeling...all too princely lately," he chuckled softly and sadly, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.
Hearing silence again, Roman only assumed Virgil had walked away, making Roman feel disgusted with himself, 'Roman you idiot! You dunce! You scared him off and now you're talking to a door! You—'

"Can you let me in?" Virgil asked meekly. And Roman paused for a moment, holding his breath once again.

Standing up on shaky legs, Roman walked slowly towards the door, head down and clothing askew. Putting out his shaking hand, Roman took another deep breath and told himself not to cry anymore than he already did, only succeeding in reminding himself of what a mess he probably looked like. Hesitating, Roman stared at his hand and unlocked the door, opening it slowly. He only felt more tears stinging his eyes as he looked at Virgil's purple fuzzy socks and saw that he was wearing Christmas pajama pants in November.

Roman let out a soft laugh that sounded teary and looked up at Virgil feeling very small next to him, "It's November," Roman said, trying to lighten the mood. Maybe he'd forget what he was doing here? Maybe. But it was obvious that he didn't when he smiled sadly, heart tightening as he saw Roman's state. He looked so sad and scared. He looked like he needed a hug. So, a hug he gave to the creative side, feeling him tense up for a bit before relaxing into his arms. The scent of Virgil calmed Roman as he closed his eyes—the scent probably being some calming oils the anxious side put on sometimes. Burying his face into the familiar scents and the impossibly warm sweater, Roman stained it with tears, letting out a choked sob, "'M sorry..." he whimpered out, clenching a fistful of the sweater.

"It's okay. It'll be okay, my prince," Virgil hummed, closing his own eyes and trying to keep his heart from beating out of his chest. It hurts to see his friend like this, and it took everything in the anxious side not to cry along with Roman.

At least a few minutes had passed when Roman finally took a breather, loosening his grip after his tears had dried out once again. He's surprised he hadn't died of dehydration yet. Taking a step back, Roman pulled in his breath and wiped his face with the sleeve of his white shirt to rid himself of the tears. Looking away awkwardly, Roman gripped onto his own sash. He shouldn't have let the other seen him cry. Now things would be awkward.
"I'm sorry. I-I—" Roman stuttered, "You should go to bed. It's-it's late and you're probably tired. I don't-d-don't want Patton—"

"It's okay, Roman, I promise," he said softly, stepping into the dimmed room, "Do you...do you want hot chocolate? Tea? Or anything?" He asked. Maybe they could talk. And even if not, Virgil could assure Roman that he was there for him.
Seeing the other nod, Virgil smiled softly, wrapping his arm around his shoulder and rubbing his shoulder as he walked him down to the commons. Flicking the switch for the kitchen lights, Virgil let Roman sit down.

"Tea?" Virgil asked, watching Roman nod and droop his head a bit probably feeling ashamed.
It was silent once again as the tea was being made, the only noise being the shaky breaths of Roman being made. Looking over, Virgil internally sighed, walking over and sitting across from Roman, taking a moment before speaking.

"Do you wanna tell me what's up?" He asked calmly. Although he was freaking out with concern laced in his blood on the inside. Getting no response for a moment, Virgil really took in the other's appearance. Messy, curly and unkempt hair that stuck up in all different directions was on the top of his head, no doubt from Roman pulling at it. The next thing he noticed was how sad Roman looked, his reddened and tear stained eyes, nose and cheeks shiny from the lights hitting the stool wet tears. And don't even get Virgil started on the wrinkly and messy clothes. Normally creativity looked very stunning. And he still did, but it was just wrong. He looked tired and there were no shields or walls hiding the truth right now. All he saw was a raw, tired Roman sitting in front of him trying to for words and looking like a fish out of water.

Finally Roman spoke up, "Not really," he muttered, yawning a bit. However, he flinched when the tea kettle let out a small whistle, Virgil stumbling to take it off the heat, pouring it into Roman's favorite mug and putting a tea infuser in with what he knew Roman liked.
Bringing it over to the defenseless side, Virgil placed it in from of him, smiling softly.
"That's okay," he hummed, "But I'm always here for you, okay?" He said, wanting Roman to feel loved. And it seemingly worked, eyes shimmering again as he looked up after taking a sip of his tea.

"Thank you...Virgil," he choked, "It-It really means a lot to me," he said softly, drinking his tea again.

Once the tea was gone, Roman stood up, "Thank you again. I-I-" he said swallowing the lies. He was exhausted, "I'll be off to bed, assuming you will be as well," he hummed. Standing there, he waited for Virgil's small smile and a nod.

"Alright," Virgil responded, "Sleep well princy, I'm always here for you," he said softly, standing up as well.

"I know. Thank you," creativity said, "I hope your dreams are filled with warmth and happiness," he chuckled, throwing a small bit of his usual charming self into the words, his hunched back and saddened look contradicting his tone. Even if nothing was necessarily fixed, Roman head off to his room, bundling himself into his blankets that smelled like home and felt like less cold with the knowledge that someone cared.

It would get better from here—for both of them—and that was calming.