Sanders Sides One Shots & Shorts

Memories Aren't Foundational (Prinxiety)

Date Published: Apr 21st, 2020
Word Count: 2490
POV: 3rd Person

TW: Mentions of sex, NOTHING LIKE THAT I PROMISE THIS IS NOT EVEN A LITTLE NSFW don't worry. It's just brought up at one point.
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"I'm glad we did this." Roman says, just after taking a sip of his coffee. He sets the cup down in front of him, looking into it thoughtfully, like the drink itself is stirring thoughts in him. The mug is a light blue-grey colour, and the coffee inside is emitting small amounts of flowering, hazy steam. It looks rather quaint against the lacy tablecloth of the small table. "You know, just to see."

"So am I." Virgil agrees, he has two hands wrapped around his own matching mug. Apparently, the cafe has a whole set of them. They're all the same. Opposite of the pair at the table, who contrast starkly. One cares about their hair, the other about their makeup. One wears white, the other black. The table they sit at is washed in a soft grey light from the cloudy sky outside of the window beside them. It's just past midday, but the gentle pitter patter of the rain makes the day feel young, and incredibly quiet. The cafe is next to empty. So much so, that the barista had gone into the back room sometime ago, leaving the two of them, for the most part, alone.

Roman offers him a small smile. "After all these years..."

Roman had hardly recognized Virgil when he'd walked in. He looks... so different. Not in a bad way, of course. A good way, even. Okay, well, not good like that, but-- He has purple hair now. He still has his bangs, the ones that fall over his face when he ducks his head, or fans out across the pillow when he sleeps. But they're now dipped in a noticeable violet colour. The purple, it seems, is actually all over the place. He's wearing a hoodie that Roman has never seen before. It's still black, of course. That's Virgil's comfort colour, but there are purple plaid patches adorning the sleeves of it, and it's clear that Virgil's skill as a makeup artist has improved. His winged eyeliner is sharp, and the smoky eyeshadow was clearly applied with a skilled hand.

"Yeah." Virgil says, looking out onto the vacant street, eyes focusing intently on a green car that's parked in front of an apartment complex across the way. "Because it was pretty important, you know, because we--"

"Mhm. All my life, uh..." Roman clears his throat, and shifts in his chair a bit. "Very important."

Virgil nods, glancing at him apprehensively. "Right. So to never have seen each other again would've been--"

"It would have been impossible." Roman says, chuckling a little.

Virgil's grip tightens slightly around his cup. "...It would have been sad, anyway."

Disquiet.

Roman takes another sip from his coffee, and Virgil glances over at him again. He's surprised by how much Roman looks the same. Obviously, Roman is still... Roman. He's still the same person that Virgil had known years ago, but it was as if he hasn't changed at all. He has the same sweeping beach-wave hairstyle, and the same red jacket hanging off of the back of his chair. He's also somehow no more, nor less tanned than Virgil remembers. It's a bit off putting. Virgil never really took Roman as someone who settles.

They sit in silence for a while, Virgil preoccupying himself by stirring his thoroughly mixed coffee with a teaspoon. The coffee shop smells like fresh baking. Like the remnants of flour on a countertop, and the cloves and cinnamon still disturbed and sharp in the air. The floors are textured and characterized. So is the whole cafe. It looks as though it's as old as the town itself. Not that either of them mind. It's nice, and feels suitable for two young men with a blanket of nostalgia around their shoulders.