Welcome to Hell {Prinxiety}

Chapter 22

Virgil's POV

Another day of Hell, another day of questioning my will to live. That may be a bit melodramatic but I seriously don't want to work right now. I can't even sneak off to that hidey-hole because we're in the wrong part of the mine! So for now I'm stuck working my a$$ off as Roman tries to start several conversations. It's not that I don't want to talk, I just really don't want to get in trouble for talking, especially since he's started talking about his plans to mess with the guards.

"Hear me out," He whispers, "If your friends come to break us out, how amazing would it be if some of the guards' guns failed? Or if they were distracted by a supposed 'escapee'?"

"If you told them there was an escapee that would end with a random child getting in trouble, or you getting in trouble," I point out, not liking the idea at all.

It's just too much of a risk to Roman's life for what? A couple faulty guns? How much would that actually help Logan and Patton? No matter how I look at it the answer's always the same; not enough.

I can tell that I hit a nerve by saying that, "Sorry, I just don't think that it's worth the risk. I already lost you once..."

"Aw, you care about me," He taunts, and I immediately regret feeling bad, "I know it seems risky and stupid, but it'd be nice to get back at them for once," He says wistfully, "Just take a moment to picture it without the possibility that it could go horribly wrong. A guard goes to shoot at one of your friends, but their pistol just blows up in their face."

"Do you actually know how to make a gun blow itself up?" I ask skeptically.

"Shhh, don't ruin the magic of my imagination and take a moment to appreciate the image," He tells me.

I sigh heavily, "You're an idiot."

He puts a finger to my lips, "And you're not appreciating the magic of the imagination."

"Fine," I take a moment to imagine one of the guard's guns failing and blowing up in their face. Their face would just end up covered in soot and the look of surprise would be funny, but it's still not worth the risk that would come with making it a reality, "Dammit it is funny."

"Mhmm," He hums smugly.

I ignore him and focus on work, trying to figure out an easier way to do it. Swinging a pickaxe around until I dislocate my shoulder can't be the only strategy, right? Roman begins to hum under his breath quietly, so much so that I'm not even sure if he knows he's doing it. I haven't heard much singing, but I'd guess his voice is better than average; it definitely sounds that way.

If I'm right it's the tune from an old Corinthian lullaby, the matrons at the orphanage used to sing it all the time. I can't remember the words though and neither can he from the looks of it. By now he'd probably be belting them out if it weren't for the trigger happy adults in the area. Well, the lyrics of a lullaby probably aren't meant to be sung too loudly, but either way I'm sure it'd sound beautiful. Actually, it's kinda surprising that I've never heard him sing before, he definitely seems like the type to. Heck, he even mentioned a life where he gets to burst into song whenever he wants!

"Did you ever hear that lullaby as a kid?" Roman asks randomly. I guess he was aware that he was humming after all, "The 'Weeping Angel'? Dark name, but it's actually really sweet."

"Yeah, it was mainly used to put stubborn kids to sleep, or ones that had woken up from a nightmare," I say, assuming he had heard it under the same circumstances.

He smiles wistfully, "I can see that, I remember hearing my mother sing it. She had a great voice," I don't miss the use of the past tense, and I shouldn't be surprised.

Roman had told me about his family before, or what he remembered of them. Even though he barely had any memories of them, he loved them more than anything. I personally didn't know anything about my parents as I had been too young at the time to know them, but I could understand where he was coming from.

"So do you," I comment, hoping to turn the conversation into something more positive. Hearing Roman upset always made me feel bad too and I feel bad enough on my own without his help, "I can already see myself passing out from listening to it."

"I'm gonna take that as a compliment," He decides, ignoring the negative double meaning behind my words.

I nod smugly, "Good choice," He frowns at my taunting tone, trying to decide if my words were meant as a compliment as he seems to hope.

I didn't know what I wanted him to find because the idea of him knowing which one was true made me anxious in a strange way. No, I didn't necessarily want him to think I was insulting him in case he doesn't think I'm joking but what would he do if he knew I meant it as a compliment? He'd probably take it and run, letting it fuel his ego for a while but what if he didn't? Why am I even worrying about this? He's my best friend, I should be able to compliment him without panicking. And yet here I am, fighting back my anxiety.

Before he can say anything, we're called to lunch by the guards. I don't think I've ever been this glad to be yelled at by someone.