Ganic
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Oreo
🕑 Added 2025-06-10 17:54:24 +0000 UTCChapter Ten
Synopsis: As a joke, Roman's forced to ask Virgil out after losing an oreo. Flustered, and somewhat embarrassed and humiliated by the connotation that dating him would be such a bad thing, he says yes out of impulse, and must now deal with what being Roman's "boyfriend" entails.
Virgil flinches hard when Remus's fist comes down against his locker, with Remus himself leaning close shortly after, pinning Virgil to the metal behind him. "Hey, dipshit," Remus greets him with a wide, toothy grin. Virgil's heart pounds with fear despite the annoyed scowl he wears, as both the loud noise and Remus's presence has him on edge.
"Remus," Virgil mutters in acknowledgement. "What do you want?"
"I don't want anything."
Grimacing, Virgil tries to shuffle awkwardly to the side, hoping to slip past Remus and sprint down the hall into a more populated area, but Remus notices and brings down his other forearm as well, keeping Virgil trapped between his arms. Virgil shrinks slightly, but he musters a scoff.
"Well, if you don't want anything then beat it. I'm too busy to be your punching bag."
"Hey, hey, hey," Remus laughs, before taking a step back, "I'm not here to do that either, despite how tempting it is. Roman just wanted me to ask you if you'd come to our season finale game tonight. If we win, then it'll mark the start of the playoffs."
Virgil straightens up slightly at the mention of Roman. "He wants me to come watch his football game?"
Remus picks between his teeth with one of his sharp nails. "Yeah. The last game of the season is a big one, I guess. Not compared to a championship or whatever, but Roman honestly doesn't give a fuck whether or not we end up state champions. In the end it's just high school football. He just "
"And he just wants me to come watch?"
Remus raises an eyebrow. "Are you stupid or something? I already said yeah."
"Sorry. I'm just surprised, that's all."
Blowing a raspberry with his mouth, Remus rolls his eyes. "You shouldn't be. You're his boy-toy; of course he'd want you there. All he does is yap about you during practice. The coach has had to make him run laps before to tire him out so we all didn't have to listen to him drone on and on."
Virgil flushes, but nods. "Is it a home game?"
"Obviously."
"Okay. I'll be there, I guess."
Remus smiles, and grabs Virgil's shoulders, shaking him back and forth slightly. "Hell yeah," he snickers, before suddenly sobering up. His casual demeanor falls into something more somber as Remus suddenly squeezes Virgil's upper arm tightly, in a way that has Virgil thinking their entire semi-positive interaction was just a ploy to get his guard down. But before he can truly try to make a run for it, Remus is sighing out "look, I actually do need a favor. For mine and Roman's sake."
Swallowing down a mouthful of spit, Virgil nods his head slowly. "Okay. What do you need?"
"Can you... Will you avoid mentioning Karen around school? Or in general? You met her; she's fucking crazy. And Roman gets stressed out whenever he hears about her. So telling people at school would be really, really shitty, because you and I both know they'd bombard him and I constantly with questions. So it's best if you just... don't bring her up. Ever."
"Is that it?"
"Yeah. That's it."
Virgil pushes Remus's hand off of him, but musters a strained smile. "I can do that. But I'm doing it for Roman's sake, not yours."
"I can live with that. I don't really care, honestly." He scratches at his cheek, which Virgil's eyes are drawn to. He has a long scab beneath his eye. "Honestly, I'd love to recount stories of my childhood to prodding individuals. Imagining their discomfort when I talk about how she'd purposely try to get me killed would be hilarious." Remus laughs to himself, before adjusting his bag. "But Roman would not like that. He wouldn't even like thinking about it. So... thanks, I guess. For agreeing to keep quiet."
Virgil stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "You're welcome."
Then, Remus turns to walk away, shouting "we'll see you at the game tonight!" as Virgil turns back to his locker in order to finish gathering up his stuff.
He'd never attended one of the school's football games. He doesn't really care about sports, and he knew the bleachers were always packed full of eager parents and sweaty teenagers, who'd get way too close and way too loud for his liking. He pulls out his phone as he heads out of the building, and sends a quick text to Roman.
'hey, got your invite thru remus. thought you told your mom you had like six games left?'
He almost sends it without thinking, before noticing his mistake and rapidly backspacing. He hesitates over what to say, before correcting himself and instead asking 'hey, got your invite thru remus. i remember you saying something about having quite a few games left, but remus said this was the last one. was there some sort of misinterpretation?'
After he sends it, he focuses on getting home, and then lounges on the couch as he searches up all sorts of facts about football. Baseball or basketball were at least units in gym class; the closest they got to playing football was flag football, and Virgil had heard plenty of jocks mutter about how this "wasn't even close to real football" so he doesn't think he can compare it to the real thing. But if he was going to attend Roman's game, then he wasn't going to be confused the whole time.
For an hour or so, Virgil really just browses the Wikipedia page for football. Rules, point systems, even a vague description on how seasons progress. He still doesn't understand most of it by the time he gets to the bottom of the site, and ends up sighing as he ponders his next move. He could try and find a site that's not Wikipedia... or he could ask someone.
He first tries to text Roman, but as soon as his contact is up Virgil sees Roman hasn't even read his last message. Not wanting to burden Roman with a massive wall of questions, he instead chooses to dial up Logan's contact in hopes he may know a bit about the sport. The phone rings a singular time before Logan answers.
"Hello," he greets Virgil politely, before immediately transitioning to the call at hand. "Is there something you need?"
An awkward laugh escapes Virgil's throat. "How'd you know?"
"You didn't text."
Virgil can hear the faint scratching of a pencil against paper in the background, and can guess Logan's either filing out some homework or working through a study guide. He bites his bottom lip as he asks "I'm not interrupting you or anything, am I? I can just send a text if that'd be better."
"We're already on the phone," Logan counters. "And I'm quite good at multitasking. You're not distracting me in the slightest."
"Okay." Virgil fiddles with the drawstrings of his hoodie, tightening the hood around his neck. "Do you happen to know anything about football?"
There's a pause on the other end, before Virgil hears Logan set his writing utensil down. "Of course I do. Why?"
"I just need an easy explanation of the rules, the point systems, and... the other stuff?"
"Why?"
"Well... Roman invited me to his football game tonight, and I said I'd go, but I don't know the first thing about football! It's different from flag football, right? That's what everyone always says in P.E. The Wikipedia page also didn't seem too similar to that, either, so I'm honestly very confused. And I don't want to be confused because I want to be able to cheer Roman on when he does well, which means I need to know what doing well looks like, and-"
Logan's voice cuts through Virgil's rambling. "Calm down," Logan states, "it's rather simple. Watching is, at least. You don't really need to know how to play in order to enjoy watching the game."
"I couldn't care less about the game," Virgil admits, "I just want Roman to feel... supported, I guess."
"Makes sense, considering he's your boyfriend."
Virgil scowls. "He's not my boyfriend. We're just still playing Oreo. It's not my fault I'm so competitive." Logan doesn't respond, and so Virgil sighs and adds "but I do want to like... cheer for him. Like I would a friend."
"Or a boyfriend."
"Okay, whatever! A boyfriend! Will you explain to me the rules and stuff now, please?"
"Sure. Janus and I will be over soon."
Virgil's eyes go wide. "What? Why would you guys need to come over? You could just tell me on the phone instead of-"
"Explaining it in person will be easier. A lot can be misconstrued over the phone." Logan already sounds like he's packing up his stuff in preparation. "Also, I've been meaning to attend one of the school's football games. To show 'school spirit,' and stuff. If I want to be on the student council next year, then I need to become familiar with school events, even if I think they're kind of boring."
Shoving all of the football-related stuff to the side for now, Virgil can't help but question "you want to join student council during our last year of school? Isn't that kind of pointless?"
"It'll look good on a college resume, and my senior year schedule will allow for more personal time I can dedicate to reinvesting in the school. I've packed the past three years with so much in order to guarantee my final year was an utter breeze, so I'd have more time for clubs and extracurriculars. Anything to pad a college form."
Virgil lets out a slight, breathy laugh, and he can hear Logan's pleased smile through the phone as he guides them back to the topic at hand. "Also, Janus helped my mom make spaghetti last night, and they made way too much. You'd be doing us a favor by eating some of the leftovers."
Virgil's stomach grumbles at the mention of home-cooked food. All he's been eating lately has been takeout, as he hadn't had the energy to cook, nor the confidence to go grocery shopping himself. So he finds himself a bit more convinced to welcome them over with the promise of getting a meal out of it. So, he doesn't argue any further as he hears Logan's muffled voice talking to someone - likely Janus - in his room, before turning back to the phone.
"We'll be there in about half an hour," Logan says. "And we can walk together to the school to watch the game."
"Sounds good to me."
"Great. See you then."
The phone clicks, and Virgil kicks himself off the couch.
He spends the next fifteen minutes actually bringing his bookbag upstairs and changing out of his sweaty, wrinkled school clothes into something more comfortable. When he hears Logan's signature knock against his door, he's quick to open it up, where Janus and Logan's amusement is visible on their smiling faces.
"So," Janus starts, as he steps in like he owns the place. He's carrying a medium-sized Tupperware containing at least two servings of spaghetti and meatballs. He hands the container to Virgil, who rushes to set it on the counter in order to begin making himself a plate. Janus nears him, stalking behind him knowingly. "You were just going to keep the fact you wanted to attend your boyfriend's football game a secret from us?"
Virgil glares at him. "No. I just didn't think it was a huge deal that I wanted to go. He asked me to. Well, technically Remus did it on his behalf."
Janus's nose scrunches up in dramatic disgust. "Are you sure he's not duping you?"
"It'd be weird if he was. What would Remus get out of inviting me to a football game?" Virgil pauses just before sliding the spaghetti into his microwave. "Unless there isn't a game tonight, and he was just urging me out to the bleachers to beat me up or something."
"Calm down," Logan again reiterates. "There is a game tonight. It's their season finale. They're playing to see whether or not they'll begin the playoffs. If they lose, then this is it. No more football until next year." Logan then nudges Janus in the side. "And we know you weren't intentionally avoiding telling us that you were going. Only you were specifically invited. Though I'm sure Roman wouldn't mind us coming to support him, too. In fact, I bet he's quite relieved to know that his boyfriend's friends are fond of him as well."
"Shut up!" Virgil pushes their snickering forms away from him as he shoves his plate into the microwave. "You guys are the worst."
Logan and Janus move towards the couch, watching as Virgil reheats their leftovers and then joins them on the cushions. He eats with a frown on his face, while Logan and Janus ease up on their teasing comments.
Clearing his throat, Logan begins "seriously, though, football isn't that complicated. I'll run you through the basics while we eat."
"What time does the game start?" Janus interrupts, before Logan can get started.
Virgil pales, his fork stopping just short of his mouth. Steam rises from the spaghetti and hits his nose, but he doesn't eat it just yet. "Uh," Virgil breathes, "I don't... actually know..."
"You don't know when the game starts?" Janus repeats, incredulous, but Logan just sets a hand on Janus's shoulder.
"It's fine. They all typically start at seven, but tonight's starts at six due to it potentially being the final game of the year. It's three dollars to get in unless you come in school merch. Do you have a hoodie or something with the school logo on it?"
Virgil shakes his head. "Why would I?"
"Fair point," Janus grins, "it's ugly."
"Then make sure you both have some money on you. The gates will open at five to start filing in, but nothing really happens that first hour aside from fights under the bleachers." Logan pulls his phone out, and loads up a picture of a football field. "Now, here's what you need to know."
The next hour is spent with Logan slowly explaining every niche rule and play involved in football, from the first down to how many points per touchdown. He goes over it a second time once he's done, making sure Virgil will at least understand what he'll be seeing, with Janus looking like he's minutes away from falling asleep beside him. When Virgil finally insists he's got the basics down, they turn their attention to just talking while a show plays in the background, providing them with pleasant white noise as they just chat.
"Has Janus been staying over a lot?" Virgil asks Logan, trying to mask the feeling of being left out with curiosity.
Logan shrugs. "Not really. He came over last night to eat dinner, but went home afterwards. And he came over again after school, but it's because I'm helping him complete his biology study guide."
"Geez," Virgil huffs, "your bio class is already nearing a test? We're still only halfway through the unit."
"This is the test for the previous unit. We fell very behind," Janus groans. "My teacher sucks. You and Logan have good science teachers; mine won't stop gossiping with the sophomores long enough to actually complete a lesson, so oftentimes units are broken up into two or three classes. If Hell is real, then that teacher is the gatekeeper."
"It's not so bad," Logan hums. "If you don't get through everything, she'll have to remove the unit - or units - she didn't get to from the final exam. Lest she wants a slurry of complaints to be given to the principal for all her students failing the last two pages."
"Is she allowed to remove certain units from the final?" Virgil questions. "I thought that'd get her in trouble with the school."
Logan shrugs. "Either way she's getting in trouble with the school. Whether she wants it to be due to not finishing the curriculum - something that can be easily excused by saying she had stuff going on at home - or due to massive amounts of student complaints for unfair grading and revelations about her wasting class time is up to her. I think one of those options is significantly worse than the other, and if she's smart enough to teach biology then hopefully she's smart enough to weigh the pros and cons of each."
"Still," Janus complains, "it shouldn't have happened in the first place. Why did I get stuck with the shitty one?"
"Because I take AP physics, so my teacher kind of has to be competent."
Virgil shrugs. "And I guess my teacher just likes my class less. It's not fun to talk to kids you despise. You just want to teach, and then get the hell out of there."
Janus frowns, but doesn't seem all too upset at the prospect of having an easier final exam. "Logan's honestly just been explaining the study guide to me and comparing it to his own from when he took biology."
Virgil raises an eyebrow, and pokes Logan in the arm. "You kept your study guide from last year?"
"Two years ago," Logan corrects him, "I took biology as a freshman. And yes, I kept it. I've kept all my work from all three years in hopes that revisiting them will make my senior year even easier. There's also the chance that I'll have to take a similar class in college, which my work will come in handy for. It's like how we learned about Punnett squares in science class back in middle school, but then relearned them again in biology class." Logan pauses. "At least I did. I have no idea what Janus's class is currently teaching. But Virgil, you just finished that unit, right?"
"Mhm."
"Spoilers!" Janus playfully exclaims, "we're just getting to Charles Darwin. We haven't filled in any squares yet."
"It's easy if you remember how they worked in science. Dominant and recessive genes are made way simpler in school; they're actually leagues more complicated in actual biology, because there's a lot of different genes that are interpreted when a baby is born that pull from both parents' family histories." Logan smiles as he speaks. "It's quite fascinating, really, with-"
Logan launches into a somewhat detailed ramble about genetics and DNA, while Virgil again checks his phone. There's still no text from Roman. No acknowledgement. No sign he's even read the message at all. But as he scrolls back in their messages to mindlessly distract his mind, he notices it's about 5:20pm.
"Fuck," Virgil curses, before showing his two friends his phone. "Game starts at six, right?"
"Yeah," Logan answers, "we should probably get going."
They don't grab anything but some cash they have on hand before heading out, with Janus and Logan chattering the entire way to the game while Virgil trails a bit behind them, occasionally checking his phone just in case Roman finally decides to respond. He's probably warming up, Virgil tells himself. Athletes typically do that before games. Baseball players did it between innings. So it'd make sense for Roman to ignore him so close to gametime. But he surely hasn't been practicing from the very moment school let out, which was when Virgil sent that first text.
Maybe he'd gotten busy with school work before the game, and then had to focus his attention on it after? Virgil wasn't sure.
When they get near the school, they can already hear the excited chatter coming from the line of students and parents outside the gate. They steadily progress through the line, pay, and then make their way to the bleachers for the home side. As the visiting team's side opposite of them begins to fill, Virgil, Logan, and Janus struggle finding a seat themselves. They have to step over families who shoot them dirty looks, and students who laugh and glance their way when they walk by, until Virgil's being startled by his name suddenly being called.
"Virgil!" is yelled through the bleachers, and Virgil quickly looks around to find the source. He scans row by row, as he hears his name be shouted again. "Virgil! To the right!"
Virgil angles himself to the right, and suddenly spots the source of the noise.
Near the top of the bleachers sits Bruce and David, both of which are waving towards him. When they see he's noticed them, they wave him over. The seats around them are empty, with a few spaces in front and beside them. Virgil quickly grabs Logan's arm and explains "those are Roman's parents" as he begins pulling them up to the top. Logan's dragged along with Janus following behind, until he's close enough to Bruce and David to end up in a tight hug.
"Hey, kiddo!" Bruce greets him, as Virgil's guided to sit right next to them. "We're glad you came! Roman really wanted you to come to his last game of the season!"
"Well," David interjects, "there is a chance this won't be his last game. But we're hoping it will be." He laughs, but before Virgil can ask why David adds "and just in case it was, he wanted you to be here for it. Here!"
David reaches beside him and grabs a varsity jacket. Roman's varsity jacket.
He hands it to Bruce who wraps it immediately around Virgil's shoulders. "He wanted you to wear this," Bruce explains, "the same way a cheerleader would wear her boyfriend's jacket in support of him. He's cheesy like that."
Virgil flushes dark red as the jacket is pulled around his shoulders, while Janus and Logan - who've decided to sit right in front of them - snicker at his fluster. "Thanks," Virgil musters, as he kicks Janus in the back as subtly as he can. He looks towards the field, where he sees the teams practicing. Two of them are tossing a ball back and forth, a small group is being lectured by the coach, and some others are spread around either drinking water or ramming into sandbags. "Which one is Roman?"
"Number four," David says, pointing out into the fake, painted grass towards one of the players, sitting on the bench. The back of his jersey displays a bright white "4" with the last name "PRINCE" printed atop it. "Remus is number twenty-five."
Virgil looks around for number twenty-five, and indeed finds him among the group being sternly spoken to by the coach. When Bruce notices his eyes lingering, he chuckles and explains "they were all late today. That entire group got held up in detention. They might be forced to warm the bench today, but honestly I doubt it. The coach needs the best, and Remus is mighty good at taking down opposing players."
David smiles softly. "It's a good outlet for his energy. And he gets permission to tackle people to the ground, or dogpile atop them, so he hardly hesitates before doing so. It's difficult for people to get past the knowledge that you can end up seriously hurting someone while playing, but that thought never seems to bother Remus."
Virgil can only imagine why, considering the amount of times he'd been shoved around or wrestled by him, but at least on the field he'd be doing it in a way that likely wouldn't end with both of them in the office being lectured about the school's "zero tolerance" policy. Especially since the opposing team didn't even go here, and it was after school hours.
Eventually, the coach claps his hands, and a whistle is blown. Virgil checks the time, and sees it's 6:01pm.
Both teams fill their benches as the coaches read off a clipboard, and then players begin standing in preparation of filling the field.
One player from the home team and someone from the other team make their way onto the grass and shake hands as a referee stands between them. He explains something to both of them, before a coin is flipped in the air, and then brought down. It’s checked, and then the ref motions towards the home side and blows his whistle, signifying the home team will receive the kickoff.
The visiting team is handed the ball, and both teams go to opposite ends of the field, with the opposing team lining up for a kick.
Kickoffs were vaguely explained to him by Logan, but Virgil's still left mostly confused as the ball is kicked and sent flying, and suddenly the home team goes running for it. It's caught in the air, and the player who caught it takes off, getting about halfway down the field before getting tackled. After this, a ref marks the line where the boy went down with his foot, and blows his whistle, which then has both teams lining up.
Roman and Remus take their places on the grass, with them standing on opposite ends of the same line.
Virgil watches on with curiosity as everyone gets organized. They stand on either side of a white line, in what looks to be a symmetrical pattern. In every offensive position, there was a member from the opposing team standing almost directly in front of them, preparing to counter. Virgil was sure there were strategies that didn't involve playing like this, but from what Logan explained to him this seemed to be one of the most common ways to play. It'd be hard to throw a ball to an available teammate if they were all occupied trying to run from someone chasing them.
One of their players crouches down with the ball, holding it between his legs. He's positioned in the center, and there's a player right behind him, looking ready to run.
"We won't be able to hear it from up here, but that's the quarterback," Logan explains, turning slightly so Virgil can hear him, but still paying attention to the game. "He'll call out 'hike' to the center to signify the start of their play. As soon as the ball's in motion, the defense is allowed to counter."
As if on cue, the center suddenly snaps the ball back, and the quarterback rapidly backs up while scanning the field. Different players are being covered or cornered by the opposing team, and eventually the quarterback just tucks the ball into his elbow and tries to run. He sprints wide, crossing the white line they were stationed behind, but he barely gets a few steps over it before he's being jumped on by the opposition and they're tumbling to the ground. Then, they're getting back into their lines, shaking off that first play.
"They're trying to get at least ten yards within four downs," Logan says. "That was their first down. They got maybe... one."
"I thought the goal was to score a touchdown?" Virgil replies.
Bruce chuckles, and pats his back. "It is!" he answers, on Logan's behalf. "It's just more likely you'll get a touchdown if you’re closer to the field goal. There have been some runners who have gotten there, or at least close from the kickoff, but it's easier to progress steadily."
"What about being tackled after the kickoff? Does that not count as a play?"
Logan briefly looks unsure. "Uh, I don't think it does."
"It's not," David assures him. "Down's are defined by the ball entering play with a snap, and are ended whenever the ball or the player holding the ball hits the ground. So you were right in saying this was their first down."
The quarterback suddenly crouches further, and then the ball is entering his hands again. This time, he spots an available teammate further down the field, relatively unguarded. He takes a few steps back before tossing the ball, and Virgil watches as it spirals as it cuts through the air. The receiver catches it, and then takes off running, though he's quickly downed seconds later.
"That's ten yards," Logan says. "Impressive throw. Now, the amount of downs they get reset, so they'll start back at one."
Virgil tries to find Roman and Remus among the players as they return to their lines. He sees Roman shuffling back to his place, and eventually finds Remus pulling himself off of the opposition, who stays on the ground for an extra few seconds as if he'd been knocked out by a rough force. When he eventually gets up, he shakes himself off, but his hands are balled into fists at his sides.
Bruce laughs beside him. "That's our Remus," he mumbles, more so joking with David. "It's not really a football game until he's pissed off every member of the opposing team."
David smiles back at him. "I'm betting he'll have them all seething before halftime."
"Really?" Bruce gasps. "There's no way; this school seems like a patient bunch."
"I'll bet you... a pretzel with cheese."
Raising an eyebrow, Bruce counters "make that a pretzel with cheese with extra salt."
"Deal."
As David and Bruce engage in playful banter, Janus and Logan seem to be doing much of the same. Logan's explanations of the game before them are lost on Janus's careless disposition, as Logan tries to point out certain athletes to Janus, with Janus humming in acknowledgement before occasionally responding in a dismissive, somewhat flirtatious manner that'd throw Logan off for a few seconds, before Logan would force them back on track.
The next down is almost identical to the previous one, with the quarterback throwing the ball and someone catching it, but this time as the guy runs Remus runs alongside him, knocking down any opposition that tries to tackle the runner. At some point, Remus slams into someone too hard and he goes tumbling too, and then the receiver gets tackled. But they'd run another ten yards, and the home team were starting to get hyped, with Remus being shaken excitedly by a team member as they passed by, and Roman patting him on the shoulder.
Virgil doesn't know how he expects the next two downs to go, but they go just fine, with another ten yards being taken within them, getting them just a few yards away from the end zone.
"Logan said they do some sort of kick after they score a touchdown," Virgil says, coincidentally right as the quarterback runs the ball into the end zone, effectively scoring their team a touchdown. The bleachers erupt in delight, while the cheerleaders on the track do a chant specifically trained for when points are won. When the air around them is once again quiet enough that Virgil can hear himself think, he clears his throat and asks "is that going to happen now?"
David smiles towards him. "Yup. And that's Roman's job!"
Remus is tossed the football and he runs up to Roman, before kneeling in the grass a few paces in front of him. He balances the football against the ground with as little of his hand as possible, using just enough force to keep it upright. Everyone pauses for a moment until the referee blows his whistle, which then has Roman running up to the ball and kicking, sending it flying impressively far.
Virgil watches it soar right through the bars of the field goal, and then everyone runs back the way they started.
The home team kicks off to the visiting team next, and it's their turn to run and attempt to score a touchdown. The scoreboard looming above the field also changes to reflect the sudden point differential, while also showing the countdown until the end of the quarter. But Virgil doesn't find himself looking at that often; he finds himself surprisingly invested in the game.
It's easier to enjoy the sport when he knows the athletes playing. Two of them, at least. And while he doesn't really care whether or not Remus plays well, he is rooting for Roman, and finds his heart leaping into his throat whenever the home team gets the ball back, and Roman is tossed it to receive.
When he catches it, he nearly falls backwards, but is luckily able to keep himself upright while his team gets him cover. He doesn't score a touchdown, but he does get far, sprinting across nearly half the field before he's being tackled to the ground by two guys, which leaves him laying there for a solid few moments. Though Virgil feels the compulsion to cheer at Roman's accomplishment, Bruce and David don't do much other than comment on how well he's playing and how much effort he's putting in, as if they're not truly invested in whether or not the team wins.
The second quarter starts similarly to the first, with each coach gathering their teams in a huddle to hash out strategies, point out previous mistakes, and hype everyone up. When they're let back onto the field, Virgil catches Roman looking up at the bleachers. His cheeks go pink as he raises his hand slightly and waves slowly. He's not sure if Roman's even looking at him, but luckily Roman waves back. His expression is unreadable from so far away, especially with his face tucked behind a thick helmet, but Virgil imagines him smiling as he realizes Virgil actually did show. Then, he turns and meets his team out on the field, preparing for the next few plays.
And Virgil himself leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and his chin on his hands as he watches them play.
The home team goes from nine points to eighteen, with them getting an additional two following a "safety," which Logan explains can be applied for a variety of reasons, but in this case came as a result of a foul from the offensive team (which was the visitors at the time). Meanwhile, the opposing team started with nine points, jumped to fifteen (as they missed their field goal), and were actively working on getting a bit more. Fortunately, the runner is taken down by Remus, causing the ball to fumble from the receivers hands. Immediately, Remus jumps on it, and curls his body around it as people from both teams join the pile, trying to wrangle the ball away.
"Hell yeah!" Bruce cheers, when the referee eventually pulls the kids off of Remus, who is still holding the ball at the end of it. As a result of the fumble, the home team is given the ball yet again, and gets one last chance at scoring a touchdown as the second quarter nears its end. "That's one hell of a turnover!"
Everyone is on the edge of their seats as the home team makes their way to the end zone. They advance quickly, even with the time working against them, and at the end of it manage to score a touchdown, bringing their total to twenty-four points, with another three being added on from another successful field goal, again made by Roman. Then the quarter ends, and both teams retreat to opposite ends of the field, near the bleachers as they chug water and talk amongst themselves.
The cheerleaders from both teams make their way onto the grass, both groups performing at once but being so far away it doesn't matter. They do stunts, flips, and lifts that keep half the bleachers entranced, while the other half stand to grab concessions.
David points towards a few of the opposing football athletes who are stomping around, pointing, and throwing their helmets on the ground. "Told you Remus would eat away at them," he comments, as Bruce smiles and shakes his head. "Looks like you owe me a pretzel."
"Alright, alright." Bruce kisses David's cheek, and then pats Virgil's shoulder as he addresses all three teenagers. "Do you guys want anything from the concession stand?"
"I'll take some nachos," Janus answers immediately.
Logan politely answers "I'd be happy with just water, if you'd be willing."
"Sounds good to me. You want anything, Virgil?"
Virgil shrugs. "What do they have?"
Bruce hums, before standing and waving for Virgil to come with him. "Why don't you come check out the menu with me? It'll be nice to have an extra pair of hands to carry stuff back, too."
Virgil does, and follows Bruce down the bleachers.
Ever since Bruce had picked them up from the curb after they visited Karen, Virgil's felt rather secure around him. He'd been completely sympathetic to their situation when he pulled up, and stepped out of the car to comfort Roman as Roman broke down retelling that day's events all over again. It was surprising to think about how Bruce was technically Roman's stepdad, considering just how careful he was with Roman's feelings. He'd stood with them outside the car, walking Roman through his feelings, patching up Remus's face, and then having a private talk with Virgil out of earshot of the twins.
"Are you okay?" Bruce had asked him. "I know Karen is an awful person, and I know witnessing her be so openly hateful can be very stressful."
Virgil had felt guilty for his discomfort. "No less stressful than experiencing it firsthand," he'd responded. "She wasn't hitting me. She wasn't really yelling at me, either. Not like she was Roman."
"Still," Bruce sighed. "You don't deserve to be treated like that by anyone, but especially not by the adults who are supposed to be a good role model for you. And... and I know you don't have many other role models around to look up to."
Virgil had looked down at his feet, feeling oddly ashamed that Roman had seemingly spoken to his parents about Virgil's own familial situation, even though it makes perfect sense he would. "It's okay," Virgil murmured. "I know what she was doing was bad. I just... I want to get away from here."
"Do you want to go home?"
"Roman already asked if I'd stay the night."
Bruce smiled ever so slightly. "Well, you're fully free to do that too. But if you need to go home, then I'll make up some excuse on your behalf. Otherwise, I think the baked mac and cheese David and I made is still hot. We can get you settled in at our place, and I can make you a plate."
Virgil couldn't help nodding. "That sounds nice."
Then, Bruce had hugged him tight and secure. Virgil couldn't remember the last time he'd been hugged like that, and so ended up leaning against Bruce fully, who then walked him back to the car. And he'd made good on his promise, actually filling Virgil's stomach with decently delicious macaroni. His and David's presences only furthered his feelings of safety, and he wasn't oblivious to the way Roman and Remus both immediately relaxed the moment they stepped foot back into their home.
"You enjoying the game?" Bruce asks him suddenly, snapping Virgil out of his thoughts. He's realizing that as he's been walking, he's bumped into Bruce without thinking, and so takes a large step to the side so as to not intrude on his personal space.
"It's decent," Virgil answers. He thinks about Roman on the field, and then about his texts, and decides to ask "would... would you happen to know why Roman would tell his mom he has multiple games left if there's a chance this'll be his last one? I remember him saying that to her, which obviously doesn't make sense considering this."
Bruce's lips press into a thin line. He doesn't answer at first as they join the crowd waiting in front of the snack counter, before finally explaining "she's not allowed to come to them. It's not a court rule or anything per se, but David has a restraining order against her, which she'd continuously violate over previous years at every game she could. So we decided to just stop telling her the schedule, and if she pressed, we'd lie to her about it." Bruce rolls his shoulders. "Roman doesn't want her here anyway. Neither of the twins do. But Roman specifically. She..." he trails off, before sighing and resting his hand on Virgil's arm. "Honestly, it's not my place to tell, but if you want to know, I'd recommend asking Roman why. It was his decision to start falsifying the schedule, though Remus was typically the one to text her fake documents." He laughs slightly. "You'd be surprised how many times she'd drive to the middle of nowhere because that's where Remus said a game was happening, just for him to block her as soon as she realized what was going on. It happened repeatedly."
This sort of deception would make Virgil uncomfortable over different circumstances, but Bruce and David weren't fathers trying to keep their kids away from their mom. They were trying to keep a monster away from their kids.
"I'll ask Roman about it, then," Virgil replies. "Sorry."
"You don't have to be sorry. You were curious, if not confused. I hope I at least clarified his reasoning a bit... but it's not going to be fully clear coming from a secondary source." They move up in line, and near the counter, which has Bruce pointing out the clearly homemade menu to Virgil.
There are hotdogs, burgers, nachos, pizza, taco-in-a-bags, chips, candy, pretzels, and drinks, as well as something called a "giant pickle."
"See anything you want?"
Virgil nods. "A hotdog, maybe. If that's fine."
"Of course it is, kiddo."
When it's finally their turn, Bruce goes through the motions of getting something for everyone. Two pretzels, one for himself and one for David, nachos with cheese for Janus (and jalapeños on the side), a bottle of water for Logan, and a hotdog for Virgil. Once they've been handed their snacks, they step to the side so Virgil can put ketchup on his hotdog, and then make their way back to the bleachers.
The food and drink are distributed amongst everyone, with Janus and Logan splitting their water and nachos, and Bruce and David stealing pieces from each other's pretzel even though they have one of their own.
Virgil gobbles down his own hot dog as they wait for halftime to end, and all of them have finished picking at their snacks by the time the teams get back on the field.
The second half of the game goes almost identically to the first, with both teams making their way back and forth across the field, fighting for touchdowns. The opposing teams score jumps to twenty-one, and then twenty-four. The home team gets to thirty-three, and then thirty-six with another successful kick from Roman. Though the home team stays in the lead for the third quarter, the fourth quarter starts to even the score.
The home team gets a pass intercepted, causing a turnover. The visiting team then scores a touchdown and a field goal, bringing them to thirty three as well. With the points tied, Virgil can tell everyone is on edge - from the athletes, to the fans.
The only people seemingly uninterested in the outcome are David and Bruce, whose thoughts Virgil can't read, and Janus and Logan, who have stopped paying attention to the game in order to talk to each other. Occasionally they'll glance up and clap, but otherwise their eyes are on anything but the field.
The home team is blocked from scoring the next time they're playing offensively, and eventually Roman is pulled from the current lineup and traded out for someone else. He pulls his helmet off as he sits on the bench, head constantly shifting between the scoreboard and the field. Even from a distance, Virgil can see Roman's leg bouncing wildly. He'd mistake it for game day nerves if Roman didn't turn his head to the side, allowing Virgil to see him biting at his nails with unmistakable discomfort.
The teams stay fighting in a constant back and forth, with neither managing to score initially. They're stuck tied as the quarter nears its end, until the center snaps the ball, and the quarterback tucks it beneath his arm. With determination driving him, he sprints towards the end zone, though this time Remus doesn't cover for him. In fact, Remus takes one person to the ground in a tackle, before looking between their runner and the bench. Virgil tries to follow his constantly changing gaze, but his eyes are instead drawn to Roman the exact moment the bleachers erupt in cheers. A touchdown is scored with mere seconds left, and a field goal is kicked moments after. And instead of celebrating like the rest of his team, Roman's head is in his hands. And he's just... sitting there.
Everyone around him rushes onto the field as the quarter ends, scooping up the man who made the final score, leaving Roman by the bench as Remus jogs back. In a surprising act of kindness, Remus finds a bottle on the ground and hands it to Roman, staying by him while he chugs it before pulling Roman off the bench, and escorting him to where everyone else is jumping and screaming and rolling around in the fake grass.
"Well, guess we'll be attending the playoffs," Bruce comments with a sigh. David wears a sad smile, as he and Bruce tightly hold their hands together.
Janus and Logan stand with the crowd, both of them stretching. Logan turns to Virgil first. "We were thinking about heading out now, but if you want to stay to congratulate Roman then feel free to come over later. You can spend the night."
"Thanks..." Virgil mumbles. "I think... I think I'm going to stay."
They nod, and head off together, with David and Bruce standing too. As Bruce heads down the bleachers, David lingers back. "We're going to go see Remus and Roman, and then head home to start on a... celebratory dinner. But if you want to stay, Roman and Remus should both be dismissed after a fifteen minute breakdown of the game and praises from the coach. Roman may be happy to hang out with you after."
Virgil forces a smile, despite the nervousness swelling in his stomach when he sees Roman's team all crowded around their coach, with Roman's head angled down. "Thanks," he says, though he doesn't know what he's thanking them for. "It was nice seeing you."
"It was nice seeing you too, Virgil. Remember, you're welcome at our place anytime."
As David descends the bleachers, Virgil's left relatively alone. Parents hover by the gate, hoping to praise their children, while students and siblings head straight towards the parking lot. When Virgil starts to feel uncomfortable being one of only a few people left sitting on the stands, he eventually decides to head down to the ground as well. He isn't necessarily heading somewhere in particular as he just walks to waste time, but eventually finds himself coming back to the concession stand.
With the crumpled handful of cash he has in his pocket, he buys himself a candy bar and a bottle of water, and goes to sit back down. At least while eating he looks like he's actually doing something, instead of just brooding.
He tries not to seem like he's staring as the athletes are finally dismissed by their coach, and immediately head towards their families. Both twins are hugged by their dads, sandwiched into a tight bit of affection before Remus pushes them away in order to run off, leaving them with Roman. Their bodies slump, and Roman's lip quivers, and then he's hugged again with David kissing his forehead, before they head off. More and more families disperse, leaving just Roman, Virgil, and a few stragglers.
As Roman comes over to him, Virgil breaks away a piece of his chocolate bar, and offers it to Roman as he sits down.
"Thanks," Roman mumbles, dropping his helmet to the ground, and setting his water bottle to the side. His hair is matted and disheveled with sweat, with the eye black decorating his cheeks running down his face in streaks.
Virgil chews his cheek, before saying "you don't seem very... jubilant."
"Sorry," Roman breathes. He stares at the gate in front of him, and wipes his face. "I... I don't know. I should be happier than I am. I mean... we just won! But..." Roman holds the chocolate between his fingers, and it begins to melt against his hand. "But, admittedly, I didn't really want us to."
A bit surprised, Virgil scoots just a bit closer as Roman finally brings the treat to his mouth, and takes a sip of his water after. "Why not?" Virgil questions, voice soft. Roman still doesn't look at him, and just fidgets with the cap of his water bottle as he seems to formulate some sort of explanation.
"I..." he starts, before immediately trailing off. He tucks his face into his hands, and before Virgil can even assure him that he doesn't have to answer if he doesn't want to, a sob is being pulled from Roman's throat. "I don't want to play football anymore," he cries, body shaking with anguish. "I hate it. I hate pushing people to the ground and I hate being tackled, and I hate running back and forth across the field. The equipment is uncomfortable, the sport is violent, the sweat is sickening. It's all... bad. I hate it."
Startled, Virgil doesn't do anything for a moment, before setting a hand on Roman's back. "It's okay," he starts to say, but Roman just cries harder.
"It's not okay!" Roman insists. "I'm only playing this stupid sport because I have to!"
Virgil's hand slides down Roman's arm, and then takes his hand. "Why do you have to? Are... are Bruce and David making you?"
"What?" Roman lifts his head, sniffling, before he shakes it. "No. I think... I think they want me to stop. But my mom, she..." Roman wipes his face, and takes in a deep breath. "She told me I had to play football. Said it's what 'normal boys do.' And once I started, she insisted I couldn't stop, because I've already wasted so much of her money and my dads' money on equipment, fees, sporting camps. And I'm... I'm not smart enough to get into college on my own. That's what she tells me; she tells me 'Roman, you're pretty, but you're stupid. All brawn, no brains.' I need some sort of scholarship to not be more of a financial burden than I already am." He stares down at his hands. "And who am I without football anyway?"
"Well... who are you with it?"
Roman stares at Virgil, mouth slightly agape, before he sighs. "I don't even know. I know I'm unhappy. I know I'm good at it, but I don't want to be."
"What would you do instead of football?"
"If I had to pick something?"
"A club or an event at school. If you had to choose something else."
Roman takes another sip of his water as his tears become less frequent. "I... I think I'd join the drama club. They host the spring and fall musicals. I'd love to work on the set design. Some friends of mine who are in it have shown me the props they've made, and some of them are so cool. And... and I love to sing. I'd give anything to go up on a stage and do so."
Virgil squeezes Roman's hand. "Why haven't you?"
"Because my mom says theatre is a girly interest." He mocks her with clear disdain in his voice. "When I said I wanted to do it anyway, she said I wasn't allowed. And at the time Remus and I were still going to her house every other week, so I had no choice but to listen. But I wish I didn't. My entire high school experience has been wasted playing a sport I don't even like for someone who's not even here, for a college I'm not even sure I'll go to. Because what would I go for? To be a professional athlete?" Roman bitterly laughs, and then starts crying again. "I just feel like I'm not... me. This isn't me. And now I have to keep being this good jock version of me because that's what everyone wants. Teachers, teammates, my mom."
Humming, Virgil inquires "well, surely there are people that don't want that. You said Bruce and David want you to stop... who else doesn't want you to play?"
Roman wipes his nose. "Uhm... Remus, I guess. He's the only person who knows I'm unhappy. He's the only person I've told."
"And he'd support you if you ever decided to quit?"
Roman snorts. "He'd do more than support me. He'd throw me a party. He says my misery on the field is 'draining' and that 'only losers play football.' I can't tell if he's being serious or not, considering he loves getting to play, but I think he's just trying to push me away from sports entirely."
Virgil laughs quietly. "I don't even know if Remus likes football for the same reason normal people like it. I think he just likes fighting without any repercussions."
"You sound like my dads."
"Well, maybe they're right."
They sit quietly for a moment, before Virgil clears his throat. "Maybe... maybe you can sign up for the spring musical. I know it's too late to audition for the fall musical, and you wouldn't be able to play anyway if you're participating in playoffs, but you should be free by March, right?"
Roman weakly smiles. "Yeah," he answers, before his face falls. "But I couldn't possibly. I haven't participated at all the past two years; none of the casting directors or theatre kids know me. I probably wouldn't be casted at all in favor of someone more well-known or reliable."
Virgil huffs. "You are well-known. Maybe not for acting-related things, but just in general. And you're not a bad kid; they're willing to at least give you a chance."
"What if I end up in the ensemble?"
"What's so bad about the ensemble?" Virgil raises an eyebrow. "Isn't every role in a production important? And besides, you said you liked the set design. Without a leading role whose lines you have to memorize, you'd have time to paint the stage and create those cool props you were gushing about. Either way it's a win-win."
"Unless I don't get a role at all."
Roman's sadness and hopelessness is apparent in his tone. Virgil frowns when he hears it. "That could happen..." Virgil utters, though he's so quiet Roman doesn't hear him. "If that does happen, then there's always two shows next year. And a bunch of summer programs, I'm sure. You know theatre kids can't stop performing for more than a month at a time; they'll organize events around town, and you're sure to find one accepting participants."
"But what if I'm not good enough to participate?"
Virgil's brows furrow. "Do you think you're not good enough?"
As Roman's eyes glisten with fresh tears, Virgil immediately knows the answer, and looks away while murmuring a soft apology. Roman turns away from him too, and again rubs his palm against his red, puffy eyes.
There's more silence between them that Virgil doesn't know how to fill. Roman's self doubt is infectious in the worst way, making Virgil feel downcast and sympathetic at once, especially when he feels Roman's grip loosen on his hand. "Sorry," Roman says, his apology hanging in the air between them, "I'm not trying to come up with an excuse for every suggestion you give. It just feels like so much could go wrong, and... and I don't know what I'd do if it does. Because what if I audition, and they tell me I'm not good at singing, and my acting is atrocious, and I'm too clumsy to learn the choreography, and I should just stick to playing sports." Roman pulls his hand away from Virgil, and blinks away fresh tears. "What if my mom is right?"
Unsure of how to comfort him, Virgil takes a moment to just think. What if she was right? What if Roman was the cringiest actor in existence? And what if his singing sounded like nails on a chalkboard?
Suddenly, Virgil lights up with an idea. He hesitates bringing it up as it's kind of dumb, but he can't help himself from proposing "well, what if you sang for me."
Roman's eyes go wide. "What?"
A bit more embarrassed at the blunt imploration, Virgil's half-tempted to take it back, but instead he swallows the spit in his mouth and doubles down. "I mean, do I look like the kind of person that sugarcoats things? If you actually suck at singing and dancing, then I'll tell you, and you could stick to solely painting props. That way you could still be involved in the show's production, but you won't waste your time auditioning if you know for sure you won't get a role."
Face flushed with embarrassment, Roman hides his expression in his hands. "But what if I'm so bad you end up... dropping dead or something!"
"I doubt that'll happen. And if it does, then at least I won't have to go back to school."
Remus huffs out a breathy laugh, before seemingly trying to work himself up. It takes him a minute, but then he's declaring "fine. I will sing. For you, my muse. Though it'd be a lot nicer if I had a backtrack, or even a guitar."
"I'm sure you won't need it."
Roman shrugs off his heavy shoulder pads, dropping them and his jersey to the ground. He's wearing a white, sweaty tank top beneath it, that's so tight Virgil can see the outline of his muscles. Virgil flushes as he stares, and forces himself to look away, tugging at the collar of Roman's varsity jacket. Roman swallows down a large gulp of water, and then wiggles his hands, as if trying to shake all his nerves out of his body.
"Okay," Roman breathes, "okay, here I go."
Without another word, Roman settles on a song in his head, and starts singing.
His voice starts off shaking, struggling to sing any louder than a soft exhale, with words mumbled so quietly Virgil's not sure Roman's even speaking English. And then he realizes Roman's not speaking English, as Roman raises his chin slightly, getting louder as he sings out.
As soon as Roman finds his voice, his song comes out in a beautiful stream, with a melody so dulcet Virgil finds himself getting goosebumps along his arms. He has to shift in his seat to lean forward, sucked into Roman's world through the emotion in his voice despite not understanding a word he's saying. Despite that, Virgil can interpret through his countenance and body language that Roman is singing about passion. About longing. About love.
He moves slowly across the dirt, cleats kicking up small pebbles as he steps forward, turns, and steps back. His arms raise, reach, and then pull back. And he has surprising control over his breathing, being able to dramatically stretch backwards while staying as loud and consistent as he is when standing still and perfectly upright. Though he's dancing to his own music, and singing to his own rhythm, and Virgil can't understand any of it, he finds that in this moment he understands Roman. He sees the insecurity flash in his eyes whenever Virgil looks anywhere but his face. The way he stiffens or slows his dancing when Virgil shifts in his seat. And the hesitancy in his form when he reaches towards Virgil, silently requesting he join Roman in his world. If even for a moment.
With careful hands, Roman guides him through the motions. When he steps forward, Roman steps back, and when Roman steps forward, he does the same. They mirror each other in perfect motion, with Roman holding him just tight enough to be present, though he's noticeably gentle with his touch, permitting Virgil to pull away if he so desires.
His song softens as he and Virgil end up close. His voice is barely a whisper as he hums into Virgil's ear, gracing him with pure music while up close. It's serene and comforting, and passionate in a way Virgil's never seen portrayed in movies, or reflected in high school relationships.
He has no desire to look around with anxiousness, and shy away from prying eyes. He has no bitterness towards Roman, and as such no instinct to push him away and growl at him for acting like a sap.
Instead, he's slowly spun, and Roman's hand comes to rest on his back - not low enough to be perverse, yet firm enough to keep him steady. Virgil's heart beats fast in his chest, and yet he feels unnaturally calm.
Roman's eyes flutter shut for a moment, with his song nearing his end. And Virgil feels a strange compulsion. An impulse he hardly thinks through before acting on.
As Roman enunciates the final syllable, punctuating the end of his performance with a note held just long enough to make Roman shiver, Virgil leans upwards. He stands on his tip toes as Roman pulls him close, and sets his hands on the side of Roman's face. And before either of them even process what's happening, Virgil kisses him, swallowing down Roman's emotions and connecting with him in a way so intimate that Virgil feels their hearts beat in tandem.
When he pulls away, both of them have to suck in a deep breath. But in doing so, Virgil becomes acutely aware of what he's just done.
With wide eyes and a red face, Virgil immediately takes a step back. "Fuck," he curses, "I'm so, so sorry. I should-" He bites his knuckle, stumbling backwards, "I need to leave."
"Virgil," Roman softly tries to quell him, but Virgil's already turning.
"Virgil!" Roman again calls, but Virgil's already running.
He reaches the parking lot before he allows his eyes to fill with tears, but he doesn't stop running. Even as his heart beats quicker, and his stomach swells with guilt, and his lungs burn hot, he doesn't stop. Not until he gets as far away from Roman as possible. Not until he's sure he's run from his feelings completely.
