Pairing(s): Prinxiety and implied Logicality

Warnings: Kind of controlling family (?)
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The sweet twinkle of piano notes play in his mind whenever he thinks about the colour purple now. It's almost annoying, but what the colour itself connects with is too wonderful for Roman to be upset about. Even when he is doing something completely unrelated to it, he'll find himself humming a song, or he'll have the sudden urge to try on a bit of makeup, which he does do occasionally, but not often enough for it to be a hobby.

He gazes around at the city street around him, bathing in the almost silence and breathing in the fresh air not yet clogged up by cigarette smoke, or smoke caused by public transport. Pulling at the hem of his crimson blazer, he lifts his arm to take a quick look at the time on his watch. 7:15. Some would complain, whining about how it's much too early to be up and out in the city, but Roman personally adores getting up early. Sure, waking up isn't very fun, but the thought of heading to his favourite restaurant and ordering breakfast is enough for him to drag himself out of bed.

As he strolls down the concrete pavement, Roman once again inhales deeply, not expecting a silver car to drive past him and blow dust from the curb of the road in his direction. He breathes it in and coughs, grimacing at the taste of dirt, old construction dust, and vehicle exhausts as it lands on his tongue. Fortunately, the restaurant is close, so he'll be able to order his favourite morning drink to wash the taste away.

Clop. Clop. He stifles a chuckle at the way his shoes make a sound similar to the hooves of a horse hitting the pavement. That's one reason he loves these shoes. Well, honestly, it's the only reason he loves these shoes. They were expensive and definitely not worth the money, being too tight on his feet and giving him blisters on the back of his ankle. The only reason he has them is because they are quite pretty, its black leather shiny and pleasing to the eye. As well as the fact that his mother would not stop insisting that he bought them. They made him look wealthy, which he's positive was the main reason for her wanting him to get them.

He tucks his hand into the pocket of his blazer and rolls his eyes at the folded soft material he feels hiding in there. Before he'd managed to leave the house unnoticed, his mother had wrapped a charcoal coloured tie around his neck and giddily tied it, sending him out the door looking way too formal for a casual trip to get breakfast. So, as soon as he was far away enough from his house, he had practically ripped the item off and shoved it in his pocket, only to reluctantly pull it back out again so he could fold it. His mother would have his head if he wrinkled it.

A smile slowly tugs at the corners of his mouth as he finally reaches the restaurant, immediately getting a whiff of the intoxicating aroma caused by the many choices of breakfast food, coffee, tea, and other hot drinks they offer in the mornings. He sighs in relief, grateful that he can just be himself. There's nobody who knows his name, or really cares about who he is.

'That's also a rather unfortunate thing,' he thinks as his eyes subtly move from one side of the room to the other, only managing to catch a glimpse of white, purple, and black before being guided to a table by one of the waiters. This restaurant is, and has never been, particularly expensive or 'posh'. But despite that, they always take care of their customers, offering excellent service and even a live performer.

He orders his usual-- a breakfast omelette, minus the tomatoes and mushrooms, with a couple of hash browns and a regular salted caramel mocha -- and closes his eyes. No, he's not really that tired, his job being easy and dull enough to send him to sleep during the day, and since his employers are too afraid to fire him because of the reputation his family has, he no longer cares about taking one hour naps during work hours. But he's desperately trying to enhance his sense of hearing. He hopes and prays that the performer will play something this morning, even if it's just a short piece by Rachmaninoff.

At first, it seems that the pianist isn't required to play music in the mornings, and since Roman usually comes to this restaurant for dinner or lunch, only having been in for breakfast two or three times, he doesn't really know if live performed music is on in the mornings. But, by some gift from an unknown deity, he hears it.

The delicate sounds of keys being played so softly, it's almost as if the performer is afraid to touch them. Roman sighs in relief, allowing himself to fully relax and become immersed in the eventual harmonies between the high and low notes. He immediately recognises the song as 'Clair de Lune' by Claude Debussy. A true masterpiece that, without fail, leaves his skin dancing with goosebumps and his heart feeling as light as a spring cloud in his chest. When his food arrives, he is forced to open his eyes and speak to thank the waitress for her service, but as soon as she disappears back into the kitchen, he cuts into the omelette and closes his eyes, allowing himself to get utterly lost in the twinkling melody as the song reaches its halfway point.

When the buttery yolk of the egg melts into the saltiness of the bacon, Roman truly believes he may be in heaven and with the beautiful background music setting a perfectly surreal, but calming atmosphere, the theory of him actually being dead and in heaven doesn't seem that crazy to him. The song comes to a slow and gentle ending, causing him to open his eyes and search for the player. He is tempted to pout at the fact that he can't see the performer since he is situated in a small space on the left side of the room, with a wall blocking him off from Roman's eyesight. All he is able to see is the, admittedly stunning, edge of the grand piano.

There's a few moments of silence, probably to allow the pianist to find another piece of music to play, and Roman eats his food at a slower pace, wanting to stick around for at least one more song. As the player is deciding what to play, he desperately wants to request a piece of music he's heard the man play quite a few times. 'Una Mattina', a piece of music composed by Ludovico Einaudi, is one song he will never grow tired of. It seems to have a simple enough structure, with a somewhat repetitive melody, but it captured him the moment the restaurant's performer began playing it.

He still doesn't quite understand why he became so entranced by that song, but the sensation of chills running through his body is consistent with every time he hears the pianist perform it, and the memory of his breath stuttering for a moment as his heart forgot its function is still fresh in his mind. Subconsciously, he clutches the table cloth so tightly his knuckles begin to match it in its pale shade. What song will he play?

A low chord is played and Roman both deflates in disappointment at the song not being 'Una Mattina', but he also feels a tiny smile grow on his face as he recognises the song as 'Nuvole Blanche' by the same composer. Roman has never truly been interested in studying the piano, or music in general, but knowing how swift and smooth the movements of the hands playing the piano are somehow got him invested. He has seen the pianist before, quite a few times, but he never gets bored of it. Not only does he look entrancing by himself, but for a reason that Roman will never understand, he seems to fit perfectly with the aesthetic of the piano. Almost as if he were made to play it.

As he takes one last sip of his drink, he feels an ache beginning to form in his chest. He doesn't want to leave. He just wants to hear the pianist some more. Just a little bit more.

But one expectant glance from the waitress who served him earlier leaves him powerless. He takes one last longing peek at the wall concealing the pianist from him before he pays for his meal, thanking them, complimenting them and their establishment, and assuring them that he will be back to dine here as soon as he possibly can. Before he can leave however, one of the waiters that had been cleaning the tables on the left side of the room stops him, a kind smile on his face. "Do you like our piano player?"

Roman's breath hitches and he opens his mouth to deny staring in the pianist's direction throughout almost his entire visit, but his eyes betray him, flashing over to the wall that is still hiding the performer from him and glittering in a way that can only tell an observer that he is completely and truly awestruck. "I do. He's incredibly talented."

"We're lucky to have him," the waiter replies with a fond smile, glancing back in the direction of the player, who is beginning to play a song that Roman has never heard of, "and I'm sure he would appreciate your genuine enjoyment of his performance. Feel free to come back and hear him anytime. He works all day, almost every day, since he claims to not be the richest man and that he needs to save as much money as he possibly can."

The sympathetic chuckle afterwards informs Roman that this waiter and the pianist likely know each other on a more personal level. He smiles sweetly at the man and takes a deep breath. "If you don't mind me asking, do you know his name? And could I possibly learn yours?" He knows that the waiter has a name-tag on his shirt, but Roman wants to make sure that he gets both of their names correct.

Holding out a polite hand for Roman to shake, the waiter nods and offers him a genuine grin. "My name is Patton and our pianist's name is Virgil."

Virgil. It's oddly... perfect?

Roman takes the offered hand and returns the smile, overjoyed at finally knowing the name of the performer he's been obsessing over for the past few months. "It's a pleasure to meet you, I'm Roman King and I must say that 'Virgil' is a beautiful name. It seems strangely fitting for someone so--"

He cuts himself off before he can say anything embarrassing. Telling a personal friend of Virgil's about his silly crush on him would be an extremely bad idea, and Roman doesn't think he'd ever let himself live it down if either of them ever found out. Unfortunately, Patton must see a hint of something on his face that suggests the pathetic romantic feelings he has because with wider eyes and lips parted in shock, his eyes glimmer with something akin to realisation. What does he realise exactly? Roman already knows that Patton has made an irritatingly lucky guess about his feelings for the performer, but there's definitely something more in Patton's eyes than that.

"I think so too. It's a really pretty name." There's a slightly awkward pause after that, but Patton's kind smile reassures Roman that there is no resentment or negativity between them. "It was wonderful to finally meet you. I've noticed you visiting this place a lot and now I guess I know why."

His smile gets a little more mischievous after that and Roman doesn't quite know how to react, but his body instinctively warms up in embarrassment and he brings a hand up to scratch the back of his neck, turning his gaze towards the ground so he doesn't have to meet Patton's accusatory stare. "Uh- Yes. I suppose you do..."

Patton giggles lightly and takes a step forward, obviously trying to be comforting in a way that wouldn't involve physical contact. "Don't be embarrassed. I think it's very sweet and I won't say anything to him if you don't want me to. But if you'd like me to introduce you to him, I wouldn't mind in the slightest. The only thing I'd have to warn you about is the fact that Virgil isn't the best at talking to new people, so please just give him some time."

Meet him? Roman could actually meet him in person?!

Of course he wants to meet him, but what would he say? How would he act? Would they even have anything to talk about? Roman has a feeling that the poor pianist would just become uncomfortable if Roman stood there complimenting his playing the whole time, and although he is definitely going to try and fit a bit of gentle and subtle flirting in, he can't be as animated as he usually is since he could possibly scare Virgil away. Whilst he's thinking it through, Patton seems to read his mind and they discuss how it would be best to act around him, along with arranging a date for him to visit the restaurant and meet him. Patton is actually a lovely person and Roman is thrilled to have someone other than his parents to talk to. There are two other friends he has, but they can only really see each other when their families are out for dinner together.

Eventually, he and Patton go their separate ways, and he once again hums the tune to 'Clair de Lune' on his way home. Only this time, he's fully aware of it.
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Days pass by agonisingly slow until finally, the date of his visit to the restaurant arrives and apparently, so do the only other two friends he has! Their families have an early lunch together and the three men decide to have dinner at the restaurant Virgil and Patton work at later that night. Luckily, he managed to receive Patton's phone number, so he was able to explain the slight change of plans to him and promised that he would be alone when meeting Virgil so there wouldn't be a chance of overwhelming him. Patton thanked him and agreed to explain the situation to his friends if they tried to go along with him.

He swallows nervously as he tightens the black bow tie wrapped around his neck, almost strangling himself until he manages to loosen it and calm himself down. Everything will be fine. Patton will be there along with friends that he trusts with his life. It will be okay.

From behind him, he hears the familiar dramatic laugh of Remy Sanders as something particularly amusing happens to his brother Logan. He turns around to see Logan cradling his now dust-covered favourite tie in his arms, a grave expression on his face as he glares heatedly up at his brother who just continues to laugh. Even Roman can't stop the snicker that slips through his lips as he rolls his eyes fondly and smiles. "Would you like to borrow a very similar tie that I own?"

Logan pouts for a moment longer before giving in. "Yes, please."

Once they're all ready to leave, they head down the stairs, barely dodging cameras and phone's taking pictures of them as they rush out into the street. The night air is slightly polluted with vehicles gases from throughout the day, but even still, it feels cool and refreshing against his skin. Roman sighs softly and glances up at the sky, disappointed at the clouds that are covering most of the stars. He notices a few of them, silver bullets determinedly trying to pierce through the thick mix of dark grey and light grey clouds that smother them, that try to hide them away as if they aren't worth seeing. But Roman wishes that they were more visible.

"Hey, Ro. What's this restaurant like, anyway?" Remy asks as the three of them fall into step with each other, uncomfortably loosening the tie around his neck, as he usually doesn't enjoy wearing such formal clothing.

Roman knows that his friend doesn't quite understand how loaded that question is to him. Somehow though, he manages to find the right words to describe it. "It's not too expensive, but the service is incredible. The waiters and waitresses are very kind, and I've even made friends with one of them." He smiles warmly at the memories of meeting Patton properly and talking with him over the phone. "I truly believe that their food is some of the best out there, including the drinks, and their music is... There's honestly no words to describe how breathtaking their live performer is."

There's a brief moment of silence before Logan and Remy share a knowing look, both smirking as Remy turns back to his friend and hums innocently. "Sounds great. Is he cute?"

"Who?"

"The live performer. Is he cute? I'm guessing by the starstruck look on your face that he is."

For a second, Roman doesn't know what to say. He wants to be an actor someday, but how is he supposed to reach that goal if he can't even hold up a reasonable facade in front of his friends?! As he processes Remy's words and the implication of those words, he shrinks in on himself slightly, scratching his right forearm with his left hand and ducking his head to hide the embarrassed smile paired with a pinkness that is surely settling into his cheeks. "Yes, he is. And he is amazingly talented at playing the piano, which I'm sure you'll agree with once you hear him."

Logan hums, the mention of a live piano performer seemingly peaking his interests, and brushes some of his hair behind his ear, quietly cursing it for growing so long and swearing revenge on it by getting a haircut. At his best friend's rather adorable empty threats against his hair, Roman breathes out a laugh and rolls his eyes, the nerves of meeting Virgil becoming a dull ache in his stomach as he attempts to distract himself by talking to Remy and Logan about literally anything else.

Unfortunately, that can only go on for a few minutes because they arrive at the restaurant much faster than he expects and his nerves instantly rise back up to his chest. He pauses outside of the restaurant, much to the confusion of Remy and Logan, just letting the wind brush through his hair, relaxing him slightly before they enter. Patton immediately reaches his line of sight and waves over at him, grinning brightly as he cleans up a family's meal. His gaze seems to drift sideways towards Logan, who is staring back with as much curiosity and intrigue. The two of them exchange a shy and slightly awkward wave before Patton hurries off into the kitchen. As they're led to a table in direct view of the piano, Roman grins. "Patton caught your eye, huh?"

"He looked at me first."

Remy rolls his eyes. "Yeah, but you were totally checking him out even before you noticed him checking you out. I swear, if you don't make me best man at your wedding, I'm telling mom about the time you broke the kettle and blame it on dad."

Almost immediately, Logan crosses his arms over his chest, tells his brother to shut up, and continues their little battle of telling their parents secrets they know about each other. Meanwhile, Roman gazes over at the piano player and sees Patton lightly jogging over to him, leaning over to whisper something in his ear. That's when it happens.

Possibly because Patton is telling him about the planned meetup for later, Virgil's eyes scan the room and lock onto his. The second they do, Roman feels his entire body freeze. Dark chocolate fudge shining like honey in direct sunlight; every star concealed behind the dark clouds in the sky; a completely original song produced in darkness before gradually being played in light; heavy bags of anxiety covered in charcoal that awakens a protectiveness inside him he has almost never felt before; wide open windows welcoming him inside, tempting him to take a peek and learn more. So much more.

Just as he is memorising every detail he can of Virgil's face, Patton seems to tap his friend's shoulder lightly in order to get his attention and the pianist turns away, blinking rapidly and doing a couple of double-takes as he does so. Roman now thinks he knows what it feels like to be the melody of a song played by the pianist at the front of the room.

"I'll tell mom you're pan!"

Logan raises an eyebrow. "She already knows."

"Yeah," Remy replies, seeming desperate to win this argument, "well, I'll tell her again!"

Instead of bothering to give his brother any sort of response, Logan notices the way Roman is still staring over at the piano, as frozen as a stuffed toy left out in the snow. "Roman, is everything alright?"

Roman lets out a shaky breath and hesitantly turns back to face his friends, hands trembling a little on his knees. "Y-Yes. I just..." he tries to find a way of describing how time stopped, everyone in the room other than Virgil and him evaporated into thin air, and how the constant hum of 'Una Mattina' played all around them for just a few seconds. "I just seemed to forget how to breathe for a moment there."

He laughs weakly and glances back over at the front of the room where Virgil is preparing to play his first song of the evening. Remy follows his line of sight and whistles. "Wow, he is cute! Not really my type, but you go for it, girl."

As of right now, Roman doesn't have the strength or enough focus on Remy to be embarrassed. He just wants to hear Virgil play.

And he does.

Roman smiles tenderly as the adored sensation of chills rushing through his body returns, his skin prickling up with goosebumps, and his lungs stuttering out a breath as his heart flutters helplessly in his chest. The softly played low notes of 'Una Mattina' begin to echo around the room, nearly silencing everyone around them instantly. He knows that it's mostly out of politeness, but Roman closes his eyes, sinking into the melody and allowing himself to drift away into calm waters controlled by the playing of the keys themselves.

Suddenly, he remembers who is sitting right in front of him and decides to open his eyes, gazing at the man sitting on a black piano chair, looking as if he was born to be sitting in this exact spot. The keys are like dough beneath his fingers, lowering under even the lightest pressure, but never failing to increase in volume if Virgil wants a section of the song to be louder. Virgil is in complete control and to Roman, he looks as if he's floating on a cloud in spring. At peace. Truly allowing himself to live.

When the song finishes, Roman feels a lump in his throat. It will always get to him, no matter how many times Virgil plays it. Remy and Logan seem to take note of his watery eyes and quietly ask if he's okay, since Virgil is beginning to play yet another piece. Roman nods. He's never felt better.

As the night comes to an end, food having been eaten and paid for, Roman feels the nerves from before rushing around his chest faster than he can process. But he can't back out now. He doesn't want to. Patton is waving him and his friends over, giving Logan a mini heart attack and allowing Remy to poke fun at him a little bit more. When they do meet at the back of the restaurant, Patton gives him a hug and assures him that everything will be okay. Roman believes him, but can't ease the pounding of his heart or the dampness on his hands. He introduces him to Logan and Remy, almost smiling at the love struck expression on both his and Logan's faces. Patton then gestures to the area where the piano stands and briefly explains that Virgil is waiting for him there. It's time.

He thanks the waiter, wishes Logan luck with a wink, and then nervously makes his way around the wall hiding Virgil, the pianist Roman has pined over for months. Most customers have left, or are in the process of leaving, so it's not like anybody is going to watch their interaction. Why would they want to? He's overthinking this.

Stepping out from behind the wall, he truly does forget how to breathe as he watches Virgil neatly placing his sheet music inside of a binder, and then slipping that binder into a grey backpack. The pianist soon notices him and freezes. His dark eyes widen and gaze at him with an intensity so unexpected from the timid man that Roman squeezes the tie he had accidentally left in his blazer pocket, trying to process that this was actually him. Virgil is the one staring at him so intensely, as if he is the only one left in the room. Virgil is the one flushing a pretty rose pink, clearly trying to find even a single word to say. Roman is the one who decides to break the silence.

"Hello." His voice is meek, a little breathless, but he thinks that Virgil will forgive him considering how long it takes for him to reply.

"Hey..." he pauses for a moment before standing up straight and hugging his arms over his stomach, his hands hidden inside the purple and black sweater, "Patton told me you... I mean... He told me you wanted to meet me?"

He did what?! How could Patton word it in such an embarrassing manner? That man may seem sweet and innocent, but that is merely a deception, deep down, he truly is a cruel and twisted person. Instead of denying it however, Roman shyly nods to confirm his statement. "Yes, that's correct. Are you alright with this?"

Virgil nods immediately. "Yeah, sure. I was just asking... I just don't really get why you want to meet me. Not to be rude."

How is Roman going to explain this? "Well, I found your playing to be magnificent. And you seem..." he can't quite find the words he wants to say, "You seem like you are meant to play piano. I don't know... Please, tell me if I'm crossing any lines here, but something I don't quite understand drew me to you. And I would simply like to get to know you better. If you don't mind, of course."

It takes Virgil a few moments to completely comprehend Roman's words, but when he does, the colour of his face darkens and he stutters out something that sounds like him wanting to do the same thing. That Roman seems cool too. To Virgil, Roman is cool! "That's wonderful to hear."

"Well, uh, what do you want to know about me, exactly? I'm not that special, so I don't really stand out much." Then, he laughs, but it sounds much sadder to Roman than he likes and he suddenly remembers the stars in the sky.

"We can start off easy," he replies with a charming grin, "I'm Roman King and I think you are truly talented at what you do, Virgil.

Virgil can't seem to stop the bashful smile that flutters over his features and Roman feels his heart trip over a beat in is chest. He's even more gorgeous up close. "Thanks. Uh- I'm Virgil Rhodes and I've got a confession: I think I've seen you in here a couple of times. I could never really get you off my mind, but I don't really know why. No offence."

Roman chortles and arches an eyebrow. "Is that so? Good to know we have something in common, then."

Despite the clear nerves that are sinking deep into Virgil's chest, the slightly shorter man manages a smirk. "So, you think about yourself a lot, do you, Roman?"

"Well, I am handsome." Roman replies, laughing lightly as Virgil slowly relaxes more and more.

The pianist hums and nods. "True."

When he realises what he's said, his eyes shoot open and he covers his mouth with one hand. Before he can panic however, Roman decides to gather every ounce of courage and bravery he can. "Why, thank you. You're not too bad yourself." He then sends the performer a wink and waits for his reaction.

Of course, he's embarrassed, but he doesn't seem to be panicking, which is something Roman definitely doesn't want to be the cause of. He watches Virgil go through a tiny mental breakdown before he huffs out a laugh and smiles affectionately up at him. "Thanks. Anything else you'd like to know other than my name?"

Roman grins. "When did you learn 'Una Mattina'?"

Unsurprisingly, Virgil seems confused and caught off guard by the question, but even so, he shrugs loosely and glances down at his backpack, explaining that he had starting learning the song when he was around seventeen and that it had just stuck in his brain for a while, so he turned it into something in his repertoire. Roman hums, signalling for him to continue. Instead though, Virgil gestures to the piano and scratches the back of his neck anxiously. "You want me to show you a little?"

Trying to keep his breathing under control as he realises he's going to get a private piano show from Virgil, Roman merely nods enthusiastically and they both take a seat on the suddenly very small piano stool. Roman watches Virgil as he takes the sheet music for 'Una Mattina' out of his bag and slides it in its place on the piano. He is then startled when is hand is, without warning, gently grabbed and placed on the cool keys of the piano. No, he's not getting a private piano concert, he's getting a private lesson! After a second, Virgil realises what he's done and apologises. Roman shakes his head. "Feel free to do whatever you need," he pauses and then smirks, leaning a little closer to the pianist, "or even if you don't need to."

Virgil flushes red to his roots at the flirting, but simply nudges Roman playfully and takes his hand again, placing it on the piano and showing him what keys to play. From that moment, Roman definitely knows he can't play the piano, but the flicker of amusement and pure passion in Virgil's eyes, even when he gets a note wrong, reassures him that the time he spends trying to 'learn the piano' is not time wasted.

Ivory keys against his fingertips will never compare to the feeling of Virgil's hands covering his, or to the feeling of Virgil leaning against him ever-so-slightly.

Nothing can compare to the twinkle of piano keys, or to the sweet honey and chocolate fudge that he's sure will lead him through even his darkest days.