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Virgil laughs, tears running down his face. “No, you- can’t-“
He wants to cry.
He does.
It’s the kind of sob you can’t fake.
“Shh- Virge- no, Virge- it’s okay- we both knew- we couldn’t both make it out, Virge.”
Roman’s words are difficult to hear through his gritted teeth, but Virgil almost stops crying. He has to- listen- hear his voice, one more time. “No- no- no-”
He wants to scream.
He does.
It’s the kind of scream that isn’t loud, just broken, pieces, shattered from the inside out.
Roman’s trying, he is. He didn’t want it to end this way either. But he needs to stay strong, because how do you fix this? How to you fix a bullet wound when it’s deadly and unmoving and inside a vital organ? How do you- because there is no fix to this.
“You’ll smear your eyeshadow, Hot Topic. Stop,” he teases. He coughs, too.
“Oh, yea. Sorry,” Virgil manages. It almost makes Roman laugh- forget- survive- and them another tear is leaking down his love’s face and his smile fades back into a grimace. He moves to wipe the emo’s tears.
“Virge, it’s gonna be alright.”
“No, it’s not.”
The sheer force and conviction in Virgil’s voice suprises them both. “No, Princey, it’s not. How can I- how-” He’s crying again.
“Virgil. Look-“ he winces- “look at me, Virgil. Virgil.”
“What,” Virgil whispers.
“Can you- help me- help me stand up.”
The other’s eyes go wide. “No, Ro, I can’t- you’ll- you’ll…faster. I can’t.”
“Do it.”
And, a few minutes later, there he is, standing, bleeding, dying, but not dead yet.
He kisses Virgil first.
Virgil knows there’s no hope. There is no solution. There is only- this. And then there will be no Roman.
And then there will be… no Roman.
“You are- my sunshine-” Roman hums softly. Virgil shakes his head. No. Not this. He can’t- do don’t this- “My only sun- shine-”
The prince’s voice is rough, but it still has that flair. That regal but insecure tone Virgil hasn’t heard since… before. Before all this happened, before everyone else was dead. Before the horizon turned black and the smoke swallowed the blue whole.
“You- make me happy- when skies are grey-; you’ll never know, dear- how much I- love, you- please don’t take my sunshine away.”
Virgil cries, but he might want to laugh. Into Roman’s shoulder as he grips him tight, he murmurs something about the whole song being very dark, about the fourth verse. Roman ignores him, shifting back and forth. It hurts him, Virgil knows, so why-
He’s trying to dance.
“The other- night, d-ear, as I l-ay sleeping- I dreamt I- h-eld y-ou in my a-arms- when I a-woke, d-ea-r, I was- mis-t-ak-en, s-s-so I h-ung my h-ead, and c-ried-”
Oh god, no, Virgil is thinking. He wants him to stop. Oh, god, don’t- you’ll only-
He can hear his partner struggling to form words, gripping the sides of Virgil’s hoodie tightly before moving his arms around Virgil’s neck for support. He never stops whispering in Virgil’s ear, though.
“You are my sunshine, my onl-y sun-s-hine-, you- m-make me hap-py, when skies- are- are grey,” he coughs. Virgil can feel the blood soak into his purple hood. He doen’t want- Roman- oh, god, not for Virgil. Virgil can’t take it.
“You’ll never know, dear, how much I lov-e, you- p-lea-se d-d-on’t t-ake, m-y s-suns-s-s-hine- s-u- s-u-hn-s-s-hine-, a-”
Virgil feels when it happens.
He can never unfeel it.
Words turned breathy and struggling fade away.
Roman’s body goes quiet.
And Virgil dies inside.
Roman only ever died on the outside.