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Virgil leans back in his seat, his spine popping loudly as he stretches both arms over his head. He’s been bent over the lighting board for a few hours now, programming in every cue for the show. The director was very… ambitious, and had well over a hundred light cues.
He’s not even actually going to be running lights, he’s the stage manager, but the lighting guy wasn’t available the first day of tech week (and how the theater agreed to that in his contract, Virgil will never know), so he’s been stuck doing it.
“Finally done?” A cheerful voice asks behind him, Patton coming over to hand him a thermos. He’s so grateful to have Patton as his ASM, together they make a dynamic duo.
“Finally done,” he affirms, taking a sip to find its hot chocolate with marshmallows. “Come on Pat, really?”
“You do not need more caffeine at four in the afternoon, mister! You have an early morning tomorrow, which means you need to be able to sleep tonight.”
“And I have a late night tonight, which means I need to stay awake,” Virgil argues, but he keeps drinking the cocoa anyway. It’s delicious, and honestly Patton is probably right.
He lets himself breathe for a minute, looking out from the booth over the theater. Sets are being put up, the director is talking to the cast sitting in the audience, and a glance at his phone tells him the prop truck just arrived so they can unload. It's all going surprisingly smoothly, not that he would say that out loud and risk jinxing them.
“Alright, we should probably head down and help them unload the truck,” he says, blowing a lock of bleached blonde hair out of his face.
“Have you picked your next color yet?” The dad friend asks fondly.
“Not yet. To complete the rainbow I’m trying to do this year I still need a few, maybe I’ll do blue? I haven’t decided between a light blue or a dark blue yet though-”
“Pardon me, fearless managers of the stage!” Virgil immediately stiffens up at the dramatic voice coming from the doorway. He looks over to see Roman, one of the standard principle actors at the theater.
He’s dressed for a tech day, which means more casually than he usually would be. He is the epitome of a leading man, tall and strong and handsome (“too hot to ignore,” Virgil had once said to Logan in confidence), but he also has been in theater long enough that he comes ready to help lift sets or whatever else might make him useful. Today he’s wearing sweats and a blue t-shirt that reads “dibs on the redhead”.
The wheels in his head start turning when he reads the shirt. I mean, surely it must be a joke, or a bit, or something he got out of a lost and found… But still, if he likes redheads…
He’s brought out of his reverie by Patton tapping his shoulder.
“Sorry, what was that?” he says quickly, coming back to reality.
“The director sent me up to ask if you could put on just the stage lights and kill the work lights so he can see how the first set looks properly,” Roman says with a slight chuckle at Virgil’s spaciness.
Virgil looks down at the board to let his bangs help hide his face as he honest to god blushes. Roman’s laugh always does something to him, and he hates it. He hits the right buttons to change the lighting as requested.
“Thanks, Stormcloud,” Roman says with a small salute. “See you later.”
After he’s gone Virgil lets himself groan and drop his face into his hands. “Why can’t he just go to Broadway or something? Why does he have to be in EVERY show?”
“Aw, come on kiddo, it wasn’t so bad,” Patton says while patting his shoulder. “You know, you could try talking to him about all of these feelings-”
“Absolutely not,” the emo replies, standing up and pushing his chair to the desk. “Come on, let's get the props sorted.”
“You have dyed your hair,” Logan says the next day as Virgil enters the theater. The dramaturg gives a sharp nod after surveying him for a moment, which means he likes it too.
“Thanks, L,” he says, running a hand through his freshly dyed hair. Had it been fairly stupid to dye his hair after getting home at midnight last night? Absolutely. But if the universe hadn’t wanted this, then there shouldn’t be a twenty four hour drugstore with a surprisingly good hair dye selection near his apartment. “Is there anything you need from me before the cast arrives?”
“Good and glorious morning everyone!” Roman’s voice sings out as the door bursts open. “I cannot wait to begin our first dress rehearsal as a full cast- Oh, nice hair Virgil!”
Virgil sputters as Roman breezes passed towards the dressing rooms, not even able to get out a “thank you” before he’s gone. He spends a moment staring down the hall, imagining a world where he had said something clever and witty instead of forgetting how to breathe.
“Hm.”
“Wh-what?” Virgil asks, turning back to Logan
“Your hair is red,” the bespectacled friend states.
“Y-yeah? You know I’m trying to do the whole rainbow, I would have to do red at some point…”
“And yet, you dyed it red in the middle of a stressful tech week, taking away vital hours of sleep no doubt.”
“I have insomnia, and I just wanted to get it done. We’ll probably take a cast and crew pic at some point, I want to look nice, okay?” he grumbles.
“And yesterday, Roman was wearing a shirt that stated his interest in, quote, ‘redheads’.” The corner of Logan’s mouth quirks slightly, the closest he gets to a smirk.
Virgil tries to come up with something to say to that, but gives up and turns to go up the stairs to the booth instead. “I’m not engaging with this anymore!”
Logan just shakes his head and returns to his script notes.
It’s closing night at the theater, and the official cast party is underway (Virgil knows that there will be an Unofficial cast party as well, and while he is probably invited on principle, he never attends those ragers). He’s sitting in the front row of the audience with Logan beside him and Patton on the floor in front of them, his back to the stage. The cast and crew mill about, sharing favorite memories and inside jokes while snacking on a potluck of food.
The show ran for four months, very successfully in fact! They drew such an audience that they ended up having to add a matinee on Saturdays as well as Sundays, which is somewhat unheard of. Everyone is sad to be moving on, but most are already cast in the next show the regional theatre is doing so there’s far more laughter than tears.
“I don’t know, the green was really nice!” Patton is saying, not for the first time.
“I am not disagreeing, but the data shows that people far preferred the dual toned look,” Logan says, waving his notebook for emphasis.
“Who cares, maybe I won’t dye it for a while,” Virgil says with a yawn. Logan has been polling people all night to see which hair color they’ve seen Virgil with that they like the most, ostensibly so Virgil can decide on a more permanent one for next year. That’s what he gets for asking Logan for help deciding: quantifiable data.
“Not dye your hair? I can’t imagine you without dyed hair, fearful manager of the stage,” a princely voice says, Roman dropping into the seat on the other side of Virgil. Virgil hopes that his audible intake of breath won’t be noticed, but from Logan’s quirked brow it most certainly was.
“What happened to ‘fearless manager of the stage?’” he asks instead of addressing the comment.
“I got to know you better,” Roman gives him a playful grin and passes him a can of Dr. Pepper, his favorite soda. He leans forward a little to look at Logan’s notebook. “What have you got there, specs?”
“I’m taking a poll to see which hair color of Virgil’s was the most popular this year,” Logan says while adjusting his aforementioned ‘specs’.
“Ah! What are the options? I have not been polled!” the actor places a hand to his heart overdramatically, as though wounded to have been excluded.
“I marked down your opinion as red, given your bias towards that hair color,” Logan responds, pointing towards the singular hashmark placed by ‘red/ginger’.
“Pfft, what bias? I would have chosen purple!”
The other three openly stare at him.
“...Purple?” Virgil finally asks. “You liked my purple hair the best?”
“Definitely, it was the one that made you seem the happiest,” Roman said, casually sipping his soda as though he hasn’t just tilted Virgil’s world on its axis.
“That… I mean, yeah, it was definitely my favorite…”
“And it shows! Don’t get me wrong, it did look ravishing, but you also just seemed more confident,” the actor continues.
Patton puts a hand tightly over his mouth, and Virgil is thankful he’s not squealing in joy.
“Well… Thanks, princey,” he mutters, looking down to toy with his own soda can
“What about your shirt?” Logan asks, erasing the incorrect hashmark and placing a new one next to purple.
“What shirt?” Roman says, glancing down at the plain red t-shirt he’s currently wearing.
“The one that says ‘dibs on the redhead’,” Patton breaks in helpfully, his voice still muffled from his own hand.
“Oh!” Roman laughs long and hard at that, his head tilted back and eyes pressed shut with mirth. Virgil thinks he should probably move states soon so he doesn’t keep putting his heart through all of this. “That was a gift from a friend after a string of Halloween costumes that all happened to be redheads. Lucille Ball, Annie, Merida from Brave… I can’t believe you remembered that.”
“Well yeah, that’s why-” Patton cuts himself off from the glare Virgil levels at him.
Unfortunately, Roman notices.
“Wait a minute…” Virgil can practically see the memories Roman is picking through, horror mounting when his eyes widen in realization.
“I wore that shirt during tech,” he says slowly. “And then the next day, you had dyed your hair red.”
Patton literally jumps up from his spot on the floor. “Logan, come with me to pick out a cookie!”
“Why would you need help choosing-” Patton drags the other away to the snack table on the far side of the room, leaving Virgil alone with Roman, who is now staring at him like he’s a puzzle with all the pieces finally in place.
“Did you dye your hair red for me?”
The question is so simple it’s almost deceiving. Virgil weighs his options. Reasonably, he could say no, but he’s never been a very good liar, and honestly unless he’s willing to gaslight his crush then there’s too much evidence against him. Maybe he can say yes and just… Play it off?
“Well… Kinda, yeah,” Virgil says, trying to put together something about inspiration and coincidence, but he can’t get any of it out before Roman is speaking again.
“Can I take you on a date?”
The emo freezes, his eyes still downcast and heart thundering in his chest. “...WHAT?!”
He looks over at Roman, who is staring at him with a look he’s only ever seen him wear on stage. When he’s acting like he’s in love, no less.
“Are you- Are you serious?”
“Deadly,” Roman says, taking one of Virgil’s hands in his own. “Hot topic, I’ve liked you for years but I always kind of thought you hated me-”
“Years?” Virgil breathes out in wonder. “I’ve never hated you, I just don’t know how to act around people I- Well, people I have a crush on.”
“Me neither! I so rarely actually want someone, I have no idea what to do when-” And here Virgil watches in fascination as Roman blushes, his words catching up with him.
“You want me?” He says teasingly, his cheeks still pink but feeling emboldened by this proclamation.
“Well- I- Yes, but in a completely chivalrous and honorable sense!” Roman scrambles to defend himself. Virgil laughs, and a moment later Roman joins in, their shoulders bumping as they lean closer in their joy.
“I really would love to take you on a date,” Roman finally says, looking at Virgil with such adoration that there’s no room for doubt.
“I would love that.”
For their one year anniversary, Virgil gets Roman a new t-shirt that says “dibs on the emo”, and Roman helps him redye his hair purple. They are happy.