Roman unlocked the door to his and Logan's shared house, growing more anxious by the second. He was worried he'd done something embarrassing, like leaving his dirty laundry lying around his room or forgetting to clean the washroom. Virgil seemed to notice and squeezed his hand slightly. They'd held hands for the entire twenty-or-so minute walk from Sprinkles of Joy to Roman's house, which Roman had seen as a huge win. Virgil didn't seem like the type of person to want to be caught holding hands with someone in public.

"So, uh," Roman started, throwing the door open. "This is my house." Virgil wandered in, gawking at everything.

"There's no way that's yours," Virgil smirked, pointing to a striped tie thrown across the stair railing. Roman silently cursed Logan, going to pick it up.

"What, you don't think I could rock a tie like this one?" He asked, tying it like a bandana across his forehead. Virgil laughed and pulled it off, tying it properly around Roman's neck.

"Well now that I see it on you, you definitely could, but I still don't think it's yours."

"You're right, it's not. It's my cousin Logan's," Roman explained. "Technically this is his house. I help him pay rent every month and he lets me live here with him. He's very big on ties, though he usually doesn't leave them hanging on the banisters." Roman undid the tie, throwing it back onto the railing, and led Virgil into the kitchen. "Do you want anything to eat or drink?"

"I'm good. I've still got my coffee," Virgil said, leaning against the counter as Roman looked through the fridge.

"You sure? 'Cause we've got. . . literally nothing left, I shouldn't have suggested coming here," Roman laughed to himself. Virgil smiled at Roman's back as he closed the fridge and turned around. "How 'bout I show you around, then?" He suggested.

"Sure," Virgil shrugged. "Lead the way."

Roman took Virgil's hand gently in his own and led him around the house. He showed him the living room, the family room, Logan's office, the dining room and the kitchen. He took him upstairs and showed him the bedrooms, the bathroom, and his own barely-used office, which was intended to be used for writing purposes but he preferred to write in his room. Virgil took great interest in the nearly barren office, flopping down in a wheeled chair and spinning around a few times.

"Why don't you use this room to write?" He asked, swinging his legs over one armrest and leaning back against the other.

"My room is just much more. . . comforting and familiar, I guess. It's more inspiring."

"Then why don't you change this room up? Repaint the walls, add some decorations, make it a bit more exciting?" Roman pondered the idea.

"Maybe one day. If I did, would you help me?" He asked.

"Sure. Just make sure you've got snacks by then," Virgil teased, kicking the desk to make his chair spin again. Roman grabbed the back of the chair, preventing it from spinning, and pulled Virgil out of the room.

"Wha- hey!" He complained, holding onto the back of the chair tightly out of fear of falling. Roman dragged the chair into his room, turning on the light and falling face-first onto his bed.

"It's more comfortable here," Roman explained, rolling onto his back so his voice wouldn't be as muffled. "I can't look at the plain white walls in the other room for too long without getting restless."

Roman watched Virgil look around the room curiously, wondering what he was thinking. He'd looked around his room many times, trying to figure out what needed to be changed. His bed was in the back left corner, a window right beside it. An identical window sat in the back right corner by his simple black desk where his laptop set. Various posters and drawings covered the red walls, not a single spot plain. A pansexual pride flag was stuck to the back of his door, displaying his unsilenceable pride and love. A variety of other things were strewn across the room, but his eyes skimmed over them, so he assumed Virgil's would too. Luckily, he hadn't been an idiot and had hidden any and all dirty clothing from view.

"So, what do you think?" He asked, feeling nervous for reasons he couldn't quite place.

"I think you're pretty cocky, bringing me to your room after our first date," Virgil smirked.

"So it was a date," Roman said, smiling.

"I mean- it was, right? I wasn't sure," Virgil asked awkwardly, half smiling.

"You just said it was, no take-backs!" Roman exclaimed with childish excitement.

"Well, I guess that settles it, then." Virgil leaned back a little farther in his chair, staring at the ceiling. Roman looked up too, curious to see what he was looking at, and remembered the glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling. He smiled at the ceiling, thinking to himself, when he heard a crash. Looking back down, he saw Virgil sitting in a heap on the floor, the chair on its side.

"Are you alright?" Roman asked, getting off his bed and helping Virgil back up.

"I no longer trust the chair," he groaned, flopping face-first onto Roman's bed and curling up by the edge. Roman smiled, sitting down cross-legged beside Virgil's head and stroking his hair gently.

"Aw, you poor baby," he crooned, unable to keep the laughter from his voice. "That must've hurt." He continued playing with Virgil's hair, getting a little startled when the small witch let out a soft purring noise.

"Did you just-"

"Shush."

The two sat in silence, Roman running his fingers through Virgil's purple locks and Virgil staying curled up in a ball. Virgil made the same purring noise and started to become smaller. . . and fluffier? Roman blinked, and a black cat was sitting in the spot where Virgil had just been, laying on his black and purple sweater.

"Virgil?" He asked, confused. The cat, which he assumed was Virgil, stretched itself out, getting up and sitting back down in Roman's lap. Roman looked at it for a moment, confused, before going back to petting it the same way he'd been playing with Virgil's hair.