Despite what anyone might have thought of Virell, he wasn’t as aloof or airheaded as he liked to pretend. Which wasn’t to say he wasn’t both of those things, just that sometimes he knew when to play it up.

He didn’t like the idea that someone could know what he was thinking or consider him predictable, and he worked very hard to build a persona that he could consider attractive. Most of his life had been a competition for attention; he’d been born with a pretty face but arguably there wasn’t much more to him than that. He’d always had trouble reading, he couldn’t stay focused for long, and he didn’t know how to do important things like general house repair.

What he did know how to do was suck up to people who knew how to do those things and lure them into helping him.

Was it deceitful? Possibly, but at the end of the day, didn’t everyone get what they wanted?

There was only so much Virell could offer, and most people didn’t want makeup tips or a new hairstyle.

He was good at math—very good at math, he thought—but he had to keep that part of his life separate. Air headed models weren’t in the process of getting their master’s degree in mathematics, or taking classes for engineering and programming.

He liked people to think he was simple because no one looked too hard at who you were if they thought you were simple, and that meant no one went digging around in his personal life. There were things he’d kept from Nick, partly because they hadn’t come and partly because he’d made sure they hadn’t come up. He liked to hear what was going on with Nick, liked to hear everything that was going on in his life.

Sometimes, he talked about how a job was going, or some new products he was using, but he kept it simple because simple was easy. People liked simple, so Virell worked hard to be simple.

He avoided questions about family, about school, about plans for the future. He always had an escape topic or a distraction ready.

Which is why he’d only told one person about this project he was working on. Carlee was just about the best friend a person like him could have; she was sweet and enthusiastic and encouraging, (probably) capable of keeping a secret, and didn’t have it in her heart to judge him for all the things he judged himself for. He’d been on his computer for four hours tonight and his eyes were burning; after a job this morning, classes this afternoon, powering up this evening, and this, he was so ready to head to bed.

But he was so close.

He’d found a broken code the last time he was working on it and after the recent run ins he’d had, he realized how important it probably was to get this thing up. If not for everyone else, at least for him. The broken code had been fixed within half an hour but, convinced that things were never that easy, he’d spent the past few hours testing things and creating a few more generic, fake profiles to try and better flesh out the system. So far, everything looked like it was working and, for the first time since he’d started this project, he felt like maybe it was ready.

Carlee had tried it out a few times and given him positive feedback on it; he didn’t know many more Senshi to demo the program and it seemed slightly counterproductive to go out and look for them when the idea was to make it easier to connect with them.

He hunched forward a little more, squinting and the bright light in his dark room. Everything was starting to look the same and he knew he should be done with this, but he needed this to be perfect before he showed it to anyone.

A Mauvian, probably. They were supposed to be smart, and tech savvy, but he wasn’t at the same level of skill as they were and of course, that would open up the door to all sorts of criticism, wouldn’t it?

He chewed on his lip and rolled over the scenarios in his head. He didn’t want to look stupid—not if it wasn’t on purpose. This was something he’d really tried to do well on, something he cared about and put his all into. If he messed this up, if it didn’t work? Well what was the point? Then he’d have wasted all that time, had a failed project, and made himself look stupid.

They wouldn’t take him seriously if all he did was try and fail.

With a sigh, he had to force the laptop closed. It was easy to focus on the bad things, easy to try and talk himself out of this. He’d been so passionate about all of it, up until this point. Up until the point it mattered, and someone could get hurt.

Which wasn’t unlike the other parts of his life. Relationships were the same way; throw everything he could into the relationship until it started to get too serious and then pull back. One night stands were great for immediately companionship without the risk of getting hurt, but sometimes you wanted to remember the name of the person you were waking up next to. Sometimes you wanted the playful texts and the feel good talks.

Sometimes you wanted the interactions to mean something.

Virell was laying on the floor, staring up at the ceiling of a dark room when he realized just how badly he’d fallen for Nick. He felt butterflies in his stomach and placed a hand to it, groaning as he rolled over.

So stupid, he’d chastised himself. Nick loved him, of course, but there were all sorts of love. You could love a friend, you could love a stuffed animal, you could love a shirt, you could love a bagel.

At the very least, Virell loved the idea of Nick. A strong, supportive, charming, talented guy who was easy to please and who fawned over you? Someone who could surprise you and make you feel comfortable and wanted? For more than just looks, at least. Even if Nick didn’t really know him.

Virell’s face was smushed into a pillow in what he assumed was a terrible unattractive way; he couldn’t stay laying on the floor for very long but he had to process one more thought before he could get up.

Maybe he’d try to let Nick know him. The real him, all of him—even the lame parts.

If this project was successful; he couldn’t handle making a fool of himself twice.

He needed to find a cat, fast, and get this over with.