A/N: I know I haven't posted in a LONG time, but HERE I AM!
A lot of my friends, family members, and myself deal with severe anxiety or even clinical anxiety disorders. After experiencing my first "full" panic attack a couple months ago, I've been toying with the idea of writing a fic like this. I took this is a little different direction than I originally intended, but I wanted to play with some different concepts as well.
Regarding the warnings, no one actually engages in self-harm. In psychology there is a something called the "imp of the perverse," which refers to when people sometimes have random horrible thoughts that they would never actually do. For example, when you're driving, and you suddenly think, "What if I just crashed into that tree? What would happen? What would it be like?" But you would never actually crash your car into a tree. Keep in mind that everything that happens is twisted by Virgil's perspective.
That said, please enjoy my interpretation of Virgil getting too deep in his mind, his room, and his darkest feelings!
Nonverbal
-{[(*)]}-
When people think of communicating, they usually think of talking, be it on their phone or on the internet. Communication is an expression of one's voice. People forget that they can express their voice just as clearly without ever saying a thing. After all, a picture is worth a thousand words...
-[]-
Though he "was significant enough to have a seat at the decision-making table," as Logan so kindly put it, Virgil was never one to delude himself with visions of grandeur. Logan himself was the facet of logic and rationality, Patton was the emotional element of morality and heart, and Princey was that, bleh, romantic burst of passion and creativity. Virgil... He was more of a feeling. He was Anxiety. While he was certainly more prevalent in Thomas than most people, he wasn't necessarily a "side" of the whole personality. He was an emotion.
As such, he played a bit of a different part than the others. He didn't have to be called on to appear, instead becoming apparent when Thomas was feeling anxious. His room didn't hold memories, or facts, or ideas, or any solid information that Thomas recalled. His "room" was filled with less substantial elements, things that brought on the typical feelings of anxiety, like the darkness, the spiders, the horror film props. And instead of being part of Thomas from the beginning, he was a feeling that had cropped up later in the young man's life. He was the added element to Thomas.
Being such a feeling meant he was different in some other ways too. While Logan acted like a purely factual character of clean lines and hard rules, he was capable of frustration, happiness, other emotions. And though Patton generally acted cheerful and as bright as a happy heart should, he too felt sadness, fear, and other feelings. Even Roman, who revolved around drama and romance, probably had the widest range of emotions, being able to doubt himself, go from brave to shy, and any other flavor of thought he so desired. Virgil... wasn't like that. Being the embodiment of anxiety, the only things he could really experience were negative emotions, mainly anxiety. He had a variety of "settings," all ranging from low to high, but they all centered on those same negative feelings.
The others weren't aware as far as he knew, and he'd like to keep it that way. The idea of hearing Patton crying about his "dark son" and having Logan trying to shove breathing techniques down his throat just made Virgil feel a kind of ickiness he didn't want to linger on. Not to mention how much he knew Roman would mock him for it, probably doing his best from that point to make Virgil's life as miserable as possible. So no, he felt completely compelled to never let the others know about his permanent state of discomfort and loneliness.
It wasn't important anyway.
-[]-
Except in moments like these, when it felt very important.
His room wasn't a scary place, and spending all his time there made him used to it, but sometimes the corners were a little too dark. The walls could get a little too tight, the webs too constricting, the air harder and harder to breathe-
It wasn't normally a major problem, but it was something he, as usual, did his best to avoid. There was a common room of sorts, where the Sides could hang out and interact. It could be beneficial to talk to each other outside a video, helping Roman come up with ideas, reminding Logan of something he forgot, or easing Patton through some powerful rush of emotion. But for Virgil... He just felt a constant flood of, well, anxiety.
Was he saying the right things? Was he talking too much? What if he was talking too little? Did he accidentally interrupt something? Why was the room so quiet? Why was it so loud? Was he allowed to eat, or was that too noisy? You know what, best to just not. Oh, but now Patton looked worried about him not eating enough. Maybe he could find a quiet snack? Oops, Princey's giving him a look like the Royal Pain might have called dibs on that- Okay, actually, he's just going back to his room.
That was what usually happened anyway, and every time it happened, he felt dumber and dumber until moments like now, when he decided going to the common area to escape his room just wasn't worth it. So what if looking up from his bed made him want to puke? Okay, and so maybe the room was shaking a little, but no big deal, right? And it would be perfectly fine for him to just stay here, curled into a tight little ball, until this whole thing passes or Thomas needs him again.
One of the two.
He tries to hum that song Thomas has stuck in his head, hoping the noise might pull him up a little, give him something to hold on to. His black comforter is like a hug from a snake, tight and unforgiving, but if he hums loud enough, he can start to imagine that there's a person here, wrapping their arms around him-
Except no, because that's stupid. Who would want to snuggle up to someone like Virgil? He's a mess. He's a dark and bitter storm cloud. A "creepy cookie." His humming sounds like pathetic keening, and really, even if the idea is sort of nice in a soft, not terrible way, he needs to just stop. He's hopeless. No one would ever even think to spend time with him, much less become close enough to give him hugs, or even a friendly pat on the shoulder, or...
And now he's come full circle. He got so anxious he managed to scold himself into a level of calmness. As it always does, the tidal wave of painful emotions and thoughts will come tumbling back later, but for now, he's managed to push them off. Maybe he can finally get up and do something productive with himself, despite having no talents and no positive qualities.
Virgil glanced around the room, wondering how long it had actually been. Sometimes he could get in a funk for days without even realizing it, trapped in his room with a constant stream of stress and worry flooding his body. He's exhausted from this round with his anxiety, and a distant part of him wondered how long it will take for the negative emotions to consume him completely and destroy any semblance of personality he once had.
He decided to leaves those thoughts for another day.
With a long, creaking sigh, the Side pushed himself up and mentally peeked in on Thomas. Virgil's anxiety had given him a slightly stressful week, but not any more noticeably than usual. He shrugged off any worry about affecting Thomas and wandered through his room to the common area. Perfectly, no one was around, and he was able to slip into the pantry for a small bag of chips. He carefully chose one that hadn't been opened or marked, not wanting to take something from someone who wanted it. From the pantry, he wandered to the couch and flipped on the tv. It was showing reruns of movies Thomas probably didn't even remember seeing.
Virgil managed to get through half of James and The Giant Peach before he heard the giant castle door to Roman's room making a grand opening. Not even thinking, he left the bag of chips on the couch and the tv on, darting to the hallway so he could hide before Roman saw him. His heart pounding and his breathing shaky, Virgil slowly looked around the corner. Roman was glancing around the room with a confused look on his face, but he ultimately shrugged and moved on, settling in to watch something else.
Virgil popped back into his room. He paced for a long, long moment. Why did he run from Roman? It wasn't like the other Side was going to yell at him for eating and enjoying a movie on the couch. He had literally no reason for darting up like that! Not to mention, he totally left a mess in the common area, which was super rude, and oh my gosh, he should just go back and apologize right now-
No! Because then Roman would know it was him, and then he would get all huffy about it, and he'd probably say something nasty like usual, about how Virgil's the villain-
But that was never really Roman's fault, was it? Because if Virgil didn't want to be the villain, then he shouldn't go around ruining Thomas's life, should he! He shouldn't stop Thomas from following his dreams, or taking risks, or following new paths in life. Just because they could have negative consequences doesn't mean he should completely ignore them...
Except yes, he totally should, because some consequences aren't just bad, sometimes they're the kind that can ruin your life. Virgil is helping Thomas, keeping him safe and making sure he dosen't ruin his future, social life, or friendships.
Except for when he doesn't! Except for when Virgil actually holds Thomas back from doing what he loves! That can ruin Thomas's life too, with regret. Who wants to live a boring life where they've never done anything? Definitely not Thomas!
Virgil latched onto the stair railing and ignored the way his entire body jittered and trembled. He needed to get himself together! This was ridiculous, and pathetic! Look at him! He can't even eat a bag of chips without screwing everything up and spiraling into a whirlwind of arguing with himself and doubting his own existence.
His knees started to weaken from the sheer force of his quivering fidgeting. He aggressively tapped on the stair in front of him as he sank to the ground, curling automatically into himself. His thick hoodie was a familiar weight on his back, but he suddenly felt himself itching for a shower. He felt dirty, in a way.
But even as he thought that, he couldn't find it in himself to get up, run the water, and strip down. Though his body was identical to Thomas's and the young man was growing to appreciate his appareance, Virgil hated seeing his body in the mirror. There was something about the pale, softness of his reflection that made him cringe and want to scratch at himself. And recently, it only seemed more and more obvious, evidenced by how greasy his hair was getting from refusing to get in the water.
There was something wrong with him, that much Virgil could tell. And he could see the signs of it getting worse and worse with every day. But he could feel himself sinking, and he didn't have any strength to pull himself up and out of this pit.
Soon, people would start to notice...
-{[(*)]}-
Virgil had been rummaging around in the cabinets for a while, guided by the light of the fridge. He didn't want to disturb any other sides by turning a light on, so it was a little difficult to see what he was aiming for, but he was used to darkness from being in his room a lot. While he could feel himself wanting something sweet and possibly comforting, he warred with himself about eating better and following the healthy choices Thomas wanted to pursue. Thomas wasn't physically affected by the sides, but mentally, they could cause him to slip and go right back to failing his New Year's resolutions.
Despite his protests, Virgil did want to see Thomas improving and moving forward. But he didn't want to see Thomas lie to himself and feel bad about it for months. New Year's resolutions could be a tricky business, and Virgil wanted as little emotional overtime as possible.
The noise that left his mouth was ungodly as Virgil screeched and jumped about a foot in the air when the kitchen light suddenly flipped on. He whipped around, holding a jar of creamy peanut butter in one hand and a box of cookies in the other. His heart leapt in his chest at the blank face his eyes found, until he realized who it was.
"Ah, good evening, Virgil," Logan intoned lowly. "I see you are looking for a late night snack, yet again." Was he judging Virgil? It was always so hard to tell, what with the large lack of emotion in his voice. "Based on your usual habits, might I suggest a light sandwich?"
Virgil nodded slowly, feeling pale. He stashed the cookies away once more, and reached for some bread. Logan moved across the kitchen behind him and set out Virgil's favorite jelly. Oh shoot, he was going out of his way, wasn't he? Was Virgil bugging him? Should he make his sandwich or should he leave? No, leaving would be suspicious at this point-
"I, too, experience insomnia on many evenings," Logan began. He was pushing through the drawer of yogurts, looking for a specific flavor. "While I am kept up by Thomas's sudden deep thoughts and plans for future events, I can deduce that your reasons are founded in more... emotional causes."
Spreading toppings across bread with a shaking butter knife, Virgil glanced over at the logical side. Logan didn't like things having to do with emotion, right? Was he frustrated with Virgil? Did he like him? Was he mad that Virgil couldn't work out his problems? Did he know?
"Because of his friends, Thomas has been doing research into subjects such as panic attacks, and methods that may help to ease them. Because of this research, I know this information and would be able to provide it, were it pertinent. Would some of these methods prove useful to you, Virgil?" Logan finally faced him again, holding a cup of yogurt and one of Patton's cutesy spoons.
Virgil's fingers were tapping again, and he couldn't seem to make them stop. He tried to hide it by scratching the back of his neck, but he could see Logan's quick eye tracking the trembling movement.
"I-I'm fine, really," Virgil said. "The whole anxiety thing's just a little heightened, ya know? The new projects, the new hair, the new scripts and characters and stuff. I don't like change, and I'm just figuring it out. No... No panic attacks here, dude." His heart stuttered with his voice, and he felt like Logan could see right through him, could know with certainty that Virgil was lying right to his face.
Quickly, he grabbed his newly made sandwich, mumbled a short, "Thanks for the suggestion," and darted back to his room. It wasn't the first time Logan had found him in the kitchen and had one of their late night talks. But it was the first time one of those talks were about Virgil and his feelings. They had talked about space, their videos, and probably literally every other subject. Virgil had started to think those conversations might be considered... nice. But there he went, starting to trust, only to have it crushed like he should have know it would be.
Virgil and his anxiety were a problem. And Logan was a problem-solver. It was inevitable that the logical personality would try to fix Virgil. He should never have thought Logan could see him as a friend, much less an equal. Virgil wasn't a real side, other than be a thorn in everyone's side. Even if he was trying to protect Thomas from various kinds of harm, he caused more problems than he solved, and an efficient, logical thinker like Logan would have to see that.
His sandwich was placed down on a piece of furniture, but his vision had already started to blur enough that he couldn't possibly care. His limbs were trembling, yet his chest felt impossibly still despite the clamoring, thundering of his heart. He could hear himself gasping for air, desperate whines hitting alongside his breaths. The tremors of his limbs grew into wild tapping, as he tried to drag himself back into the present. The stair well. The stairs. The carpet.
Tap. Tap. Tap tap tap.
Tap tap tap tap tap-
Virgil wheezed for a long moment, feeling sensations rush back overwhelmingly. Sight sharpening to the point of pain, sounds ringing violently, fabric scratching at his skin. He held his breath for some long seconds before finally releasing it. He gave himself time to just breathe.
Eventually he moved up into the bedroom, leaving his sandwich where it lie. He was too exhausted to be hungry, but he wouldn't be sleeping tonight.
-{[(*)]}-
Another stressful dream. Another restless night. Another period of staring up at the ceiling, contemplating philosophies so deep he was lost in them.
Anxiety came in many forms, and right now, Virgil was feeling that sort of blank anxiety, like the calm before the storm. Normally, he would try to escape his room before things could escalate, would go to the kitchen or the living room and just chill for a bit. But ever since his last talk with Logan, he had been much less motivated to get out of bed and troop downstairs.
Was he being stupid? Logan was just trying to make life better for Thomas, right? Did Logan judge him for leaving so quickly? Did he hurt Logan's feelings, or was Logan just even more convinced of Virgil's failures as a side?
Virgil sighed. He pushed himself up and shuffled over to the closet. Changing clothes made him feel slightly refreshed, in a way. Even though he changed from his sleep-ware into sweat clothes that were, essentially, also sleep-ware, he felt a little more secure, and just a little lighter. He closed the closet door and did a quiet sweep of the bedroom, making sure everything was in its place.
Wait...
Did Thomas remember to plug his phone in? What if he didn't? What if Thomas's phone didn't charge, and his alarm didn't go off, and he was late the next morning? What even were his plans tomorrow? What day was it?
Virgil patted his cheeks with slightly more force than may be necessary. Thomas was asleep, and worrying about this stuff would just cause him to lose even more sleep than usual and be unable to function properly when the morning did come. If Thomas's phone didn't charge, then Logic would come up with a solution.
Logan...
Virgil sat on the edge of his bed. He stared out into the darkness of his window. There wasn't anything outside. Roman probably had all kinds of fantastical scenery, and Patton probably had a really nice view of their street or something. But Virgil wasn't creative or sentimental or positive enough to create something outside his window. So it was just filled with eerie shadows that really didn't help him fall asleep. He kept his curtains shut tightly for a reason.
This might have been something he would have contemplated during a late night talk with Logan. But he couldn't have those anymore, could he? Logan was trying to fix him now, and if he didn't stay away, everyone would start to notice how different he was. They had tried to bring him into their group, but he would never really fit. He wasn't like them. Eventually, they would have to see that, and the thought... kind of terrified him.
What would he do without Logan's advice and calm demeanor? How could he keep going without Patton's jokes and constant care? Even if Roman insulted him sometimes, how could he enjoy life without the prince to spice things up and get him motivated? What if realizing he wasn't a real side made Thomas ignore him again or try to remove him?
Virgil felt a chill brush the back of his neck, and he scratched at it absentmindedly. How could he possibly protect them when they started to hate him again? There's no way he could handle that now, not after experiencing their warmth...
What would happen?
-{[(*)]}-
He pulled himself from his writing when he heard a knock on the door. He looked up and stared at the white wood, waiting for whoever it was to either speak or give up.
"Virgil? Bugga-boo?" Patton's voice was chipper as ever. "We're gonna put on a movie. You wanna join us? I'm making trail mix!" Virgil blinked, acknowledging to himself that Patton's trail mix was literally the best and was technically a healthy snack.
"Sure," he called, and his voice rumbled from disuse. "I'll be down in a sec." He cleared his throat a little. Did Patton hear how his voice cracked? Oh gosh, that's embarrassing-
"Alright, see you soon, kiddo!" Patton's footsteps moved away, and Virgil decided to finally move after hours of literary analysis and writing his own dark tale. Usually he preferred short stories, but it felt like it was a good time to challenge himself, since he wasn't leaving his room as much and had a lot of time to himself.
He stood, stretched, and made his way to the bathroom to smear on eyeliner. The bags under his eyes stood out a little much, so he hid them every time he stepped out. Since Christmas wasn't that long ago, he had a new, darker pencil to work with that he really loved. Princey was the only one who could create items that didn't already exist in the mind palace, so he had been the one to supply Virgil's makeup stash.
Virgil pulled the cap off and was about to start applying when he realized the tip was a little too stubby for it to work properly. It wasn't a big deal for him to sharpen the pencil, but then the tip broke off completely and jammed the razor inside the sharpener. He couldn't use the pencil to get the chunk free...
Not thinking too much about it, Virgil stuck his finger inside to knock the chip of eyeliner free from the blade. It was fairly inevitable that he diced his finger, and he jumped in surprise when it, inevitably, happened. He huffed and set the pencil sharpener aside, moving his hand to the sink to rinse off his finger, when suddenly, his mind just... caught.
The way the blood bubbled up on the tip of his finger, sliding down between the cracks and creases to dribble across his palm.
The way the razor, that imp of the perverse, seemed to call to him, suggesting all the things he knew people used them for-
"Oh, sh-" Virgil slammed him hand under the faucet and cranked the water as hot as it would go, dragging his head away from blurring, swirling vision. His chest heaved like he was running a marathon, and yet everything still seemed to feel so distant. He gasped when his hand started to burn; he yanked it away and shoved it into a towel. "Oh, god. Oh, god, what was I thinking- I can't- I can't do that! God, what would happen to Thomas- Oh my god-"
He shoved himself away from the bathroom and went into the part of his room that reflected the kitchen in Thomas's apartment. He put his hand under the cold water of the tap. He couldn't breathe, wasn't breathing, he needed to breathe-
The pain receded and his head cleared painfully again. He slumped slowly against the counter, slid down the cabinets, and sank into a crumpled heap on the floor. How could he think that? Thomas wasn't the kind of person who would do... do that! Where did that thought even come from? What if he actually hurt Thomas, what kind of monster was he-
"Pumpkin? It's been a little while and we're all set up. You ready to come down now?" Patton's happy voice sprang to life at the door once again. Virgil jumped about three feet in the air and swallowed painfully.
"No," he gritted out and found his voice was distorting again. "I'm staying up here. Go have fun."
"Virgil, are you feeling alright?" Patton sounded concerned, and the anxious side immediately felt bad for going back on what he said earlier and for making Patton care about a complete failure like him.
"I'm fine," he forced himself to say, but his eyes were bubbling up with tears, and he knew he was lying once again. Who could be fine when they thought the thing he thought? When had he become so twisted? He needed to get rid of anything like that asap, so he couldn't risk hurting Thomas even if he wanted to.
"Are you sure?" Patton's voice was quiet, a breath of a promise. He would offer help to Virgil quietly and not make a fuss about it. But Virgil knew that would put Patton in a really uncomfortable position. Who would possibly want to deal with his sick issues?
"GO AWAY, MORALITY," Virgil cried, and the first tear slipped past his lashes. He ducked into his hoodie, feeling sick to his stomach. He couldn't hurt Patton; he couldn't. Not with this. Not with something as messed up as this. God...
Patton's footsteps faded away, and even though Virgil told him to leave, he wished he'd stayed. His chest ached at the thought, and combined with the nausea, he suddenly wanted to lay down and never get up again. He let himself gasp out one desperate, heartbroken, embarrassing noise, before he pushed himself up once more and moved forward with hesitant footsteps.
He had to throw a lot of things away.
-[]-
More movie nights came and went, but Virgil only left his room during the short periods before videos, when Roman wanted to check everyone and make sure they were perfect. It wasn't a lot, but spending that time under Roman's attention helped fill the slowly growing void in his chest. He even stayed after videos sometimes, listening to Roman rant about new script ideas and bigger, better developments for the Sanders' Sides series.
Other than those times, Virgil hid away in his room, writing, reading, and trying literally any activity that might keep his mind from the worsening thoughts he was suddenly open to. He wanted to go out and interact with someone, feel warm again and maybe even smile a little. But he didn't want to bother anyone, and he definitely didn't want Logan trying to fix him or to face Patton after he was so rude.
They had to know something was wrong with him now. There was definitely something wrong, and someone needed to deal with it before he affected Thomas, but the thought... the thought of them hating him, rejecting and despising him once again... It hurt. The thought of them asking questions, getting past his skin and seeing the shrived, miserable, despicable thing underneath-
As long as he didn't disappear completely, Thomas would keep acting normally, and the other sides would never come to check on him. So even though all the good food was out there, and even though his room was like a constant weight on his everywhere, Virgil tucked himself away and decided not to let it get to that point. Even if he couldn't talk to Logan or Patton, he still had Roman, in a way. He could be fine hiding out in here, avoiding the inevitable.
God, everything was inevitable wasn't it.
-[]-
He was humming, something dark but still kind of fun. It wasn't a sad song necessarily. Humming wasn't really designed for sad things; it's hard to hum when you're really sad. It was just a kind of... darkly humorous song? He couldn't remember the real words, but he knew the tune was catchy and the subject matter was probably kind of inappropriate anyway.
He was tidying up his room, since he had finished every book he had, his sketchbook was full, and he was tired of sitting. Nothing felt right enough to write at the moment, but humming and cleaning felt perfect. Folding things up, sweeping up dust, restringing the cobwebs... He felt some control over his situation, returning some strength to his shaky limbs.
Everything was shaky nowadays.
Patton had been knocking on his door a little, lately. Virgil knew it was Patton, even though the other side never seemed to say anything. It made sense to Virgil for Patton to give up before talking to him; after all, Virgil was a rude mess last time they really spoke. Who would want to resolve things with someone like that? Virgil didn't deserve for Patton to knock at all.
Logan was staring at him every time he left his room. Even if he only came out for videos, he was still a noticeable problem. Logan trying to figure out how to solve him was a little much to handle, most of the time, so Virgil stuck by Princey's side.
Roman...
Roman had been saying things recently. When they were getting ready for videos, he couldn't seem to keep from mentioning how terrible Virgil looked. It's okay; Virgil knows he's not as charming as the creative side, and he's come to accept that. But he wished Roman would stop bringing it up; it made him feel sick and chilled when the other sides gave him that kind of attention, the kind he didn't know what to do with. He looked bad, and he was bad, and he was trying, he really was, and he knew it wasn't enough, but please, could they just...
Just...
Just what? Leave it be? Accept him? Act liked they cared and his flaws didn't matter?
How could they ever do that, for some thing like him? Not a side, not a personality trait, not even a real emotion-! How could they ever leave him alone? How could they ever accept how he hurt Thomas as much or more than he helped? How could they ever care about him, other than to care about the problems he caused?
His humming took on a new, wobbly pitch. Less than a song, the noise was rhythmic, panicked whining. He tapped his fingers on the edge of the sock drawer, counting the number of pairs. His vision seemed to glaze over the edges, making it much harder than it should have been.
Um, one. One.
And then... there was... two-
God, he's such a failure
Was that three or four? No, it was, it should have been three-
He couldn't even count now-!
"Anxiety?" Thomas's voice dragged him forward, and he found himself shifting from the bedroom in his "room" to the living room in Thomas's apartment. "What's up, buddy?"
"What..." Virgil clutched at his hoodie sleeves, subtly digging his arms into his stomach- God, he couldn't breathe again! "What are you talking about?"
"It's just..." Thomas sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. His eyes were downcast, and Virgil had a very bad feeling he knew what was coming next. "I've been getting a lot of random... spikes, from you. I was wondering if there was a reason? Or am I just more stressed than usual?"
"I don't..." Virgil started to say and found his voice fading into a weak hiss. He couldn't think now... What did he need to say? What could he say?
"I mean, is there anything specific I can do to help," Thomas gave him those pleading eyes, and Virgil hid behind his bangs as tears started welling up once more. "I can call the other sides in here-"
"No!" Virgil panicked. "You can't do that! You can't- I can't— They... They can't..." He whimpered.
"Virgil?!" Thomas reached for him, sounding more stressed than he ever possibly should. The anxious side flinched full-body backwards and threw himself, shuddering, back into his room before he could make more of a mess. God, what a failure-
"Virgil! Virgil, are you okay?" Patton was suddenly banging on the door, and everything abruptly felt hysterical. Not in a funny, hilarious way. In a jittery, I-feel-like-I'm-having-a-heartattack way. Virgil stumbled his way to the corner behind the couch and just.. kind of curled up in a miserable ball. Why did he ever think this could work? Why did he think he could work? Why did he even try-?
"Virgil, sweetheart, I'm coming in. Normally I respect your privacy, but I need to make sure you're okay." Patton stepped in, joined by other pairs of footsteps. "Virgil? Where are you, my tiny bun?"
Virgil choked a little at the nickname, overwhelmed by far too many kinds of emotions. What was he even feeling anymore...?
"He is here, behind the couch," Logic stated, his voice quiet. Virgil hid his face in his hoodie sleeves. If he couldn't see them, then they couldn't see him, right?
"Higglety pigglety, Virgil," Roman breathed. He couched down beside the trembling side, but made no moves to touch him.
"Aw, my lil' dark baby," Patton cooed sadly. He settled close enough to Virgil to offer warmth but not actually startle him with physical contact.
"Virgil, please focus on your immediate surroundings. Whatever you are experiencing in your head is tricking you. What can you see? What can you hear?" Logan instructed. Virgil played the "Numbers Game" silently, counting down from five using his senses and the things around them. When his wheezing calmed to sniffles, Patton gently wrapped an arm around his shoulders and tugged him close.
"Are you alright, Virgil?" Roman fretted. He summoned a blanket and a small, warm object. Virgil was pleased with the blanket and shocked by the effect holding the object had on him. He felt sensation returning to his limbs in a kinder way than usual, breathing life into him instead of jarring him back into reality.
"I'm- sor... sorry," he fumbled and felt stupid again.
"What do you think you're sorry for, kiddo? You don't really have anything to apologize for from us," Patton ran his fingers through Virgil's bangs, pushing them away from his eyes. Virgil didn't know what to say and kept silent.
But his eyes drifted to Logan's.
And he knew he was caught.
"Oh..." Logan blinked. "Oh, Virgil. What I said the other night was never meant to hurt you. I'm sorry if I didn't convey my intentions properly. I merely wanted to offer some assistance, because I enjoy your company. Just as Thomas wanted to learn those techniques for his friends, I pushed myself into the research because I knew it would be beneficial to you. I should have realized what effect the construction of my proposal would have."
"You..." Virgil swallowed slowly. "You couldn't have... known I would freak out. You shouldn't have to worry about how you say stuff. If you offered help to anyone else it wouldn't have... been a problem."
"You," Logan's eyes narrowed, "are not a problem." He couched down, adjusting his slacks as he went. "You are representative of an important part of Thomas. He would not be the person we love without you, and he would not be safe and happy without you." Virgil shook his head, but Patton gently guided his chin so they were looking at each other.
"Kiddo, I may not know what's going through your head, but I know you. You are very special and very important to us. Logan isn't the only one who wants you to have an easy time and be happy," the fatherly side spoke with the kind of assurance that sent Virgil's head shaking once again. Somehow, despite all this, they still didn't know.
"What is going through your head, Virgil?" Roman asked, taking his hand carefully. Virgil stared at their touching palms and felt weak.
"Don't make me say it," he begged, hoping he wouldn't cry for real this time.
"Say what?"
"I'm not... I'm not like you." The only reason the words were heard was because the room was dead silent and Virgil had all of the sides' attention.
"Not like us how?" Logan inquired.
"I'm... I'm just... Just anxiety," Virgil whispered. Roman's fingers linked with his, and he was caught between wanted to pull away and wanting to lean closer into the warmth.
"Yes, well, you are Thomas's anxiety," Logan sounded confused, and Virgil was shaking his head again.
"I'm just anxiety," he breathed, and his darkest secret was pulled unwittingly out into the light. "I'm not a real side. I'm just this feeling. This sick, never happy feeling. I'm not like you; I don't have anything else but being being anxious and panicked all the time-"
"Falsehood." Logan's blank eyes were tinged with the strongest emotion one could experience. Anger.
"You're not just anxiety, sweetheart," Patton clutched at him, soothing Virgil every way he could think of. Fingers through his hair, rubbing the back of his hand, straightening his clothes. "You have just as much personality as the rest of us! You're sarcastic, and witty, and very sweet. You have goals, things you like and dislike, hobbies. You experience other feelings than anxiety. Maybe not as strongly, but look at Logan! Even he has feelings, and his side is meant to be pure logic. We're created to represent things, but we aren't those things, at least not fully."
"Before any of us gained a form, I was with Thomas, helping him think of all the great ideas to put us together," Roman pitched in. "Patton isn't only emotional. He's innocent and chatty and funny. Logan isn't only logical. He loves to teach us new things and he struggles with his anger. Even me! I'm not purely creative. I'm passionate! I'm a prince! I sing and I can be ditzy sometimes and I fight for Thomas's goals!"
"But-" Anxiety's eyebrows twisted together, confused and a little lost.
"Thomas had ideas for your character too. He wanted you to represent his anxious thoughts and feelings, yes. But he wanted you to be protective and darkly charming and as moody as a teenager. He wanted you to have multiple dimensions, to show that side of him rather than represent a caricature villain to defeat! You, Virgil, are no lifeless dragon-witch," Roman pointed at him with a stern finger.
"Then why do I feel this way! Why am I never happy?" Virgil demanded, and the tears were slipping, despite the warmth that had flooded his body so completely he almost couldn't think.
"Are you never happy?" Patton questioned with no small amount of concern.
"Absolute statements like that are another form of negative thinking that can hinder you from seeing the truth. Hiding in your room like this, you've started to convince yourself you are less than a person. I am sure you can recall instances of happiness," Logan declared, though it almost sounded like he had barked it out. Virgil could see he was starting to get riled up and felt bad again. Patton's light touch on his knee drew his attention back to the conversation.
Immediately, Virgil recalled the card the other side had given him when he had finally been accepted. Those few tears he had shed rapidly multiplied when he remembered how overwhelmed he had been to not only be called part of the family, but that they loved him. How could he have forgotten that happened? How could he forget the card, still sitting on his nightstand?
He hiccuped and lunged forward, hugging Patton with all the strength he had in him. Did he really convince himself he was not a side? How could it have possibly gotten so bad? When did it start? Had something caused it? Could it happen again? What if he was such a failure it started to happen again-
Roman's hand squeezed his, and Virgil knew exactly what happened. He let himself lose touch. Instead of focusing on Thomas and what Thomas and the others needed from him, he let himself slip into his mind and his room, knowing how badly it affected the others. How could he ever think it wouldn't affect him?
Logan rested a hand on his shoulder, and Virgil knew. He knew now.
He wasn't going to hide anymore.
-{[(*)]}-
"Are you alright?" Thomas asked him, off to the side. It was the prep time before another video, and it was the first time Thomas had seen him since his panic attack two days ago.
"Not 100%, but I'm getting better," Virgil offered a tired smile.
"I haven't been having those spikes anymore. Everything's worked out between you and the other sides, right? I can tell them to knock it off if they've been jerks to you," Thomas offered.
"No... This... This was my issue," Virgil scratched the back of his neck. "You probably know I experience my own anxiety. You don't feel it all the time, but it got... a little intense recently. The others have talked to me, and they're helping me out a lot."
"That's good. I'm glad they're taking care of you. Feel better, okay, buddy?" Thomas gave him a quick hug and Virgil nodded quickly, feeling embarrassed yet again.
"Virgil! Kiddo! I want a hug too!" Patton cried.
"Well, then I want a hug, also," Roman crossed his arms. "Don't leave me out."
"A hug would be... satisfactory."
Virgil laughed, shocked by the noise and completely, helplessly unable to stop.
-{([_-*-_])}-
A/N: Thank you for taking the time to read this! It sucks that there isn't an official section for Sanders' Sides fics, yet. If that changes in the future, I'll be sure to move this.
QUESTION OF THE UPDATE: What's your least favorite room in your house and why? Currently, my least favorite room is my parents' bedroom. They have a giant mirror that always looks like a demon is staring out at you, if you're standing near the doorway, and the toilet in their bathroom decided to burst about a month ago and our house flooded. But hey, we're getting awesome new flooring!
I'd also leave a quick thanks to Thomas Sanders himself, who is a real inspiration for my friends and family. My mom loves Virgil and how she can relate to him, and my friends can always use the Sides as a way to explain their feelings when they get all tangled up. Even my friend who's basically a robot relates to Logan and enjoys acting like the cat-herder for the rest of us.
So, THANK YOU, THOMAS, FOR BEING SUCH A POSITIVE LIGHT AND WONDERFUL PERSON!