A Distorted Reflection | Virgil Sanders

ADR: _.|1|._: chapter one

TW: This whole story will have a lot of graphic depictions of anxiety and anxiety attacks. You have been warned.

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"I'm not always the bad guy" - Virgil

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"Because I was one of them."

It had been ringing in his head for the past two hours.

Virgil was curled up on the living room couch, his hoodie open while under a blanket he was frantically crocheting. His breath had continued to quicken and soften over the time he had spent making the blanket. Thomas' look of tired shock stung him like a wasp, over and over again. Would he think of him differently? Would Virgil be treated like the others?

He grabbed another roll of black yarn, hastily trying to tie a knot to slide the needle through. His shaky fingers fumbled, over and over he tried to tie and he failed. His breath staggered, making his hear rate climb. The sobs that he held in for hours were becoming the breaths he started to choke on. He angrily dropped the yarn, bringing his hands to his eyes as tears started to fall radically down his cheeks.

Virgil looked up through the blurred, marble-like vision brought by his tears, his nose becoming stifled and his face hot and sticky. He didn't want to wake Thomas up, that was the last thing he needed.

"Virgil?"

A soft voice came up through the floor, Virgil dropped under the blanket, his eyes closed tight, pretending to sleep.

Patton shivered at the sight of the curtains behind him. He then looked over to the couch to find Virgil lying silently, shaking.

"Oh kiddo," He whispered to himself. He walked over to the side on the couch, observing his movement. He sighed, looking down at Virgil's semi-still savasana.

"He shouldn't have shown up, you shouldn't be hurt like this," He said with a pleading tone.

"I'm sorry for making you worry." He whispered. Virgil's breath calmed as he pretended to sleep, the anxiety attack falling as his cries settled. Patton bent down, kissing Virgil's head and ruffling his hair.

"You never deserved what they did to you." Patton declared aloud.

"Love you kiddo, sleep tight." He said to the boy. He squeezed Virgil's shoulder one more time before going over to his corner by the blinds, staring at Virgil as he sinked down into the ground, silence regaining its control over the room.

Virgil turned on his back, facing the ceiling again with tears continuing to stain his vision.

How much he believed he deserved it.

"Oh come on Virgil, stop crying over what you can't control."

Virgil pushed a wave of darkness into the air, a low-hanging cloud of solitude, blocking out the snake from popping in. He heard a grunt overcome the air followed by a sigh.

"Very well, it's better than being in the presence of you believing you're worthless anyway." Deceit followed. Virgil rolled his eyes.

"Don't give me that look, we both know how you get after things like this, my little messenger sure revealed how much you truly have grown, didn't he?"

Silence. Protested silence.

"You do know that you're welcome back at any time Virgil, we don't have any intention of hurting Thomas, yet their perception leads him to be hurt. You know that. That's why you should do what you've wanted for a long time, home isn't so far away. You can't escape who you originally were."

Virgil continued to look into the cloud, pushing his energy into keeping the snake out of his room.

"Just know the truth, whether you believe it or not, it's all reality has to offer anyway." He said. With that the six arms stopped prying, disappearing back to where they came from. Virgil's own two arms fell back harshly against the couch, tried from the power.

He sat up urgently, making sure no one was there to accompany him in his mourning.

A storm had erupted in his chest, flaring in a swirling sensation of red and yellow, making his heart rattle with no sense of poco un poco in sight. The hot vomit he felt in his throat was fresh from the tears backed up in his fake slumber. His leg shook violently, the involuntary pain his release of guilt, karma puncturing him at all sides.

He hadn't meant to hurt Thomas, fight or flight was never predictable when it ran off of impulse to begin with. More unpredictable than the thoughts flying in o Remus' end, more demanding that Roman's pleas for his pride. Louder then Patton's cries, and stricter then Logan's wants. Virgil wanted to fly away and never return, but after he did that before, he knew it would only make matters worse.

He took the end of the yarn, fiddling with it to knot it once more, dropping it from how shaky his hands has become.

As soothing as Patton was, his voice rang almost as loudly as the words that came out of Virgil's mouth two hours before. He was sure he was supposed to feel relieved in the moment, but somehow, the pain outweighed the good. His freedom was no reward for what he had done. Self-imposed or not, the guilt trip was long and hard, and Virgil concluded that it was only beginning.

There was a sudden knock coming from the far wall.

Virgil deadpanned the stairwell, trying to find where the knocking came from. He stood up, dropping the blanket, needle, and yarn at his feet, stepping over it in order to make his away slowly across the room. He looked around, checking where each side rose from if they were to come in.

He was alone, alone and only isolated with himself.

Three more knocks made their way like gun shots into his ear drum, making him turn around abrevhensively in the direction towards the kitchen. He took a hesitant step forward, stopping in front of the mirror under the stairwell.

He found an odd scene on the other side.

He was there, his arms crossed in his old black hoodie, black shirt, and black baggy ripped jeans with older black hightops. With a lighter application of eyeshadow and pull black headphones around his neck, the boy in the mirror was soon the only vision of color in the mirror, his surroundings black and white as time froze behind him. He smirked at Virgil, winking.

"I never left Virgie," He said playfully. Virgil rolled his eyes.

"Am I really so sleep deprived that my reflection is using my old branding AND teasing me?" He asked to the other side.

"Only one way to find out..." The reflection sung. He crossed his arms, swaying side to side through the glass. Virgil rolled his eyes, scoffing.

"Can you not? I was in the middle of expressing my feelings in an isolating way so I won't worry anyone else while worrying them at the same time." He retorted. The reflection chuckled slyly.

"Maybe I have to? Because maybe, just maybe, you need to talk to someone right now." Anxiety said playfully through the mirror. Virgil glared at him as if he were serious.

"Why are you taking Logan's logic to heart? You never did that." He said with annoyance in his tone.

"We both know we found hope in him before Patton at the very beginning, so shut up you emo nightmare."

"At least I'm not as repressed as you, Jason Toddler."

"Stop using Roman's nicknames against me! Okay? They hurt, you remember how much they sting? Ouch!" He said through the glass. Virgil smirked.

"Oh, if only you stopped worrying about the world revolving around what sides thought of you sooner," He said, turning around.

"Wait!"

Virgil turned back to the mirror.

"You're not going to listen to any of them. You need this." Anxiety pleaded. Virgil looked around him, staring as his eyes made their way back to the couch. He sighed, looking back at Anxiety.

"I hate you," He said, pressing his hand agains the glass to find an entry way. He soon fell into the other world on top of his distorted reflection.

"I know, so do I."