Also posted on Febuwhump 2023 but I was too proud of it to just have it there.
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The same pair of footsteps that the both of them dreaded yet yearned to see grew louder as they walked down the corridor, stopping when they reached the heavy door that concealed the two cores.
The key twisted and turned in the lock, sending creaks and cracks echoing throughout the small room before the door finally opened, the side with scales for a face waltzing inside.
The both of them froze up, chains rattling as they waited in anticipation for the snake's next move.
“Patton.” The icy voice spoke, slicing through the silence that had fallen upon the room.
A bruised face whipped to the side to stare at Patton, who did so back, the two exchanging a meaningful glance as thousands of words were spoken.
“Why him?” Virgil’s voice rang out, confusion clear in his voice as he readjusted how he was sitting, chains biting into his raw wrists.
A pair of mismatched eyes glaring at Virgil was enough for him to press his lips into a thin line, cutting off any further argument. They both knew he despised backtalk.
“Up.” Janus’ voice rang out, Patton immediately standing to his feet, eyes wide as he stared up at Janus, clinging onto his next words.
Janus bent down to unlock Patton's ankle from the chain that connected to the concrete wall, staying completely still as Janus stood up again, nodding at Patton to trudge out the door.
“Sir?” Virgil felt himself ask, the word pouring out of his mouth before he could stop himself, “why not me?” Virgil questioned, standing up, voice shaky as he feared Sir’s response.
Sir walked closer, gently caressing Virgil's face who melted into the touch, before it morphed into something unkind, “because we keep giving you too much attention. Attention that you do not deserve.” Sir hissed, nails digging into Virgil's skin blotched with bruises. Purples, blues and yellows painting his pretty face, as Sir said.
Sir let his face go, Virgil crumpling to the floor as Sir’s words stabbed into him, twisting the knife into the wound as Virgil let a sob out, aching for the praise he usually received.
“Come now Patton. You know who’s waiting for you.” Patton followed along, arms in their usual shackles that connected to his waist, prohibiting him from moving his arms out further than a few inches.
Virgil cried out when the door slammed, griping at his face, trying to remember the feeling of soft, gloved hands upon his skin as tears blurred his vision.
They told him he was different, he was special, yet Patton got taken instead.
Anger clawed at his insides before a familair part of him filled his stomach with guilt, a part of himself Virgil didn't cross paths with much nowadays.
This part of Virgil, a part buried down so deep now that even he had trouble accessing reminded him of what Virgil would usually be subjected to, now pinned onto Patton.
If not for them, how else would he have obtained the sickly amount of bruises that adorned his fragile frame?
A sob clawed it's way up from Virgil's throat, mourning the loss of Patton's presence, previous words repeating in Virgil's head, mocking his pathetic attempts to intervene.
Why not me?
Crumbling to the floor, Virgil gripped at his hair, cursing the part of himself that was buried deep down for a reason, for causing these gut wrenching feelings to resurface.
A shrill cry escaped Virgil, begging the old him to dissapear yet again, to let the good, new him fully take control, just like Sir wanted, because what use would he be if he wasn't up to Sir's standards?
As Virgil wept, his mind flickered old and fuzzy memories through his head. Memories of blurred faces and laughter, kind touches and family.
As the memories faded, so did the usually repressed part of himself, slowly curling in on itself as it buried itself beneath memories of almost foreign times.
When the memories faded, Virgil could breathe again.
When the memories faded, Virgil no longer had to think, and that was more of a blessing in itself than anything else.
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