Virgil/Logan | Sanders Sides [One-Shots]

[192] - Maybe There's Hope

Warnings: anxiety, anxiety attack, mentions nausea, mentions dizzyness, virgil drops a glass, logan is helpful, vigil is anxious and sad and a mess in general

Set before accepting anxiety

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Virgil held his phone in a tight grip, staring at the youtube video without really seeing or hearing what was going on, long since having abandoned any and all attempts to control his breathing.

One would think that since he was the embodiment of anxiety he would have learned to take control over his own attacks by now, pull himself out of them, but no.

Sure, he knew several grounding techniques, he had a long list of distractions that were supposed to help, he owned at least five fidget toys, one that he was currently holding in his other hand, clicking on one of the buttons frantically.

He shouldn't have let it go this far, he shouldn't have let everything affect him this much, but here he was, breathing erratic, his chest aching painfully, nausea threatening to overtake him and make things even worse.

This was so pathetic, he was so pathetic. That had been a recurring thought in his head all day, having woken up and immediately realized today was going to absolutely suck. (And he'd been right.)

Virgil struggled for air and tried to focus on the screen again, but no matter how much he usually loved this person's videos it just wasn't working right now, noises felt far away and his eyes made everything blurred with tears, his hands were shaking, making it impossible to even read the subtitles. Virgil dropped his phone to the bed, it wasn't helping him anyways.

He was so exhausted, all day he had been on edge, every little thing making him irrationally tense. Which, of-fucking-course, had led to Virgil, after miraculously surviving the day, crumble to his anxieties once he was alone in his room and trying to sleep.

(Really, why had he even tried to make himself comfortable enough to sleep, everything always got worse in the dark and the quiet. He should have known better, should have known his mind would be driving him to the point of an anxiety attack, should have just given up before trying and settled to watch some stupid tv show all night to distract himself before it got this bad.)

Virgil barely registered how he uncurled himself from his balled up position he'd held for god knows how long, but his legs ached, not as bad as his chest, as he walked towards the door, the nausea and a sudden dizziness making him have to pause in his doorway for a moment before he continued.

No one else would be up, it was late, far too late, and Virgil didn't really know what he was doing or why but he had to get out of his dark room that always seemed to only amplify his anxious thoughts, and why not get himself a glass of water.

Either he would get something to drink which might eventually ease the throbbing pain in his head, or he would choke on the water and die, but at least then he'd be rid of his anxiety attack. Can't be anxious when you're dead, right?

Eventually he found himself sitting on the kitchen floor, glass of water in his shaking hands as he stared out into the dark of the room and didn't even attempt to drink even a drop. As soon as he actually had that glass of water in his sight he thought that just putting it to his lips would intensify his nausea just a little too much.

God, he really was stupid, letting small things affect him like this, letting the fact that the light sides hated him so much affect him like this. He didn't even like them, and they certainly didn't like him, it shouldn't matter.

But the fact was that Virgil was just so stupidly, terribly alone. He didn't have a place with the dark sides and the light sides must hate him and maybe this was just the way it was supposed to be, he was anxiety, did he really expect anyone to be able to stand him? Even he couldn't handle himself. But... he wished at least Thomas could see that he was just trying to keep him safe.