Sanders Sides Whumpshots

"Pets don't get on the furniture, next time I'll lock you up" (Moxiety)

Thank you to Fifty_years_apart for the prompt, I hope you like it!
Tw: u!Patton, kinda u!Roman but it's not bad.

Virgil had just been sitting on the couch looking for something recently interesting to watch, like he usually did.

He'd gotten more comfortable spending alot of his spare time in the living room, instead of cramped up in his anxiety induced room, like the others wanted.

He didn't notice Patton enter the room.

Only when he was shoved off the couch.

"Ah! What was the for?" He asked, looking up at him in confusion.

"Pets don't belong on the furniture." He stated simply, picking up the remote and sitting in Virgils place.

Virgil looked at him in disbelief.

Pets?

Who the fuck did he think he was?!

"Patton I'm not a fucking pet. I understand you might not like me but this is just wei-" Virgil let out a yelp as Patton kicked him.

"If you don't want me to call you a pet, quit acting like an animal. Next time I'll lock you up." He said, finding a channel he liked and watching as if nothing had happened.

Virgil huddled into himself, trying to relive the aching pain in his gut.

"Why don't you go up to your room, Virgil." Patton said, acting as if Virgil was a disobedient child.

He stared at Patton for the third time, before huffing and storming up the stairs, making sure to slam his door.

Anger seered through Virgils veins.

How did he act like an animal? And who gave him the right to tell Virgil off like a child?!

Virgil paced around his room, trying to fight the urge to kick something.

Instead, he grabbed his headphones and turned the volume up all the way.

He would deal with this another time.

——————

A few weeks had passed by.

Virgil decided to spend those weeks locked up in his room.

They didn't want him on the furniture? Fine! He can stay in his room, it's not like he needed to come out!

Only.

He did need to come out.

Getting food at nighttime wasn't working out for him.

It did the first few times, but when he heard someone opening a door one time, he had scurried back to his room, not wanting to be confronted.

So, he mustered up all his courage one morning, deciding the hunger was too much to bear.

He opened his door as quietly as possible, checking the hallway twice before tip toeing down the stairs.

To his surprise and relief, there was no one down there.

He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and practically ran to the fridge, finding some left over pasta and heating it up.

Since no one was down here, he decided to sit on the couch.

His strike had been long enough. They must've forgotten what happened by now right?