Dementophobia || Sanders Sides

3. Message

OwO

TW: swearing, stalking, talk of blood, talk of gore, talk of murder, anger,

________________________

Virgil had to mentally prepare himself to call out Roman's name. Maybe it was dumb, but something about him just set him on edge. It could've been the fact that he was quite literally stalking him, or maybe because no one else ever noticed.

He had tried to bring it up to Kayla once, to see what she thought of the man who came into the cafe every day and just sat there. Like everyone else, she didn't think anything of it. To her, Roman was a perfectly normal person who enjoyed sitting in a cafe for hours doing nothing and never getting a single drink.

It infuriated him how Roman could seem so perfectly normal, imbedded perfectly into the fabric of the city to look harmless. Maybe that was just Virgil's hatred for people who hid their intentions under false smiles and fluttering lashes. Call him a hypocrite all you'd like, but at least he didn't act like he cared about being friendly.

"Hot chocolate for Roman," Virgil called out, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. He at least had to keep up somewhat friendly appearances. If Roman were to go missing under completely normal circumstances that would definitely have nothing to do with him, he couldn't have witnesses that could say he was unhappy with him.

"Thank you," Roman said politely. His smile would ward off any suspicion immediately, and that alone was reason to add it to the list of things Virgil already hated about him.

"Don't thank me," Virgil deadpanned. "Just stop stalking me." Roman had the nerve to laugh. He was clearly amused, but Virgil was very much not amused. He was actually starting to wish he could just stab him out in the open. It would certainly make his life easier, but alas, that wasn't possible.

"Who's to say I'm stalking you?" He looked very pleased with himself, and Virgil wanted to slap the look off of his stupidly attractive face.

"Just go drink your hot chocolate," Virgil muttered. His hand was fidgeting by his side as he fought the annoyance that the other caused. He couldn't attract attention, not if he wanted to still be able to kill. A stalker was unwanted attention just waiting to happen.

For one thing, with the stalker following him he couldn't kill anyone. There would always be a witness so long as Roman was there, and he was there pretty damn often. And another thing, if he ever wanted to actually stop himself from being stalked he would have to get a court order. That alone would get far too many eyes to look his way.

Truthfully, he hadn't thought Roman would stop stalking him if he told him to stop. He was a stalker, after all, and stalkers typically wouldn't stop just because the person they were stalking was uncomfortable with it. If they did that, they wouldn't have been stalking in the first place.

It was worth a try, though. Virgil didn't like to get his hands dirty if it was someone connected to him somehow. Too many lines could be drawn. That didn't mean he wouldn't, though. Some people were just annoying enough to be an exception. Roman was one of those people.

He had tried to avoid bloodshed, though admittedly he could have tried harder. There was definitely a part of him that craved knowing how prettily the stalker would bleed, what shade his blood would be, and what paths it would take dripping down his body as he bled out from any number of deep gashes.

So maybe he hadn't tried very hard, but who could really blame him? Virgil had never been one to try and curb the urge to kill for longer than waiting until nightfall. The sound and sight of pain was always welcome to him.

The rest of his shift went by calmly, though the stalker never left the cafe. Virgil never had to deal with him again, and he was thanking whatever divine beings might be out there for that small blessing. If he had to hear that obnoxiously pretty stalker speak one more time he might just shove a blade into his throat with far too many witnesses around.

His mind was made up as he walked out of the cafe. He would give Roman one more chance to leave him alone, one last warning, and if that didn't do the trick, then surely that would justify watching his blood stain the streets.

764 words.