How To Spot the Dimmer Stars

3am

Hi everyone, 

I'm publishing this after an allnighter and I haven't edited, so it is bad, warning for you all. 

Anyways I hope you are all doing well, thanks for reading :) 

-Logan 

TW: implied self harm, implied eating disorders, anxiety, nightmares (none in huge detail) 

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Virgil's POV:

Whoever invented mirrors, I hate you.

The only good part of the hospital was that they didn't have a mirror in the room.

Or they didn't after I punched it.

The point is, I never had to see my self, never had to see my body. I liked living in denial.

Unfortunately, now I'm sharing a room, I feel like destroying another mirror is probably not a good plan. Logan would certainly not appreciate it, and shattering furniture is not generally considered the best first-impression.

Which leads me to now.

I stare at my body, at each rib; I can count them with ease. I see every bone in my arms, every scar that litters my torso. It's horrible, it's ugly, I can't stop.

My face is tired looking. The bags under my eyes that are usually hidden with eyeshadow are darker than ever. My cheekbones are more prominent. I look hollow.

Nothing about this, nothing about me, looks good. I know this, I have for years, so why is this hitting hard again now?

"Virgil!"

A voice snaps me back into reality, and I quickly throw my hoodie on as I hear a knock on the door.

"We have dinner now," Thomas's voice calls through the wood. "Don't eat if you don't feel like it but you have to be there."

"I-I'm coming," I reply, noticing the way my voice sounds. Hollow, hopeless, broken.

"Okay, buddy."

I open the door when the sound of receding footsteps drifts over to me, and make my way down the stairs to the dining room. Three of the others are already there, the outgoing one, Patton I think, Remus and Janus. Patton is sitting on the other side from the other two, and they smile when they see me, gesturing for me to sit down. So far, they seem like a loveable puffball.

I don't wanna seem rude, so I shuffle to the chair next to them, sitting down unsurely.

"Hi again Virgil! I didn't really get to talk to you earlier, I'm Patton," they say sweetly, grinning the whole time. "It's really nice to meet you!"

"Yeah...same," I mutter, trying to return the smile through the anxiety. "Uh, how long have you been in here?"

They sigh slightly but brighten up almost immediately.

"I've been here for two months, but I was in another facility for about five months last year, and one before that, too. I'm seventeen," they said. "How old are you?"

"Fi-fifteen."

"Wow," Patton says, looking to the door as this boy, Roman I think, walks in proudly.

"Greetings fellow citizens, and you nerds!" he announced, voice booming. He took a seat next to the older sibling as Thomas brought a salad to the table.

"LOGAN!" Patton exclaimed, bounding up to hug him.

Logan fell back under the force, even though Patton had hugged him very gently, and I could see their face falling.

"Hey, kiddo, want a hand up?" Patton asked, extending their arm to the emaciated boy. Logan allowed himself to be pulled up, keeping his head down.

"Hey, Lo," Thomas said lightly. "Good job on coming down, bud."

Logan nods curtly, curled up slightly in his chair.

"Virgil, you are encouraged to eat, but we won't force you," the nurse says, smiling warmly at me.

I look at the salad, mentally adding the calories from the tomatoes and lettuce.

Don't. Don't do it. Come on, they restrict you in places like this. Don't do it, there's no way to get rid of it. You. Don't. Need. It.

Yeah... Don't need it.

Logan's the only other one not eating anything, even despite the reluctant expression on Roman's face.

"So, Virgil, do you wanna tell us more about you?" Thomas said, interrupting the random conversations around the room.

Everyone stares at me, their eyes probably judging. They'll hate you if you screw this up, they only just met you, don't mess up now...

"W-what do you wanna kn-know?" My voice comes out far more aggressive and defensive than I intended. 

"Virgil, there's no pressure to, it was just a suggestion, you don't have to," he quickly adds; maybe I got panicky again. Happens a lot.

"Ok, thanks."

There's nothing much to say anyway.

——

Logan:

"N-no stop!"

I sit up, reaching for my glasses and switching on my lamp. Virgil looks to be distressed; I can see the slightly blurry form of him thrashing in his bed, sheets becoming tangled.

"STOP!"

Sighing, I disentangle my tube and make my way to Virgil, as he will need optimal rest for the coming day, and because frankly, bad dreams are awful. Tapping him on the shoulder, I watch as he flinches in his sleep.

"Virgil, please wake up."

His eyes open and he looks around in a panic before seeing me and immediately beginning to apologise.

"VIrgil, I assure you, it is quite alright, it affected you far worse," I say, noticing he looks extremely nervous. "Please try and breathe with me."

We run through a breathing exercise a few times, and he starts to appear sleepy. Since it is only three in the morning, we say goodnight again and I return to my bed, shivering in the cold.

There is no point in attempting to rest further; from past experiences, I can conclude that, unfortunately, sleep is not a possibility after waking up. Instead of lying there, I reach for the tub on my bedside table, replacing the blue band with my grey one. I walk into the bathroom after locating my clothes, and lock the door. The person in the mirror stares back at me, and once again, I am overcome with a strong desire to crack it - looking at my own reflection is not often a pleasant thing to do. But as always, I turn away and try and ignore these icky emotions. Due to the weather, I layer my shirts and add my charcoal hoodie for extra warmth. Fashion isn't my biggest concern with my outfits anymore. 

idk how to finish this so we ending here... sorry

bai