Transcending Abnormality

"Without Roman?"

The first thing that Virgil heard was the footsteps.

It was completely dark, and the only sound encapsulating the room before then was his heavy, laboured breaths. He was alone again, Roman and Logan being in the other room. It left a lot of time for him to think.

He hadn't imagined that getting kidnapped would be like this.

He was cold and hungry, sure, his wrists burned with the friction of the rope rubbing up against them. But he wasn't all that scared. It was scary, yes, but Virgil wasn't scared. As far as they go, Mikey and Jones were okay captors. Apart from the whole 'not being able to see Roman and Logan much' thing.

Virgil was lying on his back, arms bound in front of him and neck craned backwards in order to regulate his breaths. His feet were flat on the ground so that his knees were bent in an almost-triangle, nudged close together by the rope around his ankles. The ground that he was on was dirty and disgusting.

He had no idea how long it had been at this point. He knew it had been at least a week, because his hair was greasy in the way it got after about a week of not showering, and his fingernails had grown to be sharp enough that he could dig them into his wrists when he got stressed and actually feel something. There was no sunlight at all in the room he was in, so any indicators of the time of day were also made completely redundant.

It felt like it had been ages since he'd even eaten, and his body was beginning to feel weak from it. In reality, he'd been given food a few hours ago, but the minimal amounts that he was granted upon each mealtime weren't adding up all that well.

The light was still off, but Virgil's eyes had adjusted really well to the darkness by now, so it wasn't really an issue as he stared at the door longing for someone, or something, or literally anything in the universe to come and pull him out. He really hoped that Logan and Roman were being taken care of at least.

Anyway, the footsteps.

Jones took the steps from the doorframe up to Virgil, squatting down so that his eyeline was still downcast towards the young man, looking below in a condescending manner.

"Good morning, pretty boy." He snarled, hooking his hand under Virgil's chin and pulling it up so that the man's whole neck and part of his shoulders were off the ground as he looked blearily towards the kidnapper.

A sound that virgil had intended to come out as more of a growl or grunt left his mouth as a whine, and he resented how pathetic he sounded.

"You're not looking all that great nowadays. If only you could go home." He taunted, dropping Virgil's chin so that he fell back down onto the ground.

"What I've come here to tell you is that your uncle has payed for your safety, so you can go." He said, and Virgil's eyes widened. He exhaled, far too exhausted to do anything else. Before he even knew it he had been picked up bridal-style, and was being carried somewhere that he couldn't see.

He found himself dropped down onto his knees in a new, larger room. It was probably double the size of the floorplan of the average house, and it only took him a second to notice that he had been put down next to Logan.

His friend didn't appear to be in a much better state. The left lens of his glasses was smashed, and his hair had definitely looked better. Logan was usually pretty muscular (he worked out before they ran away, thank you very much) but most of his muscle had dissipated from the days of not even getting to move less than five feet.

Virgil instantly collapsed his head on Logan's shoulder, not even making any further sounds. Logan looked down to the other and then around the room and back up at the kidnapper.