Pieces of Us: Living in Parallel

Chapter 4 - Virgil

Summary: Virgil, a foster care leaver, has always been cursed with the magic of hearing others' thoughts. To save the long commute to work he decides to move to the city, finding a roommate advertisement that didn't seem too bad.

Virgil Dunninger never had a peaceful life. He could never remember quiet – not because he was in a big family or anything – more that there were always voices in his head. He could always tell what people were thinking.

And the thoughts weren't always positive. Virgil entered foster care at two years old and never left. He knew every teacher that reduced him to a 'cared-for-kid', every foster carer that viewed him as just a paycheck, and every sympathetic stranger that thought he was 'too well behaved to be in foster care'. Every thought echoed in his head and there was no way to block them.

"Virgil?" When Virgil was sixteen, he lived with a family in the outskirts of the city. He had been placed with them since seventh grade and they were quiet verbally - though they did think a lot. As soon as Virgil removed the headphones he heard the echo of 'why does he wear those things all the time? Is he listening to music?'. The mother (Virgil called the two older women he lived with his mothers; it was just easier) who opened the door smiled politely. "Maa and I are thinking of taking Priya to the pet store, do you want to come?"

"OK." 'I'm surprised' the voice in his head echoed. Virgil wasn't usually the type to leave his room. He followed his mom downstairs and hopped in the car, turning up his music when the talking started. The music continued until he reached the pet store, where it was relatively quiet, and Virgil could separate from his foster family to do his own window shopping. He wasn't planning on buying anything – he'll be leaving for independent life soon.

But then he noticed an even quieter part of the pet store. One cage, in the dark, with a giant 'WARNING: SPIDER' sign on top. The spider inside was small, fluffy and most of all quiet. Other animals were scurrying and squeaking while this spider was just slowly crawling, the legs stretching all directions. It made him feel so peaceful.

'Finally, someone isn't scared of that thing'. A tired pet store worker thought as they watched Virgil from the other side of the store. "Are you interested in spiders?" The worker eventually said as they approached. And sure, Virgil always liked the dark and macabre, so spiders were right down his alley – but he appreciated the quiet of this animal more than anything else.

"How much to buy them?" Virgil asked, ignoring the screaming echoes from the worker's thoughts that this 'creature' was finally getting out of the store. And that's how Virgil met and adopted Burton – the tarantula that became his only real family in this complicated world of growing up in foster care.

After high school Virgil officially grew out of the foster system. His foster moms were kind enough to host him for a few more years, even though he decided not to go to college. Instead of studying, Virgil got an advertising internship where he could stay home and work on video editing and graphic design.

Whenever Virgil had to go to the office though he hated every moment. He couldn't drive because he didn't like hearing his foster carers thinking about death every second while teaching him so he had to take the crowded train to the centre of the city. And everyone was thinking every second – anything from the next step of their journey to what they were having for dinner that night to what their partner was like in bed the night before. Even Virgil's noise cancelling headphones couldn't stop all the thoughts.

Virgil could remember a rainy day where the train was more crowded than usual. A rough-looking man got on, he had quite a few scratches on his hand. It would have panicked Virgil if he didn't hear the echo of: 'why did I think walking on mud was a good idea? And what was sharp enough to cut myself during the fall?'. It made him chuckle thinking of this six-foot biker guy falling face first into a pile of mud, so he paid attention to this man's thoughts to see if he had any other stories to tell.

'Oh, I can help that guy'. A thought came into Virgil's mind after a few stops, not his own. He looked around to try to track the thought. The only people in the carriage were the hurt man looking at his hands and two college students, about the same age as Virgil, in hoodies. The one in the red hoodie walked over and spoke in the same voice as the thought. "Oh, that looks bad. How did that happen?"

The interaction happened for a second. The hurt man told the story of him falling into mud, showing the cuts on his hands and laughing about it. The red hoodie man sat opposite and held onto the hurt hand; his face hidden by the hoodie but he was nodding. The college man's fingers traced the cuts gently. After the story was done the hoodie man stood and excused himself back to his friend, and just as the interaction ended the hurt man looked back at his cuts and thought: 'Wow, they don't look too bad now. Maybe I was over-reacting?'

Was someone else magic in this city? Someone else was like Virgil with unexplained magic powers, but they could use it rather than having it disturb them. It would be a little too weird for Virgil to walk up to a stranger and ask about magic, so he kept it to himself. But in the back of his mind he did wonder about moving to the city and finding the red-hoodie man again.

After a year Virgil decided to take the leap and looked for an apartment with roommates – as there was no way could he afford rent on his own. He found a place that was a short bus ride to his office and was advertised by a man called 'Roman Nightingale'. The man seemed normal and so did the other person who had already confirmed a room in the four-bedroom apartment, a junior researcher called Logan Mallett. And even better, Roman was fine with Virgil moving in straight away.

He prayed Roman was a himbo though. Himbos weren't the type to think, and Virgil was tired of all the thoughts running through his head.