TW/ minor self harm, implied/referenced suicidal thoughts.
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There was a party going on in Thomas' house, and even if was only Thomas and the other sides Virgil did not appreciate being forced to go. The only reason he went was because Prince promised to stay by his side the whole party, but there he was alone in the bathroom unable to sink down.
He slid down the door leading to the chaos and the noise outside, resting his head in his hands as he sighed before lifting his head, taking out his phone, and sending Roman another text, just like the twenty others he sent before that. He stood up when he received no answer, and walked over to the sink where he turned the tap on.
The refreshing feeling of cold water hitting his cupped hands calmed him down slightly, although it didn't last long because as soon as he looked up - into the mirror in front of him - he imagined Roman, standing there and smiling at him. But Roman wasn't there, Roman had ditched him for someone (or something) better than him.. someone that wasn't a loser.
He stayed at the sink, looking at his reflection for a little longer, before turning around. He was afraid he would see Roman again if he looked any longer. He didn't walk anywhere though, instead he sunk back to the floor and curled into a ball before rocking backwards and forwards.
Tears sprung to his eyes as he remembered everything he had done with Roman before he wiped them away and pushed himself from the floor. It wasn't his fault, Roman was the one that wanted to replace him with someone 'cooler' (and he couldn't blame him really, he wanted to replace himself). He started to angrily pace the length of the room, pulling frantically at his hair before letting out a silent sob as he heard the others drunkenly sing Whitney through the floor.
"I wanna dance with somebody~"
That only reminded him that Roman was gone, he couldn't make fun of them with anyone anymore. He was alone, he was just Virgil in the bathroom at a party. He stood still, stopping his pacing for a mere moment, as he cursed himself for drinking. He couldn't sink down now that he was intoxicated... but at least he could his in a small space away from others as he panicked silently.
He crawled over and into the bath, hugging himself as he felt a shiver run down his spine. His throat was clogged with unshed tears, his eyes red and puffy from when he had been crying just a few minutes before; he didn't care, he would wait for his face to dry or (more likely) blame it on something in his eye.
It's not like anyone would notice anyway, they didn't care enough to notice. He lay down in the bath as he let the tears slowly come, his head was pounding and he could faintly hear knocking coming from the other side of the bathroom. With every knock the pressure on his head got worse and worse, and he mentally cursed Roman (his 'friend') for leaving him alone - despite his anxiety - at a party. And he climbed out of the bathtub and started walking, in sync with the knocking at the door, until he reached the sink. He gripped the edges of it s tightly that his knuckles turned white.
The knocking turned the clanging as the pressure got worse and worse, until he couldn't take it anymore and he turned on the cold tap before once again splashing water over his face. The knocking stopped and the relief that the water gave him did not last long because soon the anxiety returned. His hands started trembling, his breathing uneven and his throat was once again clogged with barely restrained sobs.
He wished he had never agreed to come, that he hadn't trusted Prince to actually keep his word. He wished that it was a different time in his life, a time where he hadn't been left alone but when he looked back in the mirror it once again revealed that he was alone, and that Prince had replaced him.
Virgil stopped trying to hold back the tears then, he just let them flow down his face as ugly sobs tore his body apart. He once again found himself wishing he was anywhere else but that party.
He wished he was in the mindscape in his bed. He wished that he had had the courage to go through with his plan last week, or better yet, wished he had never been created in the first place.
Because he was Anxiety, so he must be the bad guy, he must the a loner and he must be a loser.
And he was alone, again just like before they all found him in his room last week after 'ducking out' (as he put it), and he had almost forgotten how painful the crippling loneliness was.
He punched the mirror in his anger, relishing in the feeling in of the shards of glass cutting into his skin from where it smashed. He wasn't that angry after that, it wasn't like he cared about what the others thought of him (he really did), it's not like they really knew him, they hadn't even known his name for a week.
(Yet he did care, far too much, so when tomorrow came and the others asked how the party was he would lie and smile and tell them that "It was awesome and I'm so glad I came!". They would never know about his panic attack, because it didn't matter in the grand scheme of things.)
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*casuall
I'm out of pre-written chapter btw so you should like,,, request stuff
