Unstable || Prinxiety

Chapter 1

(Virgil's POV)
Song: Secrets - One Republic

Laughter reverberated through the bright halls, piercing the stillness of the morning breeze like a dart through still air. To some, the sound brought comfort - happiness even - but to Virgil, it served as nothing but an annoyance.

Eyes scanning the room for the source of the irritating noise, Virgil realised that it had been almost a year since he'd heard a child's laughter - they usually try to keep kids away from him.

'That's probably for the best,' Virgil thought meekly, continuing his slow, monotonous walking down the hall. He hoped to God that he didn't run into the kids in person. He must have spent the entire previous night pacing the hallways, so he was more than tired and by now just wanted to go to his room in peace. Meeting other people would just raise questions about what he was doing up so early, so he hoped that he could avoid the encounter.

Turning a corner, the laughter stopped abruptly, in it's place startled gasps. The kids, who's faces seemed familiar yet names he had forgotten, backed away in sudden haste. Their mood instantly dropped, and it seemed to Virgil that they were scared of something - someone - yet he was the only one in sight. You. They're scared of you. As quickly as this realisation hit him, he cursed, retreating to his room swiftly, his movements confident and practiced as he navigated the various turns in the hall.

After entering his room, Virgil immediately fled to his balcony overlooking the sea. He was proud of this view - he'd thought of it himself without any help from Roman. Virgil noticed his mirror first, left discarded on the balcony floor from the last time he'd used it. Picking it up with slim fingers, he inspected his appearance, and his eyes immediately drew to the bags under his eyes. That was nothing unusual, and he was sure that makeup would fix that.

Despite the many layers of clothing he had on, Virgil shuddered, his skin prickling over as icy shivers racked his entire body. It was the cold that made him feel most alive, and he tried to lose himself in the invigorating chill as he stared out to the early morning sky.

Suddenly, Virgil's phone vibrated in his back pocket, causing his heart to speed. It was time for breakfast, his least favourite activity in a typical day. It was bad enough to have to leave his room, let alone find somewhere to eat in privacy; somewhere where no one could judge him for sitting alone. But he was hungry, leaving him no choice.

And then Virgil was gone, plodding his way to the dining room as he thought of possible scenarios that could play out. Breathing hard and mind racing, Virgil pushed the door to the cafeteria open with a shaky hand, his anxiety - ironically- peaked.

He entered, and the reaction was instant. All chatter cut off, leaving choking silence the only thing left to fill the air. The silent lull quickly spread to urgent whispers, increasing in volume the more Virgil neared the centre of the room. As much as he tried to block out the whispers, he could not stop himself from hearing occasional words. 'What's The Drifter doing here?' 'Don't make eye contact,'

He walked past the table filled with other negative emotions - Anger, Bitterness, and Misery - who scowled at him threateningly, fearful that he would try to sit with them. He passed the kids' tables and was met with awed, yet fearful, silence. You see, Virgil was known as the person who never sleeped, never left his room, never spoke - never did anything really. He was there, but not really, hence his nickname "The Drifter." Most people didn't even know his real name, not that Virgil minded that, but he did, however, particularly loathe "The Drifter" The name made him feel like a freak, something he tried so hard not to be.

And then came that table. The table filled with the Upper sides. They were the sides that influenced Thomas the most - Patton, Roman and Logan. They were the best of the best; celebreities honoured by everyone. Technically, Virgil was meant to be there, being a fundamental influencer on Thomas's decision making, but no one thought about that. To others, Virgil was a nobody compared to them, and should be treated as such.

He felt their disapproving eyes on him, and hurried past swiftly. Not being able to help himself, Virgil spared a glance at Roman from the corner of his eyes. Virgil had caught himself looking at that emotion more than once; there was something about the man that drew him to Virgil. He loved his flamboyant persona, his captivating eyes, style - everything.

All too aware of Roman's eyes boring into his back, Virgil continued walking, ears and face red under the others' gaze. And then someone kicked their leg out from the table, colliding them with Virgil's, and then he was falling, colours and faces blurring into one indistinguishable mess. The fall went all too slow, leaving Virgil time to fully process what was happening, letting the embarrassment sink up.

He didn't even need to look to know that blood was seeping from skin that seconds ago was smooth. Caught between his fight or flight instinct, Virgil got up, hesitated, and backed away from Roman's table.

Distance being the only thing mattering, Virgil ran, his footsteps falling in pace with his rapidly beating heart. He fell on his bed, holding his head in hands, and sobbed uncontrollably. He had finally let go of his emotions, and he knew he'd never be able to hold them in. And when sleep finally came for him, it didn't offer comfort; it kept him trapped in a confusing whirl of his own sadness and emotions, more inescapable now than they ever were before...