Sanders Sides OneShots

Anxiety (Prinxiety)

user43356158

Unedited

TW: Anxiety attack, Blood, negative thoughts, anger (kind of)

Virgil had been working overtime for a while, and he was so stressed.

He hated it, he was constantly slipping in and out of attacks, and no one else seems to notice how on edge he was.

Except Roman.

He noticed how snippy Virgil had been, and how he seemed on edge.

He noticed how the dark bags under his eyes had become darker, and how he seemed about to break.

How whenever he spoke to Logan or Patton, or even Roman, he referred to them as their roles. Logic, Morality and Princey.

No more sarcastic remarks, no more creative nicknames, and no more fitting in.

He didn't know why Virgil was the way he was, although he had an idea.

Thomas had summoned the four sides to film a video, and Virgil stood in his normal spot, his posture slumped, and gaze cast down. He said nothing unless he was spoken to, and had very little input into the video.

"Virgil, what do you think of this?" Thomas asked.

"What?"

"Do you think Thomas should incorporate more fan art into his videos?" Logan filled him in.

"I was asking Thomas what he said, not you, Logic." Virgil snapped at Logan, and turned to Thomas, "I don't see why you want my opinion on this, I'm just anxiety, and I have nothing to do with the art your fans make."

"Why of course you do, Virgil. You get a say in the videos, which means you get to pick which ones are better, and which ones make it into the video, since you always want Thomas to do his best."

"But Morality, I have no input in the creative process, that's Princey's area. I shouldn't be a part of this."

And with that he sunk down, leaving 3 very confused sides, and an even more confused host.

"Thomas?"

"Yes, Logan?"

"Have you been stressed lately?"

"Well I guess, I was stressed for a while, I had to get a video out, and make sure it was good, as well as plan for this video, and making sure I was there for my friends. So I guess it is fair to say I was."

"Are you still stresses?" Roman asked.

"A little I suppose. Why?"

"I'll be right back."

Roman sunk down, to find the anxious trait, hoping he hadn't slipped into an attack in the meantime.

Virgil was in his room, pacing, why couldn't he keep these things under control, he was going to push himself away again, and they wouldn't like him. He was going to go right back to the beginning.

He felt his breathing become more labored and he felt hot tears stream down his face. His hand was tangled in his hair, tugging, trying to relieve himself of the internal, emotional pain. He couldn't calm down. His thoughts were too loud, and there were too many of them. He couldn't take it. He wanted to scream, and cry. But no noise would come out. His pacing became faster, until he couldn't move anymore, he fell to the ground, knees up to his chest, one hand in his hair, the other in his mouth, him biting his nails. He tried to stop, but the anxiety made it too much, he bit his finger, and accidentally drew blood, his hand fell out of his mouth, and the other fell out of his hair. Instinctively, his hand went to his wrist and he scratched it, hard, reopening some of the scars on his wrist, and creating some new ones. Sobs wracked his small frame, and he couldn't breathe.