Sanders Sides OneShots

Those Hardest To Love (Analogical)

This is part 98. WHAT?!?! How? Anyways...

Unedited

TW: Angst, Panic Attack, Mentions of Blood, and Suicidal Thoughts.
I think that's it.

"Those hardest to Love, Need it the most"

Virgil never thought he'd find the first line of a song that fit him so well. All these mushy romantic songs drove him up the wall, he didn't mind some of them, but they were too much sometimes. Especially right at that particular moment.

He had the same song on loop for hours now, and he wasn't anywhere near calming down. Why had he said those stupid things? He messed up and he was sure they hated him, especially Logan. There was no way any of them were going to react well to what he said.

Every time he thought he had got past it, he immediately thought about it again, and it haunted him. There was no way he could ever look Logan in the eye again. Not that Logan would want to, Logan probably hated him so much, and he had messed up.

Why did he even think about saying it in the first place? He knew Morality wouldn't care about what he said, since it was a common thing between the two of them, but it was never anything major, but since it wasn't Morality, it was LOGIC, of all the sides it had to be Logic, the one that made him forget what he was supposed to say, the one that gave him these strange feelings, and the one that he was actually able to listen to and who didn't insult him, who wasn't a parental figure to him, the one normal person, and he ended up messing up their entire relationship.

I love you.

Three words that are set up to destroy. Three words that if feelings are reciprocated, can make someone feel on top of the world. But if not, that world crashes and burns, which seems to be where Virgil had landed himself.

He saw their faces contort to one of horror and shock, he watched them look disappointed in him, and he hated himself, more so than normal.

So he left, they probably started laughing at him, they probably mocked him, making fun of how stupid he is.

His mind was reeling, heart pounding, breathing heavy, he couldn't see clearly, and he couldn't feel, his nails were on his wrist, trying to make him feel something, anything, but he was numb. His hair was a mess from running his hand through it too many times, from tugging it hard, his eyes were red and puffy from the constant flow of tears, that no matter how many times he wiped them away, they resurfaced, his eyeshadow was all over his face, making him look worse. His throat was closed up, he'd cried too long and he wouldn't be able to talk, not that he ever was during a panic attack, but this was worse, he could hardly breathe. His wrists were a bloodied mess, old blood and scars mixed with new ones, old wounds opened, and new ones created. His clothes were too tight, but he was too scared to take them off, if he did, he'd have more to look at, more to see, more to judge himself on, and he already had a lot. His teeth were clenched together, an attempt to keep the sobs that wracked his body to an almost inaudible level. He knees were up to his chest, he was so small, yet occupied too much space, he didn't deserve to be here, why was he here, he shouldn't be. His mind kept telling him what he did wrong, and he wanted it to stop, but he couldn't muffle the thoughts, the ones that told him how worthless he was, the ones that told him how bad he was. He knew somewhere deep inside, that he had caused a panic attack for his host, but he was too weak, too tired, to do anything about it, he couldn't hold the anxiety back from his host, not this time, he needed someone to be there for him, the way they were there for Thomas, but no one ever thought to check on Anxiety, because he's just the bad guy. The one that defies Logic, the one that stops hopes and dreams from being fulfilled, the one that has all the negative emotions that weigh down the heart. He was useless, he was the bad guy, and he didn't want to be.