Sanders Sides OneShots

Mute Au (Analogical)

Unedited

SOMETHING SOFT AND/OR CUDDLY MAY BE REQUIRED. (RECOMMENDED)

T.W. Attacks, self harm (blood mentioned), abuse, bullying, suicidal thoughts, negative thinking (self deprecation) is that it? Sorry if I missed any.

Virgil stared at his purple wall, who knew, something with so much pattern, could be so boring? Hours and hours of staring at the same spot, the same cluster of marks, the same colour, as the lighting changed, was boring. He'd been laying on his side, his mind reeling, heart racing, body shaking, and tears falling. He hadn't calmed down, whilst most of his attacks lasted maybe an hour, at most, that one had lasted all night. That one had reminded him of how worthless he was, and how pointless his existence was, how he took up too much space and too many resources. His eyes were red, and puffy, his heart beats shallow, and empty, his cheeks decorated with streaks from overflowing tears, and his head hurting from the lack of sleep, and the immense amount of crying. His wrists were a mess, and skin was lifted up, crescents in his arms, dried blood in said crescents, and trailed up and down his arm, some still wet, and glistening in the early morning sun. How he hated being him, how he hated his late nights, and his attacks, he hated the late night attacks even more. He hated the way his hair would stick up afterwards, and no amount of pain could ground him from his attacks, he hated how nothing seemed to work for him. He couldn't listen to music, it didn't drown out his thoughts, he couldn't write down his feelings, he couldn't read his writing, and he couldn't talk to anyone, not that he had anyone, but even if he did, he wouldn't want to be a burden, or a bother, he wouldn't want to wake them in the early hours of the morning, just so he could cry all over them, so he could unload his issues onto them. Even if he did have anyone, he'd never be able to get his words out, they'd get caught in his throat, muffled by a sob, his heart racing, breathing catching, and he'd never get the words out. He'd lay in a ball, and they'd never get through to him, he couldn't stand the idea of someone touching him, he'd just flinch away, and he'd rather deal with everything alone, rather than have someone feel pained because of his instincts and instabilities.

He, as soon as his alarm sounded, dragged himself out of bed, ready to face a new day. He padded along the hard wood floor of his room, and opened his closet doors silently, his goal was to not wake his mum or stepdad. Should he do so, he would be abused, his mum would probably cry and end up waking up his stepdad, which would result in him being punished, or, he would just wake up his arrogant ass of a stepfather and get abused because he "disturbed his sleep" not that he needed it, it did nothing for the man, he would just get even more agitated during the day. No sleep, and he'd be pissy, a bit of sleep but woken up, he'd be pissy. Enough sleep and he'd be pissy. There was no winning with him, he was just a pissy person, and Virgil had enough of him, his mum wouldn't even get rid of the guy, but what could Virgil do? It was his mums choice, and he had no say in the matter. He pulled out the clothing he had chosen to wear, and slipped it on, not even looking in his mirror as he changed.

Once his clothing was covering his sickly pale and thin body, he went to the bathroom and took care of his wrists, not that anyone would care, but he had to cover it all up anyway, not only were his wrists bad, but as he examined his face and neck, he noticed multiple bruises forming from the night prior, he saw a particularly bad one where fingers had been pressed slightly too tight around his neck, and he cringed, reaching for his concealer, after applying a heavy layer of foundation. He sighed, and he knew the bruise was still noticeable, but he didn't know what to do. After a while of staring at his sickeningly ugly reflection, he applied a little bit more foundation, added eyeshadow and mascara, just to add to the list of reasons why he was bullied, and left the bathroom. Despite needing mirrors, Virgil actively avoided them due to his self loathing. He couldn't stand to see his reflection, it was a miracle that the two mirrors he had access to daily weren't broken. He had one sat on his closet door, that he was convinced contorted his reflection, which made him hate himself even more. There was the one over the sink in his bathroom, the one that amplified his hollow cheeks, and how sunken his eyes were, how dark the bags under his eyes were, and how he'd never be good enough.