Parents (Prinxiety Fan-fiction)

Visit

>Virgil<

I woke up the next morning in a cold sweat. I looking around in a panic, then realized where I was. I was still in my room, in bed. I was fine - well, relatively fine. Reaching up with a shaky hand, I felt the bandages Roman had helped put over my broken nose. I swallowed hard. Roman. Right. Roman was fine - he left safely yesterday without my parents knowing he was there. He wasn't hurt. He wasn't dead. He was safe.

I threw the covers off of me and moved so that I was sitting on the edge of my bed instead of laying in it. I hugged myself, noticing that I was still shaking slightly. I wished Roman were still here with me. He would hug me and tell me everything was okay and know exactly how to calm me down. I smiled to myself, being reminded of yesterday. Roman had kissed me.

I focused on that happy thought as I tried to push the dream I had had last night to the back of my mind. We are both fine. I told myself as I changed out of my pajamas. Still. I couldn't shake this uneasy feeling that dreams sometimes give you. Whatever. I thought. You have bigger problems than nightmares, Virgil.

Ripped black jeans, dark purple shirt, hoodie. I looked at myself in the mirror. Horrible. I thought. But no one's really going to see me today anyway. I eyed the small wooden box that I had hidden all my make-up in. No. Not today. Too risky. I sighed. Like a little make-up can fix my ugly mug anyway. I could just hear Patton's protests to that now.

I hesitated, then walked over to the door to my room. Carefully, I unlocked it and opened it just enough so that I could peek out into the hallway. Nothing. I poked my head out. I could see the stairs from here. Still no one in sight. Hesitantly, I crept out into the hallway, careful as to not make much noise. I froze when I heard distant knocking.

I shuffled to the top of the stairs and looked down. The knocking was coming from downstairs - the front door. Who's visiting this early in the morning? I thought. My eyes widened as a possibility crossed my mind. No, no, no, no, no. Don't let it be Roman, or Patton, or - heck, even Logan - PlEaSe nO.

I scurried halfway down the stairs so that I could peer into the kitchen at the bottom without being too noticeable. My mom was seated at a table with a cup of coffee. She got up to answer the door as the knocking continued.

"Yeah, yeah . . ." she muttered under her breath, "Quit knocking, I'm coming!"

I felt my stomach twist with anxiety as I heard the door open, but the voice that proceeded to regard my mother did not belong to any of my friends. It sounded like an older woman. "Hello." the woman said.

"Hello." my mother replied shortly, "Can I help you?"

"Yes, I believe so. Does a young man named Virgil live here?" I was stunned at the mention of my name. What did this strange lady want with me? It didn't help my nervousness.

"Yes." my mother said hesitantly. I could picture her narrowing her eyes suspiciously, almost scornfully - an expression she often wore. "He's my son." I felt myself feeling oddly resentful at this remark. They may be my parents, but they're not my mom and dad.

"Could I see him?" the woman asked, "I'd like to talk to him."

"Why?" My mother asked, "What do you want with him? Who even are you?"

"Oh - I'm sorry! You see, I'm from social services." she paused, "We got a phone call and . . . where is your son right now?"

"Social services?" my mother's tone got nervous. "Why would . . .? Well, come inside. Virgil is sleeping up in his room."