The Tragedy of Roman and Virgil

Agony

Roman's POV:

"Why is Virgil acting so weird?" Patton asks.

"And why did he take the whole case of alcohol upstairs?" Logan asks.

I shrug. "I don't know. He usually doesn't drink. Though he told me that he remembered how wonderful he felt when he was drunk. So I figured that he just wanted to get drunk today. We shouldn't be too worried." Lies. I'm really worried. This isn't normal for him. And since he's anxiety, he hardly comes out of his comfort zone. Why would he drink four beers in practically one sitting? That's not good for you. Maybe I should talk to him. Yeah, I probably should. I'll talk to him after breakfast.

I finish my breakfast and go to wash the dishes, but Patton stops me. "Here. I got it." He gives me a big smile. "You go talk to Virgil."

I nod him a thank you and head upstairs, thoughts swirling around. Has being dead changed him? I figured it would, and I was scared that it would too much, but he's still his same old self. But now I'm starting to rethink that. Virgil never before would drink a lot of alcohol. It's so unsettling.

I knock on his door and say, "Virgil? It's me, Roman." I hear laughing and then a, "Come on in!" I open the door to find Virgil laughing on his floor, staring at his computer. First of all, he would usually be curled up on his bed. Second of all, he usually doesn't laugh and usually isn't very happy.

I sit next to him and ask, "What are you watching?"

"Llamas With Hats."

"That show is so disturbing!"

Virgil rolls his eyes. "That's the beauty of it."

"Hm hm hm."

"Well, you don't like dark humor. You're just...you're just weird."

I look over to see that three more beers are missing from a case. I look at Virgil and ask, "Are you drunk?"

He starts laughing uncontrollably and I figure that my answer is a yes. "IT FEELS SO GREAT!" he shouts.

"Hey, quiet down."

He gets up and starts to spin around like a ballerina. "WEEEEEEEEEEE!!!"

I get up and hug him, burying his face in my chest, trying to calm him down, but that doesn't do anything. He quickly pulls away from me and jumps up and down on his bed. I knew that people acted like idiots when they were drunk, but I didn't know they acted this stupid and irresponsible.

"Virgil, stop jumping on the bed!"

He flips me off and shouts, "NO!"

"Virgil, get down here right now and stop acting like a five year old!"

"MAKE ME!"

"Okay, that's it!" I jump on top of him and hold him down on the bed so he can't move. "Calm down, Virgil. Calm down."

"But I feel no anxiety this way."

I stare into his chocolate eyes and realize that he has no anxiety. He's not shaking, he's not stuttering, he's not overthinking. I kiss his forehead and say, "Just don't get drunk a lot, okay? I love you for who you are, anxiety and all."

He cuddles his face in my chest and mumbles, "I want to sleeeeeeeeeep."

"Then go to sleep."

He hangs on to me like a koala and quickly falls asleep, leaving  me to my thoughts.