The Tragedy of Roman and Virgil

Are You Okay?

Roman's POV:

It's been a week and Virgil has been acting different. All he does is lock himself in his room and talk to no one. It's starting to piss me off. I've knocked on his door and tried to talk to him, but he never answers. At this point, I'm going to break open his door and demand to know what he's been up to and why he's been ignoring everybody. Actually, you wanna know what? I'm going to go barge into his room and ask him why he's been isolating himself from everyone and why he's been being a dickhead.

I go over to his room and knock on his black door. "Virgil? I need to talk to you!" No answers. "Virgil! I will break down this door and come into your room forcefully if you don't open it right now!" Still no answers. "That's it! I'm coming in!" I backup and quickly run into his door, knocking it down and landing on his floor. I quickly get back up and look around his room.

It's pitch black. I don't see him anywhere. Where is he? I turn on the lights and look around. I check underneath his covers and look around, but I don't see him anywhere. Then I turn around and see two feet hanging out of the bathroom, the door pushing his legs onto the wall. I open the door to see him laying face first on the floor, his head in a pool of alcohol and a broken bottle next to him.

I pick him up and place him on his bed, wrapping him up in covers. I pick up the broken bottle and the spilt alcohol, throwing it all away in the trash. Why would Virgil do something like this? Drink until he passed out? Is he an alcoholic now? God, that would be bad. I don't him to hurt himself even more than he already does. All I want to do is protect him, but it's hard to protect him when he keeps on hurting himself. I've tried taking away his blades, but he got them back and kept on using them. I've tried to make him eat, but by his frail body, I can tell that he hasn't. I feel like everything I do to help him backfires on me. Am I not good enough for him? I don't know. Maybe I'm overthinking all of this, but I don't know. I don't know anything.

I lay down next to Virgil and hold him in my arms, keeping him safe and close to me. I'm afraid to let him go. I should've broken down his door earlier. How long has he been laying there? Has he been in any pain? And if he has, how long as he been in it? I don't like seeing him in pain. I despise it. I wish life was a Disney movie. The prince saves the one he loves and they live happily ever after. But this is reality. Fantasy isn't real. It's called fantasy for a reason. It's weird of me to be thinking this way, but I can't help it. When negativity surrounds me, it engulfs me. Why can't getting rid of depression be as simple as slaying a dragon? I can slay a dragon but a mental thing...it's much harder. I'm not as good at that as I am with strength and bravery. All I want to do is protect the ones I love- especially my babyboy- but it's hard to do when he's not suffering from anything physical. He's suffering from depression, not being attacked by any dragon or magical wizard. It sucks that I know that I can't ever change his mind on how he feels about himself. The hatred he has for himself has been embedded in him ever since he was created. It's impossible to go back and fix everything now.

"Ro- Roman?"

I look down to see Virgil staring up at me, confusion and fear written all over his face. "Did you drink yourself to passing out, my love?" I want to be gentle with him. I don't want to hurt him.

He starts to cry and says, "I'm- I'm so-so sorry Roman! I-I didn't mean to hurt you! All I wanted to do was not feel anymore anxiety! I'm- I'm- I'm so stupid! I'm so sorry! I'm so- I'm so sorry!" He clutches onto my shirt and starts shaking.

"Hey, hey, hey. It's alright. It's okay. Everything will be okay. I forgive you. It's alright. Everything is alright. Okay? I'll help you get better. I'll help you get through this. I'll help you eat and not cut. Okay? I want you to get better. I love you so much that I can't stand for you to hurt yourself. If depression had an embodiment- a physical body, a shell- then I could destroy it. Then I could help you get rid of it. You shouldn't be the one apologizing." I start to cry, feeling defeated. "I'm failing you. I can't help you become better. I can't help you with anything mental. Only physical."

"Hey, hey, you're not failing me. It's not your fault. You're not the reason why I'm like this. Okay? It's not your fault. It's not your fault. I promise."

"But if only I was good enough-"

"You are more than good enough. You're too good for me. If it wasn't for you, then I would've committed suicide by now. You're the biggest reason why I'm still alive. If it wasn't for you, I would be completely broken. You're the piece of me that still keeps me connected to reality. You help me not get too dwelled within my head. You help me not sink down and drown into a pool of depression. So don't ever say that you're not good enough. You're more than good enough. I need you and I love you and I always will. Okay?"

"Okay."

"I love you."

"I love you too."