Sanders Sides Pride One Shots

Day 29 - Storm (Analogical)

C.W. crying, panic attack, homophobia, 

~~~

By the age of nine, Logan was afraid of thunderstorms

Thunder rumbled outside. Logan stared down at his book, unable to focus. The light from a flash of lightning reached past his curtains, making him jump. He held the book with both of his hands in an attempt to stop them from disturbing the book. He was shaking too much, though.

Considering he'd been on the same page for half an hour, he put the book and his glasses away and settled into bed for the night. He could only hope that there would be a break in the storm for long enough that he could drift off to sleep.

Logan pulled the covers up to his chin as thunder boomed again nearby. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't stop thinking about the storm. Tears started dripping out of his eyes and he had to keep quiet. The walls were paper thin.

However, all it took was another flash of lighting and Logan sobbed loudly. He clamped his hand over his mouth immediately after but he knew someone must've heard it. He froze in bed, even though that tactic never worked.

After a few minutes of silence, Logan deemed himself safe and returned to his goal of falling asleep. More lightning shone across his room and onto his bed. He flinched and screwed his eyes shut, his crying starting up again.

He risked a peek at his room to see the light lingering and his door open. A silhouette of a young boy was in his doorway. Logan took a moment to compose himself before calling out.

"Virgil?" he asked.

The boy nodded but stayed where he was.

"You may come in."

Virgil stepped inside the room and shut the door behind him. He stayed firmly glued to the door. Logan sat up and flicked his lamp on.

"Are you okay? Is the storm frightening you?"

Virgil shook his head.

"Which question was that responding to?"

Virgil held up two fingers, signifying that he was answering the second question. Logan shuffled over and patted the space where just was.

"You can come and sit down if you want."

Virgil hesitantly made his way over to the bed, hoisting himself up and sitting where Logan had offered. He made sure he wasn't touching Logan or the bedding other than the mattress cover. He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and offered it to Logan.

Logan read the note and sighed. 'What's wrong?' the note read.

"I'm fine. I... I just don't really like storms."

Virgil kept his eyes trained on his clasped hands in his lap, never even glancing at Logan.

After a moment of silence, Logan decided to speak up again. "Why do you care? I don't mean it offensively but you've never talked to me before."

Virgil tensed and held his hand out. Logan placed the note in his palm and he leapt off the bed, returning to his own room.

Logan felt incredibly guilty. 'Make him feel welcome', 'be friends with him' and 'don't be mean to him' were all things his mother had said when she introduced Virgil to her children six months ago. Virgil, age seven and her fourth foster child, was to be treated as one of their own and Logan had done the exact opposite.

Now, Virgil was probably sitting alone in his room crying, all because Logan couldn't mind his own business.

He ran his hands through his hair, too worried about Virgil to focus on the thunder. He subconsciously heard bare feet padding down the hallway, but ignored it in favour of panicking.