SECRETS AND AGENTS ~ Sanders Sides

{T H R E E}

Logan looked back as Roman shut his door, muting the sound of his ringing phone and the voices that soon followed. He glanced over to Patton and received a small nod. He nodded back and wondered how it was going.

Virgil raised an eyebrow at Princey's' door. "So, he asks for Italian and then is gonna spend the whole time on his phone? Jesus, we could've gotten some Thai food instead, it wouldn't make a difference."

Patton quickly moved over to the small table, hurriedly building stacks of scattered books and papers and placing them underneath the table. "C'mon, Virgie, it's probably just his mom or something," He lied smoothly. Logan had always found it hilarious how Patton, who believed lying was wrong, was probably the best at it.

"My mom doesn't check up on me that much," Virgil grumbled. "This is, like, the the third time this month."

"Different people take different parenting methods," Logan said, watching Patton bring over plates and cutlery before sorting them in front of people while Patton went to fetch the food. "For example, my mother feels no need to keep in check with me. She knows I shall handle myself, and it seems like your mother believes the same. I'm honestly not surprised if Roman's' mother wants constant updates."

Virgil rolled his eyes, pushing deeper into the couch he sat on. "Yeah, yeah, specs, I'm not here to learn about parenting. I'm not planning on it anytime soon."

"I should hope not!" Gasped Patton, making his way over with two pots, one in each hand. "You're far too gay for that, Virgil."

Patton giggled at his comment, while Virgil loudly called out, 'Ha!' Logan's' own smile was small and gentle, his shoulders shaking slightly in amusement. Their dinner, carbonara, was creamy and there was a faint smell of bacon in the air. He smiled warmly up at his friend and Patton beamed back, serving Virgil a dollop of pasta first.

Roman's' voice from his room could be heard growing louder, but it was still too muffled, somehow. Logan and Patton knew why. When they had moved in, they had made sure there was some way of soundproofing their rooms. If Virgil knew what they really did, it would probably terrify him to know how many times his roommates' lives were in danger. It certainly wouldn't be good for his anxiety, that's for sure.

If Virgil knew how many times they had sneaked back inside the apartment while he was asleep, coated in blood and dirt, he'd freak out. If Virgil knew why they always seemed to end up breaking their arms and legs in clumsy, stupid ways, he'd probably have a panic attack. If Virgil knew they had kept this from him, he'd pack up and leave them. And none of them wanted that.

Their normal roommate was their anchor to the real world. He stopped them getting lost in the storm of their jobs, which was constantly raging outside their door, just a phone call away. Looming over them like a relentless, dark cloud. But if Virgil could ground them, they'd all take any means to keep him there. Even if it meant ommiting the truth and even lying straight to his face.

{''}

Virgil lay on his bed, curled under the covers, but staring at his bedroom wall with open eyes. He just couldn't close them, not now. When Roman had returned from his call with his mom, he had said something. And it reminded Virgil of another time. Another life. Another him.

And he couldn't get it out of his head.

Virgil Song was supposed to be dead. And he had been for years. The Virgil Song everyone else knew was the second Virgil Song to exist. The first one, well... He had been crushed so easily by someone else. Virgil could still remember how easily it had been to get rid of the shy, curious boy and replace him with a new version. It was all in his head, after all.

But the words Roman had said. We're all gonna die eventually.

How did they even get brought up in the conversation? They were only joking words but they hadn't been back then. When the man had stared up defiantly into the black wounds that opened up as eyes in a purple mask. That mask had been so horrifically blank and those black eyes had been so terrifyingly empty. Hundreds of people had stared into the darkness in their dying moments, as if maybe, if they looked hard enough, they'd actually see the eyes beneath. Desperate to catch the colour inside, to see how this man was still human.

I wasn't then...

Virgil rolled away from the corner and sat up, pulling open the drawer of his bedside table. He brushed away the useless pieces of normal junk he had shoved in there to hide what he should've thrown away years ago. Something that still held a piece of him hostage. Something that could pull him out of his cowardly hiding.

A mask of royal purple. Black mesh was thickly strung together in monsterously innocent, big, pointed almonds at his eyes, and smaller, mimicked shaoes sat around them until the mask looked like it was made for someone with eight eyes. There weren't any holes for nostrils or a mouth. It was just blank purple, with freaky, spiderish patterns lacing over it.

Virgil held it in his hands, looking down at it with a a face void of emotions.

I'm trying now...