Winged and Hurting (AU!Virgil One-shots)

Frostbite

Frostbite, Age 11 {8/12/2020-8/13/2020}

[Note: Shadow Personified takes place in August and this story takes place in January of the same year.]

It was a rather quiet night for Virgil as he stared out his barred window. Small flurries fell from the sky and the moon's light shined through the barred window. Virgil was sitting close to his space heater his grandmother gave him with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. His grandmother always complained about how cold he was. She claimed he just needed to fatten up a little... which may explain the fact that she also gave him several packs of skittles. Being a child, they were gone pretty quickly. There was none left now.

Virgil's bedroom was rather warm despite how cold it was outside. This was partly due to the heating system but mostly due to the space heater he received.

His mother and himself always leaned to the colder side of the body temperature scale. Heating was always on in their house to some degree except for the extreme hot days. At least, this was how it was when Maro wasn't with them. When Maro lived with them, the temperature was kept at a relatively normal temperature. Aeneid and Virgil had to settle for layering up if they felt cold.

Virgil was pulled out of his peaceful stargazing by the sound of soft sobs. He shifted his body so it was turned toward the rest of the room as he glanced around, trying his best to find what the noise was coming from. Unable to find the source in his bedroom, he abandoned the blanket and walked toward the door to find where the crying was coming from.

"Mother?" He asked, voice soft and light. He usually spoke like this around people. His only real exception was his friend, Ralli, and in extension, Ralli's parents. Adults don't like when he raises his voice to talk, when he attempts to be a part of the conversation or when he tries to speak when they don't want him too... he found it better to stay mostly quiet and to do what they say. Keep your head low and don't draw attention to yourself. It was the best way to stay out of trouble.

He ventured closer to the noise, moving quietly like he was stalking prey. The floor didn't creak under his light steps. He had perfected the art of staying quiet over the years and he wasn't about to slip up now. The door to his mother's room was already cracked open wide enough where he could see the bed clearly. He peeked in, only to see his mother was sitting on her bed, hunched over. After a few moments, he noticed the tears that trailed down her face before dripping down onto the pillow she hugged close.

Virgil frowned at the sight. His mother didn't cry often. She usually took her pain out in a more aggressive way or by drinking her pain away. He didn't know which way he preferred. This reaction was still pretty foreign and he didn't know how she would act. At least with anger and drunken annoyance, he knew what to expect.

He easily slipped through the cracked open door, avoiding the creak all doors make when you're trying to be quiet. He crept forward, still staying as quiet as a mouse as he sat down by her feet. "Mother?" He spoke with a hesitance in his voice after several moments. He wanted to help if he could.

Aeneid barely looked at him before swinging the pillow in his direction. "F**k off, Maro!"

Virgil stumbled backwards, surprised and fearful at the sudden mood change. Aeneid stood over him, looking vivid with anger. Her expression instantly changed the moment she realized the child in front of her wasn't her ex but her son. Aeneid cleared her throat, eyes narrowing as she glanced from him. She refused to meet his eyes.

Aeneid turned and walked toward the pillow, sweeping it up into her hands. She moved toward her bed and set it down where it should be, still not turning to look her son in the eyes. It was too hard. There was quiet between the two and Virgil didn't dare say another word. A hoarse voice broke the silent with a stern "Get out."