Not Every Home Is Where You Belong

July 17, 2016

"Virgil! C'mere! I wanna show you something!"

Virgil opened his eyes at the perky sound of Remus's voice floating up the stairs and through his headphones. He groaned and rolled over in bed. Couldn't Remus give him some time for himself? He looked at his clock. It was nearly 7 p.m.

"Virgil!" Remus called again, more insistent this time. Virgil groaned again.

"Coming," Virgil replied. Virgil pulled himself off his bed. Making a quick pit stop in the bathroom to double-check his eyeshadow, he trudged downstairs. He looked around, looking for Remus. The room was a reflection of Thomas's living room, with dark shadows covering the entire room, and cobwebs in every corner.

He wondered where Remus had got to, as each of the Dark Sides glowed with their own colour. Deceit stood out clearly in the gloom, shining yellow, as did Remus, with a lime green glow. As for Virgil, his was black. He would walk in, and the lights around him would be darkened, like someone had turned them down low, but not completely off.

"Virge! Over here!" Virgil turned to see Remus sitting at the kitchen table, glowing his bright green shade. Virgil walked over and pulled out a chair. "I was thinking," he laid out a roll of paper for Virgil to see, covered in obscene sketches and written ideas. Remus started pointing things out. "If I gave him the idea that his friends are dangerous, that they would hurt Thomas.... Would you add some Paranoia into it? I reckon that would really spice things up!"

Virgil rubbed his eyes tiredly. He hadn't been sleeping too well for the past couple of weeks. "Yeah... Sure, whatever, ReeRee."

"It's been too quiet," Remus continued, acknowledging Virgil's agreement with a slight nod. "All the Light Sides with their goodness and happiness and all that disgustingness. We need to turn things around. Bleaurgh, whenever I think about them, and all their wonderfulness, I feel sick." Remus turned to Virgil. "Don't you?"

"Hmm?" Virgil started, he hadn't been paying attention, and had been slowly zoning out and dozing off. "Sorry, what?"

"I said," said Remus pointedly, "Don't you just hate the Light Sides? They're revolting."

"Oh... Yeah..."

Remus looked closely at Virgil. "You should go to bed. You don't look too good."

"Yeah... Think I will... 'Night Remus," said Virgil, backing up his chair from the table and walking back up the stairs. "Tell Dee I've gone to bed."

"Will do. 'Night!" That was the last Virgil heard before he shut his bedroom door and pulled up his headphones. He lay down and pulled the covers over his head.

Tears started spilling over his face. The feeling had been coming on for months. The same feeling. The same thought.

I don't belong here.

Which begged the same question that had been tugging at him.

Where do I belong?

And as he slipped into unconsciousness, the tears thickened and blurred his vision. His last thought, as he fell asleep, was that if only Dee would notice, Remus would notice, someone would notice, someone would help him, someone, anyone...

When Virgil woke the next morning, it was to a hacking cough from downstairs. As he made his way down, he heard Deceit croak from the couch. "Here we are, the man of the moment! Virgil, you mind coming over and making me better?"

Virgil blinked, then understood. It was rare, but occasionally his paranoia of whatever, such as catching some kind of disease, would rub off on the others, and sure enough, there was Deceit, lying on the couch, covered in what Virgil recognised as chicken pox spots. Remus was sitting on the floor next to Deceit, with a wet cloth and a bowl of water. "Uh, sure Dee," Virgil replied.