Anxious is not my style

Part 2

Happy four years anniversary to Sandersides!

I know that this is a short chapter but I do have another one I'm just finishing up now that should be done before the day is fully out hopefully!
Untill then, have some  very confused virgil.
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Virgil had always been terrified of the off chance of a kidnapping incident.  But it had never happened to him, until now.

Here he lay,  at the bottom of a box that barely had enough room for him to wiggle around,  wrists bound and a bandana over his mouth that reeked of heavy chemicals.  The entire situation had him utterly riddled with questions!  How did he get here,  who the fuck would be doing this?  Why did his chest feel okay?  Why wasn't he on the verge of a panic attack?

He let out a shaky breath through his nose,  hating the cold sensation that moved amongst his body when he breathed the chemicals in the cloth through his mouth.  He had been trying for what felt like forever now to try and get out,  and he was absolutely sure Thomas was awake by now.  And he didn't have his anxiety to keep him on alert!

If the other sides tried to find them and did,  what would they Say?  What would they do? 
Would roman laugh at him again? Call him another few names relating to cowardess or weakness. He let out a shaky breath,  close to a strangled sob as he reached out a shaky hand to press at the side of the box.  no give.

he let out a few rapid shaky breaths as he curled in on himself tighter, but clothes were scratchy against him, they felt horrible and didn't make HIM feel better.

he didn't know how long he was there. how long he tried to get out. but eventually he managed to slip the top of the box open, kicking it open aggressively as he climbed out as hastily as possible, taking a few moments to steady his breathing as the ringing of cold, heavy tin continued to echo from the lid. Virgil kept his hand clutched to his chest as he surveyed the surroundings, nothing. not one thing around him in this warm coloured, absolutely trashed room looked familiar.

A mattress on the floor, a bookshelf that was near empty, the books scattered on the floor, a drying rack with an assortment of scarves in various oranges and purples, yellows and reds no side wore scarves- no side wore orange even! this was all bizarre- what side would have an orange room -a side he apparently hadn't seen before- and keep a box in it ready to kidnap someone?!

virgil shivered as he looked down at his hands, shivering when he spotted the soft yellow fabric of what seemed to be a sweater. Thinking quietly he continued to look around the room, trying to find any details about the kidnapper.  No one he had seen once again had worn a yellow sweater at any point,  not even Janus, he growled as his nails Doug into the soft Fiber's of the fabric.  Spotting a small box with something engraved to the side.  Hopeful to find something on it,  he moved closer

"Narciso" he read out loud quietly. Trying to think if he had heard that name at all before reading it. sadly, with no luck of doing such he placed the box back down.  Rubbing under his eye before checking his hand "no eyeshadow.  At least he hadn't stayed in that,  but also no black nail polish.

He had painted that nail polish on three weeks ago during a movie marathon with Patton!  It was in the best condition it could've been last night. Virgil shivered as he looked around the room for a mirror. All that paint wouldn't have just fallen off in one night. 

He couldn't find a full mirror,  but on top of a dresser sitting against a wall of the room. Not far from a desk opposite the bed. He spotted a small hand one,  a crack snaking through the middle. It was covered in small bits of worn down faux fur. And Virgil could only guess at one point or another the mirror had been covered in it.  Picking it up he took a deep breath,  closing his eyes as he lifted the broken mirror up and peered in. 

That- he wasn't him.
That COULDNT have been him, There was no possible way.
Stairing back at him while following his movements and expressions as a reflection should was not him. But it must've been a side,  the hair a dirty blond and the eyes a dark but saturated green.  His face was smooth asside from a small cluster of freckles up his nose and along his forehead and he wore a shirt that felt like the same material as a normal pillow.  He shuddered as he put the mirror down and took some steps back.  Looking at his hands as his breathing picked up "not- not me" he uttered airily.  Hands coming up to clutch his head,  tangling in his hair as he sunk down to the floor.  Body shaking "I'm alone, I'm not ME... I-im trapped" he muttered, eyes quickly glancing around the room in hopes of spotting a door.  Nothing

... He was alone,  trapped and if that mirror wasn't messing with him. He was a side he hadn't seen before.

He layed down on his side.  One hand to his head as the other slowly moved to his chest. While he might be able to try and get out,  he wasn't going to right now.  His heart was beginning to catch up to his head when it came to panic. Something he had expected when he first woke up even.

The fact of his delayed panic while confusing him, there was one thing he knew sadly. He would have to figure out how to escape once he calmed down,  or he would have to wait for someone to come find him. All he could guess though, was no one would come find him if there wasn't even a door in.