Queer 'n Crazy (Sanders Sides Human! Au)

Chapter 36

Hello, fellow fanders!

I've started waking up in the morning at 5:30 am, and I swear that the day just elongates. I love it and hate it at the same time. Also, I keep getting woken at midnight by my friends texting the group chat, and while I have no right to talk about going to bed early, I'm starting to get really worried about them. One of them said she went to bed at midnight and then woke up at 5pm because ✨depression✨ which is honestly a mood but she still needs a healthy sleep schedule and GAHHHHHHHHH.

Also also, my urge to ask for piano lessons is getting stronger.

Anyway, enjoy the chapter!

WARNINGS: I FORGOT TO POST THESE THE FIRST TIME I'M SO SORRY. Brief mention of self harm (he grips himself really hard), mentions of food, mentions of nightmares, hating yourself, unexplainable emotions, emotional outbursts, emotional inavailability, stuff along those lines. It pretty much all ends after the black crosses but please be careful and I'm so sorry that I didn't have this in the first time I posted it.

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Virgil readjusted his blanket for what felt like the 90th time, and desperately tried to find a place for his arm that wasn't hurting his neck or shoulder. He felt like just flopping face down into his bed and screaming, but he was too scared of suffocating himself with his pillow to try. Not to mention that Logan was sleeping on the other side of the room.

He tried laying on his side so that he could see the other boy but all it did was bunch his shoulder into his side uncomfortably. Lying flat on his back left his head feeling unsupported, and his usual manner of laying on his stomach with one arm under his pillow and his head turned to the side just wasn't working tonight.

To put it simply, Virgil felt fucking miserable.

He'd been lying in bed for so long that his eyes were beginning to itch from sheer exhaustion. He'd stopped checking his phone after the fourth time, and if he had to guess it would be around two-thirty right now. His body was heavy but his joints weren't cooperating, and the urge to cry from frustration was getting stronger every passing second.

His current state of being made a ball of self-loathing swirl in his stomach. The cause wasn't that he was annoying someone like it usually was. In fact, Virgil couldn't think of any reason for the emotion apart from the fact he was being completely and utterly pathetic. His dumb body was refusing to settle, his mind was racing, and for some fucking reason his eyes were beginning to well up.

His nerves buzzed as he realised how needy he was being. How utterly repulsive it was that he was feeling sorry for himself. He could be doing anything right now. Reading, drinking a hot beverage, anything to try and help his body relax. And despite this self awareness he was lying in bed with tears falling down his cheeks.

He was crying.

Another wave of anger welled up in his chest. He sat up and grabbed his forearm angrily, squeezing it to the point of it being painful. Within a few minutes the feeling subsided and he released his grip. Virgil stared down at where a red hand-shaped print was visible on his forearm. He sighed, turning to Logan as he wiped away the last of the tears. He felt drained, heavier than earlier, apart from his arm, which was tingling with a frantic sort of heat. Despite this he decided trying to sleep for any longer probably wasn't going to help. His only consolation was the fact that while there had been tears, there hadn't been any sobbing. He hadn't disturbed Logan.

His body was strangely compliant as he swung his feet out of bed. He sat there for a while; seated on his bed with his feet on the floor and his hands fisted in the sheets. The jarring difference in temperature between his bed and the floor helped to ground him a little.