Assistance Required

A New Routine

TW abuse, cursing

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Virgil groaned as he rolled out of his bed. He turned off his alarm and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. It was a warm autumn day, but Virgil still dressed in black skinny jeans and an open hoodie revealing an MCR shirt. He might overheat a little, but it was his favorite look. He put on his white foundation and black eyeshadow before grabbing his bag and walked out of his room. He froze at the sound of his father's snoring on the couch. He took a deep breath before quietly walking to the front door. Once he left, he locked the door behind him and got in his battered old car. He tossed his bag into the passenger seat and played a playlist on his phone before driving to his new school.

Virgil parked his car and walked to his first class, Spanish. A few people were already in the room waiting for class to begin. Virgil found a seat in the corner of the room. He pulled out his phone and looked through Tumblr until the professor started class. Virgil looked around the room while the professor went over the syllabus. Some students were taking notes, others were just watching the professor, one girl was flipping through an agenda, a couple of others were looking around the room. He caught someone's eye and turned away. Great. Now they'd think he was staring at them.

Finally, class was over. He quickly grabbed his bag and walked to his next class, calculus. He did his best to pay attention and take notes. After what felt like hours, class was over. He had two hours before his next class. He watched as some of the students talked with each other. They were probably residential students. He sat down in the student center and tried to get a head start on some of his work. Two hours later he headed to his next class, Renaissance history. Just like before, he sat in the back of the room, tried to pay attention, and took notes. He went back to the student center. He ordered a coffee and sat at a table while he waited for his final class, studio art. It was a lot later in the day, but he didn't mind. He was surprised he managed to get into the class in the first place since it was so popular. When he got to the room he froze. The desks were arranged in a semi-circle instead of rows. He found a seat at the edge and prayed no one sat next to him. He tried his best to stay out of their way. He just focused on the professor and the syllabus. Hopefully, he wouldn't bother them. He chewed on the skin around his thumb as he listened to the professor.

Once class was over, he walked back to his car. He took in the quiet night air with a content sigh. He put his playlist on for the drive home. Once home, he grabbed his bag and went to unlock the front door, but it was already unlocked. He cautiously opened the door to see his dad sitting on the couch watching TV. He turned his head to the sound of the door.

"You're home late," his father said.

"I had a late class," he said.

"You could have at least told me."

"I did."

"I think I would have remembered."

"You were probably drunk," he muttered to himself.

"What was that?"

"I-I guess I thought I told you."

His father rolled his eyes.

"Just don't let it happen again."

Virgil nodded.

"Yes, sir."

He watched his father take a drink before slipping into his room. He changed into pajamas before sitting on his bed. He opened his history textbook and grabbed some paper to take notes. An hour later he heard what he was dreading.

"Virgil!"

He heard shuffling in the other room. He tried to ignore it as he kept reading.

"Virgil!"

He heard banging before footsteps thundered towards his room.

"VIRGIL!"

His door swung open banging against the wall. He jumped as he looked up to see his father.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!"

"St-studying!"

"DIDN'T YOU HEAR ME?"

"I-I..."

He stormed into the room and grabbed Virgil's arm dragging him out of the room. Virgil stumbled trying to keep up before he was tossed towards the kitchen.

"Make me a sandwich or something."

Virgil groaned. He felt something hit him in the back of the head. He turned to see his father's hand raised.

"Y-yes, Sir!"

Virgil opened the fridge. It was mostly beer. He looked through the cabinets and found some pasta.

"H-how about spaghetti?" Virgil asked.

"Did I ask for spaghetti?!"

"No, but-"

His head snapped to the side as a hand grazed his cheek.

"No buts! I am your father, you ungrateful little shit! When I tell you to do something, you do it!"

"We don't have any meat."

"THEN GO GET SOME!"

He sighed as he grabbed his keys. He didn't have time for this. He decided to just order a sandwich or something instead. He yawned as he climbed into his car. He drove to a gas station and picked out a sandwich in a plastic case as well as some chips for himself before paying and leaving. He drove home and placed the sandwich on a plate before giving it to his father. He went back to his room to continue his work. He threw the unopened bag of chips on his bedside table before returning to his books.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Virgil woke up with his face in a textbook. He turned off his alarm and pack up his books before getting dressed and putting on his makeup. He drove to school and faced his new classes: pulp fiction and a basic writing course. He continued sitting in the back of the room, just listening to the professors and trying to avoid everyone else's gaze. He liked going to the student center when he wasn't busy to work on his homework. If he needed a computer, he'd go to the library. He'd stay at the school until it got dark before returning home. He worked as a cashier in a cafe over the weekend. It became a rather comfortable routine. He was able to just fade into the background while the world moved around him.

They said kids didn't act the same in college as they did in high school, but people don't really change. Sometimes he would still catch people staring at him or whispering about him. But it was fine, he was used to it by now. He just needed to get through school and then he could move on with his life. He could get a better job and his own apartment away from his dad. He wasn't really sure what he wanted to do with his life, but it would be fine as long as he was far away from where he grew up. Maybe then he'd finally have a friend.