unsteady; episode tag ficlet
summary: Virgil sinks out and tries to deal with the aftermath of what just happened. Immediately follows theĀ āIntrusive Thoughtsā episode.Ā
warnings: angst in droves, spiraling thoughts, negative self-talk, mention of nausea, mention of Deceit, mention of Remus, sanders sides spoilers for āIntrusive Thoughtsā, open-ended conclusion.Ā
A/N: I donāt usually write this much explicitly angsty stuff. Huh. Big shout-out to @randomslasher for their angsty Virgil thoughts that helped me bring some stronger shape/form to this fic. This is probably more a character-study-in-fic-form than a real fic with a plot, but here ya go anyway.Ā
Because I was one of them.
The steady words had come from unsteady lungs. Virgil drags in a breath and lowers himself to the blurring floor littered with piles of clothes and journal pages and Virgilās self-worth. He canāt erase the look of betrayal that had been scrawled in Thomasās sunken eyes. The circles under them rivaled Virgilās own and was a damning conviction of his inadequacy.
I thought that I would be able to⦠protect you from them.
Some bang up job heād done. Instead, heād lashed out against Thomas. Of course he did. Didnāt he always? Thomas was the punching bag that always got hit when Virgil got cornered and started swinging.
A lifetime ago, Thomas used to return the blows; he used to understand Anxietyās role as something bad and was loud about it. Virgil thinks maybe it was easier then. Itās easier to accept hatred when youāve known nothing else.
He wipes at his eyes, pretending he doesnāt notice the smears of black that streaks across his fist. Even when Thomas stopped returning the punches, Virgil still had moments where Thomas got caught in the crosshairs of blind panic. And Thomas⦠Well, he took the blows like a champ. He met them with acceptance and forgivenessāforgiveness that Virgil didnāt deserve.
But he had pretended to, hadnāt he? Heād convinced everyone that he had earned his āseat at the tableā. That he wasnāt so bad, that he meant well, that he wasnāt⦠Other.
Why should you be held to a different standard than any other Side?
Thomas had asked him that question and Virgil couldnāt lie to him. Not anymore. Not after all the work that Thomas had put in towards being more honest with himself. That was what Thomas wanted. And Virgil would give Thomas anything he wanted, as much as he was able. He couldnāt keep lying. It was only a matter of time before Thomas found out anyway, right? Better to hear it from the mouth of the traitor himself.
At least nobody else would get caught in the blowback of Thomasās hatred. Virgil could give that much to them.
Because Iām one of them.
And every moment of it had been terrifying. It was the right thing to doāVirgil feels rooted in that conviction even as the rest of him feels untetheredābut the right thing has left a hole in Virgilās chest that he doesnāt know how to fill.
You fit right in, Thomas had told him once. Patton had called him family. Logan had told him he didnāt mind his company. Roman had told him that he makes them better.
And heād started to hear it so much that a part of him even⦠believed it himself. That he could somehow be one of them. Virgil had had everything heād ever wanted. Thomas listened to him. Logan understood him. Roman respected him. Patton supported him. It was more than heād ever dreamed of. It was more than he could have ever thought to ask for.
He needed them. He needed them so much it scared him sometimes. If Virgil was a tree, then Thomas and Logan and Roman and Patton were the soil, the rain, the sun.
But it had been stupid to think like that. Virgil isnāt a tree. He is a hurricane; powerful, destructive, dark. The sooner Thomas knew that, the safer it would be for Thomas. Even if it was laying bare the parts of himself that Virgil so desperately tried to deny.
Virgil promised to keep Thomas safe, and heād failed. Heād failed when it was Deceit, twice. Heād failed with Remus. Heād failed, failed, failed. Everywhere he turned, Virgil was one step too late. Thomas was hurting and it was his fault. It had been his fault for far longer than Logan realized.
Thomas hates him again. It had been clear in the recoil when the words had fallen from Virgilās lips with a weight as heavy as the one in his stomach. Heād felt like he was diving into an icy lake. He just wished his heart was colder, like it had been before, as if it would make it a little easier to manage. As if it would ease the splintering feeling he can feel in his chest, or the rolling in his stomach.
Virgil sniffles and wipes his nose on the sleeve of his hoodie. He stops. His hoodie. The one heād created to signify for himself the acceptance heād found in the others. But Thomasās resentment had been so brutally clear. He hadnāt needed to hear itāVirgil didnāt think he could take that, not when the world was already going blurry and his eyes were stingingābut he deserved every part of it.
Virgil tears himself out of the hoodie blindly and throws it against his closed door. Youāve ruined everything.
He folds his arms over the top of his knees and buries his face into his elbow. He thinks of all the times Thomas smiled at him. The amused quirk of Loganās eyebrows. Pattonās bright grin. Romanās soft, sincere earnestness. For him. Because theyād all believed Virgil was good. That he had always been good.
Itās over and youāre never getting it back.
Heād dealt with their resentment before. He had practice shouldering that. Perhaps he could again.
He feel so unsteady without them.
Everything comes to a crashing halt when he hears a soft knock on his door.