#strawberryjellystuff

They were loud and obnoxious. And people who didn’t know him all that well kept asking him to take off his headphones or stop looking at his phone. Or telling him to take his chew necklace out of his mouth because it was “unsanitary” or stop clicking the buttons on his fidget cube because it was “distracting others.”

So yeah, Virgil preferred the solitary of his room and usually stuck to a “me, myself, and I” policy.

...A policy he only broke for two people, no matter the occasion.

Like now, when he’d had to leave the stupid party his brother had thrown (he’d told Roman he didn’t have the spoons to deal with a crowd of people, that meant no one not just fewer than he’d usually invite).

Andy had climbed through the window twenty minutes ago, and Thomas had walked in like a normal person an hour before that.

Virgil was in Thomas’ lap, chewing on his necklace and scrolling through tumblr on his phone without really lookin at the posts because his anxiety was too high to really take in anything he was looking at right now.

“My offer to punch him still stands,” Andy spoke up, dodging the stress ball Thomas threw in his direction and snorting.

Virgil tore his eyes away from his phone to give Andy an unimpressed look.

“Roman is usually fine in your book, one mess up about misinterpreting how many spoons I have shouldn’t put him in the little black book, Andy.”

Andy shrugged, grabbing the stress ball before it could roll off of Virgil’s desk and starting to toss it in the air.

“Your anxiety is high, can you blame me for wanting to punch him a little bit?”

Virgil bit the inside of his lip and turned back to his phone, pushing into Thomas’ chest in an attempt to hide how much he wanted to giggle.

“Punching is banned unless-”

“-Virgil has a panic attack or you cry, I know,” Andy interrupted Thomas, getting a huff of laughter from him in the process while he sagged against the wall.

“Technically, high anxiety is close to panic attack,” he started, though Virgil interrupted him before he could finish.

“That’s like saying getting half way through a flappy bird rip off is almost finishing the game.”

“Flappy bird? What year is it?” Andy teased, sliding off Virgil’s desk and moving towards his bed so he could lay across Thomas’ calves.

Thomas sighed, moving one leg in a feeble attempt to get Andy off of them.

“Trapping me? Really? At least Virgil would move,” he said, rolling his eyes in a mockingly exasperated way.

“Speak for yourself,” Virgil said, pointedly making himself more comfortable in Thomas’ lap and giving a tiny smile at Andy’s snort.