A/N: 
Alright, a slight reprieve from the angst, although there's still some.

TW: Crying, remnants of a nightmare, trouble sleeping, mentions anxiety, some debating, slight swearing

|Previous chapter:

Knowing that Thomas was safe, Virgil allowed for the anxiety to flood him, sobs and whimpers escaping his lips as the nightmare kept replaying in his mind in an endless loop.|

~~~~~

Virgil had no clue how long it had been. He'd tried counting the number of times the nightmare replayed in his mind, but he lost count after 18. The tears had stopped long ago, but hiccuped sobs still shook Virgil's body.

After what felt like hours, the nightmare had faded away to little more than a memory. All that remained in Virgil's mind was the sight of the miss-matched eyes, glowing red and brown when he shut his eyes.

It was a few minutes longer before Virgil opened his eyes, noticing immediately that his room was significantly brighter. Glancing at his clock, Virgil saw that it was a little after 5.

"Stupid summer days," Virgil whispered to himself, annoyed at how early the sun rose.

Looking closer, though, Virgil realized that his shades weren't completely drawn, allowing faint gleams of light to enter. Sighing, Virgil coaxed himself out of the position he had been lying in and adjusted the shades.

Once he was pleased with how dark the room was, he trudged back over to his bed. Instead of getting under the blankets, however, Virgil simply opted to sit in the corner by his headrest. Hugging his legs to his chest, he rested his chin on his knees and allowed himself to fall into a fitful sleep.

The first thing Virgil heard was knocking. Who was knocking on his door? Opening his eyes, Virgil noticed that his room was much brighter, signaling that it was later in the morning. Checking his clock, he saw that it was just past 7:30.

"Virgil, breakfast's ready."

A voice broke him out of his thoughts, and Virgil became aware of the hollowness in his stomach. Virgil was faintly aware of the sound of retreating footsteps as whoever had been sent to fetch him returned to the kitchen.

Sighing, Virgil slowly released his legs, grimacing as his knees expressed their protest at moving. Virgil stretched himself as he sat on his bed before standing up and stretching again, working the stiffness out of his limbs.

After a few seconds, Virgil trudged to the bathroom, blinking rapidly as he flipped the switch to turn on the lights. Once his eyes had adjusted, he glanced in the mirror and froze; at a glance, the bags under his eyes were the same color as the eyeshadow he usually wore.

"Well," Virgil sighed to himself, turning from the mirror. "No point in wearing eyeshadow when it looks like I already am."

With that, he headed out of his room, making sure to grab his hoodie from where it sat on the floor. Pulling it on over his pajamas, Virgil let out a relaxed sigh as the weight of his hoodie relieved some of the lingering anxiety caused by the nightmare.

While walking down the hall, Virgil managed to hear Patton, Roman, and Logan heatedly debating something regarding breakfast foods. Smirking to himself, Virgil couldn't help the fondness he felt towards them all when it came to their usual antics.

As he walked into the kitchen, Virgil had to stifle a yawn that threatened to take over his smirk, hoping that none of the others noticed how tired he was. Once the yawn had passed, he added his two cents to the argument.

"Please," he interjected once Patton was finished stating that there were some foods that absolutely are not a breakfast food. "Breakfast foods are way overrated."

All the other three were turned to look at Virgil, each with varying expressions. Logan looked intrigued by what the anxious trait had said. Roman looked surprised, and, if Virgil wasn't seeing things, slightly flustered to see him. And Patton looked like he had been personally offended.

"What is your logic behind that statement, Virgil?" Logan asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well," Virgil stated, supressing a yawn, "the whole concept of 'breakfast foods' is something made up by society, which seems really stupid once you think about it. Like, why can't I have chicken nuggets for breakfast if I want to? Because people years ago said it was weird."

With that, Virgil trudged over to the counter and turned on the coffee machine.

"Um, Virgil?" Logan questioned as Virgil turned to rest against the counter.

"Yeah, Logan?" Virgil asked with a yawn.

"You forgot to get a mug..." Patton whispered, pointing behind Virgil.

"Huh??" Virgil mumbled, yawning again as his tired brain tried to understand what Patton had said. It only registered when he felt a hot liquid soak into his hoodie.

"FUCK!!" Virgil hissed as he frantically turned around to face the mess that covered the counter. As he did so, he shrugged the hoodie off, not in the mood to get burned by coffee.

"Virgil!" Patton called, appearing at his side. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, Pat," Virgil responded, taking in the scene in front of him. "I just think I'm gonna clean this up before changing-"

"Oh, don't you worry about cleaning this mess," Patton interrupted, hushing Virgil instantly. "I can take care of it."

"Are you sure, Pat? I can help if you need me to," Virgil protested slightly, not wanting to pile more things on Patton.

"Of course, I'm sure, Virge," Patton chuckled, lightly shoving Virgil out of the kitchen. "Now go get changed."