i stare at the ceiling, every time i wipe my eyes more black is spread across the back of my hand, how long can one...thing cry in a day. i'm not really a human. i'm a figment, a thing.
i sniffle once more, my nose is stuffed to the brink, i can just hear my hitched breathing amongst the sad silence.
how are the others getting on? maybe thomas is 'off' because i've locked myself up for days, at least a week now, but i can go for longer.

"hey there...bud?" i hear a voice and slow, cautious steps coming close. "what" i say with a hint of passive aggression, looking up to the man with combed back hair, his chest lined with red and gold. "just came to-" he cuts himself off as he sits down. "yes, i'm crying, what a concept" i mutter, rolling onto my side to avoid facing him.

"i can still see your face, your paleness is a big contrast to your dark clothing".
"your ego is a big contrast to your personality" i retort, pulling my hoodie around me, anything to avoid the white, gold and red, too bright, too much. i don't need that in my vision. too much, too much, too mu-.

"breathe, virgil, breathe" i feel his hand on my shoulder, and i move onto my other side, placing my head on his lap, eyes closed to avoid the bright colours.

"you know it's gonna be okay".
"is it ever okay?" i mumble.
"it can be okay if you believe it is..."
"just because you think it doesn't mean it's true".
"i think that you'll be okay, that just because it's not okay now, doesn't mean it won't ever be".

"okay is different for both of us".

"okay, informal, used to express agreement or acceptance".
"since when were you logan?".
"since i started learning how to sympathize with you".
"not what i wanted to hear, but that's okay".
"see, acceptance".

"i fell for roman not logan" i roll my eyes. "so you admit it? i mean, you aren't exactly the disney prince i would be expected to be with, but, i think you're better than that, you pale ball of nerves".

i roll my eyes once more, he's cheesy, not that i like that or anything.