trigger warnings for suicidal thoughts, mentions of attempts, and alcoholic fathers. please take care of yourself and tell me if there are any other warnings i need to add. mood board is mine.

》THE ONE IN WHICH HE RUNS. AND RUNS. AND JOGS A BIT, TOO.《

"AND STAY OUT," bellowed a drunken voice, followed by a door slam.

It was raining - storming, even. Definitely not a great time to be kicked out.

Virgil slowly stood up and grabbed a sticky note that he kept by the door. Using his trusty definitely not starting to dry out marker, he wrote his father a note as he always did.

"Pop, you had half a bottle of whiskey and two beers. You kicked me out again. But this time, I'm not coming back. This addiction isn't something I can live with," he muttered as he wrote.

He stuck it on the door and just ran. Picked a direction and ran.

He ran.

And ran.

Jogged for a bit.

Slowed to a stop.

Then ran again.

He plopped down in a dark alleyway, feeling the irony hit him like a bus.

This is where Pop first bought a beer.

He glared at the gas station, as if it were at it's fault. Even though he knew it was a stupid thought, he couldn't help but thinking about going in, buying something nice and sharp, and just... doing it.

Virgil quickly stood up and smacked himself. No! You can't think like that! He sighed and glared up at the rain clouds. "Can you stop? My makeup's running."

The clouds rumbled, as if to laugh. Then, the rain got harder.

Virgil cursed loudly. He ran out of the alleyway and down even further, slipping into another alleyway with more cover. He winced as the rain pounded his wrists, he was sure the little red slits were open again.

He slumped on the ground,  pulling his hoodie on. This is fine.

It'll all be fine.

Maybe he'll run some more?