Warnings: anxiety, anxiety attack, mentions nausea, mentions dizzyness, virgil drops a glass, logan is helpful, vigil is anxious and sad and a mess in general

Set before accepting anxiety

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Virgil held his phone in a tight grip, staring at the youtube video without really seeing or hearing what was going on, long since having abandoned any and all attempts to control his breathing.

One would think that since he was the embodiment of anxiety he would have learned to take control over his own attacks by now, pull himself out of them, but no.

Sure, he knew several grounding techniques, he had a long list of distractions that were supposed to help, he owned at least five fidget toys, one that he was currently holding in his other hand, clicking on one of the buttons frantically.

He shouldn't have let it go this far, he shouldn't have let everything affect him this much, but here he was, breathing erratic, his chest aching painfully, nausea threatening to overtake him and make things even worse.

This was so pathetic, he was so pathetic. That had been a recurring thought in his head all day, having woken up and immediately realized today was going to absolutely suck. (And he'd been right.)

Virgil struggled for air and tried to focus on the screen again, but no matter how much he usually loved this person's videos it just wasn't working right now, noises felt far away and his eyes made everything blurred with tears, his hands were shaking, making it impossible to even read the subtitles. Virgil dropped his phone to the bed, it wasn't helping him anyways.

He was so exhausted, all day he had been on edge, every little thing making him irrationally tense. Which, of-fucking-course, had led to Virgil, after miraculously surviving the day, crumble to his anxieties once he was alone in his room and trying to sleep.

(Really, why had he even tried to make himself comfortable enough to sleep, everything always got worse in the dark and the quiet. He should have known better, should have known his mind would be driving him to the point of an anxiety attack, should have just given up before trying and settled to watch some stupid tv show all night to distract himself before it got this bad.)

Virgil barely registered how he uncurled himself from his balled up position he'd held for god knows how long, but his legs ached, not as bad as his chest, as he walked towards the door, the nausea and a sudden dizziness making him have to pause in his doorway for a moment before he continued.

No one else would be up, it was late, far too late, and Virgil didn't really know what he was doing or why but he had to get out of his dark room that always seemed to only amplify his anxious thoughts, and why not get himself a glass of water.

Either he would get something to drink which might eventually ease the throbbing pain in his head, or he would choke on the water and die, but at least then he'd be rid of his anxiety attack. Can't be anxious when you're dead, right?

Eventually he found himself sitting on the kitchen floor, glass of water in his shaking hands as he stared out into the dark of the room and didn't even attempt to drink even a drop. As soon as he actually had that glass of water in his sight he thought that just putting it to his lips would intensify his nausea just a little too much.

God, he really was stupid, letting small things affect him like this, letting the fact that the light sides hated him so much affect him like this. He didn't even like them, and they certainly didn't like him, it shouldn't matter.

But the fact was that Virgil was just so stupidly, terribly alone. He didn't have a place with the dark sides and the light sides must hate him and maybe this was just the way it was supposed to be, he was anxiety, did he really expect anyone to be able to stand him? Even he couldn't handle himself. But... he wished at least Thomas could see that he was just trying to keep him safe.

"Anxiety? Is that you?" The voice tore Virgil out of his thoughts, startling a choked shriek from his throat and the glass slipped from his fingers, shattering against the floor.

He shrank into his hoodie, burying his face in his arms, fingers tugging harshly into his hair and trying his damned best to take at least one full breath but it just wasn't working and he'd spilled his water and broke one of the light sides glasses and he was bothering someone with his anxiety attack and he was probably making Thomas suffer an attack too and-

"-you hear me? Anxiety, can you hear my voice?" The other side continued, sounding calm and collected and somewhere in his brain Virgil at least understood that it wasn't Roman who had stumbled upon him. At the very least he wouldn't have the creative side making fun of him or drawing his sword at finding him in their kitchen or however Roman might react to Virgil's general existence.

"Can you tap a finger against your knee if you can hear me?" The voice said again and Virgil did just that, slowly and shakily managing one tap. A pair of glasses entered his vision, Patton? No, Logan, it must be Logan.

"Good. Is it alright if I touch you? One tap for yes, two for no." Logan continued and Virgil tapped twice, shaking his head too, harsh breath caught in his throat.

"Alright, I will not be touching you. Do you know of the four-seven-eight breathing exercise?" He asked and Virgil found himself nodding despite how much of a mess his thoughts were (technically he knew it, but right now he could barely focus his thoughts enough to remember where he was.)

"Perfect, please inhale for four seconds." Logan began and then followed at least ten minutes (or an entire eternity of torture, according to Virgil) of him trying to breathe slowly and like someone who's heart wasn't beating harder than could possibly be healthy.

But Logan was patient, he didn't yell, he didn't voice how stupid and useless Virgil was being, he sat there in front of Virgil, keeping his distance and counting him through every second until he was taking actual breaths and he no longer feared that he was going to suffocate to death.

Virgil leaned his head back, hitting the refrigerator door with a dull thud. Now that he finally could he just sat there, breathing, eyes slipping close as he exhaled and inhaled, slow and deep breaths, the nausea slowly but surely dissipating.

"Anxiety, are you feeling any better?" Logan asked and a quiet and relieved whine that was entirely embarrassing slipped from his parted lips. Sometimes his anxiety just fucked him over completely, and Virgil was utterly exhausted. He was almost tempted to just fall asleep right where he was sitting.

"Thanks." He whispered a while later, not entirely sure the logical side was even there still since no one had said anything for a minute.

"You're very welcome, I'm glad I could help. Your well being ensures Thomas' well being, just as mine and Patton's and Roman's and every other side's does too." Logan said, as if what he had done was nothing, as if helping Virgil through an anxiety attack was something people did all the time.

(If he told Logan that this was the first time anyone had ever bothered to not just leave him to get through it by himself, would Logan pity him? Virgil did not want the light side's pity.)

"Good luck to Thomas." Virgil mumbled ironically, which Logan either didn't hear or didn't bother responding to.

"Does this happen often? The anxiety attacks." Virgil shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, feeling the fidget cube there, not entirely remembering even putting it in his pocket.

"...I'm the embodiment of anxiety, take a wild guess." He said, words sounding slightly slurred as his mouth didn't seem to entirely cooperate with his brain just yet, then prying his eyes open as he heard the sound of Logan getting up from the kitchen floor.

There was some incredibly stupid part of him that wanted to reach out and ask him not to leave, but he stayed quiet, watched with relief as Logan only got a roll of paper towels to wipe the water off of the floor.

Oh. Right. Virgil was sure his face turned a nicely embarrassing shade of pink at the reminder of his panicked reaction to Logan entering the room. He must have cried his makeup away earlier this evening, but if he looked flustered then Logan at least didn't comment on it.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to do that."

"It's alright, I'd say I'm at least partly to blame as I startled you into dropping it." Logan wiped the water up and Virgil sat there feeling pretty useless for not even attempting to help fix the mess he had caused, but he was still incredibly shaky and he didn't trust himself to begin picking the pieces of broken glass up, and he didn't know if he could actually get up on his feet without collapsing to the floor again anyway.

Logan got the floor clean of glass and water, and then he checked his wrist watch, surely not liking how late it was. Virgil didn't know what Logan was doing up in the first place, but he really hoped it wasn't somehow his fault.

"Are you feeling alright or do you want me to keep you company?" Logan asked, as always keeping that tone of calm indifference, but Virgil could swear there was a glimpse of care in his eyes (or Virgil just wished so desperately that anyone would care that he was starting to see things).

"Um, 'm fine." He said since he absolutely didn't want to be more of a burden to the others than he already was. If there was anyone Thomas' needed, it was his logic, Virgil wasn't going to be the one keeping him up and making him sleep deprived.

"Alright. I suggest you go and get some rest. Oh, and do not hesitate to come to me for assistance if you'd need it in the future. Take care, Anxiety." Logan said, and then he walked off, likely to his own room, while Virgil just stared after him, having about a billion confusing thoughts in his head.

He'd had an entire conversation with another side without it turning into some kind of argument. Logan had seen him have an anxiety attack and not only not made fun of him, but also helped him calm down more effectively than he ever did himself. Logan had offered to help him the next times it would happen too.

Virgil sat there on the floor for a long while still, staring where Logan had disappeared up the stairs and trying to fathom the terrifying new feeling of hope that had cancelled out the aching in his chest.

Maybe the others didn't like him, but maybe, just maybe at least the logical side could see that he wasn't here to hurt Thomas, and maybe in the future there would be at least one other side that would stand Virgil's company.

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Written: 8th February 2021
Published: 11th June 2021
Words: 1939

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