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Virgil almost didn't realize it. He had been holed up in his room for a couple days, not wanting to interrupt the sides' Christmas celebrations. Sure, he'd technically been accepted now, but he saw their apprehension around him. The holidays were supposed to be a stress-free time, and Virgil was happy to give them that. They deserved it.
So he did the same thing he did every year: disappear on the tenth (Thomas tended to have a lot of early Christmas spirit), and reappear on January third. The others didn't seem to notice, and so Virgil was content.
It didn't matter how his heart ached whenever he heard Disney movies blasting in the Mindscape late at night; or how he winced whenever the boisterous laughter of Roman or the ebullient giggles of Patton or the muffled chuckles of Logan floated in underneath his door and sent pangs of longing through his soul. Because they were happy. Without him. And that was fine.
Virgil knew he was a burden. He knew they were only listening to him to tide him over, a guise of kindness and compassion that he knew was just to prevent him from ducking out again. It was okay.
They were doing their best to include him ever since they'd learned his name, Patton even going so far as to give him a half-hug once. Virgil had relished in that memory for months. He'd been so warm and safe, and Virgil understood that he hadn't really meant to, but it was still his most precious memory.
But the holidays were their time to get away from him and unwind, so he let them do that. Why deprive them of their basic needs, anyways? He didn't need them around.
That was a lie.
But he was fine without them. He got used to waking up trembling from nightmares in the middle of the night, not even the familiar weight of his jacket calming him. He was fine with staying in his room all day, the dark shadows in the corners of his room creeping closer and twining around his ankles.
They whispered to him sometimes. When it got really bad, when they wrapped around his chest, cutting off his breathing and choking him with anxiety, the only way out was with the help of another side. Virgil had tried. He'd tried and tried again to get away from them, but every time he came back to his room, they were there. Waiting.
When he left his room, he took a little bit with him. It bled out into the Mindscape underneath his feet, leaving a trail of whispering worries behind him wherever he went. Sometimes it was worse, sending Thomas into spirals over the smallest things.
Thomas deserved to feel good when Christmas came around. There was supposed to be decorations and eggnog and gingerbread cookies and festivity, and Virgil was practically the antithesis to that. It only made sense that he left. He didn't need to be around for Thomas when all that was needed was nostalgia and happiness.
So Virgil had sunk out into his room on December tenth, locking the door behind him and falling onto his bed.
Almost immediately, he was sinking, dark smoky tendrils circling his legs and arms. Panic gripped his chest, and he tried to rip himself away, but to no avail. It hurt. The cold seeping into his bones hurt. The loneliness flooding back into him with a vengeance hurt.
Taking one last deep breath, he let himself succumb.
The next few days were torture. He was still awake, but only barely. The perpetual panic ringing through his chest didn't even work to get him sitting up. His patched jacket had been thrown on the floor, too light to help. The dark jacket he'd worn before he was accepted was now wrapped around him tightly, the faintest source of comfort for when he woke up in a cold sweat.
He drifted in and out of slumber. There was no point to get up anyways, because he was supposed to be giving Thomas some time off. He just had to keep existing, stay alive until January third, when he could collapse onto the ground outside his room and stay there for hours.
Every time he was conscious, he felt himself sinking deeper and deeper. The shadows were taking over, filling his lungs, running through his veins until he couldn't feel anything anymore.
Virgil winced. It was cold, too cold. The type of cold that burned with pain but made him numb at the same time. His eyes had been rendered useless a long time ago, when the light had been shut out completely.
He was floating, or so he thought. He’d stretched his limbs out as far as he could go, but nothing met his touch. He’d given up on trying to move after the cold seeped into his bones.
Thoughts were the only thing he had for company, but even those were sparse.
He didn't know what spurred him to try to move. All he knew was that words were suddenly echoing through his brain, buzzing through his head and leaving stinging pain behind.
"Right now, I hope and dream to get rid of my anxiety."
"You are thoughts I create, questions I ask, fears I have, nothing more." Nothing more.
His fingers curled, finally regaining feeling in them. The tiniest bit of warmth sparked in his chest, very slowly spreading throughout his body.
Virgil almost didn't want to wake up from whatever was going on. Given how the words spoken a year ago were now screaming in his mind, it was likely to be his 'birthday'. The first one. Ever.
Logan's was the only one he'd witnessed close up. Patton and Roman had strewn streamers and balloons and decorations around the Commons, baking a space-themed cake that even had Virgil speechless. Logan wouldn't admit it, but he'd definitely shed a tear. They'd celebrated for the whole day, the three of them falling asleep to Big Hero 6. Virgil had snuck away after a few hours, hiding in his room and daydreaming about the prospect of something not even half of that for his birthday. He'd probably cry. Scratch that, he'd definitely cry.
But he wasn't going to get it. They were busy unwinding for the holidays, and anyways, it wasn't like they were about to throw him a birthday party just because he told them his name. They may not hate him anymore, but that doesn't mean they have to like him.
Virgil fought to the surface, fog clearing from his mind as he slowly tried to sit up. The world came back into view, save for the shadows around the edges of his eyes.
The cobwebs draped across his room, now adorned with colourful shreds of tinsel, the spider curtains now switched out with horrid but nostalgic elf curtains that Remus had given him a couple years back as a gag gift — they brought a familiar sense of comfort to him, even if it was only fleeting.
He existed in peaceful silence for a moment, the shadows’ whispers dulled after listening for so long, reduced to just a buzz in the back of his skull. His eyes were blurry and unfocused, glazed over from the effects of being in his room for so long. His mind was numb from any pain, having been attacked by the shadows for too long.
Virgil’s trance was broken by a loud banging on his door. He turned his head, idly noting the threats of knocking down his door. He only blinked at the crash, wood splintering into his room.
A side rushed over to him, but everything felt like it was going in slow-motion; the sound reaching his ears a moment after he saw their mouth move.
The bright red of Roman’s sash met his eyes, and he felt himself get picked up in a bridal carry, garbled speech edged with worry meeting his ears. Virgil took a deep breath, and let his consciousness slip away.
Awareness came in flashes.
He was lying on the couch, Patton leaning over him and rubbing his hand. Virgil thought he spotted the slightest glint of tears.
Logan, wrapping a dark purple weighted blanket around him and leaving his hand on Virgil's shoulder for a tad too long to be a mistake.
Roman singing quietly, humming Nightmare Before Christmas songs as he messed with Virgil's hair.
A flash of yellow late at night, a brush of touch on his forehead.
Glowing green eyes, a crudely painted squirrel skull left on the coffee table next to him.
Virgil was finally awake. And so, so tired. He was shaking, and he didn't know if it was his muscles failing to hold him up or trembling from at last being out of his room and away from the shadows.
It felt so calm in the commons. All was quiet. The lights were off. And the Christmas lights were twinkling-
It was Christmas. And he was there. Virgil was supposed to be in his room and he was ruining everything for the rest of them and he couldn't breathe-
A weight on his legs suddenly became apparent, and Virgil fell deathly still. Somebody was slumped over the couch, cross-legged on the floor and arms draped over Virgil's legs. After a moment where his brain refused to cooperate, he recognized Logan.
The side must have been there for a while, judging by how his hair was falling over his eyes, tie rumpled and glasses askew on his face. Virgil frowned, wincing at the thought of Logan staying awake long enough to fall asleep like that.
He tried to slowly extricate himself from Logan’s grasp, but failed, because the side stirred as soon as he moved. Logan sat up, rubbing his eyes groggily and staring at Virgil in incomprehension for a moment. Virgil could practically see the cogs turning in his head.
And then-
“Virgil!” Logan smiled, sighing in- was that relief? For what?
“Thank goodness you’re awake. We were worried.” he reached out to place a hand on Virgil’s own. Virgil flinched away, curling in on himself.
“My apologies, I did not intend to upset you.” Logan pulled back, frowning. “Are you ready to talk now, or would you like to take more time to restore your energy?”
“What is there to talk about?” he croaked, wincing at the hoarseness in his voice.
“Virgil, you-” Logan took a deep breath, concern shining in his eyes.
“After not seeing you for nine days, Roman found you… unresponsive in your room. You seemed to be in pain, and you were breathing what looked like smoke. Since we relocated you to the living room, you have been unconscious.”
“And when was that?” Virgil questioned, fear running through his veins.
“Yesterday,” Logan said solemnly. Virgil froze. That meant they’d come on his birthday, and… remembered? Almost reading his mind, Logan’s eyes softened.
“Happy birthday, by the way.”
As if on cue, heavy footsteps sounded from the stairs, a large yawn accompanying them. Virgil jerked up, staring as Roman’s crown pajamas became visible. The side looked over at the couch, locking eyes with Virgil before lighting up and bounding down the last few steps.
Before he knew it, Virgil was tackled into the sofa, arms circling around him for a split second before Roman backed off, hands raised apologetically.
“Sorry, Hot Topic. My bad.”
“Good morning to you too, Roman,” Logan sighed, exasperated but fond. Roman waved a hand in his direction, shushing him vaguely with his eyes still trained on Virgil.
“How are you feeling?” his voice was soft.
“Uh… ‘m alright. Really, you guys don’t have to worry.” He sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the couch.
“I think you’ll find that that is completely untrue.” Logan rested a hand on Virgil’s knee, still cross-legged on the carpet.
“Alright, alright, shhhh. ‘S too early for this. Just… ok, I’ll make waffles. Talk when we’re actually awake.” Roman grabbed Logan’s head, pushing himself into a standing position and chuckling lightly at the disgruntled look on Logan’s face.
Virgil leaned back, letting his eyes fall shut and finally allowing himself to think.
It hadn’t worked. That much was apparent. He’d failed at removing himself and made an even bigger disruption, but so far, they hadn’t seemed to mind. In fact, they almost embraced him as part of their famILY. Which was strange, to say the least.
As Roman hummed from the kitchen and Logan nodded off, Virgil found himself relaxing. A part of him still insisted that they hated him, but he was finding it harder and harder to listen to it.
They’d tried to look for him. They wondered where he was and came to look for him, even during the holidays when he was only a nuisance. They’d busted down his door instead of just thinking he was being rude and ignoring them, and they’d saved him.
But they were probably just worried that he’d ducked out again. He’d be the first to admit that he hadn’t been the best to deal with in the past couple of months, but by now at least he knew not to do that. But to them, he was probably still that unstable side that they hated but put up with for Thomas’s sake.
A plate was set in front of him on the coffee table, a matching one for Logan. Roman flopped down on the beanbag chair, holding his own plate of waffles.
“Come on, eat up. I doubt you had any food in your room.” Roman smiled, settling in.
Virgil took a cautious bite, nearly moaning at the taste. He quickly finished the plate, setting it down and sighing.
“You want seconds?” Roman asked, and he shook his head. “Alright. I guess we’re just waiting for Pat-”
“Mornin’ kiddos,” a voice called from the stairs, Patton coming into view soon after.
“Huh, look at that. Hey Padre!” Roman grinned as Patton’s eyes widened.
“Virge! You’re awake!” he rushed over, beaming. “Thank goodness!”
“I- uh, hi Pat,” Virgil stammered. Patton and Logan exchanged glances, Patton sitting himself down next to Virgil.
“So, kiddo,” he started, voice soft. “Are you ready to talk?” Anxiety pooled in the pit of his stomach, but Virgil nodded slowly. He was stunned to silence at the sudden shift in mood, shrinking in on himself.
“Alright. I’m assuming you know what happened?” Virgil nodded again, unable to force words out of his mouth.
“Did… did you know that was going to happen? Like, was it on- on purpose, or something?” Roman asked, voice strangely choked.
Virgil shook his head, looking down. “I mean… it’s never been that bad before.”
“So, it’s happened before. I can only assume it worsens with prolonged exposure, so the question is now: why did you shut yourself in your room?” Logan asked, detachment seeping into his voice even though Virgil could tell that he was trying to stay emotionally available for them.
“I-I just… y’know… cause of the- like… holidays ‘n’ stuff.”
“You believe that we would not… want you around? Simply because Christmas is coming up? I- I’m afraid I don't understand.” Logan frowned.
Patton was staring at him, lower lip trembling and eyes shining, but he didn’t move. In a way, Virgil was grateful for that, because if Patton shed a tear, he knew he would start sobbing.
Roman did move however, silently walking over to perch on the arm of the sofa and take Virgil’s hand so kindly.
“You’re a part of our famILY, Virgil. That doesn’t stop simply because a holiday’s rolled around, or something.” Virgil stared at him, breath trembling in what might have been hope.
“I concur; you are a valued member of our team, and that will not change.” Logan reached over to Virgil, bringing a comforting warmth with him.
“I- but you guys- you don’t need to lie. I won’t duck out, you can stop.” Virgil looked down, avoiding eye contact.
They all flinched at that, expressions contorting into various levels of anguish. “What-”
“Virgil?” Patton asked, voice wavering. “Can I- can I give you a hug?” Virgil froze, eyes flicking from him to Logan and Roman for some sort of permission.
“None of us will get angry. You are perfectly welcome to engage in physical contact with one of us; especially if it will improve your emotional wellbeing.” Logan cracked a small smile.
“I- um… yes. Please.” The words barely left his mouth before Patton was sprawled on top of him, holding on tight like if he let go, Virgil would vanish.
It was all of two seconds before Virgil was crying, burying his face in the crook of Patton’s neck and returning the tight hug.
“We love you, Virge. We’re never gonna stop loving you.”
And with that, he fully collapsed into Patton’s arms, letting himself sob.
“I-I’m sorry, it- it hurt, the shadows hurt, and I didn’t have to deal with them for so long cause you guys were there but winter came too fast and I thought I still had to leave you guys alone and then there were too many and I couldn’t stop them- !” he cried, shoulders trembling.
Patton suddenly drew back (although leaving a hand on his shoulder that Virgil was very thankful for), and Virgil found himself mourning the loss of contact as the side stared at him.
“Correct me if I misunderstood, but you’re saying that… after so much interaction with us, the abrupt deprivation of such caused… that state?” Logan’s voice broke.
Virgil nodded cautiously, wincing as he saw them all frown. “Well,” Roman started, still gripping Virgil’s hand.
“-then that won’t have to happen again. I promise you. I swear on my life that I will never let that happen again.” he pressed his forehead to Virgil’s, silently squeezing his hand as if to assure him that he wasn’t leaving.
“You- really? You don’t have to do that, I’ll be okay-”
“Virge.” Patton cut him off. “You will never have to go through that again. We’ll make sure of it.”
“Y-you’d do that?” Virgil stammered.
“Of course we would. We’re here for you, Virgil. Whatever you need.” Logan’s voice wavered as he stood up.
“Can-” Virgil faltered, but Patton nudged him encouragingly. “Go on,” he murmured.
“Can you stay here? I… don’t want to go back. I don’t want to be alone.”
“Of course.” Logan assured him, as Roman scooted over to let him sit. All was quiet as Virgil allowed himself to be hugged by Patton, Logan a comforting presence on his other side and Roman draped across his knees, arms latched around Virgil’s waist.
They stayed like that for a long time, the thumping of Patton’s heartbeat lulling him into relaxation, until Logan extracted himself from the pile.
Patton reached out for him and Roman whined when he stood up; Virgil staying quiet but watching him with a touch of anxiety.
“I’ll be back in a moment.” he smiled. Virgil nodded, only half-aware and drunk on pure bliss. He didn’t realize his eyes had shut until someone prodded at his shoulder.
He opened his eyes to see Logan holding a cupcake, a purple and white candle sticking out. Roman had removed himself from Virgil’s lap, holding a lighter and struggling to light it.
“We still haven’t celebrated.” Patton smiled. Virgil brought his hand to his mouth, feeling like he was going to float away with sheer happiness.
Roman finally lit it, drawing back and placing a hand on Virgil’s leg.
“Go ahead. Make a wish.”
Virgil took a deep breath, and blew the candle out. I wish for my family to stay forever.
He got his wish.