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Uh, when I'm with you I have amnesia, got me without a mind
My stupid brain thinks that I need you, misleads me all the time
It's like I need a babysitter, someone to come and get me
'Cause I forget the crazy shit, the littlest things impress me
Some days, Virgil almost wishes that he'd just stayed with Rene.
It's a very clearly defined 'almost,' at least, but he feels guilty about it anyway. He knows he shouldn't feel that way. Roman is a wonderful boyfriend and roommate. Remy and Emile adore him, and he adores them both just as much. His friends are great- a little overprotective still, but that's probably to be expected.
No, that's not the problem. The problem is not that Roman, Remy, or Emile mistreat him or don't love him enough.
Sometimes Virgil thinks the issue is that they love her too much.
They all keep breaking the rules, the guidelines that Virgil has had set out for her life since she was a child. Yes, yes, they've broken a few themself (starting with the whole gender thing, moving through the queer thing...they don't even want to think about the polyamory thing when it comes to their abusive-as-shit family). But still.
At least his life with Rene was...if not safe, healthy, and happy, predictable.
If Virgil did something wrong, he would be in trouble. The fact that 'something wrong' could be as simple as 'smiled at Rene at the wrong time' or even 'had an asthma attack when Rene didn't want to deal with Virgil's wheezing' is inconsequential. It is an easy rule to live by, if not a little fraught with uncertainty. The good ol' 'walking on eggshells' feeling. Virgil is an expert at this.
There's the fact that her dietary requirements were, at best, an afterthought. Rene's allergies and sensitivities and conditions are all important, of course. Virgil can't forget those. But Virgil's? It's sheer luck that she and Rene happened to share an anaphylaxis-inducing allergy. At least that wasn't brought into the apartment.
Virgil is incapable of doing anything by themself- or at least, that's what Rene seems to believe. As such, he's not even allowed to go to a doctor's office alone, never mind something like grocery shopping. Hell, he's not even allowed to serve himself at a salad bar, lest he somehow mess it up. It sucks. It doesn't feel good.
But at least it's consistent. He may not like it, but it has always meant that he had a companion for hard appointments (as if he was ever allowed to talk about the real stuff, like Rene's abuse, of course- that was totally off limits). Roman, Remy, and Emile want them to do things. And of course they will help Virgil if she asks. Of course they will never let Virgil flounder if he truly can't do it alone. They praise him to the stars when he does manage, usually with flushed cheeks and jubilant smiles. It's nice to know you can serve yourself your own frozen yogurt bowl. It's nice to know that you can do your own therapy appointment by yourself (and boy, does Virgil need a lot of those).
Virgil doesn't miss the yelling. He doesn't. But he has to admit, it still sends a nervous shudder down his spine when someone is angry at him now. Because now, he doesn't know how they'll react. Maybe it will be worse than yelling. Or hitting. He doesn't miss the hitting either. What could be worse? Their imagination sure has a few good (terrible) ideas. It's scary.
It's terrifying to have a 'discussion' and be repeating to themself that it's okay, they're allowed to eat. They're allowed to be happy. They're allowed to do what they want to do, and they're encouraged to be safe. All of the old rules keep changing on her, and it makes her head hurt.
Virgil stares down at the sink, fingers tightening on the edges. His skin is wet, but that's not the problem.
The problem is Roman asking if he was using snacking to replace a meal.
That's not the problem, either.
The problem is Rene would never have cared. Rene would have been glad that Virgil wasn't requiring extra effort. Rene wouldn't have suggested leftovers- what's Rene's is Rene's, and what's Virgil's is...honestly, usually Rene's, too. Virgil's used to not getting their own leftovers...of anything! Virgil's used to no one giving a shit what they ate, just so long as they didn't do something embarrassing like faint. He'd been lightheaded before he grabbed the crackers. That's all he wanted to do. He wanted to have a little snack, and not take up a full meal, and not make anyone fret about him.
But now Roman thinks he's done something wrong, and Virgil wants to dive headfirst into the Marianas Trench. She chews on her bottom lip, staring unseeingly at the wet sponge, the heap of dishes that she's been trying to wash. It's hard for them to wash dishes, but they felt a burning need to try, to- to not bother Roman right now.
Maybe that's all they are is a bother.
Maybe that's the new rule. Maybe it should be. Maybe-
Virgil's vision blurs with tears and they sag, gracelessly sliding to the floor with nothing but a little thunk as their back falls against the cupboard door. He wraps his arms around his bent knees, shoulders shaking as he tries desperately to get a handle on his chest hitching and the panic flooding his veins.
She's not okay. She's not okay. She's not okay-
"Virgil?" Roman's voice sounds distant, as if he's calling through thick fog on another hilltop. Virgil lifts her head, though it feels like it weighs a million pounds, to see Roman kneeling next to her. "Virgil, breathe with me, love. That's it, in for four..."
It takes a shamefully long time for Virgil's panic attack to dissipate. Every time he thinks that it's on its way out, he remembers and the anxiety flares back up again. His fingernails try to dig into his palms, but Roman notices and deftly slides his own fingers in Virgil's grasp. They can't hurt Roman. They can't.
"Darling, what's wrong?" Roman finally asks, once Virgil's breathing is back to normal and their gaze is just a little watery-looking.
"You keep changing all the rules," Virgil says plaintively. "I don't- I don't know how to keep up, I just-" A fresh tear slides down one raw cheek. "It was awful with Rene," Virgil admits, as Roman gathers them closer. "Awful. But it was- it was familiar. I don't know how to do this."
"I know, love," Roman murmurs, stroking Virgil's back in soothing circles. His hand is warm through their shirt. "I know. I'm sorry. We can learn together, sweetheart. Does that sound good? We can figure it out together. I know it's hard."
Virgil nods, still shaky.
"Please," she requests in a tiny voice. She hesitates, then with a rush of courage, tacks on. "Can we cuddle, maybe? For a little bit?"
"Of course," Roman says, standing and gently sweeping them up to a standing position as well, holding them in place as their body equalizes and the dizzy feeling lessens. The fact he remembers to do that makes Virgil's chest warm and fuzzy.
"I love you," Virgil whispers, as Roman guides him into the bedroom. "I'm sorry."
"You don't need to apologize, my love," Roman reminds them. "And I love you, too."
Virgil smiles, tentative and wavering, but still there.
Still there.