[5] Panick Patrick.

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Vergil's nail tapped the glass box. His ants were used to it and reacted none, going on their merry way through the tunnels traced while some dug new ones.

He glanced through the glass and at the clock beyond. Twenty minutes until his classes started. He straightened up his back and opened his drawer, exposing his collection of bugs kept in tiny glass containers.

They came with each new number of a newspaper his mother subscribed to. She didn't even read them, it was only for Vergil's collection.

He started wiping them one by one and staking them on the desktop. Once they were all nice and clean, he started putting them back in alphabetical order.

Five minutes until class.

Vergil stood up and looked at the mirror on his closet. He pulled the brown spotted shirt out of his black pants, and rolled up the sleeves as to no longer fumble with them constantly. He unbuttoned the thin, green cardigan of a soft, thin material and dully wondered if his mother bought it from the women's section.

Again.

He shook his head and ruffled up his hair some more, but it kept falling back in place since it was soft. With a sigh, he darted his bag over his shoulder and calmly went to the door. After opening it, he made himself stumble all the way to the kitchen, where he gripped the doorframe and sighed long.

"Why didn't you wake me up..." he trailed off, meaning to sound as dead as possible.

He was pretending he did take his pills.

There he was, looking like shit with his slumped back and ruffled attire, and his mother was grinning ear to ear as if he just won some Nobel prize.

"Took your pills, Vergil?"

That was his mother's version for the daily 'good morning'.

"Yes."

She wiped her hands on a cloth and then darted it aside, shaking her head. "I told you to eat breakfast before taking them or you'll feel bad!"

"I feel bad either way." he murmured and finally entered, only to discreetly place a knife back in its spot in the knife holder. It'd been buzzing him for the last minute.

"If you didn't pause the treatment all the time, you'd get used to it already."

"Used to feeling bad? Bored? Unmotivated? Uninterested? Dead?"

"Yes!" she sketched a tired smile. "That's what normal teenagers go through. Your pills are making that happen."

"Stevo and Ethan aren't like that."

"They are, but they each learned to cope with it differently. Stevo goes partying and does a bunch of stupid stuff, Ethan paints. They're things that give them energy, a spark. You just have to find your own."

Ethan lowered his eyes, inching to play with his sleeves but unable to.

"And take your pills."

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"Did you take your pills?"

Vergil resisted the urge to snap, since the drugs he was supposed to be on would've prevented that. "Yes, Dudan. Nice dress, by the way."

He would've never dared say that sober.

She didn't smile. Vergil would've thought it was the thing he said, but she just seemed distracted by the agenda she was holding in her nicely manicured hands.

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