what it says on the tin.
explicit trigger warnings before reading, I don't recommend reading if you're currently dealing with anxiety, loss, suicidal or self-harming thoughts.
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N∀פO˥
The shuffling upstairs was starting to upset me, its been going on for at least an hour and I was simply just trying to enjoy a nice cup of coffee while reading one of my classics. It seemed to get louder and louder the more I realized it was there. I suddenly slammed my book down and threw my cup in the sink and started to march up the steps of the mindscape, into the long hallway consisting of the sides' bedroom.
The first room on the left was Patton's, he liked being close to the nearest exit for reassurance for the small kids that slept downstairs. His door had sparkles all around it and it projected this energy, full of happiness, confidence and nostalgia, he had a Big hero 6 posters hung up and his whole room radiated comfort.
Across from Patton's room on the right, a few meters away, was my room. It was dark blue with question marks littering the whole door. I passed by it quickly, knowing where the ruckus was actually coming from. I passed Roman's castle door with a huff and finally after about ten minutes of walking down the empty dark hallway, came Virgil's room. His door was covered with actual street signs such as 'stop', 'wrong way', and 'dead end'. Right above those signs were a poor attempt at writing with black chalk in wonky letters 'stay the fuck out'. Typical Virgil. . .
I lifted my wrist and knocked in a fashion that only Virgil knew and waited with my arms crossed. After an awkward five minutes of staring at the signs, feeling a bit out of place, I knocked again and this time, I heard shuffling and a groan. I sighed and waited for the doorknob to click, he must have just unlocked it and then went back to bed. I opened the door then, feeling safer now that I was invited in because I was seriously considering breaking his door again.
"Virgil?" I asked, and in response, the lump on the bed shifted a little and sat up. I honestly wanted to scream at the top of my lungs about how he should keep in mind of other people in the house but the look he was giving me made me stop and raise a brow. Then, as if it were oblivious to me, I scanned the room to realize that it was absolutely spotless, no clothes on the floor, no bloody tissues, things were placed neatly and organized across his shelves.
So this is what he's been up to?
But he never cleans his room, unless. . .
"You want to tell me something or are you just gonna stand there with your jaw on the floor?"
"U-uh. . . are you feeling okay, Virge?" He rolled his eyes, threw off the blankets and started to reach under his bed, there was some clanking but eventually he ended up pulling out a big bottle of Smirnoff Vodka and popped it open, he then went to his drawer and pulled out a large brown box and some matches.
"Since when do you drink and smoke?" I asked and looked closely at him, trying to analyze whether or not this was serious, my deductions flooded my head as I read his every movement.
