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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"I would be able to get things done if my brain would get on board with it too. But I can't seem to get it down anymore, Roman." Virgil was sitting against his desk, The phone gripped in his hand tightly, clearly exhausted but eager to get advice from the only friend he seemingly managed to have in 5 years.
"Is it some kind of Writer's block or something? Surely you can do it, it can't be that difficult, can it?" Virgil resisted the urge to groan, that was what everyone thought. The same old generic way of thinking, stereotypes, he wanted to scoff just thinking about it.
"I guess you could say that, but not exactly, I don't think it's just writer's block, because I have the idea in my head, and I planned out the story piece by piece and yet I can't seem to get so much of an opening sentence, you'd think sitting at your typewriter for hours on end, you'd get something done . . ." Roman snickered on the other side of the phone, still not understanding completely of his friend's struggles. He wasn't a writer, definitely not, if anything, he could maybe pull a few sentences out but he didn't enjoy the writing process. Honestly, he'd be a good poet if he really tried, with his own fanciful romantic gestures.
"So, what do you suggest I do, because I really don't feel like sitting here all day again, setting myself up for disappointment." He pinched the bridge of his nose tightly, a headache was starting to pound beneath his eyes. Roman sighed and thought a second before responding,
"I'm not in town at the moment, so suggesting you come to my place to relax wouldn't be a suitable option unless you want to be alone all day, which I doubt." Virgil rolled his eyes and nodded, "Why don't you go for a walk, get more of that disgusting beverage you like to have in the morning--"
"You mean coffee?" He smirked and Roman grumbled about how unhealthy it was for him to have all the time, Especially with the amounts he consumed on a daily basis.
"Well I must be going, my boss is starting to stare again. But really though, I heard walking helps stimulate the brain, so in the meantime, you can brainstorm some ideas while you're out."
"Not exactly what I wanted to hear but . . . I guess I'll have to give it a chance. What time are you heading back, so I know when to call you?" Roman exchanged the time to ease Virgil's anxiety. For some odd reason, He needed reassurance whenever Roman came home, 'Just to know you're safe.' Virgil exclaimed when asked about it.
"Okay thank you, Ro. I'll talk to you later." Virgil mumbled a goodbye before hanging up. He didn't put the phone down just yet, he kept it to his ear, the ringing becoming oddly comforting, but it stopped after a while and he was stuck by himself once more, in dreadful silence. He slammed it down after a couple seconds, and shifted in his chair, muffling a groan at the feeling of his aching bones. He stretched quietly, the cracks he heard from popping his joints satisfied him.
