Heathens: Sanders Sides Prinxiety

Wait

A/N I'm sorry. It's been way more than a day but I forgot about the exams I was meant to be revising for. So to make up for it here is a longer chapter that should also clear everything up, or not.

Virgil's POV
I can't believe he was looking through my stuff. My stuff. Honestly, I could kill him. Gosh, I would have killed him to, if he wasn't so gosh darn, darn what? I don't even know! It's just: ugh.
And my god. He saw the pictures. All them images of me and the gang. Granted; it wasn't many of them, but that's not the point! He saw the images of me when I was still with The Heathens.
Lord I miss them guys. It's so lonely over here. Here in the mindpalace. (the mindpalace is going to be what I name the place the sides stay, the mindscape will mean Thomas' mind in general) I mean, it's pretty interesting. All these bright colours and pretty decorations and all but I really miss the shadows of the dark side of the mind. And my friends. If that's what you call them.
I don't even understand why I'm here anyway. I mean don't get me wrong; being away from that awful place is great but what is my job here? To make Thomas suffer? Because all I seem to do, apparently. Although I guess this is a better suffering than the one I went through back there.
I sigh to myself and lean back further on my bed. Looking about the room I realise just how plain it seems compared to the rest of the mindpalace, perhaps I should spice it up a bit? A wave of my hand and MCR posters cover the walls behind my bed. Another wave and pictures of my old life appear upon the wall of the door. If anyone walks in they won't see them, but I can.
Bang!
I jump to my feet in an instant. What the hell was that? I pad on light feet to my door and silently open it a crack. I peer into an unlit hallway, I stop and wait, I stand and listen. I eat a door open.
"Hello?" Of course Pat would be the first out, well except me of course.
"S'just me Pat. M'sorry for waking you," a very sleepy sounding Roman says from the floor.
Theres the creaking of floorboards and then a click as the lights turn on. I hiss and back away into my room, of course after casting a swift glance at the man on the floor first.
I don't bother shutting my door as I sit back on my bed. I keep one ear listening to the conversation outside my door whilst reaching for my phone. Eventually, after what feels like forever, a door shuts again and footsteps continue to procede down the hallway. They continue, then stop, right outside my door.
"Virgil?" A soft voice asks.
I don't reply.
"Virgil?" The voice is stronger now.
"Roman, it's like 3 in the morning," I sigh.
"Yeah, but your awake and no one else is,"
"So?" I can barely keep the annoyance out my voice.
"I thought maybe we could talk?"
I don't reply.
"About us?"
I keep quiet. There's no way he actually wants to know me.
"Look, I just thought maybe we could try and get along," you can here the irritation evident in every word.
"Maybe we could be friends,"
Could not should. Friends.
He lets out an exasperated breath. I can hear the boards speak as he turns around, whispering that he should stop and wait. But no one reads the signs like i do.
"Wait," I stand up and fully open the door. He's already halfway down the hall, "I- I think that's a good idea," I bite down on my lip. God why did I have to stutter?
He smiles. Smiles at what I said. I smile back, just a small one, but it's a first. He beckons for me to come into his room and goodness! It is a bright, red and gold Disney fest in here! I have to shield my eyes from the burning white walls.
"Seriously Princey. Can you not tone it down in here?" I tense when I realise that I used the others nickname for him, waiting for some explosion. But he just smiles and dims the lights.
"So Anx, what's with the picture album?" He sits, grins and pats the spot next to him on the bed. Ok, so he got me back on the nickname part.
"The picture album," I say sitting down beside him, "is a private party of my life. But it seems that doesn't mean much to you? The pictures are of me and my friends. I come from the dark side of the mind where your either evil or a slave. You either fight or die. Survival of the fittest. Where I was- staying- I met some other side's who I got along with. We spent all of our hosts and our highschool life together. We would riot, get drunk, party and blow things up. We were feared because if you weren't feared you were fearful and hense you were weak. You had to be strong if you wanted to live at all. Only the best survived. And even though I didn't fit in at all they all accepted me as one of their own. They were my only sanity, and leaving them behind was like leaving a part of myself. Here I'm alone, I've left them facing death in the face everyday, I should be there with them but instead I'm here doing the one thing I don't want to be doing," I take a deep breath and look at the other hard.
His eyes meet mine and I suddenly feel relaxed. His eyes are gentle and full of understanding. I've never seen him look that way before. Then again, he's never really looked at me anyway. But what he says next startles me, so much that I end up on the edge of the mattress, staring, wide eyed at the carpet, the white carpet may I add.
"I was meant to be one of the darker kids. I was meant to know what it was like. Instead I found out I was Creativity. I was the one to shape Thomas' life and get him to have good ideas and inspiration. Such a hard but important job. Boy is it stressfull. But the worst bit is who I had to leave behind. Someone special," he sighs and his gaze shifts to the floor, "I still have the gift he gave me that day. It was only simple but it still means so much."
He left a boy behind. As my boy left me. His boy gave him a gift as i gave my boy a gift.
"What was it?" I whisper. He looks up to me, searching my face for a while before answering.
"Wait here and I'll go get it,"
He gets up then and makes his way to a white set of chest of drawers. I sit awkwardly on the bed, fiddling with my hoodie sleeves and waiting. I seem to do a lot of that; waiting, sommuch waiting. He opens the top draw and without rummaging through it at all he pulls out a glossy black crows feather.
I gasp. My hands are gripping my hoodie sleeves so hard my knuckles turn white. It can't be. No it can't be. But there it is.
"Wait.."

A/N ok so there we go. So still awful and maybe didn't actually explain a lot but I tried.