Flash Fictions

Last of the real ones

T.W.: panic attacks

Cause you're the last of a dying breed!
Write my name in the wet concrete!
I wonder if your therapist knows everything about me!
I'm here in search of your glory,
There's been a million before me,
That ultra-kind of love
You never walk away from
You're just the last of the real ones!

Roman banged on Virgil's door as the music blasted throughout the Mind Palace. The music paused. Virgil opened the door, not at all surprised to see Princy glaring at him.

"Sup, Princy?" Virgil said.

"I have just about had it with your emo music!" Roman yelled, poking a finger in Virgil's chest, "I'm trying to brainstorm and all I hear is that stupid song! It's driving me insane!"

"Woah, calm down," Virgil raised his hands in defence, "if it's bothering you that much I'll turn it down. Okay?"

Virgil went to turn the volume down, but Roman grabbed his shoulder and forced him to face the other. Virgil's eyes widened when he saw the absolute rage on Princy's face.

"Roman-"

"SHUT UP ANXIETY," Roman spat, "I'm sick of hearing your excuses and empty promises!"

"What did I-!"

Roman didn't let him finish before he threw the anxious trait on the floor. He slammed the door, making Virgil flinch violently at the sudden noise.

Virgil curled up in that spot, his breathing became quick and sporadic. He gripped at his hair, ripping purple strands out with how tight he was holding on. He couldn't move. Or think. Or cry out for help.

Luckily, Roman burst through the door, a worried expression painted on his face. He quickly went and knelt beside the panicking boy.

"Virge? Can you hear me?"

He nodded, gasping in another breath.

"Can I touch you?"

Virgil shook his head, "no, no, no,"

"Why not?" Roman asked.

"Y-you- you y-yell- yelled at m-m-me a-a-and push-pushed me t-to the g-gro-ground." Virgil stammered.

"Virge, I've been out all day," Roman whispered, "this is the first time I've been home since morning,"

Virgil nodded. He did remember Princy leaving. Slowly, he reached out to the prince-like trait. Roman carefully hugged Virgil. He snapped his fingers and played the song again.

You're just the last of the real ones!