Don't Leave Me | Analogical

5. Poetry

POV: Logan

I called out Virgil's name as I finished making dinner. I set the table and waited for him to come out of his room.

Five minutes passed and I didn't receive any form of response from him so I decided to see what he was up to.

I knocked gently on his door and raised an eyebrow when there was no reply. Maybe he was napping? I popped my head into the room to make sure he was okay.

Virgil was sitting at his desk with his back to me. He was wearing his big headphones with the music so loud I could hear the tune from my position at the door. That explains why he hadn't heard me.

I walked in and stood behind his chair, gently setting a hand on his shoulder.

"Ah!" Virgil jumped at the touch, almost falling off the chair. He blushed in embarrassment when he realised it was me and he took off the headphones.

"Apologies, I didn't mean to startle you." I said quickly with a small smile. "I decided to check up on you when you didn't hear me calling for dinner."

"Sorry." Virgil bit his lip. "Music was too loud."

"So I noticed." I raised an eyebrow and my eyes wandered down to the paper in front of him. "So what has got you this distracted?"

"I um... it's nothing." Virgil mumbled and covered the page he had been writing on with a blank one. I looked at him in confusion and he sighed. "Fine." He rolled his eyes and handed me the page. "It's just something I do... in my spare time."

I adjusted my glasses and I scanned down the page. The short sentences initially made me assume it was notes, however upon further inspection it turned out it was written in verse. It was a poem.

"You have an interest in poetry?" I inquired, reading through the flowing words.

"Yeah... not sure if it's any good though." Virgil shrugged, fidgeting with his pen as he anxiously waited for me to finish.

"This is quite impressive, Virgil." I finally said, astounded by his extensive vocabulary and use of symbolism.

"Yeah?" His eyes lit up.

"Indeed. I feel like I'm reading course material to be studied by students."

"Really? I wouldn't go that far..."

I put up a hand in protest. "I'd love to study this in more depth, Virgil. Could I see some other work you have done?"

"Sure!" He grinned and pulled open a desk drawer. He took out a folder filled with slightly crumpled papers and handed them to me. Virgil paused and blushed. "Um... I'd appreciate it if you could give me some, you know... feedback."

"Certainly." I smiled as I flicked through the papers. There were at least twenty sheets of writing in the folder; some more full than others. I handed the first page back to Virgil, as he was still working on it. "Are you aiming to make an anthology?"

"Kind of... yeah." He took the page and set it on the desk in front of him.

"Do you have a title? Or a theme?" I was genuinely curious at this point.

Virgil shifted uncomfortably in his seat, fidgeting with the pen again. "The theme is just... my experiences." He mumbled.

"That's perfectly valid and understandable. Experiencing something gives you special insight which can then be shared through poetry quite effectively." I nodded, adjusting my glasses with a smile.

"Thanks." Virgil looked up and gave me a crooked smile. "Means a lot."

"My pleasure, Virgil." I replied. "You seem to have talent. Now, let's go eat before the food goes cold."

"Oh shit! Sorry." Virgil quickly stood up from the desk, chucking down the pen and his headphones.

I left the folder of Virgil's poems in my room and we sat down to have dinner. We didn't talk much, both engrossed in our own thoughts. I was still impressed with Virgil's penmanship and shocked that I hadn't known about this secret hobby of his. I couldn't understand why he would want to hide his talent like that.

After dinner, Virgil went back to his writing and I decided to start reading some more of his work. I started from the back, with the poem I assumed was the first to be written.

The writing was much more scribbly and uneven, making me wonder if it was written in a spur of heightened emotion. It's how some of the best work comes to be written.

I started reading and frowned deeply as the words painted a melancholic scene which quickly took an anger-filled turn. I couldn't pinpoint what exactly the poem was describing, but it conveyed the emotions strongly enough to make me pause for a full minute after finishing. I gently replaced the page back into the folder and moved onto the next.

The five poems which followed had similar emotions interwoven into the words, yet I still wasn't sure of the subject. Then I found it.

This one didn't have a title. Instead there was a date scrawled at the top: November 9th.

I knew at first glance that this poem was slightly different. The writing was small and neat, much calmer than the ones before it. There was no anger, no frustration, just... sadness.

Sadness... and pain.

My hand gripped the paper as each phrase hinted more and more towards the thing I had hoped it wouldn't. Each line more elaborate, each verse harder to read. The dread built up in my chest, rising steadily, until I reached the final words.

"I didn't want it,
but I got used to it."

The page fell out of my grip. "No..." I said quietly to myself and my hand flew to my mouth in shock. I noticed my breathing had become heavier and I put my face in my hands as the realisation finally hit me. "My experiences." Virgil had said.

I got up from my chair and stood in the middle of my room with my hand clasped over my mouth, not knowing what to do or how to react. I didn't want to believe it. I didn't want to believe that Virgil had gone through something so horrible and was forced to endure it for three whole years before finally meeting me. I knew I'd never forgive Dee for what he did.

Once I mustered up the courage, I left my room and walked into Virgil's without knocking. He didn't have his headphones on this time so he heard me come in.

"Oh, hey Logan, I was just—" He stood up and faced me, but his words were cut off as I pulled him into a tight embrace. I simply didn't know what else to do. He tensed in my arms, confused at my actions. "Logan? You okay?" I didn't reply, so Virgil pulled away to look up at me. "Logan?" He repeated.

"I... read the poem." I stated, suddenly feeling like I was invading his privacy. I felt like I knew too much.

Virgil raised an eyebrow. "Which one? There's like twenty."

"November ninth." I said quietly and watched as all the blood drained from his face. His eyes went wide and he choked on his words.

"I... I didn't know that one was in there..." He stammered, looking away from my gaze as his entire mood shifted. I pulled him into a hug again and this time he returned it, burying his head in my shoulder.

"I'm so sorry." I whispered, rubbing slow circles on his back. "I never knew."

"It's not your fault." He replied, his voice muffled and devoid of emotion. We stood there for what seemed like an eternity, neither of us wanting to let go.

For once, I didn't shy away from the affection.