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He Could Be A Good Guy

Summary:

Virgil's thoughts during ACCEPTING ANXIETY Part 1 and after Part 2. WARNING: Reference to self-harm and suicidal thoughts.

Notes:

TRIGGER WARNING:
This work contains self-hatred, suicidal thoughts, and references to self-harm.

Work Text:

Virgil shuddered as he let the breath he had been holding out. Come on, you can do this. Don’t be a coward now. He lowered the knife to his right wrist until it was barely touching his skin. The sleeve of his hoodie was pushed up to his elbow. He took a deep breath and rethought his decision for the hundredth time in a week.

Even though he has thought about killing himself for years, he could never bring himself to actually try. Sure he’s self-harmed – both of his forearms are covered in scars, that’s one of the reasons why he always wears his hoodie – but Virgil never made the decision to just cut a little farther down across his wrists.

Virgil had always pretended to be unaffected by the other sides’ scorn and derision, but the truth was, their words hurt him more than any knife ever did. He never forgot their insults or their lack of caring, they swirled around in his head whenever he tried to sleep and haunted his nightmares.

The other sides have never been particularly kind, except for Patton but he was kind to everybody, but lately it felt that their dislike for him was growing into hatred, and their ignorance to his wants and needs were obvious. The past few videos his opinions and fears have been trampled over like the idea of consent was just a joke. With the flying, falling, and shapeshifting his boundaries have been shredded. Even Patton forcefully shifted him for a dad joke, right after Virgil thanked him for not changing him.

Virgil shut his eyes against the torrent of bad memories and let out another shaky breath. All he wanted to do was protect Thomas, but all he did was make Thomas’s life, and therefore the lives of the others, miserable. Without him, Thomas could actually enjoy life without being afraid of every conversation he had. Thomas could actually get some sleep and be happy instead of constantly worrying about tiny, unimportant details. Anxiety simply had to go.

When Virgil opened his eyes they landed on the folded up sheet of paper lying on his dresser. It was his note. A week ago when Virgil finally wanted to kill himself, he knew that it couldn’t be a rash decision. If he was going to do this, it had to be carefully thought out. He gave himself a week, but the actions and words of the others just pushed him to make the final decision. Virgil spent three days writing that note in order to make sure his every point got across. He wanted the others to understand how he, Anxiety, worked and how the others made him feel. He let them know that they were right to hate him and that he didn’t blame them. After all, he was a disorder.

The part of the note that took the longest, however, was the signoff. It took him hours to try to decide whether to say goodbye as Anxiety or Virgil. On one hand, he didn’t want the others to know his name because they never saw past his title of Anxiety. They only saw him as the villain. And maybe he was the villain, but he liked to think that maybe there was something more to him, too. Virgil thought that the others might just possibly see that if they had his name. So in the end, he signed off with

Love, Virgil.

Because he did love them, even Princey. How could he not? They were the light his darkness was drawn to. They made Thomas happy and joyful. They were the reason why Thomas was such a kind and caring human being. And Virgil’s darkness threatened his positive outlook on life. Virgil just hoped that when he was dead, the others would miss him. He didn’t think it likely, or even possible, but this small hope was all that he would allow himself in the end.

He had made sure to disconnect himself from Thomas right before he finally slit his wrists so that any possible consequences wouldn’t affect him. Virgil didn’t know what would happen to Thomas, but it had to be positive since the darkness would at last be defeated. Prince would probably be disappointed that he would never defeat Anxiety himself.

Virgil sighed and looked down at where the blade of the knife was just touching his wrist. He felt calm, more calm than he could ever remember feeling. He was finally at peace. He had just started to press down when he heard voices in his part of the mindscape.

The peace that had flooded his mind vanished, followed immediately by his usual anxiety. He groaned and set the knife down. He couldn’t kill himself now, the others would soon start exploring and would find him while he was still bleeding out. Patton would probably convince the others to try and stop the bleeding and he couldn’t have that happen. Besides, his room would only make them all panic even without his corpse thrown into the mix so Virgil had to get them out. If they stayed here, they would be consumed by the anxious thoughts that accompanied Virgil on a daily basis. None of them were equipped to handle that stress. He sighed again and sank down to meet them.

Perhaps when they’re out of my room, they will be too wary of my room to return here stop me from killing myself. Maybe then I can have peace.

 

-0-0-0-0-

 

Virgil sank down into his bedroom and let out a steady breath. He actually felt… good. While not all of his doubts and fears were abolished, some of them were. He was not hated or despised. His opinion mattered, he was important. He did not just cause harm wherever he went. He could be a good guy.


He looked down and the seemingly innocent slip of paper that still resided on his dresser and the gleaming knife next to it. In an instant, Virgil made his decision. He took the knife back to its proper spot in his kitchen. Then he ripped up his suicide note and threw the pieces into the wastebasket. He hadn’t told the others what his intentions were before they interrupted him, but he didn’t consider himself to be at risk of killing himself anymore. He didn’t know if he would ever tell the others about it or not, all he knew was that for the first time in a very long time, he actually considered his life worth living.