I just felt like writing angst. 🤷🏻‍♀️

Warning: Extremely descriptive panic attack, as well as pretty harsh self-deprication. This one shot can be pretty triggering so please don't read it if you think it'll trigger you, I don't want that to happen to anyone. Please please please stop reading if this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable in any way.

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Virgil dug his nails into the skin of his wrist. He didn't wince at the sharp pain... He didn't give any hint that he might be suffering at all. He kept the panic inside his head, and he didn't dare open his mouth in fear he could make it worse. He kept the pain internal, where it belonged.

It's best just to keep quiet. No one cares, it's not like your input matters. If anything, it makes things worse.

He felt his breath quicken. He wasn't in control of his body or his mind anymore, they were in total chaos, and there was nothing he could do to calm himself down. He couldn't think enough, his brain failed to piece thoughts together and instead let his breath escalate.

478, 478, 478—

The numbers in his head were almost like an urgent chant. They echoed in his head like a distant thought he couldn't quite reach, couldn't quite focus on enough to take in what it meant and then do it. He knew the drill, he knew how to calm himself down, but he couldn't. His breathing wasn't controllable anymore, his panic was the one in charge and Virgil couldn't do anything about it except stay silent and let it happen.

Virgil's heartbeat shook his whole body. He felt a wave of nausea, and dug his nails deeper into his skin. He was in a crowded room, but no one noticed a thing. It just further proved the point Virgil's mind was trying to convince him of— He was worthless, replaceable, not worthy of being a member of society.

Roman, Logan, Patton, Thomas, someone—

Someone, help, please—

Please! I need help... I need help... I can't... I can't... I can't do this... I can't—

The silent pleas ringed in Virgil's head. Cries that would never be heard by anyone but himself. All he wanted was for someone to comfort him, to hug him and told him that his mind was wrong, and that he was worth so much, and that he was loved.

But instead, he stayed silent, letting his panic eat at him on the inside, never letting it show to anyone else. Better he the one to take the pain and not bother someone else with a needy cry for help.

Virgil took out his phone. He held it in his shaky hand, and managed to open iMessage and select his chat with Patton. Patton always had the best advice for when he was going through a panic attack. He pulled up the keyboard... But stopped short before typing a single letter.

What would he say? He didn't know what to say. How could you say "I'm having a panic attack" without sounding needy, like you're begging for attention? He couldn't ask for help. Who was he kidding?

He laid his thumb on the home button, ready to close the app and give up, but he hesitated.

Send the damn text, you idiot.

He went back to the keyboard, typed "I'm feeling anxious, can you help?", and was so close to pressing the send button when he chickened out, and his finger instead pressed and held the delete button. He took a shaky breath in, and sent the word "Hey".

Patton replied just seconds later. "Sorry, kiddo, I can't talk now, but I'll talk to you later!"

Virgil's exhale was shaking with his insecurities. He bit his lip and fought the urge to cry. Not now, not in front of these strangers.

He texted Logan next, just to find out that he was working and couldn't talk.

He didn't get a reply from Roman or Thomas. They were probably just as busy.

Virgil felt tears start to form, no matter how desperately he tired to avoid it.

He had no one. No one.

Not one soul cared enough to console him, and he didn't want to bother them. He was a nuisance enough, just by existing, doing the wrong thing on accident, angering people and making their lives worse.

He was an inconvenience, at best.

Screw it.

Virgil couldn't hold the tears back any longer. He slipped his phone into his pocket, and retreated to the bathroom, where he could cry behind a locked door.

Silent and alone, with no one to suffer the pain but Virgil.

Just how it should be.