Trigger Warning, please check end notes for more details.

November 7th, 2019

"PTSD?" Virgil repeated, "but I... I don't have PTSD, I can't!"

Emile smiled softly, "I know it's a very overwhelming diagnosis," he said calmly, "but this is good! Identifying your issues is the first step in treating them. We can't help you if we don't know what you need help with,"

"But I don't– it wasn't that bad,"

Emile raised his eyebrows, "Roman told me that he shared with you the fact that he was also diagnosed with PTSD, is that correct?"

"...Yeah," Virgil said, sounding cautious.

"And you agree that he has PTSD?"

"Well, yeah,"

Emile leaned forward a little, making sure to keep his body language open as to not seem intimidating, "So why can you believe Roman's diagnosis, but not your own?"

"It's different!" Virgil argued. He looked frustrated, glaring at the coffee table.

"Why?" Emile asked, voice curious instead of accusatory.

"Because I don't need anything else to be wrong with me!" Virgil growled, gaze remaining on the coffee table, "The anxiety diagnosis was bad enough, I... I don't need more!"

Emile smiled sympathetically, "Virgil, there is nothing wrong with you. And these diagnoses aren't intended to make you feel worse; we're simply putting a name to the troubles you have in order to understand them,"

Virgil swallowed back tears, "I don't wanna fucking name my problems, I just want them to go away,"

"I know," Emile attempted to reassure him, "It's very overwhelming and frustrating at times but that's why I'm here," Virgil stayed quiet, "I think you should talk to Roman, Virgil. He understands in a way that not everyone can, and I think that's an important connection to have," Virgil shrugged noncommittally, "I know this is a lot to hear so we can either end our session early or we can spend the rest of the time playing board games, or drawing, or whatever you want,"

"Can I go?" Virgil asked quietly.

"Of course," Emile answered, standing to walk Virgil out, "I'll see you next week and if you need anything before then, you have my number,"

Virgil just walked out the door, heading towards the waiting room.

Roman looked up from the magazine he was reading, surprised at seeing Virgil so soon, "Done already, Stormcloud?" Virgil nodded.

Virgil managed to wait until they were in the car before he broke down, beginning to sob.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Roman scooted over to wrap Virgil in a hug, "It's okay, V, you're okay,"

"He said I have PTSD," Virgil choked out.

"I know, buddy, it's okay,"

"It's not!" Virgil exclaimed, "I don't want– want it. I don't–"

Roman hushed him gently, "You're okay, V, don't worry about that. I'm right here, okay? I'm right here,"

Virgil continued to sob.

———

Wednesday, October 21st, 2020

Virgil was tired. School was fine, and monotone; Virgil was passing their classes, but they couldn't say they were enjoying any of them. Therapy was fine; Virgil felt as if they were making no progress, which Emile insisted wasn't a fair argument, recovery wasn't linear. What Emile thought didn't change the fact that Virgil felt like they would never evolve past the life they were currently living. Home was fine; Roman had apologized and Virgil had accepted. Considering they both had a tendency to hold grudges, this was good, it was an improvement from the past. Virgil was still upset which Roman understood; he had struck a nerve, bringing up something that Virgil had believed for years, and still did, even after being told it wasn't true time and time again. Interactions between Roman and Virgil were still awkward, which Virgil hated. Their relationship had suffered from the comment made by Roman and they would have to work some to fix it. Virgil just wanted to feel normal around Roman again. In the meantime, it, just like everything else, was fine, maybe not bad, but it certainly didn't feel good.

The only time Virgil managed to feel anything more than true neutrality was around Remy. They spent their dinner breaks together every school night, and spent even more time together outside of school. For as many people Remy seemed to know, they were really just as lonely as Virgil.

So, life was fine. Virgil wasn't particularly struggling but they also didn't feel much joy. That was fine. Virgil could survive feeling impassive.

And then it had started raining. Virgil tried not to think about Remus. It hurt too much. But they became too exhausted to push the thoughts away. So, they had spent the previous night sobbing so hard they began dissociating. Suffice to say, Virgil had not slept well. They weren't even sure how they got back to their bedroom from the living room.

The hours until their classes ticked by slowly, Virgil only leaving their room to go to the bathroom and to get more cereal to eat. Still, the start of school arrived sooner than Virgil would have liked. They quickly threw on some jeans and another shirt, pulling on their hoodie right after. Grabbing their bag, they made their way out to Remy's car.

"Shit, baby," Remy said as soon as they got a good look at Virgil, "You look terrible, what happened?"

Virgil shrugged, "Nothing I wanna think about right now," they answered vaguely. Remy nodded anyways, leaning in to kiss them on the cheek.

Virgil had definitely started dissociating at some point. Or maybe they had been all day, they weren't really sure. They couldn't remember the rest of the car ride or their first class. Virgil only had two classes that weren't online, three if you counted homeroom, and they only had to attend them for an hour at a time on Monday's and Wednesday's, with lunch in between. It was easy. It should be easy. Yet by the time homeroom was over, Virgil felt ready to keel over from emotional exhaustion. They shared their first class with Remy at least.

Virgil walked into class and had three realizations: it was art class, they had just started a new project that required the use of X-acto knives, something Virgil could not use, and their teacher was absent, a substitute taking his place instead. Virgil sighed heavily as they moved to their seat, trying to smile as Remy sat down besides them. After the teacher gave her entire speech informing them of the instructions for the period (Virgil missed most of it) they walked up to the desk.

"Yes?" the teacher asked, not lifting her gaze from the papers in front of her.

Virgil took a breath, "Um, my name's Virgil, I'm uh– my IEP lets me be exempt from this project. Mrs. Reed said that she had instructions for an alternate project that I could do?"

The teacher looked up, "She didn't mention it in the lesson plan,"

"I mean, I'm sure she just forgot to mention it," Virgil said, shrugging.

"Look, I'm not letting you sit the project out just because you say that the teacher you could,"

"It's on my IEP. I can– I can show you–"

"That still doesn't mean you get to not do the work,"

"But I– I," Virgil stammered, "I can't do this project, you don't understand,"

"I understand art isn't everyone's favorite but without a teacher's approval you have to participate,"

Virgil floundered, trying to breathe. Suddenly there was a hand on their shoulder. Virgil turned their head, finding Remy standing behind them.

"What's going on?" They asked, feigning calmness when Virgil could see they were worried.

"She's saying I have to do the project," Virgil whispered, panicked.

"Please take your seats," the teacher said, obviously annoyed.

"Virgil's exempt from this project, ma'am," Remy said politely.

"Please take your seats, you are wasting valuable class time," Virgil wanted to cry. They couldn't handle this right now.

Remy shook their head, moving their hand to rest around Virgil's waist comfortingly. They began walking away, guiding Virgil.

"Where are you going?" the teacher asked.

"The office ma'am," Remy replied, turning to flash her a smile, "You can count us absent or try to fail us but you can't stop us from leaving the classroom," the teacher didn't reply and Remy continued to lead Virgil into the hallway.

"Shit," Remy muttered as soon as they were far enough away from the classroom, "fuck, you okay V?"

"Fine," Virgil grumbled.

"Do you wanna go home? I could drop you off or–"

"Remy," Virgil interrupted angrily, "I'm fine. Drop it."

"Jeez, girl. Fine, I'll drop it, I'm dropping it, it has been dropped,"

Virgil did not seem amused, scowling at Remy.

"Fuck babe, c'mon, cut me some slack here," Remy tried. Virgil continued stalking their way to the counseling office, silently, "Are you seriously pissed at me?" Remy accused.

"I was handling it," Virgil said darkly.

Remy scoffed, "Yeah well, so sorry me, your boyfriend, was just trying to help you. How dare I? I'm such an asshole, huh?"

"Shut up," Virgil replied weakly, and when Remy looked over they saw that Virgil was crying.

"Shit," Remy whispered, deflating, "sorry baby. I wasn't trying to get angry, I didn't get any sleep last night, I wasn't thinking,"

Virgil rubbed at their eyes aggressively, pretending they weren't crying, "I didn't mean to start fighting. I just don't wanna talk about it,"

"Okay," Remy soothed, "that's fine. I'm sorry I didn't listen to you," Virgil didn't say anything in response, just gripping Remy's hand.

Virgil remained quiet for the rest of the period, the two sitting in a room off of the main office. They curled up in the passenger seat of Remy's car during lunch, refusing food. By the end of the day, they were scowling to hide how terrible they truly felt, glaring at anyone who got too close.

Virgil was obviously grateful for school ending for the day, practically melting into the passenger seat as soon as they got in Remy's car.

Remy watched them closely for a second after sitting down, looking away to start the car. They spent the first few minutes in silence until they had reached a stoplight that was red, "Can I spend the night?" Remy asked

"Stop it! I'm fine!" Virgil said angrily, pulling their hood over their curls and tightening it.

Taken aback, Remy pulled their eyes away from the road for a second to glance over Virgil; they were shaking and had their head hung low, hair and hood blocking Remy's view of their face. Remy looked back to the road, silently slipping their hand near Virgil's. Despite the instinct to respond to Virgil and explain themself, Remy made no moves to touch Virgil or to talk, sensing that they needed a moment.

"Still want to spend the night around me?" Virgil muttered bitterly after some silence. They ignored Remy's hand, instead, curling their arms around their torso. Remy left their hand next to Virgil.

"Yep," Remy said casually.

Virgil scoffed, "You don't need to fucking babysit me, Remy. I'm fine,"

Remy rolled their eyes, "Okay well, one, that's stupid, I'm not babysitting you, I like hanging out with you; and two, I'm allowed to worry about you Pumpkin, it kinda came with the whole boyfriend thing. Like, the fact that you keep repeating 'I'm fine,' aggressively makes me think that you are not at all fine," Virgil scoffed, "Besides," Remy continued, "You know I hate sleeping in that big empty house. This is just as much for me as it is you,"

The anger and antagonism that Virgil had been running off of since 4th–period slowly abandoned them, leaving them numb and exhausted, "I'll text Roman," Virgil said, voice sounding hollow.

Remy continued to drive.

Trigger Warnings:
Ableism

Thanks for reading!!
-Apollo