ANXIETY || VIRGIL

"Dude, it's fine, really, you don't need to apologize." I avoided all eye contact, keeping my gaze low and against the ground. The other trait blocked the hallway, making it impossible for me to get to my room unless he moved over, which he would surely not be doing anytime soon.

"Of course I have to apologize, Anxie-sorry, Virgil. It would be very out of character if I didn't. I am trying to be nice to you, remember? Why else would I make my over to this hallway? Oh, that sounded bad-" I look up at Roman, my glance shutting him up instantly. Without another word, he moves over and allows me to walk to my room.

Before I enter, however, I turn back to look at him. "Don't worry, you're forgiven." And I disappear back into my secluded space of negative, yet familiar energy.

First thing I do is shrug off my jacket, tossing it onto my bed. My eyes drift to the tightly wrapped bandages lining my arms, the wounds hadn't been addressed correctly, there was a lack of gauze or non-adhesive pads to wedge between the skin and the bandage, but it didn't matter. They had stopped healing, meaning that there was less of a chance that my hoodie was going to get ruined.

As I force myself to think about something else, I drift back to the exchange I just had with Roman, who seemed to be quite uncomfortable around me, which although was normal, seemed a bit off from his usual behavior.

I shrug it off, knowing that Roman was usually a weird character to begin with, being Thomas' creativity and center of all his hopes and dreams or something like that. Maybe he just had a busy day and thought it was a great time to stop by my room. Either way, I didn't care as long as it didn't interfere with my private suffering, alone in my room.

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LOGIC || LOGAN

"Roman, I don't understand what you're talking about. Anxiety is always that dismissive." I avoid the creative trait's eyes as I skim over the finalized script for the next Sanders Sides video- Thomas had originally finished it with the help of Roman and a small contribution from Patton, but I was hired to go through it afterwards. I was tasked to fix any grammatical errors or errors in logic I might find.

I had just finished rechecking and correcting the last page of the script, ready to alter the word document and print it out once again when Roman had barged into my room. His hair was disheveled from where he had viciously ran his hand through it, one of the buttons on his jacket had come undone, and his face held a whirl of emotions, panic, fear, and worry becoming prominent in the position of his brow and the width of his eyes.

As he entered without knocking, a classic Roman thing to do, I briefly glanced up at the trait before returning to my work, opening up Word and skimming to find the mistakes I had written notes for on my physical copy. "Something appears to be troubling you, please do tell." As much as we like to butt heads on certain topics, Roman and I were quite close to one another, always willing to help out the other in our time of need. Hence why instead of waving him away, I gestured for him to take a seat on the foot of my freshly made bed, a speckled blue comforter covering the black and gray plaid sheets underneath.

Roman, being the dramatic embodiment of a trait that he is, kicked off his shoes and laid down on my bed as if this was a therapy session. I half-expected him to start rambling on about a bombing that had happened in the past, but since it was Roman I didn't really expect it to happen. Instead, he brought his hand up to chin, beginning to ponder on how to explain the predicament he had found himself in.

He proceeded to use over exaggerated gestures and phrases to explain a rather brief and boring story of how his encounter with Anxiety had gone down. I merely nodded along to his words while my eyes skimmed the Word Document on my computer screen, listening to the problem he was faced with as my fingers rapidly typed away, adding the alterations to the script as they were needed.

"It seems like you may be overreacting, Roman. You were expecting a grand reaction to a very minute gesture, which was absurd considering Virgil is the embodiment of Thomas' anxiety, which means that anything he does is thought over carefully so when he does say something, it is most likely the thing that is going to bring him as little attention as possible." I push up my glasses, adjusting the lenses of my glasses so that they rested perfectly over my corneas, the black frame of the glasses appearing at the outer edges of my vision rather than halfway to the center of my visual field. "Why do you think you are so obsessed with Virgil all of a sudden? I know you have been on this whole 'good morals' kick, but your feelings for him have seen to do such a 'one-eighty'."

I turn away from the computer, looking at the laying figure on my bed, who furrowed his eyebrows in thought, lips tightly pressed against each other. "I don't know." He finally says, and silence settles between us once again. My eyes scanning his relaxed figure for a little while longer before I return to the computer.

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UNKNOWN || NWONKU

Obsession is a cruel form of entertainment.