If I Can Say It

Why Are You My Reflection?

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Groaning, Virgil woke to a bright yellow ceiling and something soft beneath him. Lifting one hand, he noticed how it ached when he moved it, noting the bandages and the stinging pain, he let it drop onto the soft blankets. Using his other hand, he pushed his hair out of his eyes and sat up, the blankets falling to pool around his waist. 

Scanning the room, he felt the first flicker of fear. He had no clue where he was. Was he alone? Why was he hurt? Where is he!? His breathing began to quicken and with a sudden rush of adrenaline, he got up from the bed, ignoring the aches from his first night in a long time of sleeping on something soft. Standing, one hand clinging the the bed, the other dangling uselessly by his side, he shuffled toward the door and tested the handle. It wasn't locked. Surprised, he left it closed, in case whoever brought him hear heard him. 

Comforted by the fact that he wasn't trapped, he sat back down on the bed and took a proper glance around the room. It was small, not that he was complaining and would be dark other then the one small window that allowed in a small beam of light. The walls and floors were bare aside from the hideous yellow paint and white trim. The room itself, was empty, save for a small dresser and the bed he sat on. 

Turning his attention to the bed, he noticed the numerous blankets the covered it from head to toe. Noting everything of importance, he stood once more and moved to the door, pressing his ear against it. It would be hopeless to go out the window, Virgil was small but he was not that small. Hearing nothing, he opened it, wincing when it creaked and peered into out. 

Directly in front of him was a staircase, the left showed another window with a small window seat and the right revealed two more doors, all closed. Moving to the stairwell, he looked down and noticed a small room with one single door. The door had a small window and light was gleaming through it. It opened suddenly and Virgil stumbled backward. Surprised, the same golden haired man from the alley stared up at him.

"Oh! Your up!" He exclaimed, bounding up the stairs before stoping a few feet in front of him. Virgil was used to being short but this man was at least four inches taller them him.

"Uh..yeah" he muttered, not looking at the man, still poised to run.

"How's your wrist?" The man asked, looking down at the bandaged limb.

Virgil said nothing but moved the wrist out of sight.

"Oh! How rude of me! My names Patton." The man stuck out a hand as if expecting a shake. Virgil, hesitated before reaching out his own pale hand, the non-injured one of course. The man beamed at him, reminded Virgil of an over enthusiastic Labrador puppy. The man looked at him and Virgil realised his silent question. Not wanting to give away his real name, he still barely new the guy, he racked his brains for a suitable replacement.

"You can call me Anxiety" he said at last, cringing internally at its accuracy. Patton just smiled at him and led him downstairs. The door, it turns out, led to a small cafe, mostly deserted except for a few customers. While he led Virgil, Patton explained how he found him alone, outside and how he fell and was knocked out. Worried, Patton picked him up (he was stronger then he looked) and carried him up to the spare bedroom, phoning some friends on the way. My friends, one knows basic first aid, came and helped him.

"They had to leave before you woke up though, classes had started" he said, "so do you want anything? On the house." Virgil just stared, uncomprehending anything before realising he had been asked a question.

"Umm, just a coffee. Black?" He asked, sitting down at the seat the man motioned him towards. As Patton left to make him his coffee, he sat and pondered what was happening.

"Here you go!" Patton said, handing him a black coffee and a plate full of pastries. When Virgil looked at the pastries, Patton explained that he looked hungry. Virgil was not one to complain when they were offering food. Nodding, when Patton explained that he had to go serve other customers, he settled for devouring the food as quickly as his stomach would allow him too. 

The food was delicious, melting in his mouth and e quickly forgot any manners as he stuffed as many into his mouth as he could. When his stomach was satisfied, he lent back and sighed, sipping the last of his coffee as he did so. Patton came back over and sat down in front of him, smiling at Virgils empty plate. Unsure what to do now, Virgil made to stand.

"Where are you going?" Patton asked him, concern in his voice.

"I don't know, somewhere I guess." He muttered, hands in his pockets as he fiddled nervously.

"Do you have a house? Someone waiting for you? Do you need to call someone?" Patton asked, standing up slightly too.

"No.." He said, shifting away from him slightly, unsure of where the man was going with this. Most people just wanted him gone.

"You can't go yet!" He said, "your wrist isn't healed and you shouldn't even be moving after a fall like that."

"Ive had worse" Virgil said, surprised at the sad expression on the mans face at that statement.

"Look," Patton said, "its partly my fault that your like this anyone, with me startling you and all. Could you at least stay long enough for my friend to come over and check your wrist and head again? Please?"

The concerned look in his eyes and the prospect of more food and warmth made him hesitate. He really didn't want to impose and the guys already fed him and let him sleep. Deep inside, he knew that it wouldn't go well if he tried to leave. Already, his slight ache in his head had turned into a full on migraine and his wrist and back ached and burned from the fall. He wouldn't make it far in this condition. Looking into Pattons eyes, he saw what they saw. A small figure, clocked in an oversized jumper, shaking and thin. Large bags under his eyes and cuts and scraps all over him. The pain in his eyes was the final thing he needed.

"Ok."