Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

One thing that Virgil had kept from the light sides was that whenever he got overwhelmed Thomas mind would shrink him. Shrink him to about 2 inches tall. As anxiety, this was incredibly anxiety inducing. But he figured this helped Thomas remain calm, a way for him not to affect Thomas as much. Some sort of coping mechanism Thomas mind had developed subconsciously.

With that said the only way to grow back was for Virgil to stay in his room. Which the side did anyway, he knew the light sides hated him. Even if they didn’t straight up say it, Virgil wasn’t dumb. He could see how the mood would die down as soon as any of them spotted him. The other sides thought of him as a nuisance. What would the others think if they knew about this? Roman would definitely laugh at him and Logan would probably want to dissect him. And Patton? Virgil didn’t know, morality wasn’t the type to be cruel on purpose. But perhaps by accident or for the greater good of Thomas?

It was so much easier when he lived with the dark sides, of course they weren’t always the best but they treated him as an equal. Like his opinion was worth something. But Thomas’s mind just had to move him to the light side for some god forsaken reason. He tried his best to protect Thomas but it was so hard to tell the real dangers and paranoia apart. And now being moved into the light side he affected Thomas much more. It didn’t help that no one here really trusted him.

And why would they? They don’t even know your name.

A voice in Virgil's mind hissed.

Virgil shook his head. He needed to stop spiralling. It would only make this state last longer. This bout of shrinking had started when Thomas had woken up late and was thirty minutes late to work. This in turn made Virgil work on overdrive.

Thomas boss was going to hate him

Surely he would fire him now?

What would Thomas do without a job?

Would they become homeless

With the state of this economy were all on the verge of homelessness

Would all Thomas co-workers think he is lazy

Would they hate him for making them work more?

Almost causing Thomas to have an anxiety attack. Just as they had both started hyperventilating, Virgil had begun to shrink. Quickly in the panic of Logan and Patton helping Thomas, Virgil escaped into his room. Virgil knew as soon as he started to shrink that Thomas's anxiety would subside, but his in turn would increase.

Breath come on!

Virgil sat down on his bed as he felt the world grow larger around him. As the room closed in around him, the sheets towering like ominous cliffs. It looked like a sea or purple. He crawled toward the top of the bed near where the pillows were. Everything felt like too much. His body felt like there was a large weight on it. When Virgil looked down at his hands he could see them shake. It felt like the world wasn’t real, like he was playing a really life-like game. And that it was still loading. Or maybe it felt like the game was glitching? Like he didn’t have full control over his character. That it only allowed glimpses of what was really happening. Virgil tried to close and open his hands but his hands would not do what they were told.

As the dissociation continued to intensify, black spots danced in Virgil's vision, clouding his sight and ushering him into darkness. The overwhelming sensations of panic and exhaustion finally overwhelmed him completely, and Virgil succumbed to unconsciousness. The world faded away as his body sought refuge from the tumult of emotions and the relentless strain on his mind.

—

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

‘What the hell’ Virgil thought

His head was killing him and that sound wasn’t helping. Virgil opened his eyes to nothing but the purple of his sheets. He was still small. Virgil covered his head with his sheets and waited for whoever that was knocking to just go away.

“Doom and Gloom open up the door, or I will”

Virgil's heart sank as he heard Roman's distinctive knock on the door, a harbinger of unwelcome intrusion. Of course it was Roman, he just needed to show up now. Dread washed over him; this was the last person he wanted to encounter at such a vulnerable moment. Panic surged anew as he realised, with a sinking feeling, that he hadn't even locked the door. How could he have been so careless? It was his most crucial secret, and now it lay exposed due to a simple oversight.

He could hear Roman pause for a moment mumbling something under his breath. The door just about muffled it enough that virgil couldn’t make out what he said. But he figured that it was nothing good.

“Nightmare on Elm street? I'm coming in”

The doorknob gave a hesitant turn, as if Roman wasn't entirely certain whether it would yield. Virgil's heart raced with each small movement, hoping against hope that maybe he remembered wrong and that he did lock the door. But then, with a soft click, the door swung open, revealing Virgil's reduced form and the distress etched across his face.

Romans eyes searched the room for a couple of seconds before it finally landed on to virgil. The larger side started to walk towards Virgil; each step shook virgil’s world like an earthquake.

Virgil's world spun as a giant hand descended upon him, each finger towering over him like pillars of a daunting fortress. The grip tightened around him, squeezing relentlessly, the pressure feeling like it would leave bruises on his tiny form. Caught within Roman's grasp, Virgil felt as though his entire existence was now under the control of those colossal hands. No he didn’t just feel that way, it wasn’t opinion- it was a fact. His entire being was in Romans single hand.

He struggled against the vice-like grip, his efforts proving futile against Roman's overwhelming strength. Panic surged within him as he gasped for air, feeling the confinement of Roman's grip tightening around him, restricting his movements and his ability to escape.

"Roman, please..." Virgil's voice was strained, barely audible amidst the overwhelming sensations of being ensnared by someone he had hoped to keep his vulnerabilities hidden from. The weight of Roman's scrutiny bore down on him, intensifying the already suffocating fear that gripped his heart.

"Holy hell... how are you so small?" Roman's voice rang out, a mix of curiosity and amusement evident in his tone. He peered down at Virgil with an expectant expression, his eyes filled with a curious wonder.

Virgil's heart sank further at Roman's reaction, feeling the weight of vulnerability magnified by Roman's incredulous gaze. The combination of curiosity and amusement in Roman's voice only heightened Virgil's discomfort, intensifying the sense of being exposed in this diminished state. Oh god Roman is going to kill him. Or he’s going to tell the other sides and everyone is going to know.

Struggling to find his voice amidst the overwhelming emotions, Virgil managed a strained reply, "It's... it's just something that happens sometimes." He averted his gaze, unable to meet Roman's eyes directly, the shame of his vulnerability palpable in the air between them.

“Why?” Roman tilted his head like a puppy looking at some sort of bug, one that they were about to pounce on.

Virgil hesitated, the words catching in his throat before he managed to stammer out an explanation. "Wh- When T-Thomas gets overwhelmed h-h-his mind shrinks me. S-s-so I don’t affect him so much. I-I need to stay in my room to grow back."

“Oh really… then we should leave”

As Roman started to exit, Virgil's body tensed with a sudden surge of panic. He began to violently struggle within the confines of Roman's grip, desperate to break free. The giant hands around him allowed a slight leeway, a deceptive semblance of freedom, before Roman swiftly clasped both hands together, enclosing Virgil within his grasp. It was incredibly dark and uncomfortably warm.

Virgil's diminutive form bobbed up and down in sync with Roman's strides, his flesh prison jostled by the movements. As Roman continued forward, Virgil felt a pang of helplessness, his small frame tossed about within the confines of Roman's grasp. The bruises that adorned his body throbbed with each movement, a reminder of his vulnerability and the physical toll of his predicament.

Virgil's mind raced with apprehension as he wondered what Roman intended to do with him. It was evident that Roman was deliberately keeping him small, maintaining his reduced stature by forcing him out of his room. The sound of a door opening and closing only added to Virgil's unease, presuming it to be the entrance to Roman's room.

Suddenly, Virgil was unceremoniously plopped onto a desk, the abrupt movement jarring his already tender body. He glanced around, his surroundings unfamiliar yet undeniably Roman's domain.

Virgil's heart pounded with a mixture of fear and confusion. Why had he brought Virgil here, placing him on this foreign terrain like an object to be examined or manipulated?

Roman continued to loom over Virgil, his presence imposing as he prodded at Virgil with unsettling intent.

"Sorry to be so abrupt, Anxiety, but I didn’t want you to grow back," Roman remarked, his words sending a shiver down Virgil's spine.

Virgil's fears were confirmed with Roman's statement. The realization settled heavily upon him, the implications sinking in.

"If you being in this form helps Thomas, then why not just stay in this form?" Roman posed the question with a disturbingly casual tone, as if the idea of Virgil remaining in this diminished state was a simple solution to a complex problem.

With a small tap on Virgil's forehead, Roman's actions were unassuming to him but nearly knocked Virgil off balance in his current size.

"B-but Roman, you c-can't—Thomas needs me!" Virgil stammered, his protests laced with desperation.

Virgil's voice wavered as he struggled to convey the gravity of the situation. The thought of abandoning his true form, his agency, for the sake of Thomas's well-being was a notion that filled Virgil with dread and uncertainty.

Roman's demeanor remained unsettlingly calm as he continued to press his case. "Well, he might need you... but not all of you," Roman asserted, his tone taking on a disturbingly gleeful edge. "When you're just like all of us, you just cause harm. But like this, oh ho ho! It would be so easy to push away Thomas's fears. You're really the only thing that keeps getting in the way of Thomas, so don’t you see? This is really a good thing."

Virgil's mind reeled with disbelief and apprehension. He couldn't fathom what would become of him—or Thomas—if he remained in this diminished state outside of his room for an extended period. Would he perish, or would he simply remain trapped in this small form indefinitely? The uncertainty gnawed at him, his anxiety heightening with each passing moment.

Roman's laughter sent a chill down Virgil's spine, his dread mounting as he realized the extent of Roman's misguided intentions.

"But we will have to keep this a secret from Logan and Patton. They're just too nice to carry this through, but I will always slay Thomas' monsters! It's for the good of Thomas," Roman declared, his conviction unwavering.

Hearing Roman’s full plan stunned Virgil into silence. There was no one here to help him. If he yelled or cried out it wouldn’t do anything- no one was coming to help him. And no one would come looking for him; the other sides didn’t care enough to. Maybe they would even come to the same conclusion as Roman. Was Roman right? Was this better for Thomas? Virgil didn’t want to think about that. All he knew was his whole life was going to be decided by Roman.

"First things first, we need a spot for you—somewhere you won't escape. Stay put while I look," Roman commanded, tapping Virgil's chest with a force that knocked the anxious form off balance.

Virgil struggled to regain his composure, his heart racing with a mixture of fear and defiance. He watched helplessly as Roman assumed a thoughtful pose, the creative side taking charge as he contemplated the design of Virgil's confinement.

He put his hand on his hip and the other tapped thoughtfully against his lips. When he finally decided he put his index finger up, and then conjured a fish tank. Roman then put a blanket inside covering the whole bottom then a handkerchief.

Virgil's heart raced with panic as Roman grabbed him by the back of his hoodie, the fabric pulling tightly around his neck and threatening to choke him. He was lifted abruptly, disoriented and struggling for breath, before being unceremoniously dropped into the fish tank. The impact jarred him, the walls of the enclosure closing in around him like a suffocating embrace.

As Virgil landed inside the tank, the confines of the glass walls amplified his sense of confinement. He pressed against the sides, trying in vain to find a way out. Roman swiftly closed the top of the tank, sealing Virgil inside with no means of escape.

The air grew thin within the enclosed space, Virgil's breathing quickening as a surge of claustrophobia washed over him. The world outside the tank blurred, replaced by the distorted reality of his captivity.

Outside the tank, Roman's face loomed, his expression unreadable. Virgil's eyes pleaded for release, but Roman's resolve remained unyielding.

“Okay well I must go have breakfast with glasses and popstar! I leave you to… sit in gloom or whatever you do”

And with that Roman left Virgil alone in his new prison.

Chapter Text

Roman sat down at the kitchen table as Patton flipped pancakes nearby, the atmosphere in the room tinged with a sense of curiosity and concern.

"Were you not able to get Anxiety?" Patton inquired with a hint of disappointment.

Roman poured himself some orange juice, a flicker of guilt tugging at him as he prepared to deceive Patton. "No," he replied, "he said he wants to be left alone."

As Roman glanced up at Logan and Patton they were exchanging worried glances, he felt a surge of frustration. "I wish my strange, dark, and mysterious son would come out. I’m a bit worried about him," Patton said as he placed the stack of pancakes on the table.

Logan nodded in agreement "I must admit I too am concerned. Over the panic of Thomas being late, we neglected to make sure Anxiety was alright."

Roman couldn't fathom their concern for Anxiety. Why were they so worried about Anxiety? Of course, he was fine. It's not like he had to deal with the consequence of being late—Thomas did. And the rest of us had to work to help him calm down. What did Anxiety do? Sleep the day away without a care in the world! So what if he shrank, it wasn’t that bad being small.

Roman scoffed inwardly at their concern for Anxiety. "Oh, I'm sure Mr. Mysterious is having a grand old time in his room," he remarked, a hint of annoyance seeping into his words as he bit into a pancake. He wondered if he should save a little bit for Anxiety. He might be keeping him in his room but he wasn’t cruel, he wouldn’t let the dark side starve. It wouldn’t be too hard to save a slice, he just needed to slip it in his pocket when the other two weren’t looking.

"And anyway, he's never eaten with us before, why start now?" Roman questioned, his tone dismissive.

Patton's expression shifted to one of sadness. "Because he's part of our famILY, Roman! He may be new to this side of the mind, but he still deserves a spot! Maybe I should check on him later?"

Roman felt a pang of guilt at Patton's reaction. "No—Don't stress, I'll handle it. Wouldn't want you to lose sleep over Anxiety. I'll even bring him some food if you want?" Roman suggested hastily, almost choking on a piece of food in his haste. He has to keep up this charade, or Patton will start asking questions. Also this was a perfect way to get food up to the smaller side.

Logan raised an eyebrow at Roman's sudden offer, his expression inscrutable. "Do not forget, Roman Anxiety is much younger than us. He may not see everything the way we do."

Roman felt like that was a bit of a jab towards him but he ignored that and instead continued eating his pancakes. Sure Anxiety may still be a teenager and they're getting to their thirties but they were all a part of the same mind. He would treat him just like any other dark side, Anxiety's the one causing all the trouble, not them. 

“Yes yes I won’t upset your son” 

---

With that, Patton rose from his seat with a determined look, intent on fixing Anxiety a proper meal. He carefully placed two golden pancakes on a small plate, arranging them with precision. Next, he took a fresh banana and a handful of strawberries, expertly slicing them into bite-sized pieces and arranging them in a tiny bowl. The vibrant colours of the fruit contrasted with the solemn atmosphere in the kitchen.

Then he walked to the fridge and grabbed a water bottle. Roman was trying to think about how he was going to get rid of all that food. There was no way Anxiety would be able to eat all that. Those banana slices and cut strawberries were a really good size for Anxiety to eat. Maybe Roman would just skip lunch and eat those pancakes instead. He stood up and washed his plate as he sensed Patton finishing by placing the food on to a tray. 

"Alright, here you go, Roman. Thanks for checking on Anxiety," Patton said warmly, handing Roman the tray of food.

"No problem, Pat," Roman replied, trying to mask the unease in his voice.

Roman made his way back upstairs, his footsteps heavy with a mixture of guilt and apprehension. He paused outside Anxiety's door, knocking softly as he pretended to offer the food, mindful of any potential eavesdroppers.

After a moment, Roman continued to his room, carrying the tray with him. He carefully placed it next to the fish tank, his eyes scanning the surroundings anxiously. For a brief moment, panic seized Roman as he didn't immediately spot Anxiety.

Then, his gaze fell upon a small lump under the handkerchief in the corner of the tank. Relief washed over Roman as he realized that Anxiety was indeed there, albeit hidden from view.

Roman hesitated, feeling the guilt gnaw at him as he considered his next move. He knew that keeping Virgil hidden was necessary—at least for now- he observed the silent form beneath the makeshift cover. He couldn’t let Anxiety know that he felt guilty; the tiny side would surely try to take advantage of it. 

“Wakey wakey, sir Negative Nancy! I have brought you some food,” Roman said in a sing-songy voice.

He saw the lump move slightly, but Anxiety didn't fully get up. The lump mumbled, “Go away.”

Roman's heart sank at the defeated tone. He set the plate of food down beside the fish tank, sighing softly. He needed to make the younger side see his reasoning, that this was really a good thing. "Listen up, Anxiety. You can't hide forever."

Anxiety shifted slightly, looking up with a mix of irritation and resignation. "What's there to talk about, Roman? You've made it pretty clear how you feel.” As he approached, Anxiety's hands twitched subtly, his gaze fixed on rearranging his makeshift nest of blankets.

Roman winced, feeling the sting of Anxiety’s words. “Anxiety. You're blowing this out of proportion. You being small...this is for your own good. Stop complaining.”

Anxiety's eyes narrowed. “For my own good? Or just easier for you to ignore?”

Roman rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Just eat the food Anxiety” as Anxiety reluctantly approached the bowl of fruit and grabbed a piece of strawberry. He couldn’t help but notice that Anxiety looked paler than usual, which was saying something given the side's already naturally pale complexion.

“Are you feeling alright, Anxiety? You look—” Roman started to say, concern evident in his voice.

“What do you care?” Anxiety cut him off sharply with a glare, his voice filled with disdain.

Roman flinched at the sharp retort but kept his composure. “I know this isn’t the best situation for you but it is what's best”

Anxiety scoffed, taking another bite of the strawberry before speaking again. “Save the sympathy, Roman. This whole setup is messed up, and you know it. You can’t just keep me like this forever.”

Roman's expression hardened, masking his irritation. his own inner conflict evident in his eyes. “We need to keep things stable until we figure out a better solution.”

Anxiety narrowed his eyes, clearly unconvinced. “Stable for whom, Roman? For you?”

Roman shook his head, his voice tinged with frustration. “For all of us, Anxiety. Including you.”

Anxiety didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on the half-eaten strawberry in his hand. The tension hung thick in the air between them, each grappling with their own emotions and the complexities of their shared existence.

Roman silently placed the bottle cap filled with water next to the fruit bowl, a small gesture of consideration amidst the tension. Then, he spilled a little bit of water from the bottle onto a corner of a napkin, positioning it within reach of Anxiety.

Anxiety glanced over at the water and napkin, a hint of surprise flickering across his features. Despite himself, he slowly reached for the damp napkin and used it to clean off the sticky residue left by the fruit on his hands. 

Roman focused his attention on the project he had been working on—a stuffed toy shaped like a rose. He sat at the desk with a needle and thread, carefully stitching the intricate petals together. Sewing had become a comforting hobby for him, a way to channel his creativity and distract himself from the weight of his responsibilities.

He had started with simpler sewing projects like pillows and hearts, but now he wanted to challenge himself with something more complex. The rose-shaped stuffie was a delicate endeavor, requiring patience and precision. Roman's brow furrowed in concentration as he worked, each stitch bringing the fabric petals closer together.

As Roman concentrated on his sewing project, he eventually noticed Anxiety watching him from the corner of his eye. The moment Roman glanced over, Anxiety quickly turned away, retreating to the makeshift nest he had fashioned for himself.

Roman couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt at the sight of Anxiety's sparse surroundings. He knew he needed to give Anxiety something to occupy his time, but it had to be safe and non-threatening. He couldn’t offer needle and fabric that could be a hazard at his size and not to mention Anxiety could use that against him. His phone? No, that wouldn’t work. He could try and call for help. 

An idea struck him. Drawing could be a suitable activity for Anxiety. Roman reached for a paper and retrieved the lead from the mechanical pencil. He carefully cut the paper into smaller pieces, creating a stack of mini sketching surfaces.

Turning to Anxiety, Roman held out the stack of paper and the pencil. "Hey, I thought you might like to draw. It can help pass the time."

Anxiety regarded the offering with a mix of suspicion and mild interest. "Drawing? Why would I want to do that?"

Roman shrugged, trying to sound casual. "It's just an idea. You don't have to if you don't want to."

After a moment of hesitation, Anxiety tentatively took the paper and pencil. "Fine. But don't expect anything impressive."

Roman felt a surge of frustration and hurt as he continued sewing, trying to drown out the inner turmoil stirred up by Anxiety's constant complaints. It was challenging to maintain his composure in the face of Anxiety's relentless negativity.

All Anxiety does is whine about his situation, Roman thought bitterly to himself. Didn't Anxiety realize how much worse things could be if Roman didn't try to provide a comfortable space and decent food? Roman clenched his jaw, feeling the sting of unappreciated efforts.

He glanced over at Anxiety, who was now half-heartedly doodling on the small piece of paper. But instead of acknowledging Roman's efforts, Anxiety only seemed to focus on the negatives.

---

Sometime had passed both of them sightly working on there own projects as the day dwindled into evening.

“A-Are you r-really going to keep me like this F-f-forever” Anxiety spoke up his voice frail

Roman was on the verge of snapping at Anxiety for asking the same question repeatedly, but when he saw the distress evident on Anxiety's face—the trembling, the quickened breaths—he hesitated. Anxiety looked like he was about to cry.

His mind raced, trying to think of what Patton would do in this situation. Patton was always good at offering comfort and reassurance. Roman thought about giving Anxiety a hug, a gesture of support, but before he could fully act, Anxiety let out a sharp shriek.

“D-d-don’t touch m-me p-p-please!” Anxiety's voice was filled with panic, and Roman froze, his hand suspended in mid-air. He withdrew slowly, trying not to startle Anxiety further.

“Okay… okay…” Roman racked his brain for another idea. Perhaps humming a tune would help. Maybe that would work here. He cautiously began to hum a soft tune, hoping it would help soothe Anxiety's nerves.

It took a few minutes, he saw Anxiety eyes dart around probably looking for some sort of escape and failing to find one. But gradually, Anxiety's breathing slowed, and the tension in the air eased slightly. Roman let out a silent sigh of relief, though he felt like he only made things worse he was glad it was over.

“Okay, let's make a deal,” Roman spoke gently, trying to gauge Anxiety's reaction. The tiny form looked up at him with a glimmer of hope.

“If I notice that you being in this form has a negative effect on Thomas, as you say, I will bring you back to your room,” Roman offered, “This is how it has to be, whether you like it or not.” 

Anxiety hesitated for a moment before quietly responding, “Okay.”

Roman nodded curtly, impatient to be done with the conversation.

Roman rose from his seat, his thoughts swirling with concern for Thomas. he feared that Anxiety may affect Thomas in the real world. 

"I have things to do, so I'll leave you to sulk by yourself." Roman announced, trying to keep his tone casual. He didn't want to agitate Anxiety further by implying that he was checking on Thomas because of him.

Anxiety remained silent, his expression unreadable. Roman hesitated for a moment, unsure if he should say anything else. But ultimately, he turned and left the room.

—Thomas P.O.V.—

“Hey Thomas! How are you feeling!” Roman said in a gleeful tone as he popped into the front seat.

Thomas was driving home, playing Disney songs on the aux in his car. He finished jamming out to ‘we don’t talk about Bruno’ from Encanto and turned down the music.

“Hey Roman! I’m actually feeling great.”

“You're not super anxious at all? Not still thinking about yesterday?”

“What? No what happened, happened I just gotta keep going”

“Well I was just checking in, I’ll see you later Thomas”

With that Roman left back into the mindscape. 

---

As Thomas parked his car in the driveway, his mind still buzzing from the upbeat Disney songs he had been singing along to, he felt a sense of contentment wash over him. The music had lifted his spirits, and he was genuinely feeling good. He parked a bit more crooked than normal but today he didn’t seem to care as much.

Just as he was about to grab his keys to enter his house, Thomas noticed something unusual—the front door was unlocked. He paused, a brief moment of confusion passing through him.

"Huh, I must've forgotten to lock it... oh well," Thomas muttered to himself, shrugging off the minor oversight. He pushed the door open and entered his house without giving it a second thought.

Inside, everything appeared normal. The familiar sights and sounds of home greeted him, and he felt a sense of comfort wash over him. Thomas dropped his keys on the entryway table and wandered further into the house.

Chapter Text

Virgil let out a deep sigh as he leaned his back against the wall of the fish tank. It had been over 48 hours since he had last left his room, where he had been shrunk to a fraction of his usual size. He couldn't tell if his exhaustion was a result of being shrunk for an extended period or because he was now forced to spend a lot of time with Roman. The bare, see-through glass walls made him feel like a trapped goldfish or something even worse, something less than human. The walls showed him where he wanted to be but couldn't, laughing at him because he was trapped. The thin, red blanket he lay on offered little comfort, and he found himself playing with a loose thread he had found a while ago. The water bottle cap that held his water had been empty for a while now, and Virgil wondered when Roman would remember that, despite being a dark side, he still needed water and food. The only other things in the tank were the handkerchief wrapped around him and himself. Gazing through the transparent walls of his glass prison, Virgil felt a suffocating sense of isolation, like a ghost haunting its own existence.

Virgil rubbed his temples, trying to alleviate the dull ache that had settled in. He missed the familiarity and comfort of his own space, where he could retreat and recharge without the constant presence of others.

Sleep had become elusive for Virgil. Every moment of rest was clouded by the fear of Roman unexpectedly grabbing him. The pain of being handled roughly, especially with the bruises from previous encounters, made each interaction with Roman all the more unbearable. Virgil knew that Roman likely didn't notice the discomfort he caused, but he couldn't risk revealing his vulnerability. Roman would just use it against him. 

Virgil watched from his blanket nest as Roman entered the room, hardly sparing him a glance. Roman's brow furrowed in concentration as he sketched furiously, his hand moving across the paper with purpose. His eyes darted from the page to the space around him, lost in a world of creative energy. Without a second thought for Virgil's presence.

After what felt like an eternity, Roman finally looked up and seemed to remember Virgil was there, shrunken and trapped. Virgil hardens his face. While Roman’s face seemed to soften?

“Ah, right. I’ll get you some food. It's going to be cereal so it doesn’t look suspicious,” Roman said dismissively, his attention fleeting as he turned to leave the room.

Virgil flinched slightly at the tone of Roman's voice, feeling a surge of anxiety wash over him. He remained still in his nest of blankets, not daring to speak up or move. Roman's demeanor had an edge to it, and Virgil sensed that any attempt to protest or engage would only lead to more discomfort.

As Roman stomped out of the room, Virgil's gaze flickered towards the doorway, his heart racing. He felt a sense of helplessness and isolation, the weight of his situation sinking deeper. The tall walls of the fish tank made it impossible to escape and only having blankets didn’t help there was nothing to climb on. But if he did escape what would he do? Would he be able to make it all the way down to his room? Would he just get caught by one of the other sides? Would they agree with Roman or would they help him? Or maybe Roman would just catch him again? 

With a heavy sigh, Virgil huddled tighter into his blankets, his eyes darting anxiously around the room. If he wanted to get out of here he needed to get over this tank. Maybe he could use the bowl that Roman gives him his food in or- 

Roman came back putting the bowl of cereal down right next to him and went straight back to work. Virgil just had to get Roman’s guard down or make him forget about the bowl. 

I can do this just be chatty he loves talking about himself

“Uhh… what are you w-working on?” Virgil ventured, his voice shaky.

Roman glanced over at him briefly, his focus returning to his sketches. “Thomas promised he’d help with the background set for his cousin’s school play. I’m drawing out how they should set it up.”

Virgil nodded, feigning interest while his mind raced with thoughts of escape. "That's... cool," he managed to reply, attempting to keep Roman engaged. "Must be exciting to work on something like that."

Roman looked up from his drawings, a hint of enthusiasm in his eyes. "Yeah, it's gonna be epic! I've got so many ideas for the backdrop and stage design. Thomas is gonna love it."

“The play doesn’t have it but maybe I should add some dragons for them to slay! Everyone looks heroic with a big gesture like killing the big bad dragon,” Roman mused aloud, his excitement evident.

“When do they need to get this done?” Virgil asked, trying to keep Roman talking.

“Oh, by tomorrow…” Roman replied casually.

“What?! Is there enough time to finish all that? Why would Thomas agree to this!” Virgil exclaimed, Between all this other work this would be pretty stressful to do.

“Oh, don’t be such a worry wart. It’ll all work out,” Roman reassured him with a dismissive wave.

Virgil seized the moment to inquire further, desperate for any distraction. “What are they performing?” he asked, taking another slow bite of cereal.

“The Little Mermaid… oh shoot, I forgot something. I need to go,” Roman exclaimed suddenly, his attention shifting.

Virgil's heart raced as he watched Roman start to leave the room. This was his chance. With trembling hands and stiff bones, Virgil struggled to dump out the remaining cereal onto the floor. Each movement felt strained and painful, the fear of failure gripping him tightly.

It was excruciating to flip the bowl upside down, but he managed. He then grabbed the empty bottle cap and positioned it upside down on top of the bowl. Climbing to the top, he balanced himself on the bottle cap, feeling the weight of his frail body straining against his limited strength.

Summoning all his resolve, Virgil made the leap. He accidentally nudged the bowl to the side, causing him to dangle precariously on the edge of the tank. Panic surged within him as he struggled to regain control.

Oh god what am I doing?

This is a horrible idea.

Roman is going to walk in any second.

With a surge of adrenaline, he pulled himself up and over, landing on the desk with a thud. The impact sent a jolt of pain through his already sore body. Virgil vaguely registered that he had landed on his right foot wrong, but the rush of accomplishment dulled the pain momentarily.

Trying to ignore the shooting pain in his foot, Virgil dragged himself across the desk towards the drawer. Each movement was filled with dread and apprehension, his mind racing with the consequences of his actions if caught.

With immense effort, he managed to open the drawer and sift through the chaotic contents—a jumble of markers, pencils, and needles. The sight of the sharp needle made him shudder with unease, but he knew he needed it for his escape attempt.

Seizing the needle and a spool of red string, Virgil's hands trembled as he returned to the desk's edge. Unwinding the string, he tried to steady his nerves, his fear of failure gnawing at him.

Come on breath 

In and out

In and out

Sitting on the ledge, Virgil secured the string with tape and prepared to descend, his arms and legs shaking with fear and exertion. Each movement was deliberate yet fraught with uncertainty. Doubt clouded his mind as he contemplated the risks.

After what felt like an eternity, one piece of tape gave way, followed quickly by the other. Virgil's heart sank as he fell, landing poorly on his injured foot. The sharp, searing pain was overwhelming, and Virgil couldn't contain a stifled cry of anguish.

Frantically scanning the room for any sign of Roman's return, Virgil saw he was alone still. The world spun around him, his vision blurring with tears of pain and fear.

Struggling to gather himself, Virgil dragged his trembling body into the shadow of the trash can, his breaths shallow and uneven. Overcome by pain, exhaustion, and the fear of being discovered, Virgil allowed himself to succumb to unconsciousness.

—

Virgil stirred from unconsciousness to the sound of Roman's frantic voice calling out for Anxiety. Panic gripped Virgil as he realized the danger of being discovered. He knew he had to move quickly before Roman spotted the tape on the desk that was evidence of his escape attempt.

With trembling limbs and aching muscles, Virgil mustered all his remaining strength. He swiftly dove for a nearby dark red shirt that had a breast pocket that had been left on the ground below the desk. He burrowed into the pocket until his whole body was fully in there. 

As Virgil hid, he heard Roman muttering to himself in agitation as he searched the room. "Anxiety, where are you? This isn't funny," Roman said, his voice tinged with concern and frustration.

Virgil's heart pounded against his ribs, each thud echoing in his ears. His legs trembled, the aftermath of his daring escape leaving him weak and drained. He focused on staying perfectly still, barely daring to breathe. Each heavy footstep of Roman's reverberated through Virgil's fragile frame as he approached the desk where the tape was.

Relief washed over Virgil as Roman only looked around the trash can but neglected to look at the shirt. Virgil remained hidden in the shadows, thankful for the stroke of luck that spared him from detection.

With his heart pounding against his ribcage, Virgil cautiously peered out from his concealed position, his eyes wide with fear. Observing Roman's towering figure in the room. The booming voice tried to sound reassuring but only added to Virgil's unease.

“I won’t be mad if you just come out now, panic at the everywhere,” Roman's voice echoed, the attempt at sweetness falling flat and sending a shiver down Virgil's spine.

Virgil remained hidden, his breath shallow and rapid, watching as Roman's giant shoes paced around the room, the heavy thuds vibrating the ground as if it was an earthquake. The weight of Roman's presence filled the space, intensifying Virgil's anxiety to a dizzying level. He placed his hand over his mouth and nose in an attempt to muffle the sound of his breathing. His eyes watered as he waited for Roman to do something.

“Well, I didn’t think that was going to work anyway,” Roman muttered to himself, the frustration evident in his tone. Virgil's mind raced, grasping for a plan to escape the looming threat.

“He’s gone to his room, of course… I can’t let that happen…” The creative side quickly turned on his heels and walked out of the room. 

Virgil's limbs felt like lead, his body trembling with exhaustion and fear. The room seemed to spin around him, the walls closing in with each passing moment. His thoughts spiraled into a chaotic whirlwind of panic and uncertainty.

He tried to summon the strength to get up, but his body felt too weak, drained by the relentless tension of the situation.

"Maybe just a quick nap… then I'll go," Virgil whispered hoarsely to himself, his voice tinged with desperation.

—

Virgil's heart pounded in his chest as he was abruptly awoken by the sensation of his hiding spot being lifted into the air. Panic surged through him in a rapid cascade of fear.

"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit," Virgil's mind raced with frantic thoughts. "He’s found me."

Stuck frozen in fear, Virgil could only wonder why Roman hadn't grabbed him yet and taken him out. 

To his utter surprise, Roman proceeded to put on the dark red shirt that Virgil had hidden in and then layered his jacket on top. Virgil couldn't fathom how Roman could be so oblivious, not sensing him in the pocket. He also found it slightly gross that Roman put on a shirt that was on the ground.

It was surreal—Virgil was literally right under Roman's nose, yet he remained undetected.

“Anxiety, where are you…” Roman's voice carried a note of genuine concern and anxiety, sending shivers down Virgil's spine. His heart almost leaped out of his chest when he heard his name spoken.

Virgil grappled with conflicting emotions, unsure whether Roman's distress was genuine or if he was being deliberately ignored. Was the larger side playing some game with him. Was this a punishment for trying to escape? The pace of Roman's heartbeat quickened audibly, a telltale sign of his heightened agitation.

“Okay… okay… everything okay. Roman, you’ve got this, just get through dinner,” Roman muttered to himself, his words laced with tension and uncertainty.

At that moment, Virgil knew that this was not a game. Roman truly didn't know where he was. He was genuinely freaked out. And oh wasn’t this worse the side was already careless when he knew he had Virgil in his hands- how careless would he be when he didn’t know he was holding him. 

From his cramped vantage point, Virgil felt every step that Roman took as he descended down the stairs. Each movement sent tremors through Virgil, his fear of being discovered mounting with each passing moment.

Amidst the tension and uncertainty, another sensation distracted Virgil—The irresistible scent of pasta and vegetables wafted through the air, making Virgil's stomach growl with hunger. He hadn’t enjoyed a warm meal since the ordeal began, and the tantalizing scent was both enticing and torturous. Virgil knew he wouldn't be able to partake in the meal; he could only sit there inside the pocket, hidden and helpless.

"Hey Pat, the food smells good," said Roman as he walked into the kitchen, his nose leading him to the source of the delicious aroma.

"Oh, thanks, Roman!" Patton replied cheerfully, his eyes crinkling with a warm smile as he turned around to face his friend. "I'm glad you like it. Put the shirt you spilled sauce on in the laundry, will you?"

"Sure thing," Roman nodded and headed towards the laundry room. He carefully placed the stained shirt on top of the laundry pile and made his way back to the kitchen, his stomach growling in anticipation of the meal.

As he walked back, Virgil tried to look around from the pocket of Roman's. The fabric of the pocket was just see-through enough that Virgil could make out some of what was going on. He noticed that the creative side had changed his usual princely outfit for the day and was now wearing a more casual attire. Along with the shirt that Virgil was in, Princey had on a white zip-up jacket. 

Meanwhile, Patton had already set three plates filled with food on the table, each one steaming with pasta and a side of mixed vegetables. Just then, Logan walked into the room, his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose as he read a book and he greeted everyone with a polite nod.

"Now Lo, no reading at the dinner table," Patton said

Logan placed his bookmark on his page and closed the book as they all sat down. Virgil wished that it could be like this when he wasn’t hidden. It all seemed so peaceful unlike the anxious atmosphere he was used to. Virgil didn't feel like watching anymore. He closed his eyes and tried to fall back asleep but the conversation above him prevented him. 

"Thomas has been productive as of late," Logan remarked.

Was Virgil holding Thomas back from being more productive? Preventing his progress?

"Absolutely! I'm thrilled that he was able to help those kids with their set!" Patton exclaimed.

Logan hesitated. "Yes, it was kind of him...but he did have to cancel hanging out with his friends to do it."

Patton was undeterred. "But Logan, shouldn't Thomas be willing to sacrifice his free time to help those in need? It's the right thing to do."

Thomas seemed to be thriving without him, devoting himself to selfless acts while Virgil remained hidden away. 

Logan shifted the conversation.

"Is Anxiety still in his room?" Logan inquired.

Huh Virgil didn’t expect the logical side to be the first to ask about him. Logan never seemed to like him that much.

"Oh well, he'll come out when he wants to," Patton replied in an upbeat voice.

They seemed content to let Virgil remain hidden in his room. Maybe Roman was right—perhaps Thomas didn't need him after all.

Doubts flooded Virgil's thoughts. Was he truly a burden to Thomas and the others? Had he been holding them back all this time? Was Roman right, was this good for everybody? Everything Virgil did was really worthless then. He wished he could just disappear into the darkness. Nothing really meant anything.

As Roman's pocket jostled with each movement, Virgil curled into himself. The loneliness weighed heavily on him, overshadowing any fleeting hope of being noticed or valued. As the world around him blurred, Virgil retreated deeper into the recesses of his mind, seeking solace from the chaos of his surroundings and the relentless whispers of self-doubt.

He could feel himself start to retreat into his own mind not caring of what was said or done next. 

—Thomas P.O.V.—

Thomas cracked the eggs into the sizzling pan, the aroma of breakfast filling the air. Breakfast food for dinner was always the best. As the eggs began to cook, a crash echoed from the living room. Startled, Thomas abandoned the stove, leaving the spatula resting inside the hot pan.

In the living room, a gust of wind had knocked over a framed picture of Thomas and his friends. Thomas stood there, gazing at the photo as memories flooded his mind. He traced his fingers over the glass, lingering on the faces of his companions.

Suddenly, Logan's voice interrupted his reverie. "Thomas, I smell something burning. Your eggs and the spatula are on the verge of disaster. You really need to be more cautious with the stove; it's a serious fire hazard."

Thomas snapped out of his thoughts. "Oh, thanks, Lo," he replied absentmindedly.

Returning to the kitchen, Thomas noticed the burnt eggs and the charred spatula. He sighed, unfazed by the mishap. With a careless gesture, he tossed the ruined eggs into the trash and started anew, cracking fresh eggs into a clean pan.

Chapter Text

Roman rummaged through Anxiety's room, his mind swirling with questions about where the elusive side had disappeared to. He meticulously searched every corner and crevice, his frustration mounting with each passing moment.

How long did it take for the dark side to grow back? Did it depend on different things like how overwhelmed Thomas had been? 

The thought gnawed at Roman. If Anxiety were to grow back now, it would be impossible not to notice. The sudden appearance of the dark side would undoubtedly raise suspicions among the others. Roman's stomach churned at the implications. What would Logan and Patton think? 

Pushing aside a stack of books, Roman caught a glimpse of the hidden nooks and crannies where Anxiety might seek refuge. He peered under the bed, expecting to find some trace of the side

"Anxiety, where are you?" Roman called out, his voice tinged with genuine concern. "This isn't funny, you know."

His heart pounded in his chest as he continued his search. Anxiety's absence weighed heavily on him, stirring a mixture of worry and guilt. Had he pushed Anxiety too far this time? The possibility lingered in Roman's mind, a troubling reminder of their strained relationship.

What if he’s on the floor and you stepped on him

Roman's heart skipped a beat at the thought that he might have inadvertently stepped on Anxiety. The weight of guilt settled heavily on his shoulders as he surveyed the floor, hoping against hope that he hadn't harmed his friend.

Oh god please don’t be under my foot

Carefully, Roman lifted each foot, scrutinizing the underside for any sign of the smaller side. Relief flooded through him when he found no trace of Anxiety beneath his feet. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, his shoulders relaxing as tension ebbed away.

Convinced that Anxiety wasn't in the room, Roman reluctantly decided to abandon his search for now. He had promised Patton to assist with dinner, and time was of the essence. With a lingering glance around the room, Roman made his way downstairs, keeping a cautious eye on the floor in case Anxiety appeared.

In the kitchen, Patton was already busy chopping vegetables. Roman approached with a readiness to help, eager to shift his focus away from his earlier concerns.

"Hey, what can I do to help?" Roman asked, a hint of eagerness in his voice.

Patton smiled warmly and gestured towards the pantry. "Could you make the alfredo sauce and get the water boiling for the pasta?"

Nodding in agreement, Roman filled a pot with water and set it on the stove, adding salt to speed up the boiling process. Once the water was bubbling, he added the pasta. Then switched positions as Patton placed the vegetables in the oven below the stove and took over watching the pasta.

As Roman reached for the alfredo sauce in the pantry, he encountered an unexpected difficulty—the bottle was unusually stubborn, refusing to open easily. His hands shook slightly with frustration as he struggled with the cap, finally managing to pop it open. However, in his haste, half of the sauce spilled onto his shirt.

"Oh no! Roman, are you alright?" Patton's concerned voice cut through the kitchen's bustling activity.

"All good, Pat! Sorry about the sauce mishap," Roman replied sheepishly, scratching the back of his head.

Patton conjured another bottle of alfredo sauce effortlessly, a reminder of their unique abilities to summon whatever they needed. Roman's thoughts spun with irony—here he was, the embodiment of creativity, yet he hadn't considered utilizing their conjuring abilities just to make smaller versions of their meals for Anxiety. Instead of giving the dark side scrapes.

Suddenly struck by another realization, Roman questioned aloud, "Wait, why do we even bother cooking if you can conjure food?"

Patton chuckled good-naturedly. "It's all part of the experience, Roman. Besides, cooking can be fun and rewarding."

With a nod of understanding, Roman excused himself to change into a clean shirt. "Right... I'll be back in a moment. Thanks, Pat."

"No problem at all, Roman. Dinner will be ready in about 10 minutes," Patton assured him, already focused on finishing up the meal. Roman left the kitchen, his mind still swirling with thoughts about Anxiety 

Opening the door to his room, Roman peeled off his sauce-stained shirt and hastily grabbed his white zip-up jacket to ward off the lingering chill. He made a beeline for the bathroom, intent on rinsing off the sauce before it could set into the fabric.

In front of the sink, Roman scrubbed at the stain under running water, trying to salvage the shirt as much as possible. Satisfied with his efforts, he dried off quickly and returned to his room, still pondering what to wear given the mess he had made during his earlier search for Anxiety.

Spotting a red shirt that had been displaced from its neat pile during his frantic search, Roman pulled the shirt over his head without a second thought. He then layered his white jacket over the red shirt, completing his impromptu outfit choice.

Roman glanced at himself in the mirror, adjusting the collar of his jacket. Despite the chaos of the evening and his ongoing worries about Anxiety, he managed a faint smile. "Good enough," he murmured to himself, finding a measure of reassurance in the simple act of getting dressed.

He walked back downstairs with the dirty shirt in hand as he peered through the kitchen. Patton was just about finishing making the food and was starting to place them on to plates. 

"Hey Pat, the food smells good," said Roman as he walked into the kitchen, his nose leading him to the source of the delicious aroma.

"Oh, thanks, Roman!" Patton replied cheerfully, his eyes crinkling with a warm smile as he turned around to face his friend. "I'm glad you like it. Put the shirt you spilled sauce on in the laundry, will you?"

Roman made his way to the washer and back. He sat down at the table, trying to focus on enjoying the delicious-smelling meal that Patton had prepared. Just then, Logan strolled into the kitchen, engrossed in a book titled "How to Talk to People," already halfway through the volume.

"Now Lo, no reading at the dinner table," Patton gently admonished Logan.

Logan placed a bookmark in his book and closed it, setting it down on the counter before joining Patton and Roman at the dining table. As Roman prepared to eat, his thoughts drifted back to Anxiety. When was the last time he had eaten? This morning, judging by the remaining cereal in the fish tank. Surely Anxiety would be hungry whenever he resurfaced. Was he hiding in the kitchen right now?

Roman subtly scanned the room, considering the possible hiding places for the smaller side. However, his search yielded nothing.

"Thomas has been productive as of late," Logan remarked, breaking the silence.

Roman silently agreed. Without Anxiety around, Thomas seemed more focused on helping others. It had changed into a bigger commitment than initially anticipated, but Thomas didn't seem to mind.

"Absolutely! I'm thrilled that he was able to help those kids with their set!" Patton exclaimed, his enthusiasm evident.

Logan hesitated, adjusting his glasses. "Yes, it was kind of him...but he did have to cancel hanging out with his friends to do it."

Roman supposed Logan had a point, but Thomas's friends would understand. Helping others was important.

Patton remained undeterred. "But Logan, shouldn't Thomas be willing to sacrifice his free time to help those in need? It's the right thing to do."

Thomas seemed to be thriving without Anxiety, throwing himself into selfless acts without second-guessing or worrying about what others thought. Roman found himself mentally countering potential arguments Anxiety might have made in this situation.

Logan shifted the conversation, his expression slightly troubled. "Is Anxiety still in his room?" Logan inquired, his gaze fixed on Roman.

Roman felt Logan's eyes on him, almost accusatory. Did Logan suspect something more? Or was Roman just being paranoid? Has Logan discovered Anxiety? No, that didn’t make sense; Logan wouldn’t keep that a secret. But before Roman could reply Patton relayed for him.

"Oh well, he'll come out when he wants to," Patton replied, his tone upbeat but his face betraying a hint of concern. Roman saw Patton glance at Logan as if having a silent conversation. 

Roman's anxiety over finding Anxiety—ironic as it seemed—began to overshadow his appetite. The pasta, once appetizing, now tasted like ash as he mechanically chewed each bite, only half-listening to Patton and Logan discussing their plans for the upcoming week.

Logan's penetrating gaze and Patton's concealed worry gnawed at Roman's thoughts. Was there more to Logan's inquiry? Was Anxiety's absence more conspicuous than he realized? Roman's mind raced with possibilities, each more unsettling than the last.

As Patton and Logan chatted, Roman fought to keep his composure, attempting to mask his growing unease. His fork clinked against the plate as he mechanically pushed the food around, his stomach churning with anxiety.

Just finish the food and leave

Focus on something else

Roman twirled the pasta onto his fork and ate it. He looked around trying to direct his focus elsewhere. Thomas' place was much messier than normal. Why hadn’t he cleaned? Thomas liked it somewhat clean- so he knew where everything was. What else? The jacket he was wearing was soft.

Another bite of ash, he could feel a loose string on the inside of his jacket. 

Roman almost choked on his food when he felt something move in his breast pocket. How had he not noticed it before? He couldn’t risk looking down, that would draw attention to him. Was it really Anxiety? It definitely felt like him. 

There it was again, he could feel Anxiety curl in more on himself- Roman accidentally bit his tongue.

“Aw- fu-” he muttered

Patton and Logan looked up at him, stopping their conversation.

“Yeah- sorry I bit my tongue. You know what… I had a snack earlier and I’m not really hungry. I’m going to put this in the fridge”

“Oh alright” Patton said concern in his voice

Roman couldn't shake the feeling that Patton or Logan might have already noticed Anxiety's presence in his pocket. Had their strange behavior been a reaction to seeing Anxiety with him? But if they had seen, Patton would have surely mentioned it.

With a mixture of caution and anxiety, Roman hunched inward and zipped up his jacket, concealing the mysterious occupant of his pocket. He rose from the table, wrapping his plate in Saran wrap and placing it in the fridge, eager to remove himself from the scrutinizing gazes of his companions.

With that, Roman hurried upstairs into his room, shutting the door behind him. He took off his jacket and then carefully removed his shirt, handling it gingerly to avoid dropping Anxiety. He stared at the shirt for a moment, where the outline of the dark side's body could just barely be discerned if one looked closely. But to anyone not actively seeking him out, Anxiety was practically invisible.

Roman laid the shirt face up on the bed and addressed the pocket where Anxiety hid. "Okay Anxiety, the game's over. Come out now."

Silence greeted him. Roman continued to stare intently at the pocket, hoping for a sign of movement. "I know you're in there, Brad Pitiful. Come out of the pocket."

Still, there was no response. Frustrated, Roman gave up on coaxing Anxiety out and instead picked up the shirt, tilting it slightly to encourage the dark side to emerge onto his hand. 

Something is very wrong.

As Anxiety slid onto his hand, Roman's worry deepened. Anxiety's eyes seemed distant, as if he were lost in another world. There was no acknowledgment of Roman's presence; he simply lay there, his chest rising and falling with breath but otherwise unresponsive.

Roman's heart sank. "Anxiety?" he called softly, his voice laced with uncertainty. He placed a hand beneath Anxiety's chin, trying to meet his gaze. "Hey, are you alright?"

Anxiety remained silent, his expression vacant. Roman's mind raced with concern. What had happened to him? Was this a result of their recent encounter, or was something else troubling Anxiety?

Gently, Roman lifted Anxiety closer to his face, examining him closely. The dark side seemed detached, distant—far from his usual sharp-tongued self. Roman's concern deepened as he continued to study Anxiety's unresponsive form, his mind racing with unanswered questions.

Roman's heart pounded with worry as he carefully cradled the unresponsive Anxiety in his hands. The dark side's usual spark of life was nowhere to be seen, replaced by a vacant, lifeless expression that sent a chill down Roman's spine.

"Anxiety, please, talk to me," Roman pleaded, his voice tinged with desperation. He gently ran a finger along Anxiety's arm, hoping to elicit some kind of reaction, but the smaller side remained motionless, his eyes fixed on a point in the distance.

Panic began to set in as Roman realized the gravity of the situation. Anxiety's lack of response was deeply unsettling, and Roman feared that he may have inadvertently caused this state through his earlier actions. He cursed himself for not being more attentive, for not recognizing the signs of Anxiety's distress.

Carefully, Roman placed Anxiety on the bed in the middle of one of his pillows, his brow furrowed with concern. He needed to find a way to reach the dark side, to pull him back from whatever abyss had consumed him. But with Anxiety unresponsive, Roman felt powerless, his usual confidence and bravado replaced by a sense of overwhelming helplessness.

“Okay… everything id going to be okay”

Roman’s voice quivered with uncertainty; he knew he was just trying to reassure himself.

“Why don’t you take a nap and I’ll make you a nice bed”

It was almost scary as Anxiety just closed his eyes without a single comment. Roman conjured a bed that looked similar to the one Anxiety usually slept on, with soft, dark purple sheets and a plush comforter. He but the bed on his desk and gently placed the smaller side on it. Roman watched over Anxiety with growing concern, his heart heavy with the weight of the situation. Instead of the fish tank Roman opted to put invisible walls that wouldn’t allow the side to leave the desk but would allow Roman to touch the inside.

Roman sat by Anxiety's bedside, his gaze fixed on the unmoving form before him. The usually vibrant and snarky side now lay motionless, his expression devoid of any emotion. Roman's heart ached with worry, his mind racing to understand what could have caused such a drastic change.

Tentatively, Roman reached out and gently brushed a stray lock of hair from Anxiety's face, his touch feather-light as if afraid of shattering the fragile stillness. The dark side's skin felt unnaturally cool to the touch, further heightening Roman's concern. The side might actually be sick when Roman really looked, he really did look sick. His skin was clammy and the bags under his eyes looked much worse than normal. Had he caught something after his escape attempt?

"Anxiety, can you hear me?" Roman whispered, his voice laced with a rare vulnerability. "Please, you have to come back to us. To me."

Roman waited with bated breath, hoping for even the slightest sign of acknowledgment from the smaller side. But Anxiety remained unresponsive, his eyes closed as if lost in a deep, unending sleep.

Frustration and fear began to well up within Roman. He had never seen Anxiety in such a state, and the uncertainty of the situation only served to heighten his own anxiety. Gently, he placed a hand on Anxiety's chest, feeling the faint rise and fall of his breathing, a small reassurance that the dark side was still with him.

"I'm here, Anxiety," Roman murmured, his fingers curling around the edge of his own bed. "I won't leave you like this. Just... Come back to me, okay?"

As Roman continued to sit there unsure what to do there was a knock at his door. Roman's head snapped up at the sound, his heart pounding with a mixture of concern and trepidation. Slowly Roman rose from his bed, looking back at his night stand he set the invisible walls so no one could see Anxiety but him.

Roman slowly walked to the door and opened a crack; it was Logan. 

Chapter Text

Virgil felt like he was floating in space or maybe not? He didn’t know, it was all so confusing. Was he even breathing? If he was in space, he would need a helmet to breathe. But he didn’t have one. Why was it so dark? 

Oh my eyes are closed

He struggled against the weight of exhaustion, attempting to pry them open. After several attempts, he succeeded. The world around him was tinged in red. Ah, he was still nestled in Roman's pocket, not drifting through the cosmos. Everything felt fuzzy, akin to the pins and needles sensation of a sleeping limb waking up. He could vaguely hear a voice- It sounded irritated. 

He blinked and somehow time had passed and he was in a hand. He didn’t have the energy to look up and see who it was; he just assumed it was Roman. Blinking once more he was now being held right in front of Roman’s face. And the creative side’s lips were moving but he couldn’t make out what was being said. The giant’s eyebrows were furrowed as the eyes studied him like a test subject, searching for something. He didn’t know what. He was laid on a pillow. He managed to make out one word: "nap". Did Roman want him to sleep? It was very hard to keep his eyes open. If that is what Roman wanted, then he should do it? He let his eyes fall shut

While his eyes were shut his mind was keeping him somewhat aware. Too exhausted to move but unable to fully drift off. Roman was still talking about something then he stopped, moving on to something else. Probably something more interesting than him. Whatever it was, it left Virgil alone in his mind again.

—Logan P.O.V—

Logan couldn't shake the feeling that Roman had been behaving strangely. During meals, Roman's eyes wandered more than usual, a sign that something was amiss. Then, to Logan's surprise, Roman left the dinner table a full 10 minutes earlier than his typical departure time—a departure time Logan had subconsciously noted over countless meals.

After dinner, Logan and Patton worked together to clean up the kitchen. As they stacked dishes and put away utensils, Logan's mind sifted through recent events. It wasn't just Roman; nearly everyone seemed to be displaying unusual behaviors. But rather than waste time methodically questioning each individual, Logan decided to focus on Roman first.

With a sense of resolve, Logan made a mental note to address the matter with Roman at the earliest opportunity. It was clear that Roman was showing the most overt signs of distress, and Logan was determined to uncover the underlying cause. It could cause more harm to Thomas’s schedule. He had already let something figuratively ‘slide’ because of Anxiety's recent distress. 

He had read that in some cases it was good to give people space unless they asked for help. Especially in predicaments for teenagers, they often preferred alone time. So that was what he was doing for the anxious side, but this method would most likely not work with Roman, considering his general personality. 

Once the kitchen looked clean Logan ascended the stairs with a sense of determination, his mind focused on addressing the unusual behavior he had observed in Roman. Upon reaching Roman's door, he paused momentarily before knocking with a firm yet gentle rap.

"Specs, hey," Roman greeted, his voice maintained its normal pep but in a much quieter than normal voice.

Logan's keen gaze fixed on Roman, assessing him carefully. "Something is wrong, yes?" he asked, his voice betraying a hint of concern.

Roman's response was a smile, his lips quirked up yet his eyes remained the same. "No- what! Just dealing with the usual Roman stuff," he replied, attempting to brush off Logan's inquiry.

Logan's brow furrowed slightly. "You left dinner earlier than usual, and you seem preoccupied. Those paired with your other usual actions suggest something is wrong" he pressed.

Roman shifted uncomfortably, avoiding Logan's penetrating gaze. "It's really nothing, Logan. I'll figure it out," he deflected.

"Roman," Logan insisted, his tone firm yet compassionate, "I can see when something is troubling you. You can talk to me."

Logan was getting a little irritated at the fact that Roman was denying something that was very obvious. He didn’t understand why Roman would hide something when he was offering assistance. 

“Logan stop profiling me, we don’t profile Friends!” Roman raised his voice

“Roman, hiding what is wrong will negatively affect for and in turn negatively affect Thomas.” Logan stopped for a moment. Roman eyes look glassy. This was not good; he was meant to be helping, not making him more upset. “Roman I promise I won’t judge you. I solely want to help.”

Roman sighed, his shoulders slumping under the weight of his unspoken worries. “It's really nothing, Logan…”

Logan observed Roman closely, noticing the tension in his friend's demeanor. He knew there was more beneath the surface. "But it's not," Logan gently insisted, his voice laced with concern.

Roman rubbed his temples, a habitual gesture when he was feeling overwhelmed. He glanced nervously into the hallway, ensuring they were alone before speaking in a hushed tone.

“Okay… I’ll tell you,” Roman whispered, his voice barely audible above the quiet hum of the house. "But you can’t tell Patton…”

Logan felt a twinge of uncertainty at the mention of keeping secrets from Patton, but he respected Roman's need for confidentiality. He nodded in agreement, his expression attentive.

Following Roman's gesture, Logan stepped into the room, immediately noticing the disarray.

Roman waved his hand in the air, Logan was confused for a moment until his attention fell on the nightstand where a smaller version of Anxiety lay in a miniature bed. Logan furrowed his brow in surprise. "How interesting... Why has he shrunk himself?" he pondered aloud.

“He didn’t. Apparently, he shrinks whenever Thomas gets overwhelmed. I think it's Thomas's way of suppressing him,” Roman explained, frustration evident in his voice.

Logan processed this new information, contemplating the psychological implications. "Thomas's thoughts can directly influence Anxiety's physical state," he mused, connecting the dots. "It's a fascinating defense mechanism."

Roman nodded in agreement. “Exactly. But the problem is, Virgil hasn't been himself. He's withdrawn, distant… I'm worried about him.”

“Well it would make sense that this… state would in turn heighten Anxiety’s… Well, anxiety. Can he not grow back because Thomas is still trying to suppress him?”

“Not exactly…”

“Roman what do you mean?”

Roman tapped on his leg nervously. “Well he can grow back as long as he stays in his room for a while… but I thought since he is always making Thomas so paranoid that maybe it would be better if he were not big…?” 

“So you’ve been keeping him captive?” Logan quirked his eyebrow up.

Roman looked away from Logan gaze “...Yes but for the good of Thomas”

Logan now connected the dots to why Thomas had been so careless as of late it was because of this. “While I do see you’re point Roman, as Thomas has been a bit more productive, keeping Anxiety like this is currently not helping Thomas”

“What do you mean?”

“Have you not noticed? Thomas has been a bit more careless lately. Just the other day he left the stove on unattended” 

Roman eyes widened in shock. His face flushed with a tint of red signaling that he was embarrassed. 

“That's probably a one-off incident maybe it wasn’t because of this”

“Your proposing it has correlation but not causation?”

“Uh… Yes?”

“It's Possible this could be a solution to Thomas’s anxiety. But that does not mean you need to be inhuman to Anxiety Roman.”

“I haven't been inhuman!”

“Why is Anxiety in a deep dissociative state then?”

Roman looked down at Anxiety with a wince. 

“Well he escaped earlier today and I found him in my breast pocket… he was fine before but I don’t know what happened. When I took him out he was just like this! Andidon’tknowwhattodo” Roman too a deep breathe “itsallmyfaultandIdontknowhowfixthis” 

“Okay Roman breathe I will check him over to see what I can do” 

Logan sat down on Romans bed. 

“What are you doing-” 

It was more difficult for Logan since he was logic not creativity but he could also manipulate his body. Closing his eyes he pictured a smaller version of himself in his mind he willed himself to shrink. As he concentrated, Logan imagined the details of his smaller self: compact stature, streamlined features, and a heightened sense of awareness. Slowly, he felt the sensation of shrinking enveloping him, a surreal experience that defied his usual logical processes.

In his reduced state, Logan opened his eyes, viewing the world from a new perspective. He observed Roman and Anxiety from a different vantage point, the familiar surroundings taking on a fresh significance.

“I sorta forgot that we could shrink”

Logan looked at Roman a little surprised, it seemed this whole situation with Anxiety had caused a lot of turmoil in his mind. Roman placed a book between the bed and nightstand to make a bridge for Logan. 

Logan went straight to Anxiety. He was very happy that he took the time to read about different human interactions. In the book he read there was a whole chapter on helping those out of dissociative states or other anxiety induced situations. First rule was not to touch them unless specified to do so.

“Anxiety its Logan, could you try to open your eyes for me? I would greatly appreciate it”

Logan studied Anxiety form… it did not look well. He had definitely caught some sort of fever. Which was strange because as facets of Thomas personality they did not catch fevers unless Thomas did. And Thomas was not sick at this moment.

"It's alright if you can't open your eyes," Logan reassured, recalling the advice from his readings. "Can you focus on the sensations around you? What do you feel touching you?"

He gave the anxious side a minute to think of things. He could tell that the side was not actually asleep since his breathing was much faster than those who were sleeping. He saw a slight movement in Anxiety's finger. He couldn’t ask Anxiety what he could see since his eyes were closed but he could ask about the other senses.

"Very good," Logan affirmed, his voice calm and reassuring. "Now, what can you smell? Focus on identifying familiar scents around you." 

Logan looked to Roman who was standing there awkwardly unsure of what to do. His figure did seem to look incredibly daunting from this point of view. He could see every slight movement Roman did without needing to focus at all. Every movement jumped out at him. This must have been incredibly overwhelming for the younger side. 

“You are doing very well Anxiety can you focus on things you can taste now”

He feared that Roman’s voice might be too loud for Anxiety at this size. Grimacing at the thought of their voices during their conversation earlier. So he pulled out his phone and texted Roman. 

‘I need you to sit down on the floor and try to speak to me in text or whisper’

Logan carefully observed Anxiety from a distance, his analytical gaze noting several concerning details about the smaller side's condition. Anxiety's clothing appeared dirty and unkempt, prompting Logan to wonder if Roman had neglected to provide him with fresh attire. A sliver of skin peeked out from under the shirt, revealing purplish hues that suggested bruising or discoloration. As Logan's examination continued, he noticed Anxiety's right foot bent at an unnatural angle, a clear indication of a broken bone.

Suppressing a rising sense of frustration, Logan maintained his composure. Roman's treatment of Anxiety troubled him deeply; it was evident that the creative side had overlooked essential aspects of caring for their fellow aspect. The responsibility to safeguard Anxiety's well-being rested with all facets of Thomas's psyche. Logan felt a wave of disappointment at Roman’s actions, as the older side he should have been more aware.

However, now was not the time for confrontation. Anxiety needed a calm environment and attentive care. Logan prioritized addressing the immediate concerns affecting the smaller side before addressing Roman's shortcomings.

Logan's phone vibrated with a response from Roman, signaling his compliance with the requested adjustments to their interaction. He watched as Roman positioned himself on the floor, adopting a posture conducive to minimizing disruption for Anxiety. 

Approaching Anxiety cautiously, Logan focused on establishing a gentle rapport. 

“Anxiety do you think you could attempt to open your eyes again. I am stood right next to you and Roman is at a fair distance”

Anxiety’s eyes squinted and then slowly opened. His eyes looked dull, and their regular color of brown seemed to have faded into a gray. He was looking straight at Logan; his expression seemed mostly confused. 

“You are injured and to treat your injuries I need to touch you. Is that alright?”

Logan paused and waited for a response, for a moment he thought he wouldn’t get one but then he did. In the form of a very small nod. 

“Okay I’m going to ask Roman to get up and get the first aid kit. While he does that I will look at the bruising under your shirt. Is that alright for you?”

Another nod, he looked to Roman and gave a nod towards the door. Roman complied, rising from his seated position on the floor. Logan noticed the slight tremor in the ground beneath him with each step—a reminder of Roman's substantial presence within their shared mental space.

“I need to pull up your shirt to fully look, may I?”

He looked at the younger side as they nodded blankly, Logan sent Roman out to get the first aid kit for two reasons:

One he needed supplies and

Two Anxiety was pointedly looking anywhere else besides Roman. 

As Logan examined the bruises underneath Anxiety's shirt, he immediately discerned their origin. The distinctive pattern suggested a forceful grip, likely the result of Roman's inadvertent handling during a moment of heightened emotion.

The bruises encircled Anxiety's torso, resembling the shape of large fingers—a visible manifestation of their internal struggles.

"For the bruising, we'll apply some cream and wrap it to minimize discomfort," Logan explained calmly, his focus unwavering. "I'll also provide pain relief medication. Additionally, we need to address your ankle. I'll need to set it to ensure proper healing, though it may be uncomfortable."

Logan paused, considering additional measures to support Anxiety's recovery.

"You also seem to have a fever," Logan continued, his tone compassionate yet methodical. "It's important to stay hydrated and nourished to facilitate your body's recovery."

Feeling the vibrations of the ground again, Logan knew that Roman was coming back. Looking back at the side looked younger than he was. Anxiety was about to turn 15 next week but he looked like he was 12 or younger. Logan really would have preferred Patton to know about this situation. He would know how to help Anxiety the most, at least emotionally. What would Patton do at this moment? Probably give the younger a hug- that may be painful with the bruises. 

As Roman placed the first aid kit within reach, Logan maintained his hold on Anxiety's hand, finding solace in the subtle squeeze of reassurance. Logan's thumb traced gentle circles on Anxiety's palm, a gesture meant to convey comfort amidst the uncertainty.

Observing Anxiety's struggle to stay awake, Logan spoke softly, sensing an opportunity to ease Anxiety's distress.

"It's alright, you can sleep now, Anxiety," Logan whispered, his voice a gentle lullaby.

With those words, Anxiety's eyes fluttered closed, their breathing steadying into a rhythmic pattern of calm. Logan seized the moment, recognizing the importance of tending to Anxiety's injuries while he rested.

Chapter Text

After Logan finished wrapping Anxiety leg, he made his way back onto the bed and grew himself back to his regular height. Roman was about to open his mouth to talk, but he closed it when Logan held up a finger, indicating silence. Logan then walked out of the room and motioned for Roman to follow.

Once they reached Logan’s room, Logan picked up a notebook and began scribbling things down, while Roman flopped down onto Logan's bed.

“So, are you gonna tell me what that was all about?” Roman asked, his voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of frustration.

“What are you specifically referring to?” Logan responded, preoccupied with his notes.

“The… the everything! Needing to be quiet and all that,” Roman said, waving his hands for emphasis.

Logan sighed, setting his pen down for a moment. “Anxiety is clearly in a fragile state. It’s important to minimize stressors around him. I needed to ensure he felt secure enough to fall asleep without any disturbances.”

Roman frowned, leaning back against the pillows. “You think he’s that bad off?” 

Roman heard the scribbling stop as Logan looked over at him, a disapproving eyebrow raised. The tension in the room was palpable as Logan walked to his desk, setting the notebook and pencil down with deliberate precision. He turned back to face Roman, his eyes stern and unwavering.

“I am disappointed in your mistreatment of Anxiety— no, do not interrupt me,” Logan began, holding up a hand to silence Roman's impending protest. “Even if having him at this size is a solution, that does not justify the large bruises, broken foot, and malnutrition he has.”

Roman's face twisted in a mixture of shock and defensiveness. “He didn’t tell me about any of those things! How was I meant to know?!”

Logan sighed, his expression softening but only slightly. “Even before I was aware of this situation, I warned you that Anxiety is different from us and much younger. It may seem irrational to you and me for him not to say anything, but perhaps in his mind, it's a way to seem less vulnerable. He is just a child, Roman. Why did you not just… I’m not even sure what to say.”

Roman's shoulders slumped, the weight of his actions settling heavily on him. “I don’t know… I was just trying to help Thomas. I know he doesn’t like it, but it does look like it’s working! Thomas is less paranoid!”

Logan shook his head slowly, his eyes reflecting a mix of disappointment and understanding. “Thomas was not paranoid. He may exhibit more anxiety than others, but he was not paranoid.”

Roman ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident in his movements. “Okay, I’m sorry,” he muttered, his voice low and sincere.

Logan sighed in frustration and adjusted his glasses. “I won’t tell Patton for now , but only because I think you should tell him yourself. I will give you one week to do this or I am telling Patton myself.”

Roman tried to argue, his voice rising in protest. “Logan, you know how Patton gets! He’ll be so upset. Can’t you just—”

Logan shot him down with a stern look, his eyes piercing through Roman's excuses. “No, Roman. This is your responsibility. You need to take accountability for your actions. Patton deserves to hear it from you.”

Defeated, Roman nodded, his posture slumping. The weight of his actions pressed heavily on his shoulders, the realization of his mistakes sinking deeper with each passing moment. He mumbled a quiet, “Okay, I’ll do it.”

Logan gave a curt nod, satisfied with the promise but still disappointed. He turned and walked back to the room where Anxiety was resting. The tension of the conversation lingered in the air, but Logan’s focus shifted to the immediate concern—Anxiety’s well-being.

Entering the room, Logan immediately noticed that Anxiety's sleep was much deeper than usual. The small figure lay motionless, a stark contrast to his usual restless nature. Given Anxiety’s reputation for being a very light sleeper, this was concerning. Logan carefully picked up the small bed with Anxiety in it, his movements gentle and deliberate. 

Was Anxiety’s deep sleep a result of sheer exhaustion from the stress and trauma he had endured?

Or was it solely due to the fever ravaging his small body? 

Logan placed Anxiety on his desk, positioning him carefully to ensure he was comfortable. The soft glow of the desk lamp cast a warm light over Anxiety’s tiny form, highlighting how pale his skin really looked and the faint flush of fever on his cheeks. Logan’s heart ached at the sight, a mixture of guilt and determination welling up inside him.

Settling into his chair, Logan began to work on his computer, the rhythmic sound of typing filling the room. He kept a watchful eye on the tiny figure beside him, his gaze frequently shifting from the screen to Anxiety. The usual clatter of keys was a comforting backdrop, a familiar routine in an otherwise tumultuous situation.

—Virgil P.O.V—

Virgil was drifting into consciousness, the first thing he became aware of was the rhythmic clicking sound of a keyboard. The sound was confusing, and he struggled to comprehend where it was coming from. Slowly, he forced his heavy eyelids open, feeling an overwhelming wave of nausea. In a sudden, involuntary motion, he leaned over the edge of his bed and vomited onto the surface below. It hurt a lot especially because he barely had any food to begin with. Looking down he saw what he initially perceived as the floor was actually the desk he was placed on.

He could feel movements above him, making the hairs on his arms prick up, but the large hands stopped mid-air. Virgil felt too exhausted to look up so he just continued to look at the mess he had made. Logan's voice broke through the haze, low and soothing, a tone that was perfect for Virgil's frazzled nerves. 

"Anxiety, you have a fever and need some medicine. I'm going to get you something for your nausea and a container to throw up in," Logan said, pausing for a moment before continuing, "I'm also going to move your bed so I can clean up the throw up."

Virgil barely comprehended Logan’s words but managed a bleary nod. Logan conjured a small bucket for him to use. Virgil’s heart raced as the large hands approached, but he reminded himself that he trusted Logan more than Roman. Logan had been kinder and more considerate.

When Logan actually picked up the bed, Virgil's head spun, and he quickly grabbed the bucket to throw up again. His throat burned, and tears filled his eyes from the strain. The bed stopped moving momentarily, allowing Virgil to settle down before it was moved to the other side of the desk. Logan took the bucket from him and handed him a different one before starting to clean the mess. Virgil watched quietly, feeling extremely weak.

Am I dying?

This must be why Janus always insisted I stay in my room when this happens.

I don’t think I’ll last more than a couple of days at this rate.

Once Logan finished cleaning, he retrieved some Tylenol but furrowed his brows in contemplation. He moved to his nightstand, still within Virgil’s view, and placed the pill on the table. With careful precision, Logan broke the pill into smaller pieces with his hands. 

Logan could crush my bones if he isn’t happy with me.

Logan picked up one of the small pieces and handed it to Virgil. "Due to your size, I thought a considerably smaller amount would be satisfactory... It is a rough estimate, I do apologize," Logan said.

Virgil hesitated, mistrusting the pill and fearing that Logan might be trying to drug him. He was being nicer than Roman but he didn’t bring him to his own room so maybe he was working with Roman. But he took the pill anyway, not wanting to anger Logan. The logical side then conjured a small cup of water for Virgil to drink with the pill. Virgil slowly sat fully up as he prepared to swallow the pill.

Anxiously he swallowed the pill with difficulty, the water soothing his raw throat slightly. The taste made him want to immediately throw it up but he forced himself to swallow completely. He felt a pang of vulnerability, realizing how dependent he was on Logan's mercy and care in this state. 

“It will take around 20 to 30 minutes to take effect” Logan said as he watched Virgil swallow the pill.

Virgil layed back down and just watched Logan as the larger side went back to whatever he was doing on his computer.

–Logan P.O.V—

Logan returned to working on the schedule for the month, his fingers flying over the keyboard as he tried to focus. He could sense Anxiety's eyes on him but chose not to acknowledge it, hoping to avoid scaring Anxiety more than he already had. Logan’s mind wandered to Roman and his promise. He hoped Roman would tell Patton sooner rather than later, but knowing Roman, he would likely wait until the last possible moment.

Logan was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of a cup tipping over and Anxiety starting to cry hysterically, apologizing repeatedly. Logan stopped what he was doing and turned to Anxiety. “It’s alright, Anxiety. It’s just water. I’ll refill it,” he said gently. Logan scooped water from his own cup and handed it back to Anxiety, who took the cup and quickly drank it all. Logan was a bit taken aback, seeing more energy from Anxiety than he had since this whole situation began.

He glanced at his watch; it had only been six minutes since Anxiety took the medicine. Given Anxiety’s significantly reduced size, the dosage of the medicine, though a small piece of a pill, could have a proportionally larger impact. His body's metabolism at this scale might process substances much faster, leading to quicker and more intense effects.

“You... you drugged me,” Anxiety snorted out, his voice shaky.

“While technically, yes... although I do not believe in the way you are implying. It is only Tylenol,” Logan replied, pausing to observe Anxiety, who had a sort of half-smile, half-confused expression. “Though it is affecting you much more than anticipated.”

Logan watched as Anxiety swayed, his movements unsteady. “I’m going to die, and none of you even know my name!” Anxiety said, laughing in a way that made Logan’s heart clench.

“I assure you, the effects will wear off in time,” Logan said, trying to sound as reassuring as possible.

Anxiety looked up at Logan and pouted. “But I like feeling like this... like fuzzy. I w-want to feel fuzzy when I die.”

Logan found Anxiety’s statements deeply concerning. “You are not dying anytime soon, Anxiety,” he said firmly.

“Virgil,” Anxiety giggled out.

Logan blinked in confusion. “Is that your name?”

Virgil nodded his head vigorously but then stopped, holding his head presumably from getting dizzy. “Why are you killing me? I just wanted to protect T-T-Thomas...I just...” Virgil yawned, his eyes drooping.

“Virgil, you are clearly not in the right state of mind,” Logan said, feeling uneasy about the way he found out Virgil's name. He made a mental note to not tell anyone else and to speak to Virgil about it when he was more lucid.

Logan watched Virgil closely, noting the way his eyelids fluttered and his breathing evened out as he drifted back into a restless sleep. Logan’s thoughts were a whirlwind of concern and guilt. He hoped that Virgil fever would go down soon so they could sort through the many concerning things in this conversation. 

A loud bang reverberated from outside Logan's room, abruptly interrupting the quiet atmosphere. He looked up from his computer, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. That was unusual enough, but what followed was even more startling—a distinctly familiar voice exclaiming, "Aw, fuck." Logan's confusion deepened; if he wasn't mistaken, that was Virgil's voice.

Logan’s mind raced as he tried to make sense of what he had just heard. How could Virgil be outside his room when he had just seen him asleep on the desk? Anxiety, or Virgil, as he now knew him, was supposed to be resting, recovering from his fever. Logan quickly stood up, his chair scraping against the floor, and walked briskly to the door.

Opening the door, Logan was met with a sight that left him momentarily speechless. There, standing in the hallway, was a full-sized Virgil, rubbing his arm and wincing in pain. He appeared to have collided with something and the remnants of whatever had caused the bang were scattered on the floor around him.

"Uh, sorry, Lo," Virgil said, his voice tinged with embarrassment. "I guess I didn’t remember that being there. I’ll go clean it up."

Logan's mind raced as he processed the scene in front of him. "It is no problem, V- Anxiety," he corrected himself, his analytical gaze fixed on this ‘Virgil’. The figure looked exactly like the real one, only healthier, not showing any signs of the fever and sickness that the real Virgil was currently suffering from. "I was only checking to see if you were alright."

‘Virgil’ looked at him strangely for a second, then gave him a small smile. "Well, I’ll just go clean this up now..."

Logan nodded slowly, watching as ‘Virgil’ bent down to gather the scattered items. The whole situation felt surreal, and his mind was filled with questions. He needed to confirm something. Logan quickly stepped back into his room and closed the door behind him. He walked over to his desk and, to his dismay, found the real Virgil still very much asleep, feverish and tiny on the bed.

"Deceit," he whispered to himself, the realization dawning on him. It had to be Deceit, the side who thrived on trickery and illusions. Logan’s mind raced, trying to understand why Deceit would create such an illusion. What was his goal? Was it to confuse Logan, to sow distrust, or was there a deeper, more insidious plan at play?

Logan took a deep breath, steadying himself. He needed to stay calm and collected. The real Virgil needed him now more than ever, and he couldn't afford to be distracted by Deceit's games.

Chapter Text

Logan began to pace his room back and forth trying to think of what Deceit was up too. Perhaps the side saw a chance that Virgil was missing and took it? Was he planning on corrupting Thomas in some sort of way? Clearly the side did not know how Virgil acted, considering their earlier conversation sounded much too relaxed to be the real Virgil. Or did Logan just catch on quickly because he knew where the real Virgil was? How much did he really know about the two dark sides, definitely not enough to discern them by their small quirks. 

Running a hand through his hair in frustration, Logan stopped abruptly at a sudden noise. It was a whine from Virgil. He stood there for a second, watching to see if Virgil would wake up, and breathed out a sigh of relief when he didn't. The tiny side’s face was still scrunched up, most likely having a nightmare. Logan figured his pacing might have heightened Virgil's fear, despite the side not being awake.

“Ugh, Logan, you need to be more aware of yourself,” he grumbled under his breath, feeling bad about his unintentional actions. 

Freaking out next to Virgil was definitely not a good idea. If Virgil could still sense others’ anxiety, Logan was the clock that was non-stop ringing. He quietly walked over to the desk and dimmed the light then turned and walked out, gently closing the door behind him. As he looked up, he was startled to see Patton standing right in front of him with a big smile on his face.

“E = mc scared! Christ, Patton, you came out of nowhere!” Logan exclaimed. He straightened his tie nervously.

“Oh, sorry, Lo. You just seemed so lost in thought, I didn’t want to interrupt,” Patton replied, rubbing the back of his neck guiltily.

“It’s quite alright. I suppose I was lost in thought. Is there something you needed, Patton?” Logan asked, trying to mask his urgency. He needed to discuss their situation with Roman but didn’t want to alarm Patton.

“Well, I know you were a bit worried about Anxiety, so I just wanted to let you know I saw him earlier! He even said he would join us for movie night. Isn’t that great?” Patton cheerfully clapping his hands together in excitement.

There was a pause. “Logan, are you alright?”

“Oh, what? Yes, of course. That is great to hear, Patton. This is definitely a step in the right direction,” Logan replied, forcing a smile. He hated lying to Patton; it left a sour taste in his mouth. But he had promised Roman and intended to keep that promise.

“I know, right! I’m going to bake cookies for tonight!” Patton said, skipping off toward the kitchen.

Logan watched Patton disappear, his mind churning with questions. Why would Deceit agree to movie night as Virgil? Was he trying to gather information to corrupt Thomas more efficiently? Or was he just really bad at pretending to be Virgil? No, Deceit was much more careful about these things. There had to be some motive behind this.

He needed to talk to Roman about this.

Deceit P.O.V.

Where the fuck is Virgil?

Deceit rifled through every drawer and nook in the anxious side’s room, frustration mounting with each passing moment. All he wanted was to find Virgil. Thomas's lack of well... anxiety was starting to freak Deceit out. He knew the light sides weren't too fond of Virgil, but he didn’t think they were capable of doing anything truly harmful. The anxious side must have shrunk after Thomas’s panic attack, but that was days ago. Virgil must have gotten stuck somewhere, but Deceit had no idea where. Pretending to be Anxiety was proving much harder than anticipated.

When Virgil abandoned them for the light sides, Deceit had tried to have as little contact with him as possible. Now, he had no clue how the side would act around the light sides. This was a chaotic whirlwind, filled with Deceit's attempts to balance his own nature while trying to mimic Virgil’s behavior. It was like trying to fit a square peg into a round hole, each moment a constant reminder of how ill-prepared he was for this charade.

First, there was Logan. Deceit had been searching for Virgil in the hall behind a table when he accidentally knocked over a vase. Of course, it was right in front of Logan’s room, alerting the logical side immediately. Seeing Logan was strange, especially since Virgil had yet to experience any growth spurt, making Logan much taller than Deceit's current form. But what concerned him the most was that he could tell Logan was lying about something. The side's typically calm demeanor had been replaced with a tension that Deceit could almost taste. Logan had tried to mask it, but there was an unmistakable flicker of unease in his eyes.

Then there was Patton. While he was looking in the kitchen, the moral side had suddenly appeared behind him with his always cheerful, and half the time fake, smile. But right now, Deceit could sense that the smile was indeed real.

"Oh my gosh, Anxiety! I’m so glad you're out and about. I was so worried about you!"

Deceit wasn’t sure how a full grown man's excitement could remind him of an excited puppy, but somehow that’s exactly what it felt like. He had no idea how to react to this as Anxiety…

Okay well, Anxiety would most likely be overwhelmed by this but would also want to say the right thing to Patton so the moral side wouldn't worry about his well-being.

"Uh, yeah, I came down to get something to eat."

Fuck, Virgil probably wouldn’t have responded that way.

"Oh! Here, let me make you something!" Patton said as he opened the fridge

"Thanks, but you really don’t need to—I was just gonna grab some chips."

"Nonsense! A hot meal will do you good after being in your room for that long."

How long had Virgil been in his room? For Patton to act this excited—well, actually, Patton was just always this bubbly, wasn’t he?

"What do you like? Grilled cheese, pasta, a sandwich?" Patton started listing options as he looked in the fridge.

"Uh, maybe a grilled cheese—if that isn’t too much trouble."

Deceit didn’t know Patton’s smile could get any bigger, but it did.

"A grilled cheese, then!"

Deceit stood there awkwardly as Patton started making the food. Clearly, Patton thought Virgil had just locked himself in his room for whatever reason. So maybe that was the assumption from the others as well.

"You know, we were all pretty worried when you wouldn’t come out of your room. Even Roman, I think. He insisted on bringing your food up himself. I wasn’t really sure what you liked, but I’m glad what I made worked out."

Deceit tilted his head in thought. Virgil wasn’t eating those dishes Patton made, he shrank days ago, so clearly, someone was making it look like he did. Of course this had something to do with creativity. 

"Oh, did you not like them?"

Patton had misinterpreted his inner turmoil as disagreement with his statement.

"No, no, they were great, Pat! I was just, uh, lost in thought."

Great, now he was worrying Patton, and he didn’t need the side breathing down his neck while he sorted out whatever was going on with Virgil.

Patton took the grilled cheese off the skillet, put it on a plate, and cut it in half, creating two triangle pieces.

"Sooo, Anxiety, if you want to say no, you can, but we’re having a movie night. And I was wondering if you wanted to join us?"

Being in a room with all three light sides? No thanks. But it would help him figure out what was going on with Virgil.

"Sure, Pat, sounds like fun."

...

And that’s how Deceit ended up in this whole mess, with still no Virgil and a whole lot of lying to do.

Roman P.O.V.

Roman had been pacing his own room when Logan knocked on the door.

“Okay I know you said we have to tell Patton, but do we really have to? Surly we could come up wit-”

Logan’s brows were furrowed together in a worried expression. Worry in his eyes.

“Logan, what’s wrong?” Roman asked, his bravado dropping immediately.

“We need to talk about Anxiety,” Logan said, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. “Or rather, Deceit pretending to be Anxiety.”

Roman’s eyes widened. “Deceit? What do you mean?”

Logan quickly explained the situation: How there was an Anxiety walking around that he knew for a fact that was fake because they had the real one. And how he had been talking to Patton. 

Roman’s face hardened and his hands bunched up into fists. “That snake! He thinks he can just waltz in here and pretend to be one of us?”

“Roman, we need to be strategic about this,” Logan warned. “Rushing in without a plan could make things worse.”

But Roman’s patience had already run out. “I’m not letting him deceive us any longer. I’m going to confront him.”

“Roman we don’t know what he’s planning, just slow down”

“Well the best way to find out is ask” Roman said 

“Roman, wait—” Logan started, but Roman was already out the door, heading toward Anxiety’s bedroom.

Roman slammed open the door, the force reverberating through the hallway and causing the hinges to creak in protest. Inside, "Anxiety" was startled, fumbling with the stack of books he had been leafing through. The books tumbled from his hands, hitting the floor with a dull thud, their pages fluttering open and scattering in disarray.

“Anxiety,” Roman sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he made exaggerated air quotes with his fingers. “We need to talk.”

Deceit, still disguised as Anxiety, looked up, his eyes narrowing slightly, a flicker of annoyance barely concealed. “What’s up, Roman?”

Roman's expression hardened, his jaw clenched. “Cut the act, Deceit. We know it’s you,” he snapped, his voice a low growl that resonated with suppressed fury.

Logan entered the room quietly behind Roman, closing the door gently as if to contain the brewing storm within. The atmosphere was tense, thick with unspoken accusations.

Deceit’s shoulders slumped, and the illusion of Anxiety's body melted away, revealing his true form. He rolled his eyes dramatically and began clapping slowly, the sound echoing mockingly in the quiet room.

“Wow, we’ve got a real genius in the room,” Deceit drawled, his voice dripping with false admiration, each clap a deliberate taunt.

Roman bristled, his fists tightening at his sides. “Thank yo—wait, I know you're being sarcastic!”

Deceit merely raised an eyebrow, his unimpressed expression a stark contrast to Roman's rising anger.

“I demand to know why you dare to walk in the light side!” Roman's voice was a mixture of anger and disbelief, his eyes blazing with intensity.

Ignoring Roman’s demand, Deceit bent down leisurely, picking up the fallen books one by one and placing them back on the shelf with exaggerated slowness. Each deliberate movement was designed to annoy Roman further, a display of calculated indifference. Logan looked ready to interject, his mouth opening to speak, but Deceit silenced him with a raised index finger, the gesture almost contemptuous.

At that moment, the door creaked open again, and Patton stepped in, his cheerful demeanor momentarily disrupted by concern. His eyes scanned the room, taking in the tense scene.

“I heard a bang from up here. Are you all okay? Oh, Anxiety, are you alright?” Patton’s eyes darted from Roman to Deceit, his worry evident.

Roman glanced back, his heart sinking as he saw Deceit had seamlessly slipped back into his disguise. A fresh bruise adorned his forehead, which he was rubbing with a convincing wince, the perfect picture of clumsy innocence.

“Oh, sorry, Pat. I was just being clumsy and dropped some of the books on my shelf. Roman and Logan just came to check if I was alright,” Deceit-as-Anxiety said, his voice carrying a hint of sheepishness, the lie smooth and effortless.

Fake Anxiety looked at Roman and gave a pretend sheepish smile, the expression calculated to disarm. Roman felt a knot of conflict tighten in his chest. If he exposed Deceit now, he’d have to explain where the real Anxiety was, a complication he wasn’t ready to face.

“No need to worry, my darling Patton! I have made sure Anxiety is alright. I was about to go get him some bruise cream. Logan and I will be down in a bit for the movie,” Roman said, his voice forced into a cheerful tone, a stark contrast to the turmoil inside him.

A shadow of suspicion passed over Patton's face, his eyes narrowing slightly, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by his usual cheerful expression.

“Alrighty! Anxiety, you're still joining us for movie night, right?”

“Wh—”

“Yup, pop-star, I’ll be there,” fake Anxiety interrupted Roman smoothly, cutting him off before he could react.

“Alright, I’ll see you guys downstairs!” Patton chirped, his worry seemingly assuaged, before turning and leaving the room.

The moment Patton was gone, they all stood there in a tense silence, the air heavy with unspoken words. Fake Anxiety’s lips curled into a smirk, a silent challenge.

“Logan, close the door, and Deceit, wipe that smirk off your face. The gig is up, fess up,” Roman demanded, his voice sharp, cutting through the silence.

As Logan closed the door, he echoed Roman's sentiment, “We would like to know what you are attempting here.”

Fake Virgil, still smirking, perched on top of the desk with feline grace, his posture relaxed, almost bored. His eyes glinted with amusement, enjoying the tension in the room.

“Really? My gig is up? Because I’m pretty sure it’s yours that’s calling curtains,” Deceit taunted, his voice dripping with mockery.

“What are you talking about, you snake?” Roman said angrily, his hands balling into fists, the veins in his neck standing out with the effort to control his temper.

“You lied to Patton for a reason, sweetheart,” Deceit purred, his eyes never leaving Roman’s, the term of endearment twisted into a weapon.

Roman glared at fake Anxiety, feeling the heat of anger rise within him, his face flushing red.

Fake Anxiety leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms casually, his demeanor infuriatingly relaxed. “What are you doing here?” Roman demanded.

“Where are you hiding Anxiety?”

There was a pause, the silence thick and suffocating. Roman glanced back at Logan, whose expression clearly said, "I told you so," his eyes filled with concern and a hint of smugness.

“I don’t know what you're talking about,” Roman said, but his voice wavered, lacking conviction, the lie evident.

Deceit’s smirk widened, his eyes sparkling with triumph. “Well, I guess I’ll see you at movie night, you two!” He hopped off the desk with a lithe movement, his actions fluid and unhurried, and started to usher Logan and Roman out of the room, his hands on their backs, guiding them towards the door.

“We aren’t leaving until you tell us what—” Roman began, his voice rising in anger.

“You’re leaving unless you want me to tell Patton that Anxiety is... missing,” Deceit interrupted, his tone now deadly serious, the threat hanging in the air like a guillotine.

With one last push, Deceit reverted to his true form, his eyes cold and calculating, and slammed the door in their faces, the sound echoing in the hallway, leaving Roman and Logan standing in stunned silence, the weight of the situation crashing down on them.

Thomas P.O.V. 

Thomas plopped down heavily onto the worn-out couch, its cushions sagging under his weight. He set his soda and a plate of quesadillas on the scratched and battered coffee table in front of him. His hair was an absolute mess, resembling more of a bird's nest than any semblance of a hairstyle, with tufts sticking out in all directions. The white shirt he wore was stained with a variety of mysterious brown and yellow splotches, remnants of past meals and who-knows-what.

Reaching for the remote, he flicked on the TV, its screen flickering to life with a soft hum. He navigated through the menus with practiced ease, settling on the familiar comfort of Pixar's "Inside Out." The bright, colorful animation filled the screen, casting a warm glow over the room. He adjusted himself on the couch, pulling a throw blanket over his lap and tucking one end under his feet.

The aroma of melted cheese and crispy tortillas wafted up from the plate, mingling with the faint scent of his soda. He took a sip, the fizzy drink refreshing against his lips, and then grabbed a quesadilla, the cheese stretching out in gooey strands as he pulled a piece free. He took a bite, savoring the warm, cheesy goodness, feeling a momentary sense of contentment.

“Did I turn off the stove? Eh probably”

Chapter Text

Patton’s P.O.V.

Patton shifted uncomfortably on the couch, trying to lose himself in the movie. Inside Out was usually a favorite, a surefire way to lift everyone’s spirits, but tonight, the magic just wasn’t working. He forced a smile, glancing at his friends. Come on, Patton, lighten the mood!

He leaned toward Roman, nudging him gently. “Hey, Roman, remember when we tried to do a joy and sadness role-play for the last skit? You totally nailed that dramatic sadness bit!” His chuckle came out strained, and Roman barely reacted, giving only a half-hearted nod, his eyes glued to the screen.

Patton’s smile wavered. His eyes darted to Logan, who sat with his arms crossed, deep in thought. What’s going on with everyone? They weren’t like this, not during movie night. This was their time to relax and laugh together, but it felt like there was an invisible wall between him and the others.

“Well, I guess Logan’s more of a... Fear guy, huh?” Patton quipped, throwing in a light jab at the logical side, hoping to tease out at least a chuckle. But Logan simply adjusted his glasses, offering nothing more than a brief glance in Patton’s direction.

Patton’s heart sank a little more. Okay, maybe that wasn’t the best joke...

He fidgeted, glancing at Anxiety, sitting in the corner, hood low over his face. Normally, Anxiety would throw in a sarcastic remark, or at the very least, roll his eyes, but tonight he was silent—eerily so. Patton’s gut twisted uncomfortably.

“Anxiety?” he asked, his voice gentle. “Are you doing okay, buddy?”

For a moment, it was like the room froze. Roman’s leg stopped bouncing, and Logan’s gaze flicked toward Anxiety. Patton waited for a response—any response—but Anxiety didn’t even move.

Patton laughed, a little too loudly, the sound awkward and misplaced. “Guess it’s just one of those nights, huh?”

The others exchanged looks, subtle and quick, but enough for Patton to catch. It stung—like he was on the outside of a conversation he wasn’t invited to. They’re keeping something from me, he realized, his chest tightening. Patton’s mind raced as he desperately searched for a way to reconnect, to bring back the warmth that seemed to be slipping away.

Then a faint, acrid smell hit his nose. Patton frowned and sniffed the air again. The smell grew stronger, clawing at his senses with a sense of urgency. His pulse quickened.

"Do you guys smell that?" Patton asked, his voice tinged with worry.

Roman stopped bouncing his leg, his expression mirroring Patton’s concern. Logan’s eyes widened as he sniffed the air.

"Something's burning," Logan said, shooting to his feet.

Everyone sprang into action, racing toward the source of the smell. As they emerged into the real world, the smoky haze filled their vision. The living room was in chaos—flames licking up the curtains, smoke filling the air. Thomas stood frozen, coughing and waving a towel, trying to dispel the thick smoke.

"Thomas, put out the fire!" Roman shouted, gesturing frantically toward the fire extinguisher in the corner.

Patton’s heart pounded in his chest, his mind racing with worst-case scenarios. He watched helplessly as Thomas finally grabbed the extinguisher and doused the flames. Thick, choking clouds of smoke billowed out, but the fire was out. They were safe.

Patton exhaled, his body trembling as he tried to process what had just happened.

"Are you okay, kiddo?" Patton asked, his voice shaky, barely above a whisper.

Thomas nodded, his face pale as he went to open the windows, letting the cold night air rush in. The group stood in silence, the gravity of the situation sinking in. The relief was palpable—but the tension? It still clung to the air, heavier than ever.

Patton couldn't take it anymore. The emotions bubbled up inside him, too fast, too strong, and before he could stop himself, he snapped.

“What is going on with everyone?” Patton's voice cracked, loud and trembling. "You’ve all been acting so weird around me! I’ve been trying to make this night fun, to bring us together, but nothing is working! I know I’m not the brightest tool in the shed, but I’m not stupid! I know something’s up!"

He turned to Roman and Logan, tears welling in his eyes despite himself. "What have I done wrong?" His voice broke, raw with hurt. He tore off his glasses, angrily wiping them on his shirt with one hand while brushing away the tears with the other. "And I don’t know what's going on with you, Thomas. I don’t know why I feel so disconnected from you. It’s like something is missing!"

"Patton, maybe we’re all just a little—" Roman began, but Patton cut him off, his voice shaking.

"No! Don’t say we’re just overwhelmed. This is more than that!"

Without waiting for a response, Patton turned and sunk back into his room.

—

Patton sat on his bed, staring blankly at the floor. His room, usually a safe haven of warmth and comfort, felt cold. Empty. The walls, once adorned with cheerful decorations, seemed to close in around him. His chest ached with a dull, gnawing pain.

Why did it feel like everything was falling apart?

He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, sniffling quietly. Maybe he was just overreacting. Maybe it was all in his head.

But deep down, he knew it wasn’t. Something was broken. Something they weren’t telling him.

And Patton wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold on.

Roman’s P.O.V.

Roman stood there, frozen, Patton’s words ringing in his ears. He looked over at Logan, who looked just as unsettled, though his face betrayed little emotion. They both knew Patton wasn’t wrong. They had been keeping something from him—something big.

Logan sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "You need to tell him, Roman. This has gone on long enough."

Roman glared, his pride bubbling up defensively. "Tell him? And what about you? You’ve been hiding this just as much as I have!"

Logan adjusted his glasses with a tired, exasperated motion. "This isn’t about ego, Roman."

From the corner of the room, Deceit—still disguised as Anxiety—watched the scene unfold, his lips curling into a small, knowing smile. He summoned a nail file and began shaping his nails, clearly enjoying the tension.

"Ah, ego. Such a delicate thing, isn’t it?" Deceit’s voice dripped with faux innocence, his eyes flicking between Roman and Logan.

Roman felt his blood boil. Deceit always knew exactly how to twist the knife, and Roman wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.

"Deceit, unless you have something helpful to say, shut up."

Deceit raised his eyebrows in mock surprise, his hands pausing mid-file. "Helpful? Oh, Roman, I live to be helpful." His eyes glinted, flicking briefly to Logan before returning to Roman. "But you’re right. This isn’t my business. Not yet, anyway."

Logan’s P.O.V.

Logan locked eyes with Deceit. Roman was too caught up in his anger to notice, but Logan had been observing carefully.. Roman’s frustration and outbursts, while loud and passionate, had become distractions from the real issue at hand. But Logan saw Roman’s fears, the mounting tension, and the looming breakdown. More than anything, though, he saw Virgil’s absence ..

It had become clear to Logan that Virgil’s deteriorating condition was the root of the unease that had crept into their dynamic, the strain between them all. Roman’s refusal to confront it directly, his insistence on shielding Patton from the truth, was only making things worse. 

Logan glanced at Deceit. The dark side, for all his trickery and manipulation, had a better understanding of Virgil than the others, he knew Virgil before he came to the light side. And in that brief moment, Logan noticed something unexpected in Deceit’s expression—a fleeting flicker of genuine concern. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, buried beneath his usual sarcastic smirk and gleaming yellow eyes. But it was there. A hint that Deceit knew something crucial, something that Logan might not have access to. Deceit knew how bad things had gotten for Virgil, and despite his nature, he cared—if not about them, then at least about Virgil.

Logan’s mind raced through the possibilities. Deceit was not to be trusted, but in this instance, Logan realized that they needed him. Virgil’s well-being was at stake, and Deceit was the key to finding out just how severe the situation had become. Logic dictated that, for the moment, they had to set aside their distrust and work together, however uncomfortable that alliance might be.

Logan hesitated. He weighed his options carefully. Could Deceit be manipulating them all, using Virgil’s condition as a tool to sow further chaos? Possibly. But Logan wasn’t blind to the growing urgency of the situation. Virgil’s growing condition, his silence, and the noticeable strain on Patton, needed immediate attention.

As these thoughts raced through Logan’s mind, Deceit met his gaze steadily, as if daring him to make the first move. There was no telling what Deceit’s true motives were, but Logan couldn’t afford to ignore the potential help he might offer. It wasn’t about trust—it was about necessity. If they wanted to help Virgil and restore balance to their group, Logan had to take that chance.

Logan exhaled quietly and, after a brief pause, gave the faintest nod. It was a subtle signal—one that Roman, in his frustration, completely missed. The nod wasn’t just a sign of agreement; it was an acknowledgment that Logan understood the stakes, that he was willing to take the calculated risk of involving Deceit. They had no other choice.

Deceit nodded in return and then clapped his hands dramatically, startling Roman. "Well, I suppose this riveting little chat is over." He gave Logan one last look before sinking out of the room, leaving Roman fuming.

Logan stood in silence as Deceit disappeared. His mind was already racing, calculating the next steps. Roman wouldn’t act. He was too proud, too scared of disappointing Patton to tell the truth. But Logan knew that the longer they kept this secret, the worse it would get.

"Roman, we can’t keep doing this," Logan said quietly, his voice firm but not unkind. "It’s not logical."

Logan was going to make this right. 

Roman P.O.V.

Roman’s face was drained of color. He wasn’t going to tell Patton was he? He’ll be... he’ll be so disappointed in him.

The thought of Patton knowing—of seeing the hurt in his eyes—made Roman’s chest tighten painfully. "He’ll be... he’ll be so disappointed in me."

Roman’s bravado shattered. His posture, usually so regal and confident, crumbled. He tried to hold himself together, but it was like watching a castle made of sand crumble under the weight of a rising tide. The thought of Patton—sweet, kind, ever-forgiving Patton—looking at him with anything other than admiration or pride sent a spike of fear through his heart.

Disappointment. That word alone haunted him. Roman, the embodiment of dreams and creativity, had always sought to be the hero, to be the one everyone looked up to, especially Patton. Patton had always been his moral compass, his anchor to the ideal of being good and true. How could he face him knowing he had failed him—betrayed the very trust they’d built?

He could have both.

He would just need to carefully explain everything before Logan could get to Patton. Yes.. yes he would just explain his reasoning and everything THEN tell Patton it was about Anxiety. 

Roman opened his mouth, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "I can fix this," he muttered, more to himself than to Logan. "I’ll make it right."

“I don’t know Roman…” with that Logan sunk out.

Chapter Text

Virgil P.O.V.

Everything hurt from the bottom of his feet to the top of his head. He tried to move his arms, but it felt like they were weighed down by lead, heavy and unresponsive. Panic started to claw at him as he rolled his head, managing to crack his eyes open. The room looked blurry, edges softening in a haze, but he could make out the stark blue walls—nothing familiar, nothing safe. He was on some sort of table, and the cold surface beneath him sent a shiver racing through his body.

Virgil's anxiety skyrocketed, a tidal wave crashing over him. His chest tightened, each breath feeling like it was being pulled through a narrow straw, shallow and wheezy. The coldness seeped into his bones. The weight of being by himself pressed down on him, suffocating. 

Where am I?

Did Roman get tired of me?

Did he leave me here to die? 

He struggled to recall anything, but his thoughts were jumbled and frayed, like a torn piece of fabric. 

This is it. I'm going to die alone and scared.

The realization sent a wave of nausea rolling in his stomach. He wanted to scream, to call for help, but the words lodged in his throat, heavy and unyielding.

Each second stretched on endlessly, the silence around him amplifying the chaos in his mind. His heart raced, pounding against his ribcage like a caged animal desperate to escape. 

Virgil squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the creeping dread, but the darkness behind his eyelids only deepened his fear. Memories flickered in and out like a broken lightbulb. He felt a deep longing for someone. Just to not be alone.

I just don’t want to die alone.

A sound broke through the haze—a faint, muffled voice, just beyond his reach. He tried to fight to stay conscious to see who was there. He didn’t even care if it was Roman, as long as he wasn’t alone. 

Virgil managed to blink his eyes open again, though the world remained a blur, colors and shapes swirling together like a chaotic painting. Just as his vision began to sharpen, a shadowy figure loomed over him. His heart raced, panic surging through him like electricity. A giant hand, pale and trembling, reached toward him, fingers that were the same height as him outstretched to grab him.

The hand seemed to block out all light, casting an enormous shadow over his trembling form. Time slowed, and in that fleeting moment, The hand slipped underneath him and slowly picked him up. His instincts told him to recoil, but the warmth of the hand felt more comforting than anything else, wrapping around him like a fragile cocoon.

As he blinked his eyes, two faces came into focus, hovering just above him, their expressions something he couldn't quite decipher. One had a familiar glimmer of yellow in his eyes.

Deceit?

Logan P.O.V.

Logan quietly walked over to his desk, careful not to make any sudden movements that might disturb the already fragile atmosphere. His gaze dropped to where Virgil lay, small and fragile, his body barely visible in the dim light. Virgil's tiny form was curled in on itself, limbs limp, and his chest rose and fell in shallow, erratic patterns. His features were so minuscule, so delicate, that Logan had to strain his eyes to discern any expression on his face.

But even from this distance, Logan could see Virgil's face was pale, a sickly shade that sent alarm bells ringing in Logan's head. The skin beneath his eyes was dark, almost bruised, and a thin sheen of sweat clung to his brow. His breathing, shallow and uneven, though his lips parted without sound.

Logan’s heart tightened. Rational thought dictated that Virgil was in no immediate danger, but the sight of him—so vulnerable and helpless—struck a chord deeper than mere logic could explain. His mind raced through all the calculations and probabilities. 

Was it exhaustion? 

Was his injury worsening? 

Or was this some deeper emotional trauma manifesting physically?

Logan pressed his lips into a thin line. Even with his limited understanding of emotions, it was clear to him that this wasn’t just a physical ailment. Virgil was struggling, and Logan’s usual methods, felt utterly useless in the face of it.

The longer he observed, the clearer it became: 

Virgil wasn’t just sick—he was deteriorating.  

His body seemed to shrink into itself, as though it were caving under some invisible weight. As if something was slowly eating away at it. It made Logan's chest ache, a slow pressure building as he realized that waiting any longer would only make things worse.

Logan’s hand hovered in hesitation, fingers twitching. Even though his mind screamed that Roman would vehemently disagree with this course of action, Logan knew they didn’t have time for debate. After all he agreed he wouldn’t tell Patton, nothing was said about Deceit.

Logan steeled himself as he reached down, his large hand trembling slightly as he moved to pick up Virgil’s small, fragile form. He hesitated for a brief second, watching as the tiny side blinked a few times, his eyelids fluttering like the wings of a trapped moth. It had to be a good sign. At least Virgil was conscious, however faintly. Logan's chest loosened, the smallest hint of relief breaking through the thick cloud of tension that had settled over him.

As his fingers gently curled around Virgil, he felt the body beneath them tense up, rigid and unyielding, as if the tiny figure were bracing for impact. Logan froze, his breath catching in his throat. He wasn’t sure if it was pain, fear, or both that made Virgil’s muscles stiffen, but the feeling of that little form hardening in his hand sent a jolt of uncertainty coursing through him.

Then, in a terrifying instant, Virgil went limp, his body slackening in Logan’s palm like a ragdoll. Logan’s heart stuttered, his mind racing. He quickly brought his other hand to cup over Virgil, sheltering him as if the world itself might collapse in on him. The weightlessness of Virgil’s body was unsettling; it made him feel as though he were holding something much more fragile than he was prepared for.

Before Logan could fully process the wave of emotions threatening to overwhelm him, the door creaked open and Deceit entered the room.

“Alright, tall and handsome,” Deceit said with a small smirk, his eyes glinting in the dim light. “Where’s the child?”

Logan gave a sharp glance at the other dark side, feeling the familiar surge of frustration at Deceit’s casual demeanor. He held out his hand, still cradling Virgil protectively between his palms, and leveled Deceit with a look. “We have the same face… You are sure you’ll be able to help, correct?” Logan’s voice, usually so steady, wavered just slightly, betraying a note of uncertainty he wasn’t used to feeling.

“I’ll do what I can, dear,” Deceit responded, the teasing tone in his voice never quite masking the seriousness beneath it.

Logan inhaled deeply, trying to steady his nerves, and slowly opened his hand to reveal Virgil. But instead of focusing on Virgil’s frail, pale form, Logan’s eyes stayed locked on Deceit, watching his expression carefully. It was a logical move in Logan’s mind—Deceit would be able to read the situation better than anyone, and Logan needed to gauge his reaction to determine the severity of Virgil's condition.

But as soon as Deceit's face fell, Logan realized he’d made a critical mistake. The sharp downturn of Deceit’s usually calm expression made Logan’s stomach drop like a stone.

“Logic… how long has he been like this?” Deceit’s voice was unusually flat, his earlier smirk gone, replaced with a look of genuine concern.

“I’m not certain,” Logan replied, his voice quieter now. “Since Roman was the one who found him, I believe we’re approaching the fourth day.”

Deceit’s eyes widened, and Logan could see the alarm flashing behind them. Logan shifted his gaze back to Virgil, he looked sicker than just a couple of minutes ago sicker than Logan had been willing to admit.

“He’s been out of his room like this for four days?” Deceit’s voice was sharper now, a hint of anger slipping through the cracks.

Logan felt a pang of guilt twist deep in his chest. He remembered, with painful clarity, the knowledge that returning Virgil to his room would have helped him recover. And yet, he’d chosen to prioritize Roman’s feelings over Virgil’s condition, convincing himself that there was more time, that it wasn’t as bad as it looked.

He had been wrong.

“Yes…” Logan’s voice barely rose above a whisper. The weight of his decision settled heavily on his shoulders, and he could feel the burn of self-recrimination gnawing at the edges of his thoughts. “I… I don’t know why I didn’t act sooner.”

“Can you help him?” Logan asked, a note of desperation creeping into his voice.

Deceit nodded, though the hesitation in his gaze wasn’t lost on Logan. “Bringing him back to his room should help… but Logan, he’s never gotten this bad before. I’m not sure how well he’ll bounce back.”

Logan’s heart sank. He’d known it was bad—he could see it with his own eyes—but hearing the gravity of the situation from Deceit made it feel all the more real. Logan looked down at Virgil again, guilt stabbing him like a knife and deceit words twisting that knife.

"Hand me Anxiety."

“What—” Logan started to protest, but Deceit cut him off with a stern look.

“Logan, for now, I think you need to take a step back.”

Logan hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest. He didn’t want to let Virgil go, not after everything, but he knew Deceit was right. He swallowed the lump in his throat, his hand trembling slightly as he gently placed Virgil into Deceit’s waiting palm. The weightless form of the smaller side seemed to press down on him with the heaviness of his guilt.

As soon as Virgil was secure, Deceit didn’t waste a moment. He turned on his heel and began to walk briskly toward Virgil’s room, his pace quick and determined. Logan followed close behind, his footsteps feeling heavier with each step. He wanted to do something, to fix this, but all he could do was watch as Deceit moved ahead, carrying the fragile figure Logan had failed to protect.

The silence between them was thick, only the soft sound of their footsteps echoing in the hall. Logan’s mind raced, replaying every choice he had made over the past few days, each one feeling like a misstep that led to this moment. He glanced at Virgil’s limp form cradled in Deceit’s hands, the sight making his stomach churn.

Roman P.O.V.

Roman walked slowly to Patton’s room, his heart heavier with each step. He hadn’t taken the time to think this through—he didn’t want Logan to beat him to tell Patton, but now that he was standing outside the door, uncertainty clawed at his resolve. With a deep breath, he finally knocked. A soft voice from inside told him to come in. Roman opened the door, and his heart sank further at the sight of Patton. The typically cheerful father figure sat slumped on his bed, hugging a stuffed bear to his chest. His eyes were rimmed with red, puffed up from what Roman knew had been a lot of crying.

The sight hit Roman harder than he’d expected. This wasn’t how he imagined confronting Patton about his mistake—Patton looked so vulnerable, so hurt .

"Patton…" Roman started, his voice soft, almost unrecognizable to his own ears. He closed the door gently behind him, unsure how to take another step forward. "I'm sorry... for everything."

Patton glanced up, his face shifting between surprise and a weak, tired smile. "Roman, it's... it's fine. I guess I overreacted earlier."

Roman shook his head. "No, it’s not fine. I treated you poorly. You’ve been trying to help Thomas, and I… I’ve only made things harder."

Patton squeezed the stuffed bear tighter, lowering his gaze to the floor. "I don’t even know what to do anymore, Roman. Thomas isn’t himself, and nothing I’m doing seems to work. I’m worried… we’re all falling apart."

The guilt Roman had tried so hard to bury was now bubbling up like a tidal wave. He could feel it rising in his chest, threatening to spill over. He thought he was helping Thomas, thought he was helping everyone, but he hadn’t even realized how much it had cost them all—especially Patton.

"No, Patton. You were right. I’ve been keeping something from you, something important." Roman stepped closer, his heart pounding in his chest as he searched for the right words. "I thought I had good reasons for what I did. I wanted to make things better, but instead… I’ve made everything worse."

Patton looked up, confusion flickering across his face, but he stayed silent, waiting for Roman to continue.

Roman took a shaky breath. "I found a way to help Thomas be less stressed. At first, it worked. He seemed happier, more relaxed, like he was finally getting a break from everything. You even said yourself that he was doing better."

Patton nodded slowly, still looking puzzled but listening intently. "Yeah, I did say that…"

"But then things went wrong," Roman admitted, his voice growing tighter as his guilt deepened. "It went from Thomas being happy to him… just not caring. About anything. About us, about himself. I don’t know what happened, Patton, but it’s all my fault."

Patton’s face just seemed to be more confused than before. "What do you mean?"

"I tried to shield him from the pressure he was feeling, to help him escape it for a little while, but I didn’t think it through," Roman said, his voice cracking. "I pushed too hard. I didn’t consider how it would affect the rest of us… or how it would hurt you. I just wanted to be the hero."

The room felt thick with tension, Patton staring at Roman with wide eyes as the silence stretched between them. For the first time, Roman didn’t know how to break it. His voice, usually booming with confidence, was now barely above a whisper.

"I broke my promise to Anxiety," Roman added after a long pause, his throat tightening as he forced the words out. "I promised I’d take care of him… but I didn’t. I got caught up in trying to fix things on my own terms, and now… I’ve hurt him, too."

Patton blinked, his brows furrowed in confusion. "What's this have to do with Anxiety?"

Roman nodded, guilt coursing through him like poison. "He’s… he’s in worse shape than any of us realized because of this um… solution, and I wasn’t there for him when he needed me. I—"

Before Roman could finish, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway, and Patton immediately stood up, eyes wide with alarm.

"Patton, wait—" Roman called after him, but Patton was already moving toward the door, worry written all over his face.

Virgil P.O.V.

The world around Virgil was shaking, everything moving too fast, spinning out of control. Just moments ago, the pain had been constant but calm—now it surged, chaotic and overwhelming. Virgil blinked weakly, his vision swimming in and out of focus. It took him a moment to register the hands carrying him—strong but gentle, like someone trying to handle him with the utmost care but also trying to move fast. He recognized the slithering tone of Deceit's voice, though it was distant and muffled. He couldn’t make out the words.

As they moved through the hall, each step felt like a mountain being climbed. Every breath Virgil took was shallow, catching in his throat as if the air itself was too heavy to pull in. He was aware of the cool air of the hallway. His senses were a blur, but then he felt it—he was carried into his room. 

The sensation hit him like a wave, a surge of energy flooding his weakened body. It was too much, too fast. He turned on his side and vomited, guilt immediately pooling in his chest for whoever had been holding him.

He could feel himself being passed from one pair of hands to another Virgil’s vision swam into focus, and he blinked up at Patton’s face. Patton’s hands were warm as they carefully lifted him, pulling him close to his chest. The scent of something familiar and comforting filled the air—Patton’s scent. Virgil’s head lolled against his shoulder, exhaustion overwhelming his senses.

Patton held him like he was something fragile, something precious. His heartbeat was steady, a rhythm that Virgil unconsciously synced with, grounding him. He couldn’t bring himself to speak, couldn’t even muster the strength to say anything. But he clung to Patton’s shirt, his fingers curling into the fabric.

"You’re safe now, Virgil," Patton whispered softly, his voice like a soothing balm. "It’s okay. Just rest."

Deceit and Logan stood by the doorway, both watching closely, though neither made a move to interrupt. They exchanged a look, something unspoken passing between them. Virgil didn’t care to figure it out. All he could focus on was the warmth of Patton’s hand and the steady beat of his heart.

Slowly, the tension in Virgil’s body eased, and the exhaustion finally won out. He let himself slip into an uneasy sleep, the comforting presence of Patton his last tether to the waking world.