just-katsumi - Tumblr blog

just-katsumi · 3 years

Note

Okay, I'm really gonna cry, this was beautiful...

You writing is so nice and this story was such a comfort to me. I was so sad when it ended, but now at least I can go back and read it whenever I want! Just to see that yeah, they're all jerks, but when one of their own is hurting, that's the time when coming together means the most, and it's serious time. This story felt like one big, warm hug for my little rainclouds. Again, thank you for taking my request and writing this, I love everything about it!💜💜💜

Heyo! 👋 hope you're doing well! If you are taking requests right now, maybe some Ichi hurt/comfort? Like maybe he's having a depressive episode one day (me? Projecting? It's more likely than you think 😂) unlike any he's ever had before, and he just doesn't have the strength to do anything, even make snippy remarks at any of his brothers. One (or all, you can pick!) of them notices this odd behavior, and makes it their mission to help him feel a little more like his old self, even if that just means "riding out the storm" with him.

Oof this was really long, lol sorry 😂 but thanks for taking the time to read, I love your writing style! Take care! 👋

eyyy don't be sorry! God I REALLY enjoyed writing this... I love how it turned out

sometimes these guys can be jerks, for sure, even when one of their own is in pain

but... when it's serious... THIS BEAUTIFUL SHIT HAPPENS

please enjoy Ichi being spoiled and surrounded by love from all his brothers because HE DESERVES IT and I love how this turned out <3

Ichimatsu’s first (and maybe only) mistake is that he assumes his brothers don’t pay that much attention to him one way or the other unless he speaks up.

Or, maybe it’s that he often hopes they don’t.

Because he knows they care; there are little things they all do that remind him that no matter what, they love him. But they all have their own things to do, and most of the time he finds that best. They should be able to do whatever they like instead of wasting their lives making him feel better. He has a bad day or hates himself so much of the time, if they paid him attention whenever he wasn’t doing well, they’d never get to enjoy themselves with other things.

He cares about them, too. So usually he’d rather they occupy themselves with their own interests whenever he’s not feeling well. He can bury things deep inside and pretend those shitty feelings don’t exist and act almost normal. As normal as someone like him can act, anyway. For their sake. They don’t deserve to worry about him.

Today, he’s too tired for whatever reason. His scathing barbs and negative attitude on most days aren’t really fake… on the bad days, though, he can force his typical demeanor so nobody suspects he’s not fine. All they see is sour-faced, ill-tempered fourth brother Ichimatsu.

He can’t even do that much right now. It’s as if the weight of existence and his own mind is pulling him down, further and further, until he’s drowning in his thoughts. Horrible thoughts. Things telling him he’s worthless, a failure, a burden, good for nothing, should probably be dead… too many things to keep track of.

If he were trying not to get his brothers’ attention by being quiet and listless, it isn’t working. In fact, his current behavior has actually done the opposite.

While he’s lying in the corner of the room, curled around himself and wishing he could fall asleep to avoid dealing with these thoughts and feelings, the others are around their table muttering among themselves.

“You guys noticed he barely touched breakfast, right?” Osomatsu is the first to speak up, and he’s doing his best not to look at Ichimatsu too much, simply because he doesn’t want his younger brother to feel everyone’s eyes on him. He’s pretty sure that would just make matters worse.

Choromatsu hums in agreement. “Yeah, no, he just kind of stared into his tea… he might have taken a sip or two, but that’s about it. I don’t think he even ate any rice.”

“Did he even brush his teeth this morning?” Totty speaks up. “Or his hair? It looks messier than usual, and I was the last one in the bathroom before breakfast, and it didn’t look like his toothbrush had been used.”

“Also,” Karamatsu chimes in, “I believe that is the same outfit he wore yesterday. He didn’t sleep in it, but he put it back on when he got up even though it hasn’t been washed.”

Choromatsu frowns and steals a quick glance at the fourth eldest. “Like he… didn’t wanna think about picking something different out, huh? And… it’s kind of worrying that he didn’t brush his teeth or hair. I mean, that’s basic hygiene. It’s like he’s depressed or… some… thing…”

Suddenly a light bulb goes off, and the rest of the brothers exchange a concerned look with each other.

“Oh,” is all Osomatsu says for a moment. Then, “Fuck.”

Before anyone else can breathe a word, Jyushimatsu leans back away from the table and collapses with his head in Ichimatsu’s lap. “Aaaah, Ichimatsu-nii-chan! Baseball practice today? We can do it at the beach!”

Ichimatsu hardly flinches at the abrupt contact, but really it’s because he doesn’t even have the strength to be startled. He doesn’t move to push Jyushimatsu off or bounce his leg to dissuade the him from staying or anything. It’s a moment until he actually says anything, like a delayed reaction from a computer. “Uh. Not today, Jyushi. I’m probably gonna take a nap.”

“Hmmmmmmm… oh, I know! I’ll nap with you! Maybe we’ll dream about baseball!”

All the others watch closely, waiting to see if he gives an average Ichimatsu reaction. Instead, he doesn’t even shrug. “Yeah, if you want.”

Obviously, that’s not what they would be expecting from any other day. They all look at each other again, minus Jyushimatsu who just curls up against his big brother’s side.

Ichimatsu, on the other hand, is so out of it in his own head that he doesn’t realize that he’s done anything to worry his brothers. They should all be paying attention to their own shit, right?

He just feels so exhausted despite that he knows he slept okay last night. All he did this morning was wake up and get out of bed and already he’s… drained.

You’re so lazy. You can’t even put together the energy it takes to read a fucking magazine or something? To do nothing like you usually do? What kind of loser doesn’t have enough energy to do something like watch TV?

What the hell is wrong with you?

He cringes at the sound of his own inner voice berating him, and ducks his head down between his knees. Shit. Everything hurts. Isn’t that right, though? He’s useless. It doesn’t take any effort to just sit somewhere watching TV or reading and yet he’s not even willing to do something like that.

Even though he expects that Jyushimatsu might want to hang out with him, because the two of them are close, he doesn’t anticipate it when Osomatsu comes over and sits himself down across from Ichimatsu. At least, he thinks it’s Osomatsu. He doesn’t really feel like lifting his head fully; it looks like a red hoodie, though.

“Uh, hey, Ichimacchan.” Osomatsu feels a little awkward at first, mainly due to the fact that he’s never sure what to do when Ichimatsu is in one of ‘these’ moods. What works on one day might not work the next time. Previous experience is all he has to draw on, though.

“I noticed you didn’t eat too much at breakfast… you in the mood for something sweet?” Tempting him with one of their favorite treats might put him in better spirits, at least for a minute. “There’s a box of imagawayaki on the counter… there’s three in there, so we can split ‘em. Mom said these ones have chocolate cream in them.”

Everyone else lets out a blissful sigh as they all think about how delicious that’s going to be. Bean paste or custard or even regular cream is always good, but chocolate cream? If they had to fight over those, someone might end up dead.

Ichimatsu offers a shrug in his brother’s direction. “Sure, if you guys want. I’m just not that hungry.”

Osomatsu frowns, and looks over toward Choromatsu who’s thankfully recovered from the imagawayaki imagine spot. None of the brothers would ever turn that down. Even if they weren’t necessarily hungry, they’d make room for something that good. Moreover, given that Ichimatsu didn’t eat anything at breakfast, he should be starving,especially for sweets.

Choromatsu makes his way over, setting a careful hand on Ichimatsu’s shoulder. He doesn’t have any more of a clue what to do than their eldest, so he’s flying by the seat of his pants just as much. Something has to be done… they can’t just let poor Ichimatsu suffer. “Ichimacchan? It’s pretty cold today. How about I turn on the kotatsu, and if you’re gonna nap, you can sleep with your legs under it? That might feel nice.”

Well. That does sound nice, Ichimatsu thinks, because curling up under the heat of the kotatsu is always nice in the winter. But… he’s pretty sure he doesn’t have the energy to even move from this spot. “Oh, yeah… I’ll probably just nap here, though. Don’t really feel like moving.”

“Aaah, but you are cold, aren’t you? I can hear your teeth chattering from all the way over here!” Karamatsu is up in an instant, tugging his leather jacket off his shoulders. Although it leaves him in nothing but a tank top ― and a horribly plain grey one, at that ― it’s a necessary sacrifice for his little brother’s comfort.

He hurries over to where everyone else is gathering and gently drapes the jacket over Ichimatsu’s shoulders. “Hmph… Karamatsu to the rescue as usual! You’re looking cozier already.”

Man,Ichimatsu’s mind comes up with, I try on Shittymatsu’s dumbass jacket one time and suddenly he’s coming up with any excuse to put the stupid thing over me. Do I really want him freezing instead of me? Why don’t I just move my ass over to the kotatsu? He’s gonna catch a cold and it’ll be all my fault because my stubborn ass didn’t move and he took pity on me.

God, I wanna die. They’re all falling all over themselves to do shit to cheer me up when they should be focusing on themselves. I’m fucking trash, making my brothers waste all their damn time on me. Why couldn’t I just do stuff and not make them worry?

“… Ichimatsu-nii-san?” Totty has plopped himself down in front of Ichimatsu, staring in concern at his big brother. Fuck. He’s using that eye voodoo of his, and if he says anything, if he asks Ichimatsu a question, he’s gonna get an honest answer despite the fact that Ichimatsu doesn’t want to admit anything.

He can’t help it, though. Totty’s hand is soft as he reaches up toward Ichimatsu’s face, thumbing away tears that Ichimatsu didn’t even realize he’d started to cry. But his youngest brother is delicate in the way he brushes them, so caring and tender that any little bit of strength Ichimatsu had to keep things hidden away crumbles quickly.

“Hehe,” Totty chuckles, though there isn’t a genuine mirth behind it, “you’re not having a good day, Ichimatsu-nii-san… are you?”

He blinks, and more tears start to drip down his cheeks. This time Totty doesn’t make a move to wipe them away, instead staring at his brother with those big, sad doe eyes, glittering with sympathy.

Ichimatsu lets his head drop again, eyes pressing against his arm and tears soaking into his sleeve. “N-no,” he manages to say in a quiet, insecure, small voice. He hates it. He hates making this stupid confession, because he should be able to take care of himself. His brothers don’t need to be huddled around him, pissing their days down the drain. “I’m… I’m having a bad day.”

With that, it’s like all five of them attach themselves to him all at once. There’s a brief cacophony of worry and reassurances, and a hug Ichimatsu almost loses himself inside of.

“Alright, you hear that, guys?” Osomatsu announces, maybe a bit louder than he really needs to. “Ichimatsu’s having a bad day! Woohoo!”

Choromatsu scoffs. “Ah, ‘woohoo’?? Osomatsu, you idiot! This isn’t a good thing!”

Osomatsu pulls away to rub a finger under his nose with a grin. “Hey, sure it is! He said it, didn’t he? Good for you, Ichimacchan! You’re having a bad day and you said so! Remember what happened when Totty kept junk from us? We need to know this shit! I’m glad you said something!”

Karamatsu’s hand tousles Ichimatsu’s hair as he pulls his brother into a hug. “Yes, Osomatsu is right. You’re having a bad day, Ichimatsu, and that’s just fine. It takes a lot of bravery to admit it, so we’re proud of you.”

“Plus, we’re gonna make this the best bad day ever!” Totty hums. He’s whipped his phone out before anyone can so much as blink, typing away on it. “It’s just about lunch time, so I’m gonna order some takeout! Ichimatsu-nii-san, what sounds good? Curry? Sushi? Ooh… maybe fried chicken? We don’t do that too often… might be a nice treat! Oh, it’s your call, though.”

Osomatsu gives Ichimatsu a tiny bump on the shoulder with his fist. “You and Totty figure that out while I go cut that imagawayaki for us. Be right back, guys.”

… Am I in the fucking Twilight Zone or something? What the hell???

Ichimatsu lifts his head just a little, looking at all his brothers. Totty’s on his phone looking at delivery options, Osomatsu is headed to the kitchen, Jyushimatsu is nuzzled against his side…

None of them are leaving him by himself. They all still want to be here even when his mood sucks ass. Even when he can’t really do anything for himself. Even when he’s being a huge fucking pain and a thorn in their sides and doing literally nothing to contribute to the day.

What the hell are they all doing? Why are they all fine with wasting their day taking care of him?

When Karamatsu presses a couple of tissues into his hand, Ichimatsu somehow finds the energy to use them to wipe his face. Fuck, he hates crying, and he hates people seeing him cry. “Don’t do this,” he mumbles. “You’re fucking morons. You have better shit to do than…”

“No way!” Jyushimatsu aggressively snuggles against the side of Ichimatsu’s stomach, circling his arms around his brother’s waist. “What better shit could weeeee have to do? We’re shitty NEETs!”

Choromatsu chuckles. “Besides, there’s literally nothing more important than taking care of each other, especially when one of us is down and out. Ichimatsu, you… know none of us are shy when it comes to being honest. So, just… try to believe us when we say there’s nothing we’d rather be doing than being with you right now.”

He straightens up, then gingerly taps Jyushimatsu with his foot. “Hey, Jyushi, how about you scoot yourself and Ichimatsu over to the kotatsu? And Totty, are you really gonna make a delivery driver come out in this weather? It’s almost below freezing! Why don’t you go get it yourself?”

“Excuse you, but if they haven’t shut down the delivery option, why shouldn’t I take advantage of it? I don’t wanna leave Ichimatsu-nii-san!”

“Okay, okay… I guess that’s fair. What are you ordering, again?”

“Aaaah, I dunno! I was waiting for Ichimatsu-nii-san to say what he feels like.”

Meanwhile, Jyushimatsu has somehow gotten himself and Ichimatsu over to the kotatsu, and is currently shoving his big brother’s legs under it while Choromatsu moves to plug it in. “Home run, YEAH! Your tootsies will be toasty in no time, Ichimatsu-nii-san!”

“O-oh… thanks, Jyushi…” That’s about all he can say, really. He’s slumped over the table in a matter of seconds, and although there’s no way it can support the weight of everything he feels like he’s being crushed under, feels a little more relaxing than holding himself in a tight ball in the corner.

He’s going to cry again. He’s pretty sure he’s going to cry again. His brothers, his selfish, douche-a-holic, demon brothers… would rather be taking care of him on a bad day than out doing their own things, not touching him or his shitty mood with a ten-foot pole.

Jyushimatsu is cuddled up on one side, and he can feel Karamatsu settling in on the other with an arm around Ichimatsu’s shoulders. That’s it. He’s surrounded by brothers and their warm, selfless-for-once-in-their-lives affection. He has to surrender. He doesn’t stand a chance.

His mind drifts back to the others. “Oh… Totty…”

“Oh! Yeah, mhm?”

“Um… curry sounds good, I guess.”

The impossibly huge smile on his youngest brother’s face comes through even when he speaks. “Oh, great! Curry it is! Okaaaay, I’m gonna get it from that nice place in town. You want it with rice or udon? Or do you want curry bread?”

“Uhh… just with rice.”

“Rice, okay, sounds good! Beef, chicken, or pork?”

“Huh… you mentioned fried chicken, now that sounds good. Does that place do curry rice with tonkatsu on top?”

“Oooh… that does sound good. Yeah, I think there’s an option for that. Chicken tonkatsu with curry rice, then?”

“Yeah.”

“Gotcha. Is that what everybody wants?”

“Yeah, Totty,” Choromatsu injects, “just order the same thing for everybody. We’ll all eat that.”

“Okay, what about sides? Does anyone want fukujinzuke or rakkyō?”

“Geez, just… just get half of each and we can divide it up if anyone wants any.”

“Okaaay! I’m not ordering drinks from there, though… too expensive. We have tea here. Oh, I’ll get a few orders of pork curry bread, too, in case we want a snack later.”

“Well, make sure you get either three or six.”

“Yeahhhh, Cherrymatsu, I’m not stupid! I’ll just get three; I’m fine buying some, but I’m not trying to go broke! Does that sound okay, Ichimatsu-nii-san? The curry bread for later?”

It takes a moment, but finally Ichimatsu lets out a breathy, almost tearful laugh as he leans against Karamatsu’s shoulder. “Totty… you’re trying to fatten me up… you witch… you’re gonna cook me and eat me… that’s your plan, huh?…”

The whole room erupts into a small fit of laughter, even Totty who’s blushing at being teased. Ichimatsu feels Karamatsu press a kiss to his head, and he sighs. Usually he wouldn’t be able to take all of this… the attention, and Totty blabbering away, and Choromatsu trying to be responsible, and… everything.

At the moment, it feels right. Like things are supposed to be this way. Like he’s supposed to be having a bad day so his brothers can all gather around him and remind him that regardless of anything else, when one of them needs their brothers, everyone is going to be there.

Maybe he needed that reminder.

Maybe they all did.

#reblog #osomatsu san #osomatsu san reblog #my request reblog #suicidal thoughts tw #depression tw #i can't say it enough: this is my favorite type of comfort fic #and by golly did you do it justice #thank you!!!#👋#osomatsu #karamatsu #choromatsu #ichimatsu #jyushimatsu #todomatsu #💗💙💚💜💛💖

27 notes · View notes

just-katsumi · 3 years

Text

I👏love👏ev👏ery👏thing👏a👏bout👏this👏fic👏

I haven't had a day like that in at least a year, thankfully, but fuck do I remember them. This fic is so comforting, thank you for posting it 💜💙💖💙

Silence Speaks

Summary: Virgil can't get out of bed. Days like this are nothing new, he just doesn't know how his new family will react to him being so pathetic.

TWs: Depression, depressive episode, brief death mention, self-hatred, temporary nonverbal episode

Notes: Found this fic in my drafts from a few months ago, so I cleaned it up to post since LB and Permafrost are taking a bit. Enjoy <3

Virgil knew it was going to be one of those days when the third hour passed with no change.

Everything was too much. His chest hurt, every breath was just too much work, all he wanted was to sink into the blankets and sleep the rest of his life away. He’d been staring blankly at the wall since he’d woken up, curled up on his side with tears pooling in his eyes. He couldn't get up, couldn’t get back to sleep, couldn’t even call out to ask for help.

It had been a while since he’d had a day like this, when just the thought of getting out of bed made him sick,

They’d used to be more frequent, back when Virgil was alone and shut out, hated and scorned by the people he just wanted to protect. The resentment took its toll, and sometimes he couldn’t find a reason to get out of bed.

It wasn’t supposed to happen anymore. He was supposed to be over this. He was supposed to be better.

He had everything he’d ever wanted. He had his family, Thomas listened to him, and he wasn’t just needed- he was wanted.

He was wanted. He knew he was. Sometimes it was just...hard to convince himself of that, despite the overwhelming amount of kindness he’d been given for months now, the reassurances and patient understanding that felt too good to be true.

But now here he was again, unmoving in the dark of his own room, closed off like the brooding villain he was trying so hard not to be anymore.

God, he didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to be anywhere. He didn’t want to be awake, he didn’t want to go back to sleep, and he didn’t want to get up and go downstairs.

He just...didn’t want to do this anymore.

Why couldn’t he just disappear?

Virgil thought he could hear voices downstairs, but nothing was really registering through the fog settling around his head. His room was pitch dark, the curtains pulled tightly shut, leaving it impossible to tell how much time had passed.

He thought it might have been a few hours by now, and he hoped everyone would just continue on with their day and leave him here forever, trapped in his own body with a brain stuck trying to sabotage his happiness. He’d fade away on his own, and they’d forget about him, never bothering to even question his absence.

Virgil knew better than to really believe that. A year ago he could have gotten away with it, he could lock himself up in the dark for days and nobody would care. They’d probably celebrate.

Now...now they would notice he wasn’t coming down for breakfast. He had a job to do, he had people who actually cared. Virgil couldn’t just lay here, pathetic and useless. He was letting himself waste away and fail everyone who had taken a chance on him. They’d given him so much. He couldn’t undo all that progress because he was feeling a little sad.

But he couldn’t get up. He couldn’t. It would be so much easier if he could just die.

Virgil still wasn’t sure how much time had passed, laying there wide awake without the energy to move a single inch, but suddenly a knock on the door sliced through the haze around his brain.

More tears gathered in his eyes, frustration and dread making his chest unbearably heavy. He didn’t want to be ridiculed and yelled at right now. He wasn’t ready to be forced out of bed, selfish as it was to want to stay here.

A few seconds passed before the door creaked open, light spilling in from the hall, the faint smell of coffee wafting into the room.

“Virgil?”

That was Logan, even though Virgil couldn’t bring himself to turn his head to look. The logical side’s voice was comforting and familiar, but he wasn’t sure he could handle his blunt judgment right now.

He’d think Virgil was ridiculous, his refusal to leave his room illogical and stupidly selfish. He’d made everyone worry for nothing. Anxiety was just being lazy again.

“Virgil, it’s almost eleven,” Logan said, and Virgil kind of wished he could just die right here and now. Death would get him out of being lectured. “You need to wake up and eat something. You missed breakfast.”

Virgil still couldn’t move, but his breath caught in his throat at the reminder. He knew he was being stupid, and he knew he was behind schedule, but the thought of food just made him feel nauseous.

He heard footsteps, carefully tracking Logan’s movements as he came closer and listened as he carefully set down what was probably a mug of coffee on the dresser.

“Virgil?” he called, and it was getting harder and harder to see as more tears built up. “Are you awake?”

Virgil still couldn’t bring himself to answer, even as Logan moved around to the side of the bed. Virgil didn’t glance up to his face, but there was no way Logan couldn’t tell that the anxious side’s eyes were open and aware.

He tensed, waiting for anger and judgment, or even just an annoyed huff. He waited to be told that it was easy to get out of bed and Virgil was just being difficult, that he needed to stop being so pathetic or they had no reason to keep showing him so much kindness.

He needed to be useful, or they wouldn’t want him around anymore.

But Logan was suddenly kneeling down to his level, eyes kind and worried behind his glasses.

“Are you alright?” he asked, frowning when Virgil just clenched his jaw in response. “Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

Virgil couldn’t force words to form no matter how badly he wanted to, and to his dismay a few tears slipped free, trailing down his jaw and seeping into the pillow.

Logan’s expression softened, but the concern in his eyes only grew. He reached forward, slow and careful, and somehow Virgil managed to move just enough to latch desperately onto his hand.

He didn’t have the energy to choke out any apologies, although he was almost certain Logan was about to demand one.

“That is alright,” the logical side said instead. “You do not have to talk. Do you think you can manage a nod or headshake?”

Virgil forced himself to respond with the tiniest of movements, even though just reaching up to take Logan’s hand had felt like running a marathon.

“Alright,” he said gently. “Are you feeling ill?”

Virgil wished he was just sick. That would be so much easier to explain. Being sick was fixable, and it wouldn’t look like he was just making excuses to be lazy.

But he didn’t see the point in lying, and he certainly didn’t have the energy to deal with even more anger if he was found out. He managed a small shake of his head, even as Logan reached up with his free hand to carefully feel his forehead. He had to force himself not to lean into the touch.

“Are you in pain?”

Yes. Everything hurt so bad and he wanted it to stop. His chest felt like someone was sitting on it, his head felt like something was pounding at the back of his skull, and every bone in his body felt heavy and useless.

But he couldn’t say that, because he knew it was all in his head. It wasn’t real.

He shook his head again, choking on a small sob, and something like realization dawned in the other side’s eyes.

“I see,” Logan said. “Is this...just a bad day, then?”

Logan had finally figured it out, because of course he had. Virgil being stupid and useless probably wasn’t a difficult conclusion to come to, anyway.

He nodded, tense and staring at nothing as he waited for Logan to rip his hand away and demand Virgil grow up and stop wasting everyone’s time. Or maybe he’d just roll his eyes and leave, closing the door and locking Anxiety back in the dark where he belonged.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Logan said, and to Virgil’s surprise his hold only tightened. “Are you able to get out of bed?”

More tears welled up at the question, dread rising in his chest. Because he couldn’t imagine even standing up right now, but of course he couldn’t expect to be able to get away with that. Logan was being polite about it, but they had a schedule to stick to.

“It’s alright if the answer is no,” Logan continued. “I have no intention of forcing you. I only thought it might be easier to take care of you today if you’re set up on the couch.”

Wait...what? Take care of him?

Logan seemed to sense his confusion, and the hand that wasn’t currently being held hostage moved to run gently through his hair, smiling sadly at Virgil’s barely audible whimper.

“If you’re more comfortable here you can stay. But I know being left alone with your thoughts is not always...ideal. We can keep you company in the living room if you like. If you’re overstimulated, the lights will be kept dim, and the noise to a minimum.”

Virgil hesitated, trying to figure out if Logan was joking- or if this was some kind of cruel trick to teach him a lesson. They didn’t need to do anything. He didn’t deserve it. And he wasn’t sick, he was just being a baby.

Logan was suddenly cupping Virgil’s cheek, wiping tears away with his thumb. “There is nothing to be ashamed of, Virgil. Would you like help sitting up?”

And Virgil felt ridiculous, because he had no real reason to feel so weighed down, but he gave another timid nod.

Logan didn’t even hesitate before moving to help, a steadying hand against Virgil’s back as he guided him up to lean against the headboard. He didn’t complain, didn’t lecture Virgil about how inconsiderate he was being, just silently assisted and pulled away when he was done.

Again Virgil wanted to apologize, but the words got stuck in his throat, buried deep beneath the fatigue.

“There is no need for an apology,” Logan said, and Virgil wondered when he’d become so predictable. “If you aren’t able to walk, I’m sure Roman would be more than happy to carry you to the couch. I only need your permission to inform him and Patton of what is happening.”

Virgil wasn’t sick or injured, he was competent enough to get himself out of bed and down the stairs. People were busy, and he was already being awful by forcing Logan to stay.

But just the thought of getting out of bed and walking out of his room was enough to make him want to bury himself under the covers and dissolve into sobs. He curled in on himself and eyed Logan warily, hoping that was enough of an answer.

“Alright,” Logan said, squeezing Virgil’s hand. “I’ll go get him, just wait here a moment.”

Logan squeezed Virgil’s hand, and he’d known the logical side long enough to know the smile he sent was nothing but genuine.

Virgil felt cold when Logan pulled his hand away and moved off the bed, but being unable to talk meant he couldn’t call him back as he disappeared through the door.

He let out a shaky breath and pulled his legs up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. He squeezed teary eyes shut as he rested his chin on his knees.

It couldn’t have been more than five minutes before Virgil heard footsteps in the hallway, his bedroom door creaking open as the creative side cautiously stepped inside the doorway with a small frown.

Virgil tensed, because if anyone was going to make fun of him for this it would be Roman- well meaning but so brash and over the top at times- and he could already picture Roman’s mocking laughter, his exasperation as he tried to just drag Virgil out of bed, his—

“Hey there,” Roman called, softer than Virgil could ever remember him sounding. “Feeling under the weather today, Stormcloud?”

Virgil shrugged, hunching his shoulders and staring at his own hands. From the look in the Prince’s eyes, it was clear he understood.

“That’s ok,” he said, ducking his head to meet Virgil’s eyes as he smiled and made his way to the bed. “Bad days happen, Doom and Gloom. You just have to ask for help.”

Virgil let out a pitiful whine, the closest he could get to telling Roman that he couldn’t. Even if he could, he didn’t know how. He’d never been able to ask for help before. The Prince’s smile turned sad, and he slowly lowered himself on the bed beside Virgil.

“I know,” Roman said, and Virgil watched as he opened his arms in a quiet invitation, looking so ridiculously hopeful. “But we’re here now.”

Virgil broke. What little walls he’d still been holding up crumbling at the Prince’s simple words, and he choked on a sob, vision blurring with the tears he finally allowed to fall. He collapsed forward into Roman’s chest, shuddering when strong arms wrapped around and pulled him close.

Roman didn’t speak, and he didn't force Virgil to even try, just held him tight and rocked them both on the edge of the bed, the Prince’s chin hooked over Virgil’s head, almost cocooning him in safety.

Roman held him, strong but gentle all the same, letting Virgil cry into the Prince’s shirt as long as he needed, hushing him through violent sobs. He didn’t rush him, didn’t tease or berate him, just kept him close and safe.

“I’m here,” he said when Virgil had quieted down a bit. “Is it ok if I take you downstairs now? Logan and Pat are worried about you.”

Virgil nodded with his face still buried in Roman’s chest, breath catching in his throat when the Prince carefully maneuvered them both towards the end of the bed. He kept one arm wrapped firmly around Virgil’s back, the other hooking under his knees.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered when Virgil clutched desperately at the back of his shirt, squeezing his eyes shut as Roman stood from the bed, Virgil secure in his hold. “We’ve all got you, Virge.”

Virgil kept his eyes closed, breaths coming out as nothing more than pitiful, hiccuping sobs. He didn’t want to be here, he didn’t want to talk to anyone, look at anyone, or be seen by anyone. He didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to exist today.

But Roman’s embrace made him forget that for just a moment. The memory of Logan’s comfort and the promise of Patton’s care made it just a little more bearable.

It was all a blur, Virgil barely able to focus on the world around him, overwhelmed and so so exhausted. The curtains in the living room were drawn, keeping the room comfortably dim, and Patton and Logan moved quietly, keeping everything blissfully peaceful.

Roman set him down on the couch, letting Virgil curl up on his side and pull the nearest blanket over him, taking a moment to run his fingers through the anxious side’s hair.

Patton kneeled beside him, searching his watery eyes for silent permission before leaning in to kiss Virgil’s forehead with a soft smile.

“Hey kiddo,” he said, just as loving as Logan and Roman had been. “You want your old dad to make you some hot chocolate?”

Virgil blinked, not sure how to respond to that. It sounded nice, but...but he was already convincing them enough. They were all busy, and probably annoyed and—

“It’s not an issue, honey,” Patton assured, like he could sense Virgil’s internal panic. “We didn’t have much planned for today. You can relax.”

He had his suspicions that Logan had actually just changed their schedule in favor of keeping an eye on Virgil while he rested, but he wasn’t exactly in the place to ask questions, as panicked as the thought made him. He’d make it up to them tomorrow.

Virgil couldn’t quite look Patton in the eyes, but the parental side seemed so eager to help, and...hot chocolate didn’t sound terrible. He gave a hesitant nod, chest loosening a bit at the way Patton positively beamed.

Patton hurried into the kitchen, only to come back less than five minutes later with the biggest mug Virgil had ever seen, overflowing with marshmallows and whipped cream. Roman perched on the arm of the couch, close enough to keep running his fingers through Virgil’s hair.

“Just rest, Virgil,” Logan said, smiling when Virgil took his hot chocolate with unsteady hands. “We can put on a movie if you like. Or we can leave you alone if you’re overwhelmed.”

Virgil bit his lip, a few stray tears still running down his cheeks and dripping onto the couch. It was a bad day, not his first and definitely not his last but it wasn’t the worst he’d ever had. It was already getting a little better.

He took a steady breath, raising his head to meet Logan’s eyes, mustering what little energy he had to force his voice to work again, the words small, breathy and ragged, but clear all the same.

“Stay? Please?”

Logan smiled, Roman scooted closer, and Patton gave Virgil’s forehead another kiss. They gathered around him on the couch, similar to how they usually ended up after a bad panic attack.

Roman and Logan ended up on either side of him, while Patton let Virgil put down his mug for a second to wrap his arms around the moral side’s waist, relishing in the warmth of one of Patton’s hugs.

There had been more days like this than Virgil could count, everything weighing down on him until he just wanted to disappear. He’d never...had this before. He’d always been alone, locking himself away until he could face his own existence again.

This time his family was on all sides, Patton holding him tightly, Logan taking his hand, Roman still playing with his hair, reminding him that it would be ok soon. He had a reason to fight through it.

Virgil couldn’t bring himself to thank them, not out loud again, but he knew they understood.