This title always changes

Virgil goes downstairs and stops at the last step to see a familiar scene in front of him. Roman often sat in his regular seat, shouting at a reasonable volume about his latest adventure or whatever recent escapade he had gotten Thomas into. Then there was Patton, diligently listening as he aided Logan with whatever’s on the menu this morning. Logan however, was always 100% focused on cooking, or if Virgil slept late enough, reading while sipping a coffee, cause unlike the other two, he didn’t talk while he ate.

Overall, pretty normal.

“Ah Virgil! Good morning. I need your opinion on something,” Roman turned around on his chair.

“Uh sure— What is it?” He was still getting used to people calling him by his actual name. It had only been a few weeks after all.

“Wellllll, Thomas was just talking to this cute fellow down the street, and I was just thinking that we should ask him out sometime. What do you say?”

Virgil blinks, “… Do you know who you’re talking to right now?”

“Is that a yes?”

“No! What if Thomas ends up breaking up with the guy, then it's just going to be awkward when he takes out his trash. OR not even that, what if he rejects Thomas and tells all his other neighbors that he’s a creep and they will never talk to him again!”

“Sheesh, alright alright! But…” Roman dramatically turns to the kitchen, “Specs! Do you believe that Thomas is at a good place in his life where he could start dating?”

Logan turns around confused, “Why are you asking me? I am not an expert on romance.”

“But if Thomas were to start dating, would now be a good time for him?”

“Well… I wouldn’t say anytime is a ‘good’ time. However, considering Thomas’ recent consistency to the schedule and his ability to complete tasks on time. Then yes, now would be a good time. It’s just a matter if he says consistent.” Logan muttered the last part.

“There! See Virgil? Thomas is ready.”

“It would still be awkward though…”

“Oh hush!”

Virgil huffs a laugh but quickly turns to get a morning juice from the fridge.

However, he stops before the fridge door hits him square in the face as Patton rustles in there, trying to find something.

“Oh, sorry kiddo. I’m trying to find some pickles but it's very jarring,” Virgil smirks, “Nah, you’re fine Pat. Didn’t you put it in the back corner?”

“Oh, maybe! But you know… while I’m digging through here, is there something you would like?”

“Just a caprisun.”

“Well, you’ve come to the ripe place.” Another witty eye rollable pun he must pretend not to like.

“Ha! I guessed it this time.” Roman hollers, “One extra sandwich please!”

Virgil rolls his eyes and smiles cause Roman has consistently failed to guess what he’ll drink in the morning. Thus, when he finally gets it, the extra sandwich is earned.

“Here you go!” Patton hands him a nice cold caprisun, which he wastes no time to open, “Thanks.”

With this Roman resumes his previous conversation with Patton, effectively taking the spotlight off of him which he’s joyous about. He also takes the opportunity to sit on an empty kitchen counter, sipping away.

When he gets a closer look into the kitchen, instead of Logan hovering over the stove and making sure it doesn’t burn down without him, Patton is. And he doesn’t leave the stove, not once except for his trips to the fridge.

It seems like Patton’s the one cooking this morning. Now, Patton wasn’t the best cook, he knew the basics, but he certainly wasn’t a cooking machine like Logan. While he was definitely learning with Logan teaching him every morning, he still neglected a few basic things like leaving the stove on after cooking. Virgil wasn’t one to judge though. The best he can do is manage the microwave and toaster which he’s mastered over the years. However, Patton was a fantastic baker, so maybe Virgil was a little hopeful to see cupcakes or cookies for breakfast like Logan would allow that.

He knew they were having sandwiches, leaning more into brunch than traditional breakfast. There was a lineup of tuna cans, a pickle jar, eggs, and slices of bread. Huh, tuna sandwiches.

They were trying to mix them in a bowl but the pickle jar was less cooperative. Virgil figured he should help out a bit, “You need help?”

“Oh, sure!” Patton handed it to him.

The lid was stuck tight but after a bit of tugging he managed to get it open.

Then a foul sour odor that he felt as if he could taste travels deep into his nose. He wanted to gag, he really did. How rotten were these? It made him feel like he was going to—-

Throw up?

He coughs as he puts a hand over nose and sets the nasty pickles aside. Patton takes notice, “Oh, do you not like pickles?”

“No, these just smell awful.”

Patton takes a sniff and cringes just like he did, “Agh, why does it smell that bad?”

“Possibly the fermentation?” Logan comments as he continues stirring, just like Virgil's stomach…

Patton and Logan continue discussing it, but he couldn’t exactly focus on the conversation because of the smell. Even though the pickles were far away, the smell continued to sting his nose and brew, like it was bubbling in his mouth as well.

When he stands up from the counter to sit away, he feels a wave of heat and dizziness upon landing his feet on the ground.

Oh no, he leans onto the counter for a little support, was he really going to do this?

A few steps in trying to get to the dining table, his stomach begins to drop. Great, the nausea is coming in. Don’t focus on anything else, just make it to a trash can (preferably away from anybody else).

The bathroom.

“They shouldn’t smell like that…” someone muttered.

“I think they went bad…” another mumbled.

”Hey Virge, where are you going?” He happened to make it halfway up the stairs until Roman had to say something.

“Uh, the bathroom.”

“Ah, alright?” Roman sounded suspicious. Why? He didn’t know and he frankly didn’t care.

After reaching the top of the stairs, with no one watching him, he runs to the bathroom and collapses over the toilet, right square, staring at the barrel of the bowl.

Just in case someone went upstairs, he waves his fingers which promptly closes the door and locks it next to him.

Alright, so, if he throws up, he won’t make a mess. That thought was both terrifying and slightly comforting.

~~~~

”Blegh! Blegh!!” Remus was gagging over the table, nothing was actually coming out of his mouth but Virgil couldn’t help but imagine it. Ever since Remus found out about Virgil throwing up for the first time, the boy wouldn’t stop asking questions about it and making those gross noises… he was starting to know why Dee told him to never tell Remus everything, but it was so hard not to. Especially when he had to explain why he wasn’t in his room this morning.

“Remus, knock it off,” Dee walked by, patting Remus’ head, who blew a raspberry in return. His gloved hands sets down a bowl of a brownish gray, gooey and clumpy looking thing… of food.

“Mmmmm, vomittt,” Remus grabs a spoon from the bowl and lets the vomit drop back down. A ping stabs his stomach, with that aching rumbling that he felt last night when he…

No, no, no, no, no, no, he didn’t want to throw up again. He really didn’t want to do that again. It felt so violating, like he couldn’t control himself. He couldn’t stop it.

“I don’t want to eat that,” he slid down on his seat so he didn’t have to see it anymore.

“It’s not actually vomit, Anxiety, it’s just oatmeal,” Dee tries to scoop some as it plops dead center onto his plate.

“But Remus said—“

Deceit sighs, “I know what he said but believe me, it's not that bad.”

“Yeah, it's not actually vomit,” Remus scoops a bit onto his plate, “It does look like it though,” he mumbled. Remus starts scarfing it down, and a bit of it drizzles from his lips, “Who knows, maybe one day you'll throw up and it'll never stop.” His stomach turns at the thought.

“And what would you throw up? Bugs, snakes, blood, or guts?” He covers his ears but he can still hear Remus’ loud volume through muffles. Dee says something but he feels too sick to hear it.

“I could imagine there would be a point where it wouldn’t be food anymore. Just pure spit, blood, and organs if you couldn’t stop it.” He didn’t want to imagine this, it didn’t make him feel good.

And then he’s hit with it. A wave of nausea… His empty stomach won't twist anymore and his mouth feels dry and icky, awaiting what's coming. He has no choice but to vomit again.

Virgil stumbles out of his chair and tries reaching a toilet, but he doesn’t get far before it happens right on the carpet.

~~~~

To keep his mind off of it, he summons Thomas’ IPod with his old music that he listened to during his emo phase throughout his teen years which wasn't all that bad. Maybe even criticizing the music will take his mind off his stomach and he won’t throw up all together.

But no, the music along with the current situation made him think of less important things instead.

~~~~

Virgil is slightly laying down on the couch, right at the end, so if anybody sits down he’s not sandwiched between them. Even so, he was reading a philosophy book so he's ‘cultured’ as Dee puts it. Like he needs to read this to understand why moral obligation is bad. Just say you don’t like Morality, Deceit.

Either way, he wasn't going to put himself through this without listening to his trusty Ipod that Thomas got recently. Not only that but Thomas had been dabbling in some emo culture too that he’d taken an interest in. And Virgil loved it. So he had also been wearing some of the makeup that Thomas experimented with. And it may look bad or hideous but if anybody had anything to say about it then they can—-

“Ooooo, cool makeup. Are you trying to die?” He peers from the book to see Remus upside down, sprawled over the rest of the couch with his legs hanging off the end, crazy unsettling eyes and smile as per usual.

“No, why did you say that?” He’s very close to kicking his head.

“Hehe, when people die, they put makeup on them to make them look less dead for open caskets. Is that what you’re doing?”

“No.”

”Why not?”

“Cause I’m not dying.”

“Not yet.”

Virgil sighs and tries to find his previous spot, but Remus reaches over with his finger and drags down the book.

“Do you know what we are having for dinner?”

Virgil shrugs.

Remus laughs, “Oatmeal.”

“Remus.”

“The grey one.”

“Come on,” Virgil huffs. The book won’t rise because of the finger.

“It was a little funny wasn’t it?”

“No.”

“The way you fell out of the chair was really—“

”—You really won’t let it go, will you?” The glare he gives does nothing. He doesn’t know why he expected it to. Remus does a small cackle, “Nope!”

Virgil sits up a bit on the couch, “I was like five or something.”

“Me too! And you really did throw up a lot. It was a little impressive.”

“Seriously, shut up.”

“No, I’m being serious too. You could throw up a lot more now,” Remus tries to poke his stomach but Virgil blocks him with the book.

“I wanna see,” his smile widened. However, Virgil was reserved to not ever under any circumstance, think or even try to throw up. Especially not for Remus’ amusement. Which made him sick in itself.

He didn’t want to think about… the bile, the smell, or the raspy throat afterwards.

“Uhhhhhh Virgie?”

Blink, blink, “Hm?”

“Were you considering it?”

“No,” he never wanted to. But he knew this wasn’t going to be the last time Remus brought up the subject.

~~~~

At this point, he should just do it.

It's going to happen. Anytime now.

He didn't know if he wanted it to be done quickly just to get it over with. Or if he wanted to prolong this because Virgil knows that with his luck it's going to happen when he least expects it. Not like this is the first time.

~~~~

He immediately regretted opening his door. A foul, and inconceivable smell floods his nose. And he would have sulked back into his room, but someone tugs at his sleeve.

“Virgie-poo, just who I need!” It’s Remus, dragging him by linking their arms together and skipping. Well, more like dragging Virgil who was resisting at every chance he got.

“What do you need me for? Why don’t you ask Deceit?”

“Cause, he’ll probably say no. But either way, I made this game especially for you and me!” Oh boy, this is going to be a disaster.

Remus stops at the foot of the kitchen which is where the smell has intensified. But alas, he lets go of Virge. By this point, he’ll just be dragged again if he turns around so he tries entertaining whatever Remus’ idea is just to make this a little bit enjoyable for himself. Cause he was either, 1. going to be subjected to something he doesn’t want to see/hear/touch/smell or 2. he was going to be the butt of the joke of whatever idea this was.

But for now, the only questionable part of the kitchen was a mysterious pot where the smell must be immiting from. Imagine spoiled milk, meat, and mold together while coming from a wet dog after a mud bath, is what it smelled like.

Upon closer inspection, he is dealing with option 1. and possibly option 2. He gazes inside at this concoction, which is as colorful and chunky as he expects. It’s even boiling too. It looks like vomit…

Virgil backs away and covers his mouth along with his nose to keep from smelling it anymore.

“Alright! Now, put on some gloves, don’t let it touch you. We need as much as we can so they can drink it,” Remus snaps latex gloves on both hands.

“I’m not drinking that.”

Remus blinks for a bit, “Well, I was going to hand it out to Roman’s villagers, but if you want to drink it you go ahead,” Remus seemed hopeful.

Virgil tilts his head, a little confused, “But… then why are you involving me in this?”

Remus begins to chuckle before settling down, looking amused, “Prince poops a lot has been a real meanie to you lately, so I thought doing this and seeing his face while his villagers implode would be fun!”

“Now!” Remus claps and turns around back to the pot, “Let’s get it ready so it doesn’t look suspicious,” Remus rubs his hands together, but Virgil cannot lift a hand without being attacked by the smell, not to mention the bubbling and colorfulness of the contents.

“I can’t,” Remus turns around and seems to grasp his problem. He could imagine how sick he looked, “Oh! It doesn’t smell that bad—” Remus couldn’t finish his sentence before Virgil ran away.

Now unlike the many other times something like this has happened, he managed to reach an actual toilet. It took him by surprise, one moment he feels like gagging, then he realizes something is actually coming up with it. He didn’t throw up much though, just bile. But it was particularly acidic in his throat.

“You look great.” Remus appears and leans on the doorway.

“Was this your actual plan?”

“Uh no? But this is a welcome surprise,” Remus is just as close to the toilet as he is, he peeks a look at the liquids. And he summons a spoon…

“Don’t. Seriously.” Virgil slams the toilet lid and flushes much to the disappointment of the duke.

“Are you ready now?” Remus asks. There was no way out of this was there?

He sighs. He was going to need a nose plug and some shades.

~~~~

Either way, he's much safer here next to the toilet than anywhere else. One flush and he doesn’t have to smell it or deal with it like he would with a trash can.

No, that was much worse.

~~~~

It was just like when he was a child. When he woke up, the room was dark and non-navigational. His room was often messy too cause he hadn’t really been listening to Deceit scolding him over his disorganization. But at the time, it made sense cause even so he knew where everything was. At a time like this however, he wished he listened.

He trips over a pile of laundry as he ducks for his desk. He doesn’t let it bother him and throws his chair to the side as a result, feeling under the desk hastily with one hand and covering his mouth with the other. And the vomit wouldn’t stop, it was beginning to drip down his fingers cause it was slowly slipping out of his mouth. When he finally finds the trash can, he lets it all out, not like it was much, but enough.

The smell itself is enough to make him feel nauseous all over again, along with all the food he had thrown away in this trash can.

Great this is perfect, he wipes his eyes as he starts crying. Maybe it was the acidity of the vomit smell or it just sort of happened. But really, he felt gross. He is covered in vomit (on his one hand but still), and smelling it like it's a hobby. But god forbid he tries to clean up and gets the urge again. Then he has a mess on the carpet, which he doesn’t even know if he could clean up without constantly thinking about it.

But he wasn’t going to ask Deceit. He wasn’t going to be treated like an obligation. Or have Remus find out. He doesn’t need the extra energy.

And that by itself made him feel even worse. Because vomit or not, he was alone.

He was all alone.

~~~~

There's a small knock on the door which he can immediately tell is Patton.

“Hey Virge, are you ok in there?”

“Yeah.” He sounded way too pathetic.

“Oh, alright. Well, breakfast is ready, it’s egg-stra special!” That makes him smile a bit. Although, he forgot how oblivious Patton could be.

“Okay.” He mumbles as he hears the footsteps walk away.

He’s just going to sit here for a little longer. Just in case.

He stands from the toilet and his back stabs him as punishment. Bending over on the hard floor laying on his knees for a good ten minutes clearly wasn’t isn’t good for him.

However, the dizziness isn’t as intense as it once was as the smell and horrible thoughts eventually subsided. Nevermore, he leans on the sink and examines his face as it feels flushed and gross even without throwing up. And he wasn’t wrong.

His eyeshadow was smudged pretty badly from rubbing his eyes and even… was he crying? He looked like he did, the makeup lines down his cheeks were proof of it.

He remembered sniffing a bit and his face feeling wet, but he didn’t realize he was crying.

Virgil rolls up his sleeves and sighs, this isn’t healthy, not at all. What adult cries over throwing up?

But how is he supposed to stop this though? Just forget every single horrible experience he had throwing up? All that teasing and humiliation?

He turns on the facet and throws cold water on his face, which removes some heat from his face and provides a wave of relief.

Remus was just being Remus. But he was being a big baby about this. He should just get over it. Virgils not a kid anymore so he shouldn’t act like one. When was the last time Thomas threw up as an adult?

He summons a pallet and begins getting to work with a hasty makeup job.

This was just pathetic. He’s grown up. He’s seen and smelled a lot of things throughout the years (that may or may not have made him sick) so he shouldn’t be bothered by something as small as spoiled pickles.

When he looks back at himself again, he’s slightly happier. Not perfect, but not a mess anymore. And he isn’t going to cause a mess either, right?

Whatever, he’s probably been gone long enough, he shouldn’t keep them waiting anymore.

It seems as if Virgil didn’t miss much.

While Roman and Logan are already settled at the table, Patton is still messing around in the kitchen finishing up his sandwiches. While all of them are conversing, he tries not to engage to not draw any unwanted attention to himself because explaining why he was gone is more embarrassing than what actually happened. His plan doesn’t work however, because just going downstairs is enough.

“Greetings Virgil. How are you feeling?”

”Uh fine,” that was not convincing at all. You would think he would be a good liar by now since he was raised by one.

“How are you?” He responds back, and maybe Logan didn’t notice much because all he says is, “I’m satisfactory. However, I fail to see why creating another web series would be a good idea for Thomas. So I’d like your opinion to show why I’m right and Roman’s wrong.”

“Really!?” Roman interrupts mid bite, “The only opinion you need is mine because Thomas needs to let his creativity out there! He can’t just be sitting here all day doing nothing.”

“Thomas doesn’t sit around and do nothing all day. He already has plenty of creative projects and I can’t conceive why it would be a good idea to add another when he already has enough on his ‘figurative’ plate,” Logan concludes by taking a bite.

“I agree with Logan,” Virgil comments, and effectively leaves to the kitchen since Roman would ask why and he does. However, Virgil ignores him because Logan has already taken over in his place and Virgil’s already wasting his time.

The ticking time clock of his stomach isn’t going to wait.

Please just let him get a sandwich, eat, then retreat to his room so he can be prepared again if he feels the need to throw up.

Rounding the kitchen, the first thing he sees is the dreaded pickle jar, the same one that started this. They didn’t cook with it right?

“Um, are those the same pickles?” He points, and Patton perks up from where he’s about to leave with two tuna sandwiches.

“Oh! No. Roman summoned new ones, they’re much better!”

“Ok, cool,” Patton smiles as he leaves for the table.

Virgil gets a plastic plate, in case he wants to head to his room and finish the food there and so he doesn’t go back down for dishes. One sandwich, because two might make him feel sick and three is out of the question. And a piece of a grape vine, because fruit is good for you.

He sits down and absently listens to the conversation mostly dominated by Logan and Roman arguing about the same topic. This feels much longer than usual, like time slowed down for this moment only. Probably because he’s eating pretty slow and only focusing on that.

As much as he would like to scarf down his food, it would probably upset his stomach more which is counter productive. It's a balanced game of eating fast enough that he’s making progress but slow enough that his stomach isn’t further disturbed.

Even then he feels it building up, or maybe it's all in his head? Either way, it's not good.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Don’t think about it.

Breathe in, breathe out.

It’s all in your head.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Your stomach is twisting because you’re hungry, just calm down.

But Virgil’s stomach starts to turn in an all too familiar way.

He needed to stop this, and quickly. But his dinner was already coming up and it wasn’t going to wait for him to run to the bathroom. Hell no, he slaps a hand over his mouth, he was not going to throw up in front of everyone.

He gags down as it starts coming up, no, it takes everything in his body to swallow it down, as it grates down his throat and his hand is left shaking.

When he looks up, all conversation is gone with all eyes on him, extremely concerned. God, he looks down at his plate, he really wanted to crawl into a hole and die right now.

“Were you… just about to?” Roman motions with his hand acting as vomit and Virgil takes one moment to look up and nod. With so many eyes on him it was especially hard to look at and maintain eye contact, cause this situation was the pinnacle of embarrassment and he didn’t need their faces of disgust, especially Roman’s. “Ohhhh no, nope, I cannot deal with throw up,” he heard Roman get up next to him and walk into the living room, “Sorry Virge, it's nothing personal. If you throw up then I’ll throw up!”

Virgil scowls, “It’s not like I want to.”

“Oh, Virgil. If you’re sick, you can stay in your room and rest. Maybe give you something else to eat?” Nice offer, but Virgil was not going to let Patton coddle him right now.

“No, no, it's fine. It’s not this,” he gestured toward the food, “I just…” did Virgil really know why he was sick? No, he wished. But he knew where it started from…

“It’s just uh.. pickles?” Yep, just gloss over the years of fearing even the mere thought of throwing up. That is surely smart.

But how do you bring something like that up? Especially to people who just learned your name? “They didn’t smell that good and you know, it hasn’t made me feel good so I’ve been worried about…”

“Projectile vomiting?”

“God Logan, you don't have to say it like that!” Roman shrieked across the living room.

“Well, I think the both of you are taking this situation too seriously. Yes, the idea and action of throwing up is particularly unpleasant. However, simply thinking about the idea and action of doing so, will often make a person feel more sick and increase the chance of throwing up rather than doing so because someone isn't feeling well. Especially if there is a fear of vomit.”

“But wouldn't trying not think about it make you think about it more?” Patton questioned.

“Exactly. It's like—“ A hand slaps over Logan's mouth in a forceful way. Apparently, he was going to say something that he shouldn’t. Great, another reminder that Deceit is a control freak.

Logan is taken back but he seems to understand as he removes his hand, “Well, nevermind. It's like… when Roman has a consistent idea for Thomas but if you continue to force the thought out, the more repetitive and persistent a thought becomes like the new web series he wants to introduce.”

“But… this is the first time I mentioned it?” Roman chimes.

Logan sighs, “This was meant to be an allegory about your b-r-o-t-h-e-r, but I digress.” Well, that made sense. They are particularly close to Thomas’ consciousness and he didn’t know about the others yet. Like Virgil would ever want them to see him.

Virgil coughs, “Well, yeah. But it's not like you can just not think about it when you don’t feel well,” he tries to argue.

“Then why don’t we distract ourselves?” Patton said a little bit unsure, looking at Logan for assurance, who instead looks dead into Virgil’s eyes, “If you’re not feeling well then the best course of action would be to engage in practices to reduce any nausea and effectively rest.”

“Mhm,” Virgil’s stomach doesn’t agree.

“And Roman, you should do the same as well if you are beginning to feel any queasiness,” Logan stands up from his seat, gearing towards the kitchen.

Roman gasps, “I am not queasy! Just a little unsettled,” the prince huffs as he plops onto the couch.

Virgil takes a deep sigh, he can’t believe that just happened. He almost vomited in front of everyone. How embarrassing?

He looks at his half eaten sandwich that he doesn’t feel compelled to eat nor the grapes.

Just breathe. Your stomach hurts but so what? You can deal with it.

But maybe he can’t. And as much as he tries to swallow it again, it won’t stop. No matter what he does, when he’s sick, he vomits. And someone always has to see and never let him live it down. Always clean up after him.

Now is not any different than any other time.

But as he turns to his side anticipating to vomit, there is a trash can? He would have remembered if it was there before. There are hands at the side holding it to him and a watch on one of its wrists.

He isn’t given time to think about it anymore before he vomits into the trash bag and spits the remains of it as well.

“Breathe,” it's not his head saying it this time, but Logan. He looks up to see Logan’s the one holding the trash can but he doesn’t look displeased to be doing so.

Virgil huffs a laugh, “Nice save teach,” he can’t talk without feeling the urge again. However, it quickly leaves this time.

“Thank you. How are you feeling?”

He swallows, “It’s going to happen again,” his knee is bouncing.

“It’ll be ok Virgil. I need you to breathe for me.”

He tries and fails, like his breathing is on pause, “I can’t.”

“Yes you can… Please look at me.”

Virgil squints at Logan, he can’t focus on his entire face so he tries staring at his glasses.

“Okay, good. Now breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth,” Logan follows his own instructions as a demonstration. This should be easy Virgil, come on.

He breathes in through his nose, and as a result, gets a whiff of the vomit steaming from the trash can.

He coughs into the trashcan again, nothing comes out but he couldn’t help but gag.

“Sorry.”

“It’s ok Virgil, here… um,” Logan looks up to someone else who swishes by to get another trash bag. Virgil feels bad just staring at Logan like his life depends on it because it does. If he doesn’t, he’ll just hurl again. Ignoring the other pair of glasses that are changing the trash can, he thinks it's Patton who completely disregards the foul one. Now he has a fresh can. Perfect for another round.

He groans at the thought, shaking his head.

“Don’t worry Virge, it's just for the smell,” that wasn’t Logan, it was Patton.

“Mhm, we are going to help you breathe right now. Let's restart.” Okay.

Breathe in through his nose, and he takes in the fresh air and breathes out through his mouth which tasted absolutely awful.

“Uh, padre, teach? I got some water to rinse it out.”

“Thank you Roman,” Logan takes it from Roman and hands it to him. Before they explain why he needs it, he looks up to the prince shying behind them. While he expected him to be disgusted, he didn’t expect him to look worried but also not looking too good himself. He gives him a curt nod however which perks up the prince's mood a bit.

Washing out his mouth is as awful as an experience that he expects it to be, but he spits it into the new trash can.

And afterwards, he can properly breathe, without the guidelines he needed before.

And now the embarrassment has tripled to levels he didn’t realize he could experience.

Virgil sets the trash down and leaves it on the ground.

Logan spoke up, “This was more serious than I thought it was. I apologize, Virgil, for not realizing sooner.”

“You— you don’t have to apologize. Besides, you caught it before even I did.”

“Yes, but unfortunately, we could have done more for you.”

“Buuuuut! I have an idea,” Patton smiles, “Why don’t we make you something to help with your stomach?”

Logan hums, “Ok then. Patton, would you please ensure it's one of these options?” Logan hands Patton a newly conjured list, which he skims over and perks up, “Alrighty.”

Logan turns his attention away from Patton, “And Roman?” Virgil turns his head and realizes that despite Roman standing up earlier, he was sitting with him now.

“Um yeah?”

“You have more knowledge on Virgil’s favorite media so would you please pick something he’d enjoy. However, I perfectly understand if you would like to leave because of your reaction to vomit.”

Roman blinks, “Ohhhhhh,” he has a mischievous smile, “Thank you for worrying but no I’m completely fine.” Roman sings as he runs towards the couch.

”Wait, what are you guys doing?” Virgil croaks.

Patton passes them as he heads to the kitchen, “We’re going to help you feel better kiddo.”

“Uhhh how?” he waves his hand.

“By giving you a good ol’ self care day!” Roman proclaims as he flicks through the tv channels.

“Exactly,” with the snap of his finger, Logan has a unicorn onesie on.

“Is this really appropriate?” Virgil asks.

“Onesies are always appropriate.”

“No! I mean…” he takes a moment to breathe, “What if I just don’t get better? Like I can’t stop vomiting. It’s not going to be fun.”

Patton walks up and kneels to him, “Kiddo, we want to help you get better. No matter how sick you are. Family takes care of each other.”

“That was so cheesy… but Patton's right!” Roman snaps and materializes a beast onesie from Beauty and The Beast, along with that, the tv showcases lists of Tim Burton movies.

When Patton gets up he takes off his cat onesie from his shoulders and snaps it on.

They all look at him expectantly.

While he feels slightly pressured to go along, he is also aware that they probably won’t be mad if he says no. So he does the most reasonable thing he can do and snaps his fingers, “Fine…”

He wears his jack skeleton onesie and Roman shrieks with excitement, “Ok, perfect! Now, we just need some blankets and candles and Tim Burton.”

“Candles may increase nausea so it depends on if Virgil would like some.”

“Uh, that's a nice thought and all but I really don’t want to smell this anymore,” he gestures to the trash can as the acid begins to stink.

“Oh right.”

…

The couch cushions are quite comfortable (even though he was forced not to sit on the top of the couch) but at this moment he was glad. He was glad he was being piled with warm blankets and able to borrow Patton’s heating pad which he should definitely use more often. He was glad he had an empty trash can available in case, and Logan who was ready to change it with no issue. And Roman who provided a nice distraction through commenting over the movie, which he would challenge on occasion.

Instead of a tuna sandwich, he was given a banana, toast, and a package of applesauce which didn’t upset his stomach and tasted pretty good.

While he was skeptical at first, Patton gave him some peppermint tea and Logan of course listed the benefits of drinking tea, hydration, and assured him he had nothing to worry about.

And he didn’t. His mind was empty of things to exactly worry about.

So he was glad. Very much.

“Hey Virge,” Patton whispers to him.

“Yeah?”

“I just want you to know that you can tell us anything. We’ll always be here for you, ok?” Patton smiles.

Virgil returns it, “Ok...”

But more than anything, he felt lucky.

Lucky to be surrounded by people that he knew cared about him. They weren’t bothered that he was sick or ever scolded him for his fear. They were here.

…

“Stay here. If you feel sick, go to the toilet,” Dee whispered as he led Virgil into the yellow bathroom. The bright light stinged his squinting eyes, rubbing the crust from them.

Was Dee going to leave him here all night, is he going to sleep in the bathtub? He can barely sleep on the couch so he probably won’t get to sleep in a tub. What if he needed to throw up again and couldn't reach the toilet in time? Would he have a blanket or shiver all night???

A tissue wipes a dribble of vomit from his chin, blink blink, oh, Deceit's cleaning Virgil's mouth. There was still vomit leftover on his jacket as he wiped his mouth after– puking… he didn't know what else to do. Until he remembered there was a side down the hall he could talk to, which, took a lot of effort to muster the courage to wake Dee up. Dee always liked sleeping so Virgil didn’t want to make him mad by waking him up.

Deceit threw away the wipe, offering his gloved hands.

“Don't worry I'll take care of her,” Virgil looks down to his spider plush, Lila. His voice sounds smooth, sweet, caring that Virgil doesn't have a second thought about holding her out as she's cradled then put to the side. With two extra arms, Deceit asks to lift his jacket, he does and it's folded neat and with care- but he can tell Deceit is avoiding to touch little bits he left there.

He's left in a t-shirt, leaving his arms naked and goosebumps to travel up his spine. Virgil tries to warm them up the best he can without his warm, fuzzy, and huge jacket but he can only do so much.

…

“I'll be right back,” Anxiety pouted, yet didn't seem to fully disagree, so Deceit took the short window he had to put the jacket in the washer, hand scrub the plush with warm water and soap, drying her quickly but quietly so Vee wasn't alerted Deceit's water boarding his toy.

It wasn't a surprising guess to think Virge launched his dinner out in his room down the hall. Even with the door slightly cracked open, the pungent smell of stomach acid wafted as he walked by, plugging his nose and swallowing his bile.

Unluckily, the vomit is in the purple bed, on a very unfortunate spot. Located right over the comforter, popping on the black sheets, and slightly somehow the pillows. He sighs swiping and trashing away the big chucks with disgust. With a little vinegar, shake of baking soda, and a used rag, he scrubs away the stains. Scooping the comforter, unfolding the sheets, removing pillow cases, cramming into the washer.

He grabs another one of Anxiety's hoodies– a clean gray striped one from the closet. Not his favorite but the kid can't be picky at the moment.

By now, Lila is dry, if not slightly wet but Deceit furiously towel dries her till she's deemed dry enough for Anxiety to cuddle up with her again.

When he got back to the bathroom, Anxiety's staring at the inside of the toilet.

“I did it again…”

“In the toilet this time?”

“The toilet.”

Good, he thought to himself, less cleaning, helping dress Anxiety with a content expression, the kid happy to be a little warmer. Then springing to life when he shows him a clean Lila. But he frowns again.

“Do I sleep there tonight?” He pointed to the tub.

“God no Anxiety, you're not an animal,” Deceit didn't mean to say so harshly, but Anxiety has been around him enough to understand that.

He sulked as Deceit gathered a few things into the living room.

Fluffing one of his pillows onto the couch and sliding a warm blanket, Deceit presents a bed, “There,” Anxiety fiddles with his fingers, looking a little disappointed at the bed. Somethings missing, “Do you need me to read a story for you?”

“Can.. um, can I sleep somewhere else?”

“Where else?”

“Not on the couch,” he shyly taps his feet, “Can I sleep in your bed tonight?”

Deceit has a confused expression, “What's possibly wrong with the couch?” Anxiety looked regretful he'd even asked, ready to take back what he said. Oh, he raised his eyebrows, it probably has nothing to do with the couch.

“Forget I said that. Of course you can Anxiety… you should have just said so.” Before he needed to dismantle his bed.

Dismantling aside, the pillow is secure under his arm, handing the blanket to Anxiety.

He fluffs his pillows to be extra comfortable. Anxiety wordlessly watching until Deceit scoops him up into a big hold, “Deeee, put me down,” he whines, pushing his face away with as much force his little hand could manage.

“How can I when you're just so huggable??” He launches him onto the bed, a few giggles out of him as his face is buried in the soft pillow.

Deceit crawls in bed, mindful of the tiny lump fidgeting next to him waiting until he's settled to wrap himself in a fuzzy purple blanket, wildly contrasting the yellow decor.

Deceit ruffles Anxiety's hair, slightly combing through the small black strands. The little side sighed and yawned into the blanket, his eyes lidded.

When Deceit sees the kid barely able to stay awake after only a few seconds, he summons himself a water and stops the combing. As Deceit reaches for the lamp, he feels an urgent tug on his sleeve, “Can the light be on tonight?” Deceit raised his brow, “For the monsters,” his already mumbly voice is muffled by Lila. No doubt one of Morality’s or Creativity’s stories scared him. They never knew how sensitive he was.

“I'm sorry,” Anxiety mumbles. Deceit didn't realize he made a face with Virge mistaking his anger for him. Deceit immediately patted his head, shoving down his negative feelings.

“Shh, it's alright Anxiety,” he smiles, “The monsters aren't real.”

He could immediately tell Anxiety tensed, “How do you know?”

“I don't leave the light on and no monsters have attacked me yet.”

Anxiety squinted. Why did Morality have to make the kid doubt him?

“I promise, ok?”

Anxiety didn't buy it.

Fine, you win Morality, “Ok, I’ll leave the light on all night. No monsters will ever get you when I'm around Anni.”

Anxiety blinked, and finally he eased into the blankets, “You're sure?”

“Mhm, I'll make sure nothing harms you,” he ruffles his hair again because he can’t help himself, it’s like petting a cat, then lets Anni lay more comfortably on the pillow.

“Can you stop me from throwing up?”

… “Uh, no.”

“Cause i’ hurts.”

“I bet Anxiety.” Deceit fully enveloped himself in the covers, mindful to not stretch out too much to disturb Anxiety. Who is surely but shortly falling asleep.

“Mmm goodnight Dee, I hope the monsters don't get you.” Anxiety nuzzled and fully settled.

“Goodnight… Anxiety.”

Deceit struggled to fall asleep, now with the light, but somehow he managed. He heard Anxiety's small breaths and mumblings as he drifted, which made him feel lighter knowing the side is sleeping soundly without waking up terrified from a nightmare, or the need to vomit.