#endgame lamp

Mocking, angry, bitter…like he needed Virgil to know that whatever friendship they’d had was dead. Well, nearly stabbing your friend would surely make them angry. Roman was just retaliating for years of animosity.

Still. It hurt. A lot.

Didn’t make Virgil any less bitter though.

With the tears under control for the time being, Virgil let his sleeve fall from his teeth into his lap. He was so tired. He slumped forward on his bed, forearms resting on his thin thighs and stared down at his own hands.

They were worn, long and thin fingers that trembled slightly from nerves he could never shake. Nails bitten to the quick, and when he had no nails to bite, the skin around them bitten and torn. Calluses from countless battles in his subconscious.

He let his head drop, fingers running through his own hair. For once, soft and light to the touch. Patton was right, showering did often make him feel better. But that didn’t mean he always wanted to. Or saw the point.

He closed his eyes, sighing sadly to himself. Was there a point to going on? He had a job to do, and he wanted to do it. He wanted to protect Thomas and the other Sides. He did care. In his own way.

But months…months…of animosity from not just Roman, but Thomas too? It had worn away his resolve. What was the point if he was going to be hated at every turn? Even when he did something right, even when he kept Thomas from doing something dumb enough to get himself killed…

Was a ‘good job’ too much to ask for?

Probably, he thought to himself with a sigh. Lord knew they poured all of that energy on each other. Virgil hadn’t been a part of that in years. Heck, he hadn’t even spent a Christmas with them yet. He shuddered, that was something to worry about come December.

Those tears he’d been holding back decided to force their way up, his heart desperately clawing into his throat. He worked so damn hard. Did they think it was easy to keep a grown man alive? No, not when his other Sides are fighting back.

He bit his lip, trying to keep the tears at bay. Of course, the videos didn’t help either. Roman liked using it as a means to air dirty laundry. To throw insults and slights at him that he didn’t do when they were in the mindscape. Heck, Roman wouldn’t even look at him when they went back.

And here he was, back to thinking about Roman. Someone he’d been so close to once. Running around the mindscape together, the Imagination together…playing…

It had been playing then. Villain and prince. He’d been good at the villain part. They’d been young then. They couldn’t have known how this would all turn out. But…looking back now, painted with pain and misery…

It felt like Roman had always known. Had always thought Virgil a villain.

That broke Virgil’s remaining resolve. The tears slipped from his lashes, falling to his thighs. Why? What did he do wrong? He’d been trying to protect Roman! And by extension, all the others! Why had they turned on him?! Princey was the one who tried to stab him!

Broken, agonising sobs escaped Virgil in the early morning, shivering despite his hoodie. He was always cold now. Such a contrast to the heat he’d felt that first day when he became Anxiety.

His shaking only seemed to get worse as he pulled and tugged at his hair, desperate attempts to pull his crying back under control. He was stronger than this. Better than this. So what? So what if they hated him? He had a job to do and he was going to do it!

But…what was the point?

With a violent tug at his hair, nearly tearing half of it out, he managed to snap his eyes open and bit his lip again to muffle the sobs. It was just a nightmare why was he having a crisis over that?

Because it wasn’t just the nightmare.

He let his hands fall from his hair, staring down at them again. There wasn’t really a point to him, was there? He made Thomas anxious. He made him scared. He kept him from doing the things he loved. That was…that was no way to live.

Virgil was nothing more than an illness. A disorder. A personification of sickness. What was the point to him then? He knew the others wouldn’t care if he just disappeared. Heck, they’d probably throw a goddamned party. An even though it hurt, he couldn’t deny that it was true.

Christmas certainly would have come early.

Thomas couldn’t live while he was still around. But who was to say he couldn’t live without him? He’d been Instinct once. The one thing that kept Thomas alive. The thing that told Thomas that this dog was friendly and this one aggressive. That this food was okay and this would make him sick.

Did he even do that anymore?

Or did he just cause pain?

A door slammed somewhere in the mindscape, just down the hall if Virgil’s hearing was still good. Probably Roman’s room. Was he affecting Thomas-

A curt knock on his door.

That was a yes.

“Hey, Dark and Gloomy, what’s the deal?” Roman’s voice. A fresh wound to an already shredded heart, “It’s like six in the morning!” Virgil found the resolve to get to his feet, “Would you cut it out?”

Virgil didn’t have the voice to answer. He’d been crying. And he’d be damned if he let Roman know he’d been crying. About him…again.

So he did the next best thing to make him go away.

He threw his alarm clock at the door.

There was stunned silence as Virgil stumbled to his bathroom and leant against the doorframe for a few moments. Roman stomped off, probably to Patton’s room, and Virgil sighed as he straightened.

Well, now he’d have Patton to deal with. Maybe. It was six in the morning.

When Virgil flicked on the light, he scowled. His reflection wasn’t right. “Oh, hey there, Anxiety.”

He rolled his eyes as he approached, “Doubt.” He stepped toward the sink, “Can you at least help me put on my eyeshadow while we do this?” he sighed, turning on the faucet.

“Long night?” Doubt snickered, crossing his arms as he half-mirrored Anxiety’s movements.

Anxiety washed his face clean of his streaked eyeshadow and rolled his eyes at his not-quite-reflection, “I never have a ‘long night’,” he answered, scrubbing his cheeks, “I don’t sleep.”

Doubt snickered again, “That’s true.” Doubt didn’t move when Anxiety lowered himself to splash water over his face, “Princey still giving you issues?”

“Firstly,” Anxiety straightened again, cold washcloth draped over his eyes, “Only I call him Princey.” Doubt scowled, but Virgil was too busy trying to hide the fact he’d been crying, “Secondly, when isn’t he?”

Doubt huffed lightly, “Ya know, you don’t have to accept that crap, right?” he had his arms crossed when Virgil took the washcloth off to inspect his eyes. He grimaced when he saw they were still bloodshot and puffy.

He put the washcloth back on, “I’m not leaving Thomas unprotected.”

Doubt huffed angrily, “Will you worry about yourself for once?” he would have stomped his foot if it did any good. Well, maybe that was partly Virgil’s fault. Doubt was too loud.

Virgil laughed bitterly, “I do.”

Doubt growled softly, “You are not Thomas.” The smirk on Virgil’s face turned into a sneer, “And we both know how he feels.”

Virgil dropped the washcloth into his hands to glare at Doubt, “Low blow, man.”

Doubt shrugged at him, “Hmm.”

Virgil glared at Doubt for a bit longer before he sighed, his shoulders sagging, “You’re right though.” He tossed the washcloth into the basin, turning off the cold water, “I’m not Thomas…and he hates me.” His voice cracked as he admitted it aloud for the first time. He held himself up against the sink, his knees feeling weaker than before, “I don’t want to leave him unprotected though.”

“He hates you, Anxiety.” Virgil grimaced again, biting his lip, “So what, if he’s unprotected?” Virgil raised his eyes, hair shielding his gaze, “He should have appreciated you.”

Virgil snorted, dropping his gaze back to his hands, “Who would though? I’m an illness. A disease.”

“You weren’t always that way though.” Doubt reminded him, “I still remember when this place,” he held his hands out, gesturing to Anxiety’s part of the subconscious, “Was almost like Roman’s.”

“You remember back that far?” Virgil asked, swinging open the bathroom cabinet to pull out his make-up bag. Doubt made a noise irritation as Virgil swung it closed again. Doubt looked a little shaken, but quickly regained his balance, “I can’t even remember back that far sometimes.”

His not-quite-reflection snickered again, “Of course you don’t. You’re too busy fighting a war in there.”

Virgil looked down to his make-up bag as he pulled out his essentials, “I wouldn’t call it a war…”

“It’s a war, Anxiety. Everything you do, everything you say, is met with some kind of resistance.” Virgil only glanced at Doubt. There was no point making him know he was right, “Nothing you ever do is enough. Nothing will ever be enough. You’re fighting a losing war, man.”

Virgil popped the cap on his concealer, carefully tracing it over his nose and cheekbones, “Okay, maybe it is a war.” Virgil admitted quietly, dotting the concealer on his jawline and some on his forehead, “But that doesn’t mean I’m losing.”

Doubt’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head as Virgil carefully blended in some of the concealer, “Are you kidding me?! Look at the toll this bullshit has taken on you!” Virgil scowled as he dotted foundation around his face, “You’re covering it up every day, but it’s there.”

Well, that was true. He was tired. He was sore. Maybe he was fighting a losing war, with no allies or backup in sight.

“Alright, alright.” Virgil finished blending out his foundation. He already looked a shade or too healthier. It was an improvement, not a fix. “Let’s pretend that I’m starting to believe you.” He waved an eyeshadow brush at Doubt as he spoke, “What then?”

Doubt smirked smugly at Virgil, arms crossed as he mirrored Virgil leaning in, “I’d say leave. Duck out. Officially.”

Virgil nearly dropped his eyeshadow palette, jerking back a few steps. Doubt only watched, “What? I joked about that. I can’t actually leave!”

Doubt arched an eyebrow at him, “Can’t you?”

Virgil’s eyes fell to a spot on the basin and frowned as he thought. Maybe he could. He wouldn’t leave the mind, that much was certain. It was only recently that they’d discovered they could physically manifest, and even then it had been an accident. Logan had been sick for a week afterward. So he couldn’t pop out and walk away.

But maybe…maybe he could close off his part of subconscious? Maybe he could…turn it off? But how?

“I can see the cogs turning.” Doubt’s smirk grew as Virgil’s eyes met his, “Didn’t Roman close off the Imagination? So Patton would stop messing with it?”

“Yeah, but it’s still there. Thomas can still access it.” Virgil stepped forward again, slowly applying eyeshadow under his eyes.

“But Roman wanted it that way.”

Virgil paused for a moment, narrowing his eyes as he studied Doubt’s. He knew he shouldn’t be listening to him. Heck, he shouldn’t even be talking to him. Doubt was his minion (…friend…associate?) so listening to him was a bad idea. And heck, Virgil did enough doubting on his own without Doubt also draining his energy.

But he brought up a valid point. Maybe Virgil could leave. Maybe he had a way out when it got to be too much after all.

“And Thomas?” Virgil asked, continuing his application.

“What about him?”

“Would he be able to function?”

Doubt rolled his eyes with a huff, “You really think you’d still care?”

“You…do realise we die if he does, right?”

Doubt snickered, “He hates you, Anxiety. You may as well be dead already.”

Virgil jerked, his brush spreading eyeshadow over his nose and the tears immediately rushed to the surface, “Okay, ow.” He dropped his head to try and clean up the eyeshadow and hide the tears that threatened, “That was a little uncalled for.”

Doubt gave him another smug smirk when Virgil met his eyes again, “It’s true though, isn’t it?”

Virgil sighed, “Maybe.” He answered with a glare before returning to his application, “I guess that’s something to consider if the time comes.”

“When the time comes.” Doubt corrected, leaning back as Virgil did so he could fiddle with his hair, “It’s only a matter of time, Anxiety. You know that.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ve noticed.”

He didn’t need to be reminded that Roman’s jabs have been getting more and more vicious. That he’d been making more of an effort to avoid the anxious Side. That he only listened to Virgil’s points if they came from Logan’s mouth. Either they were going to fight it out, or one of them had to leave.

And Roman was too important to Thomas.

“At least it’s an option.” Virgil continued.

Before Doubt could say anything further, there was a knock from Virgil’s door, “Anxiety?” Patton. That took him a while, “Can we talk?”

Virgil threw Doubt a wary look, “We’ll talk about this later.”

Doubt nodded, watching Virgil leave but not leaving the mirror.

Virgil opened his door to see Patton standing there, a mix between Dad Mode and concern on his face, “Can I help you?”

“Why did Thomas have a panic attack this morning?” the tone was more accusatory than Virgil liked hearing from Patton.

“I had a nightmare.” He admitted with a shrug, tucking his hands in his hoodie. “Didn’t realise it was affecting Thomas.”

“And the thing with Roman?”

Of course. It always came down to Roman. The fucking golden child. Virgil’s face twisted with hurt, poorly hidden behind a sneer as he glared over Patton’s shoulder, “What thing?”

Patton arched an eyebrow at Virgil, not noticing as Virgil physically braced for the coming lecture. It hurt, of course, being lectured like this by Patton. So early in the morning. And Logan’s passing affirmation didn’t help.

It was ten minutes before Patton finally seemed to run out of steam, noticing Virgil’s stiff posture and downcast eyes. He took in a deep breath, “Look, kiddo-“

“Don’t call me that.” He snarled back, taking a step back into his room, “I get it. None of you want me here. Whatever.”

“That’s not it at all!” Patton cried, taking a step into the room. He blocked Virgil from closing the door before he’d even moved to do so, “We’d just like you to try a little harder not to affect Thomas-“

“Exactly. You don’t want me here.” Virgil’s voice cracked a little, and he sneered up at Patton to mask it. “I get it.”

Patton had never seen pain in Virgil’s eyes before, then again, he’d never actually looked. It shook him so much, he took a step back, “Anxiety…kiddo…”

“I said don’t call me that!” Virgil’s temper finally flared, and he slammed the door shut, ending the conversation with a finality Anxiety wished he could take back.

Neither of them moved, but Virgil tried to mask the dejected, broken sob that escaped him before he hurried back to his bathroom. Doubt gave him a knowing look, but was silent as Virgil curled up on the floor.

Three different voices, three different requests (or demands in Roman’s case), three different meals passed by before Virgil was able to pull himself together. And when he did, Doubt was still there, waiting.

Virgil looked like a mess. He was a mess. His hair was ruffled, his eyeshadow streaked down his face, eyes stinging and bloodshot and puffy. But he didn’t care.

“How do we do this?” he held himself up over the basin.

Doubt grinned at him.

Logan involuntarily giggled, covering his mouth quickly in a weak attempt to hide the blush that quickly rose to his cheeks. Roman stared at him, eyes wide and eyebrows high as Logan cleared his throat, “Yes, or worse.”

Roman’s grin returned, eyes sparkling as Logan waved Roman off, closed the door and sighed. It was strange how much closer Logan was looking at Roman and his reactions now.

He’d never noticed the little dimples on his cheeks when he grinned, or the tiny ways his face reacted to his ever-fluctuating emotions. And now that he did…Logan’s reactions were so much stronger.

They’d always been there to a degree. Logan knew that. Even though he wasn’t the personification of a feeling, he still experienced them. And it had always struck him as odd. Scary at first. Odd now.

That had come with time, cataloguing and carefully analysing responses, physical and emotional until it came together into an identifiable pattern.

He smirked as he pulled off his glasses and put them on the basin, peering up at the blanket covering the mirror.

The first initial rush of endorphins when he finished a big project had nearly sent Logan bounding through the mindscape. Instead, he’d accidentally manifested himself physically. It was no surprise he’d gotten sick immediately after either.

Logan couldn’t help the snort that escaped him as he remembered that particular event. He remembered the shocked looks from not just Thomas, but Joan and Talyn, followed by Logan’s own confused response.

He could not imagine how out of place he must have looked then.

The hot water was refreshing on his back, his tired muscles unwinding and easing as Logan allowed himself to finally take his time. Emotions were high. Tensions were high. And Logan had already nearly driven them to burn out.

For the sake of their health, and his own, he had to slow down.

Climbing out of the shower though, he wondered if maybe he should have hurried just a little bit more.

By the time he got to the commons, there was a cacophony of noise. Roman was staring between Patton and Virgil who were…fighting?!

Logan was stunned into silence as well. For as long as he could remember, Virgil and Patton had always gotten along. It did help that Virgil appeared to have traits of both the right and left parts of the brain, emotions and logic, but…this was odd.

Roman looked over his shoulder to Logan, eyes desperate and pleading, “They’ve been like this since I got out down the stairs.” He murmured, taking a step back toward the stairs, “I don’t-

“Don’t you go anywhere, mister!” Patton cried, pointing at Roman with a fierce glare.

“Don’t talk to him like that, Patton!” Virgil shouted back, his shoulders rising and his lips pulling back to bare his teeth.

It was far too heated between the two already and Logan wasn’t entirely sure what to do. Until he heard the tiny whimper from the prince on the step beneath him.

That could wait a moment.

Logan put both of his hands on Roman’s shoulders, gently massaging the muscles, “Shh,” he felt the prince slowly relaxing, forcing himself to take a deep breath, “Easy, Roman.”

The shouting match continued, the pair starting to talk over each other as Logan guided Roman off the stairs and toward the couch furthest away from the arguing pair. The air was getting thicker, heavier with Patton’s emotions and Virgil’s panic response, but Logan needed to keep Roman calm.

If Roman freaked out, who knew what would happen to Thomas.

With Roman seated on the couch, eyes glassy but staying put, Logan turned and put his hands on his hips. Roman shrank behind Logan, “That is enough!”

Logan’s voice boomed through the room, silencing the two fighting Sides, and Roman whimpered again behind him. Patton and Virgil both turned to look at him, their eyes flashing with anger.

“I do not have the slightest clue what you two are fighting about,” Logan adjusted his glasses as he gave each of them a stern glare, “But now is not the time.”

“Now is not the-“ Patton threw his hands in the air in frustration, “When is it ever going to be the time?!”

“How about you actually explain what you want, Patton?” Virgil growled, head tilting side-to-side as he spoke, mocking Patton.

The fatherly trait spun to him, eyes flashing, “If you would just give me a minute-“

“Oh dear.” Logan muttered, blinking at the pair as they returned to shouting over each other.

He wasn’t actually entirely sure what to do in this situation. Frankly, it had never happened before. When Patton had gotten terse with Virgil in the past, he’d fled, shutting them out for days or weeks at a time. And Patton had always been able to calm Virgil down enough to explain what he wanted.

The pair of them going at each other was…rather unsettling.

Something warm brushed over Logan’s wrist and he jumped, looking down to see Roman staring at his hand as he hesitantly sought contact. Logan took a small step back as Roman tangled his fingers with Logan’s, glancing up and meeting Logan’s eyes for only a moment.

But in that moment Logan saw all he needed.

Roman was scared. He wanted to run again.

Logan drew another deep breath, squeezed his fingers around Roman’s and turned his face back toward the fighting pair.

Virgil and Patton had closed the distance, the pair almost touching, Virgil looming dangerously over Patton. Logan feared it would get physical. And he really didn’t want to have to deal with that outcome.

“I said, enough!” Logan’s voice commanded silence, and this time when they went quiet, Virgil took several steps back and crossed his arms.

It was clear to Logan now that he was shaking, chewing at the inside of his cheek as he glared resolutely out to the kitchen and hunched his shoulders up. Patton was tense, hands curled at his sides, glaring back at Logan.

“This is not going to resolve the issue.” Logan spoke with more authority this time, “Virgil, can you please go and get some water. Patton, sit.”

There was a moment of tense silence as neither Side moved, then Virgil spun on his heel and stormed into the kitchen while Patton flopped into the couch and glared at the coffee table.

Logan sighed a breath of relief, squeezing Roman’s fingers again, “Right, it’s time we all talked this out.”

“Talk?” Patton almost shot back up to his feet again, but Logan’s hard glare kept him on the couch, “It’s beyond the point of talking, Logan.”

Virgil growled from the kitchen, opening his mouth to bark back but Logan’s glare to him silenced him as well.

“You don’t want this resolved, Patton?” he asked calmly, “You would rather remain living in this tense atmosphere?”

Patton narrowed his eyes at Logan, “No.” he grit out.

“Then you think we should have physical bouts?”

“No.”

“Verbal arguments?”

“No.”

“Then, Patton, please explain to me how you would like this resolved.” Logan felt Roman squeezing at his fingers, but Logan kept his eyes on Patton’s.

“I…Can I talk…for a minute?”  Roman asked softly, surprising Logan into tearing his eyes away from Patton. Roman had his head bowed, looking to his socked feet as he curled and flexed his toes.

“Oh, so now you want to talk?” Patton shot to his feet, eyes venomous as they glared down at Roman. The prince shrank back, squeezing Logan’s fingers uncomfortably tight, “Now I’m good enough to talk to?!”

“Patton?!” Logan turned to the father figure, eyes wide in shock.

“Come on, Logan.” Patton waved his hand, “He’s talked to everyone but me about fucking feelings!” Patton’s eyes were bright, poorly masking the pain he was hiding behind anger, “That’s fine! Whatever!”

“Patton…” Roman tried to interject, but Patton wasn’t done yet.

And he’d returned Patton’s ire on himself, “I begged you to talk to me!” Patton threw his arms wide, “And you ran.” He growled, “Do you know how much that hurt?!”

“Patton.” Logan’s tone was a warning, but Patton was either too angry to notice, or care.

“No, it hurt, Logan. And now he’s talking to everyone else?!” Patton’s eyes suddenly filled with tears, “Is it me?! Am I the problem?!” Roman’s head snapped up, tears already streaking down his cheeks.

“Patton, we practically had to force him to talk to us.” Logan frowned as Patton narrowed his eyes at him, “Well, Virgil, anyway.”

Patton spun around to the kitchen, obviously ready to try and pick his battle with the anxious Side again, “Speaking of which, why didn’t you tell me this happens?!” he shouted across the room, and Virgil glared back at Patton, “I could have helped!”

“Stop it!” Roman shouted, his commanding voice broken by tears as he got to his feet. Towering over the other two, he was tense and shaking, “Just stop it, Patton!”

Patton spun back around to Roman. Logan saw Virgil’s face crumple as soon as Patton’s back was turned, pulling his hoodie over his head to hide his face.

Ah, crap.

“Do you realise how much you’ve hurt everybody?!” Roman flinched, “Do you realise all the damage you’ve done?!”

“Patton!” Logan shouted, but Patton was on a roll now.

“Why didn’t you just say something?!” Patton’s eyes were filled with frustrated tears as Roman hung his head, shoulders shaking, “Why didn’t you trust-“

“Because I was afraid of this, Patton!” Roman finally snapped, “I was afraid of this conversation! I was afraid of being screamed at! I was afraid of hurting any of you!” Patton was stunned silent, “I was scared and angry and hurt and I wasn’t going to put any of the blame on any of you!” Logan reached out, but Roman snatched his arm away with a strangled cry, “You want to know what I was hiding?! You really want to fucking know?!”

Virgil whimpered, “Don’t…” Roman glanced up at him, “Not like this.”

Roman’s face twisted, taking in the tears of pain on Virgil’s hooded face, “I just…” he looked around the room, his shoulders sagging further and further.

Logan stepped back in, “Roman,” the prince looked straight to his feet, “Take a deep breath for me,” Patton glared at Logan as Roman whimpered and complied, “Sit down.” Logan met Patton’s eyes, doing his best to refrain from glaring back, “Both of you.”

Roman slowly sat down, elbows on his thighs as he hid his face in his hands. Patton flopped onto the couch, leaning back with his arms crossed. He was almost pouting.

Logan had to take a breath of his own to calm down, “Right. Now, we have two options here. Calm down and try again. Or, we risk hurt feelings and keep fighting.” Patton scowled at his knees.

There was a loud crash in Patton’s room, which nearly had the fatherly Side getting to his feet. Virgil was at the stairs before he’d managed to get up, and the anxious Side threw Patton a glare, “No. Sit.”

He was clearly fighting with himself. Virgil didn’t blame him. There was a lot going on. A lot to take in for one day. But Patton was in no state to be looking after anyone else. And Thomas hadn’t noticed yet.

“Okay.” Patton sighed, reaching up to scratch his chin and catching a tiny shard of glass. He winced, “Oh, shi-“

Virgil smirked, helping Patton to his feet and guiding him to the couch, “I think we’re allowed to swear today.” He offered, taking the first aid kit from Logan’s lap and sifting through it.

“Hey, guys?” Thomas appeared beside them, and his eyes widened when he saw the state Patton was in, “I- Patton?”

“What is it, kiddo?” he asked, eyes shining with false hope and hollow smile spread onto his face. Virgil was tempted to slap it off him, just this once.

“I, uh,” Thomas gave Virgil a meaningful look but the anxious Side shook his head, “I was going to head back. Get some sleep. You going to be alright?”

Virgil smirked as he picked a shard of glass out of Patton’s cheek, “It might take a bit, but yeah. I think so.” Patton winced as Virgil picked at another shard, “Maybe hold off the vids for a little while. We could do with a break.”

Thomas sighed with relief, “Me too.” He whispered, “Alright, um, update me later?”

Virgil nodded with a sideways glance, “Sure.”

“See ya, kiddo.” Patton waved as Thomas sank out, his hand falling limply into his lap and smile falling away.

“Talk to me, Dad.” Virgil’s gaze was intense as he carefully pulled tiny shards of glass out of Patton’s skin with a pair of tweezers.

“I got angry.” Patton shrugged, keeping his gaze on his hands.

Virgil firmly took Patton’s chin, turning his face to meet Virgil’s and Patton’s eyes snapped to the anxious Side’s in surprise, “Patton.” His tone was firm, quiet, “We just did a two-part video on masking feelings. We weren’t just talking about sadness, you know.” Seeing Virgil so passionate about his wellbeing already had tears brimming in Patton’s eyes, “You know I love you. So, talk to me.”

A tiny whimper, a hiccup, escaped Patton before the tears fell and Virgil softened his grip on Patton’s chin. He continued to pull glass from Patton’s face, “I got angry and I didn’t know why, so I went to my room before I hurt someone again.” The tears streamed down his face as he looked vaguely over Virgil’s shoulder, “And Anger showed up, and –“ he hiccupped, “And it was me,” Virgil paused to search Patton’s face, “And I know it was silly because it already happened and I can’t-“

“Are you still angry?” Virgil whispered when Patton struggled to continue.

Patton shook his head slightly, “Not really? A little…kinda…” he sighed, “I wish I’d seen it, ya know?” his lip quivered as Virgil finished with one side of his face, “I hurt my kiddo…”

Virgil paused to bring Patton’s attention back to him, “Roman is very good at hiding his pain, Pat.” Patton was searching Virgil’s eyes, hoping beyond hope that it was the truth, “If he doesn’t want you to see it, you won’t. You noticed what slipped through the cracks, and you asked about it.” Patton’s lips twisted downward, “That’s more than enough.”

“But if I’d known-“

“You didn’t.” Virgil continued pulling tiny glass shards out, “And now that you do, you can help in the future.” Virgil gave him a reassuring smile, “Okay?”

Patton’s lip quivered, eyes filling with tears, “Okay.” He whispered.

“How are you feeling now?”

Patton sniffed, “A lot.”

Virgil smirked, tilting Patton’s head back a little to check his neck, “Dad…” he breathed, fingers brushing the bruise, “Bad fight, huh?”

“Yeah.” Patton whispered, hanging his head as Virgil rested Patton’s hands on Virgil’s knees, “I was real mad.”

“Can’t say I blame you.” Virgil answered with a shrug, “But I’m glad you’re out here now, with us.” Patton shyly looked up at Virgil, who tilted his head with a warm smile, “Can’t say it’s fun to drag you out of your room.”

Patton giggled, flinching slightly as Virgil continued pulling out the tiny shards of glass from his hands, “Like you can talk.” He whispered.

Virgil smiled back, a warm, wider smile than usual. Patton’s eyes glittered, “Shh, we don’t talk about that.” He winked, and Patton giggled again.

He sighed, “Thanks, kiddo.” He bit his lip, “I know I’m not always the best Dad-“

“Firstly,” Virgil pointed at him with the tweezers, “You aren’t a real Dad, so that’s perfectly fine.” Patton gazed away sadly, “And secondly,” Virgil looked back down to Patton’s hands, “All Dad’s are just trying to do their best.” Hope flickered to life in Patton’s eyes again, “All parents make mistakes. It’s how they handle those mistakes that really matter.”

Tears slid down Patton’s face, he hung his head and leaned forward to press his forehead into Virgil’s shoulder. The anxious Side knew he wanted more contact, but wouldn’t stop him from pulling out the glass, “Thanks, kiddo.” He whispered, his breathing betraying his tears.

As soon as Virgil was done with the extraction, he put the tweezers aside and ran his fingers through Patton’s hair, “Sit back, Pat.”

He didn’t protest, but the moment he started fidgeting with his hoodie, Virgil knew he wanted contact. And he didn’t hesitate. He wasn’t exactly done patching him up.

With the first aid kit in hand, he straddled Patton’s lap and pushed him to sink back against the couch, “Virge?”

Virgil ignored his own blush, “You need cuddles, and I need to finish patching you up. Good compromise?”