#spicywrites

Before. Before Lo’ak’s ears dropped in Jake’s presence. Before Neytiri had lost that little warmth in her eyes, the warmth that Spider had worked so fucking hard for. Before Spider lost some little things, simple words or memories here or there. Before his head ached with every conversation. Before he and Lo’ak held one stifled conversation in the presence of Neteyam’s body, and it was the most they could manage before Spider ran away.

Spider’s hand reaches for Lo’ak’s, digging heatless fingertips into the warm, unsteady beat of Lo’ak’s pulse. The reassurance that he’s alive does so much, and so little.

Neteyam is still dead.

Neytiri is still afraid, has still lost something so large that Spider cannot see a future where she recovers.

“I know,” is all Spider can say, and Lo’ak nods. It’s not enough, it might never be anymore, not like it could’ve been, back in before. “I don’t know what…”

I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to breathe. I don’t know how to do anything. Part of it is missing, and the other part hurts too much.

“I don’t know either,” Lo’ak says. He’s trembling, where their hands meet in the sand. There are bruises along the veins in his arms; they’re deep and dark and pool with blood that Spider wants to believe he could pack away back to where it belongs.

Spider wishes they could not know together. That they could flounder in the humanity that’s been nipping at their heels like an unruly dog, stay confused but together, but—

He’s lost something. Little pieces here and there, memories and words.

He’s lost— He’s lost that little spark, the one that Lo’ak is trying to find behind the glass shielding his face. The one that used to live in the space between their hands, and in the echoes of their laughter.

Slipping on his cardigan, he ventured into the hall with his socks on. The cold was obviously Roman's doing, as was the sickly, desaturated tint of the subconscious' walls and carpet. Roman's door had turned full gray, covered in chains and padlocks with no keyhole.

Patton didn't even have time to tear up before movement from the other end of the hall caught his eye. He turned his head and found Janus shivering not six feet away from him, face as open and honest as a child's. It vanished in an instant, gates slamming down. He'd already had his arms pulled tight across his chest, body rigid, but he relaxed a little now and leaned against the wall. "Nice weather we're h-having," he said. "I-isn..." He shivered, words catching behind his teeth. "Nnh... Isn't it?"

"Oh, Janus." In the frigid air, Patton's heart still found a way to melt. "Are you cold?"

"Of course not; it's positively balmy in here." Janus glared at him. "What are you doing, sleepwalking?"

"No," Patton said,"just..."

Janus' expression softened just a little. "Trying not to lose your mind?"

"Yeah."

They fell silent for a moment until Janus shuddered, his eyes slipping shut for a moment. He tugged his capelet tighter over his shoulders, shrinking into himself.

"Come with me," Patton blurted, suprising himself.

"Trust you?" Janus said drily. Patton only looked at him, studying the sadness in his human eye, the red rim and glassy sheen. "Oh, very well. But if you try anything, Remus has more than just a morningstar."

"It's not a trick, Janus," Patton said, leading him down the hall. "I would never trick you."

Janus fell into step beside him. "You couldn't," he muttered, rubbing his arms.

"Because you're—"

"A mad genius, yes."

"Deceit."

Janus looked at him sideways from under the brim of his hat. "Whichever you like," he said, and sniffed.

"You're funny," Patton said contemplatively, nearly tripping over the coffee table when the living room loomed, abruptly ending the vast hallway they'd been traversing. "Whoops!"

Janus squinted at him, watching him regain his balance. "So are you."

"Touché, I guess," Patton said, motioning for Janus to sit down on the couch. "Let's see..." He got down on his knees in front of the coffee table, pawing through the wicker baskets resting beneath it. "We should have one for everybody... there!" He emerged holding two throw blankets: one yellow, one true blue. "Get cozy, okay?" He set them in Janus' lap.

Janus' brow furrow, irises darting as he searched the room. "What are you doing?"

"...Making sure you're warm?" Patton tilted his head like a confused dog. "I'm sorry, should I not have? You just looked so cold, and I thought..."

"No, it's—" Janus looked at the yellow blanket, turning it over in his gloved hands. On the far corner, Patton had imagined a snake, hand stitched, with two heads. Janus' logo rendered with all the love and care in Thomas' heart. He took a deep breath. "You are not what I thought you were, Patton."

"Is that good or bad?" Patton asked hesitantly. When Janus failed to answer, he bounced on his toes. "Anyway, I was gonna make some hot chocolate. How's that sound?"

Janus finally looked up at him again, finally relaxed and let himself smile. "Absolutely terrible."

The room was dark as Virgil stepped inside. The only source of light coming from the moonlight outside the window by his bed. He turned the cold doorknob behind him, slowly closing the door shut. He gave a small sigh of relief, glad he had been able to make it back to his room without any of the other sides noticing he was gone. Or so he had thought. 

What Virgil hadn't noticed was the odd silhouetted shape near the corner of the bed. At least until it had started moving. There was no way it was just a shadow. He stared, frozen as the dark shape grew taller, moving into the light. He immediately recognized the sky blue color of the shirt and felt his stomach turn, and his heartrate increasing more than it already had. He should feel relieved, but it scared him. 

"Virgil! Welcome back, Kiddo!" Patton's unsettling peppy voice made him want to shrink back, but he stayed put where he was. But it didn't help when the cheery attitude was followed with a giggle. "Where'd you go? I was worried about you!"

Virgil couldn't see his face, but he knew Patton was smiling bright as always. 

"Oh- I was uh.. I was out looking for uhm--" 

"You weren't out looking for Remus or... Deceit were you?" Patton interrupted him, curiosity ringing through him. 

"No! No, of course not. I wouldn't be looking for them, why would I be?" Virgil could feel his legs grow staticky. He took a step back, closer to the door. 

"Now Virgil, you know I don't like lying." The friendliness in his voice started to be taken over by a harsher tone. "Deceit and Remus aren't safe to be around. They're dangerous for you, and for Thomas. You want what's best for Thomas, don't you?" 

The sharp emphasis on the dark sides' names made Virgil queasy. He hadn't even noticed how close Patton had gotten to him. He could see his facial expression at this point. It wasn't a smile this time, but a sympathetic gaze at Virgil. Though somehow it seemed plastic, fake.

"Yeah... I know." 

Patton continued to stare at Virgil, making the tense silence in the room grow louder with each passing second until he perked up, growing the smile back on his face. Yet, Virgil could see a hint of anger in his eyes. 

"Of course you know! You're one of us, kiddo!" Patton didn't have to take anymore than a few steps to be next to Virgil, messing with his hair before opening the door, filling the room with the fake bright orange lights coming from the hallway.

"Now you get some rest, alrighty?" He gave a laugh as the door closed behind him, leaving Virgil with just the small moonlight again.

He sighed, Jumping straight onto the bed and planting his face in the pillows and throwing his hands on the sheets over and over again. It was only then that he felt the tears fall, seeping straight into the pillow sheets. He didn’t care though. 

After some time of hopeless quiet screaming, Virgil finally turned over, looking up at the ceiling of his room, looking at the stars that Deceit had put up there when Patton was busy. It made him feel homesick, but It calmed him down. 

Being with the light sides was supposed to make him feel better, feel like family. But if anything, everything felt torn apart. He thought he could put his trust in Patton, tell him everything, but now he was too scared to even try having a normal conversation with him. 

The truth of the matter is that Spider wasn’t really, clicking, with anyone. Jake’s kids, the nice human-y ones, where really young. They weren’t as mature as Spider because Spider is six, and Jake’s kids are four and three years old, and they just aren’t as interesting, after a while.

So Spider makes up a friend, who’s everything he’s not. He’s big and blue, and his hair doesn’t painfully tug at the crown of his head. He’s got long limbs, perfect for climbing and wrestling with Neteyam; but they’re gentle enough to play with Spider, too.

He talks with his imaginary friend all the time, like ALL the time. Norm asks him why he’s sitting on the cold floor in the middle of the lab when everyone’s in their capsules a week into Spider’s new friendship, because Spider is visibly shivering through his big, stolen tshirt, but his friend is sitting on top of one of the closed lids and pulls a face behind Norm— it makes it seem much less serious than it is.

And when Neytiri hisses at him to get out demon, out of my home, my forest Spider toddles right back to his friend, and asks him why no one really likes him. Even Jake, who rubs his hair and says he’s a ‘good kid’ doesn’t do anything more than that.

Spider’s friend can’t hug him the way Jake hugs his kids. It’s part of the reason why he stops talking to his friend. The other reason is because Neytiri had loudly asked why the demon child is talking into thin air, if he thinks that it will bring anymore attention to him than he deserves.

Norm finds Spider once, sitting by the edge of his bed, staring at the floor with tears in his eyes. When Norm asks what’s wrong, Spider can only say his friend is dead, because Neytiri and Jake and Norm had killed him.