Im super curious, what's up with Remy?? Like, he's sloth, and like he is "sleep", but in this au, what makes him the way he is? And why is he sad about how he is? ~a curious theorizing fan with cfs
Focus: Remy’s home life
Warnings: pain descriptions, parents not understanding, sadness, some feelings of helplessness
Remy wakes up earlier than he means to, which is not unusual, but still annoying as always. It’s the pain that wakes him. It starts in his elbows, a feeling of creakiness that shouldn’t be there, and then it spreads down to his fingers. It’s sore like he spent time lifting weights but he hasn’t done that in years. He grimaces as he flexes his hand, the action causing more soreness to race up his arms to his shoulders and then down the rest of his body. It settles in his joints. He takes a deep breath, feeling his body hold him to the bed and refusing to let him move for a few minutes.
A few minutes, turns into half an hour. Long enough for him to hear the rest of his family get up and begin their day with no trouble at all. He closes his eyes tight, trying to tell himself to get up, convince his body it’s okay to move, that it’s okay and he can get through this. He rolls to his side first, the action making him let out a huff. It’s only the beginning of the day.
Five minutes later and he’s finally sitting up, gripping the edge of his bed tight to hold himself up right. Pressure is what it feel like. A heavy weight on his shoulders that wants him to lay back down and not move ever again. His joints are throbbing. He’s exhausted. No amount of sleep can get rid of it.
With a few deep breaths, Remy pushes off his bed to stand, letting the weight of his own self press down. Once he can handle that he starts with the rest of his day, moving slow and not having the energy to go any faster. His soft clothes are a very small comfort.
“There he is!” His mother cheers brightly to him once he makes it to the kitchen area. He offers her a weak smile.
“Finally got out of bed did ya?” His father says with a laugh and Remy’s smile falls. He did manage to get out of bed today. That’s good. He grabs a granola bar from the pantry, almost dropping it in his weak grip, and flops to the couch in the living room. He can’t open the wrapper.
“Remy?” He lets his head lull to the side, his brothers all getting their shoes on to get to school. Taz tilts his head at him curiously.
“Are you okay?” He asks. Remy gives him a small smile and nods his head softly.
“Just tired,” He says.
“You’re always tired,” Job points out, hands tight on his backpack. Remy sighs.
“I know,” He says. His brothers come closer, crowding around him like they’re waiting for him to tell them a story.
“Why?” Tate asks. Remy huffs and manages to push himself forward to rest on his knees, granola bar still in hand unopened.
“I’m sick, kind of, it makes me really tired all the time, it’s chronic, and never ends,” He gives them the best smile he can manage, knowing it looks pained. And really he is in pain. His brothers all look between each other, wondering if they should believe him.
“What’s it called?” Ted asks then. Remy sighs.
“Chronic fatigue syndrome, it’s right in the name, I’m always tired. It makes it hard to do stuff sometimes,” Remy grips the bar tight. It hurts his knuckles but he’s angry. It makes it so difficult to even move.
“Oh don’t listen to him,” His father interrupts, still smiling like he knows something the others don’t. Remy turns to look at him. Whatever sad expression is on his face goes ignored.
“He’s just saying all that fancy stuff so you’ll do his chores for him,” His mother also laughs, returning to the kitchen but not before winking at Remy like she knows his secret. That he’s really faking how he feels to get out of doing stuff. To have an excuse to not do anything. To be lazy.
As if the understanding bubble around them has exploded, Remy’s brothers all move and get up, going back to getting ready. Remy though, puts a hand to his head. His parents never believe him when he said he couldn’t do something because of how his body felt. He’s almost passed out at least three times because they forced him to do something he said he couldn’t. Then told him he was just being dramatic, just being lazy.Â
“Hey Rem?” Remy slowly lifts his head to look at Tess peeking at him from over the edge of the couch.
“I’ll help you do the dishes later if you want,” Tess whispers in case their parents are listening. Remy offers him a small smile, lifting his hand to place on Tess’s head in a show of affection. Tess giggles and runs off. Remy takes a deep breath, and forces himself to stand.Â
He debates putting away the granola bar, but Patton would get mad at him if he didn’t at least try. In the end, he stands in the middle of his living room trying to get his feet to move. He almost falls when his dad pats him on his back.
“You done daydreaming there? If you hurry the boys can probably give you a ride to school.” The man puffs up his chest proudly and walks off to get ready for his own work. Remy watches him go and shakes his head. Hurry. He wishes he could.
He grabs his back pack, though not without much effort to lift it to his shoulder, and leaves the house. His brothers are still messing around trying to get seated. As soon as they spot him, whoever sat in the front passenger seat hops out, giving it to him silently. He grimaces as he gets inside the car, body aching more than it usually does. Today, is not a good day.
The ride to school is uneventful, his brothers all rushing about campus to their classes and friends with no hindrance. Remy takes his time, feet dragging. He doesn’t want to sit in the uncomfortable school chairs that make his back ache and head spin. He doesn’t want to do this anymore.
“Hey Rem?” Remy lets out a huff, looking over at Tucker. Tucker twists his hands together.
“Are you lying to us? When you say you’re always tired?” He asks not unkindly though judging the possible answer already. Remy offers him a half smile.
“There’s no reason for me to lie to you about this.” Tucker twists up his nose at that.
“Then why do mom and dad tell us not to believe you?” Always the quickest to anger. Remy just shrugs.
“They don’t think what I feel is real. They just want to blame me being lazy.”
“Maybe I am.” And with that Remy takes a decided step away from his brother, one that twists his foot and makes him cringe. Every step aches the rest of him, every step seems to add another weight on his shoulders.Â
Some days are better than others. Some days he can walk and not feel like death will come for him every other step. Some days moving around and talking and existing don’t hurt as bad. But today, he’s overexerted every ounce of energy and it’s not even noon. It hurts, and there’s nothing he can do to stop it.
School ends and Remy feels like crying. Every muscles aches and every joint wants him to stop. He has school work to do and he can’t even comprehend the energy to think about doing it. His brothers don’t talk to him on the way home, stuck in their own conversations, though he can tell they look at him every so often in concern.
They run out of the car with no care, Remy doesn’t have the luxury, the car door heavy in his hand. It’s frustrating. It’s not that difficult to move, but he has so much trouble just pushing the door to get himself out of the car. Everything is so difficult and he can’t do anything. He nearly falls out of the car once it’s open enough and ignores Job’s worried look to just get inside and sit down.
The couch is his first option so it’s the one he takes. His backpack thunks to the floor by his feet and he lets his body fall, to be lifeless for a moment, anything, anything to help relieve the tension that pulls him end to end. For a while it works.
“Hey chores times!” His mom shouts from somewhere in the house. A bustle of commotion follows, each kid running and rummaging about for what they need to complete their chores. They pass by him, talking and making obnoxious noise to each other. It takes effort, way more effort than it does anyone else, for Remy to stand back up again. He feels like collapsing when he does.
He makes his way to the kitchen, staring down at the sink and the pile of dishes inside. It’s a big family, there’s a lot of dishes. It’s overwhelming. Remy knows, he knows, it’s not actually a lot. He knows it should be easy. Turn the water on, grab the soapy sponge, wash the dishes. Yet it’s so difficult to do.
His hand misses the first two times trying to turn the water on. It doesn’t matter though. He organizes the plates and bowls slowly, one at a time. It’s all he can handle right now. Once the water is warm enough, he soaps up the sponge, the simple piece of squishy material feeling way too heavy in his hand.
Washing takes even more power. Holding the dish feels like a nightmare and his muscles want to give up, tell him to drop it all. He wants to, and he hates that he can’t do more, hates that he can’t just get through it the pain. But he can’t. He’s too weak, too much in pain, too lazy.
There’s a gentle hand on his arm, light and easy though it still makes him flinch. Tess is smiling softly at him, taking the dish from his hands and letting him drop the sponge. Remy clings to the edge of the sink, trying to hold himself up right.
“Thank you,” His words barely hold any noise but Tess nods to show he heard and Remy lets himself fall. He drops to the ground, leaning up against the cabinets as his brother continues to do the dishes for him. It somehow makes the pain worse. He should be able to do the dishes by himself, he shouldn’t be making his brother do his chores for him, he’s the oldest, he should be watching out for them not the other way around.
He can’t though. He can’t move. His body is done for the day, ready to give up. He couldn’t eat at lunch, the act of chewing too much for his jaw to handle, so he’s starving. Going to bed will be difficult too as the pain will keep him awake longer. He just wants to sleep, and the worst part is he knows that won’t make it better.
“Oh don’t do the dishes for him Tess, Remy can do them himself,” His mother says. Remy looks at her, wondering if she can see how much he’s in pain. She can’t, she just looks at him with a knowing smile, and yet disappointment in her eyes.
“I just wanted to help out..” Tess mumbles, slowly putting the soaped up dishes down.
“Thanks Tess,” Remy mutters, grabbing the counter to haul himself up. It makes his arms twinge. He’s standing at the sink again, wanting to fall down again, only this time it’s him and his mother in the kitchen.
“Honestly Rem you can’t be making your brothers do your work for you,” She chides. Remy can’t breathe.
“He offered to help,” He tells her. She sighs and shakes her head.
“You need to tell him no, you can do this on your own. It doesn’t matter if you’re tired, you can still work.”
“What if I can’t?” He snaps without meaning to. The day is stressful and it’s getting to him. His mom sighs in annoyance.
“Really Remanuel, again with this?” Why does it hurt so much? Why can’t the pain just stop?
“This thing you’ve made up is getting old, enough of it.” She tells him in a final tone, and walks off, grumbling to herself. Remy clings to the sink. He can’t do it. He can’t do it.
He can feel his brothers watching from behind a corner, listening in on the conversation. What does it matter if they don’t believe him? He’s not making it up. He knows what he’s feeling is real. Why won’t they believe him?
He ignores the dishes, pulling out his phone from his pocket. He places it on the counter and swipes his finger over the top.
Remy!!!!!!: Can you get me i cant be here
Pattoncake: On my way!!!!!!
He feels like crying. The dishes are a daunting task, but he needs to do them. He says nothing as Tess comes back into the kitchen with Ted and Tate too, taking the clean dishes and drying them off to put them away, his other brothers keeping watch in case his parents come back into the room.
“See I knew you could do it if you just tried!” His mom says with a bright smile once she finds the dishes are done. Remy doesn’t smile at her, doesn’t look at her. Instead he walks outside to wait for Patton to pick him up and take him to a place that won’t tell him he’s doing it for attention, that he just needs to get over it, that he’s doing it because he’s lazy.
Patton gets there soon enough, jumping out of his car and rushing over. Remy falls into his arms, thankful Patton catches him. He’s carried to the car and for the first time it feels like he’s a little less exhausted than before. He looks out the window to his brothers, watching from the living room window. He gives them a small smile, letting the window fade as he’s driven away.
He’s aching and exhausted. For just a day he wishes it would stop. But there’s no cure for this, and all he can do, is be tired.
Is there something you’re curious about? Don’t hesitate to send in an ask and find out~ Any questions about the boys and their lives will be answered with fic!
I hope I portrayed CFS properly, if I didn't please tell me.
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