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: Remyâs 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. Itâs the pain that wakes him. It starts in his elbows, a feeling of creakiness that shouldnât be there, and then it spreads down to his fingers. Itâs sore like he spent time lifting weights but he hasnât 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 itâs okay to move, that itâs okay and he can get through this. He rolls to his side first, the action making him let out a huff. Itâs only the beginning of the day.
Five minutes later and heâs 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. Heâs 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.
âThere he is!â His mother cheers brightly to him once he makes it to the kitchen area. He offers her a weak smile.
âFinally got out of bed did ya?â His father says with a laugh and Remyâs smile falls. He did manage to get out of bed today. Thatâs 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 canât open the wrapper.
âRemy?â 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.
âAre you okay?â He asks. Remy gives him a small smile and nods his head softly.
âJust tired,â He says.
âYouâre always tired,â Job points out, hands tight on his backpack. Remy sighs.
âI know,â He says. His brothers come closer, crowding around him like theyâre waiting for him to tell them a story.
âWhy?â Tate asks. Remy huffs and manages to push himself forward to rest on his knees, granola bar still in hand unopened.
âIâm sick, kind of, it makes me really tired all the time, itâs chronic, and never ends,â 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.
âWhatâs it called?â Ted asks then. Remy sighs.
âChronic fatigue syndrome, itâs right in the name, Iâm always tired. It makes it hard to do stuff sometimes,â Remy grips the bar tight. It hurts his knuckles but heâs angry. It makes it so difficult to even move.
âOh donât listen to him,â His father interrupts, still smiling like he knows something the others donât. Remy turns to look at him. Whatever sad expression is on his face goes ignored.
âHeâs just saying all that fancy stuff so youâll do his chores for him,â His mother also laughs, returning to the kitchen but not before winking at Remy like she knows his secret. That heâs 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, Remyâs 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 couldnât do something because of how his body felt. Heâs almost passed out at least three times because they forced him to do something he said he couldnât. Then told him he was just being dramatic, just being lazy.Â
âHey Rem?â Remy slowly lifts his head to look at Tess peeking at him from over the edge of the couch.
âIâll help you do the dishes later if you want,â Tess whispers in case their parents are listening. Remy offers him a small smile, lifting his hand to place on Tessâs 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 didnât 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.
âYou done daydreaming there? If you hurry the boys can probably give you a ride to school.â 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 doesnât want to sit in the uncomfortable school chairs that make his back ache and head spin. He doesnât want to do this anymore.
âHey Rem?â Remy lets out a huff, looking over at Tucker. Tucker twists his hands together.
âAre you lying to us? When you say youâre always tired?â He asks not unkindly though judging the possible answer already. Remy offers him a half smile.
âThereâs no reason for me to lie to you about this.â Tucker twists up his nose at that.
âThen why do mom and dad tell us not to believe you?â Always the quickest to anger. Remy just shrugs.
âThey donât think what I feel is real. They just want to blame me being lazy.â
âMaybe I am.â 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 donât hurt as bad. But today, heâs overexerted every ounce of energy and itâs not even noon. It hurts, and thereâs 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 canât even comprehend the energy to think about doing it. His brothers donât 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 doesnât have the luxury, the car door heavy in his hand. Itâs frustrating. Itâs 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 canât do anything. He nearly falls out of the car once itâs open enough and ignores Jobâs worried look to just get inside and sit down.
The couch is his first option so itâs 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.
âHey chores times!â 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. Itâs a big family, thereâs a lot of dishes. Itâs overwhelming. Remy knows, he knows, itâs not actually a lot. He knows it should be easy. Turn the water on, grab the soapy sponge, wash the dishes. Yet itâs so difficult to do.
His hand misses the first two times trying to turn the water on. It doesnât matter though. He organizes the plates and bowls slowly, one at a time. Itâs 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 canât do more, hates that he canât just get through it the pain. But he canât. Heâs too weak, too much in pain, too lazy.
Thereâs 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.
âThank you,â 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 shouldnât be making his brother do his chores for him, heâs the oldest, he should be watching out for them not the other way around.
He canât though. He canât move. His body is done for the day, ready to give up. He couldnât eat at lunch, the act of chewing too much for his jaw to handle, so heâs 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 wonât make it better.
âOh donât do the dishes for him Tess, Remy can do them himself,â His mother says. Remy looks at her, wondering if she can see how much heâs in pain. She canât, she just looks at him with a knowing smile, and yet disappointment in her eyes.
âI just wanted to help out..â Tess mumbles, slowly putting the soaped up dishes down.
âThanks Tess,â Remy mutters, grabbing the counter to haul himself up. It makes his arms twinge. Heâs standing at the sink again, wanting to fall down again, only this time itâs him and his mother in the kitchen.
âHonestly Rem you canât be making your brothers do your work for you,â She chides. Remy canât breathe.
âHe offered to help,â He tells her. She sighs and shakes her head.
âYou need to tell him no, you can do this on your own. It doesnât matter if youâre tired, you can still work.â
âWhat if I canât?â He snaps without meaning to. The day is stressful and itâs getting to him. His mom sighs in annoyance.
âReally Remanuel, again with this?â Why does it hurt so much? Why canât the pain just stop?
âThis thing youâve made up is getting old, enough of it.â She tells him in a final tone, and walks off, grumbling to herself. Remy clings to the sink. He canât do it. He canât do it.
He can feel his brothers watching from behind a corner, listening in on the conversation. What does it matter if they donât believe him? Heâs not making it up. He knows what heâs feeling is real. Why wonât 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.
âSee I knew you could do it if you just tried!â His mom says with a bright smile once she finds the dishes are done. Remy doesnât smile at her, doesnât look at her. Instead he walks outside to wait for Patton to pick him up and take him to a place that wonât tell him heâs doing it for attention, that he just needs to get over it, that heâs doing it because heâs lazy.
Patton gets there soon enough, jumping out of his car and rushing over. Remy falls into his arms, thankful Patton catches him. Heâs carried to the car and for the first time it feels like heâs 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 heâs driven away.
Heâs aching and exhausted. For just a day he wishes it would stop. But thereâs no cure for this, and all he can do, is be tired.
Is there something youâre curious about? Donât 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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