Summary: Virgil is having sleepless nights. He knows everyone else is struggling with their own problems. Can he bring himself to tell them? More importantly, does he have the strength left to hide it from them?
Pairings: Platonic LAMP. Could be romantic if you interpret it that way
Warnings: Mention of depression, anxiety and stress. Might be eventual angst but will be resolved by a large amount of fluff (I promise)
Words: 641
Virgil rolled over to his other side, frustrated by the fact that his mind wouldn’t let him drift off into slumber. He faced the facts, anxious fears were not uncommon for him, neither were sleepless nights. But on rare occasions there were nights, like this one, where his head wasn’t filled with anything, it was all just blank. Nothingness. These nights scared him the most.
‘If there’s nothing wrong then why am I awake?’
‘I’m so tired’.
So.
Tired.
He looked at his alarm clock. 5:03 am. This would have to be his last attempt. He closed eyes once more and completed his breathing exercises. Four. Seven. Eight. Four. Seven. Eight. Soon his consciousness began to seep away. He felt the world begin to spin around him.
He was shaking.
It wasn’t cold,
Virgil hated being cold at night. The day the others found out about this Patton made sure to put the heating on a timer at night so Virgil no longer suffered in silence.
‘He felt so cold though.’
DiD hE fOrGeT?
‘No, Patton wouldn’t forget.’
WoUlD hE?
‘God, why is he sweating?’
It felt as though his mind was no longer attached to his body. He was floating. He felt sick.
‘What is this?’
Why…
Why?
‘I just want to sleep’.
His heart stopped.
His body shot up as he gasped for air, his hand clenched the cloth around his chest as his wide eyes surveyed the room for any danger. His wardrobe was still closed (he could never sleep if he could see the pitch blackness escaping through). Cobwebs still decorated the corners of the room, his floor was littered with his clothes as well as the black cat cushion which had fallen off his bed.
His bedside table held the same items as well. A small basic lamp, a framed card from one of his few positive memories, and a neatly folded purple jacket. There were was also some glaring numbers. 5.10 a.m.
His breathing gradually plateaued and he smiled sadly. Seven minutes of sleep. ‘I guess that’s better than nothing’ he chuckled bitterly to himself.
He tried to shake off the heavy feeling around his eyes. He was sure any other attempt at sleep would be futile. He switched his lamp on and went over to his wardrobe to remove a bath towel. He then grabbed his jacket and some random clothes from the floor and tiptoed his way to the shower.
Before he switched the light on he made sure the ventilation in the bathroom was off, some condensation was worth not waking the others with the noise of the fan. He hit the switch and braced himself for the blinding light. He turned on the shower and stared at himself in the mirror as he waited for it to run hot. His face really did look worse for wear. He removed the hair that was matted to his temple for a closer inspection. His eyes drooped and refused to remain fully open, even when he splashed cold water on his face. His cheeks were red from the sweating and hyperventilation, but his lips were chapped from the cold chills he’d been feeling.
Was there something wrong with him? His heart. Did it actually stop beating? His hand clenched his chest again. He could hear the gently thudding against his ribcage. Well, it was there now, so what happened? He gripped the edges of the sink and shook his head, there was no point dwelling on it now, he couldn’t solve it on his own. He knew that. Yet…
He removed the oversized t-shirt he always slept in and stepped into the shower. He let himself have a single thought before he was overcome by the warm embrace of the water. ‘Do I actually have the guts to tell the others?’
Summary: Virgil is having sleepless nights. He knows everyone else is struggling with their own problems. Can he bring himself to tell them? More importantly, does he have the strength left to hide it from them?
Pairings: Platonic LAMP. Could be romantic if you interpret it that way
Warnings: Mention of depression, anxiety and stress. Might be eventual angst but will be resolved by a large amount of fluff (I promise.)
Words: 895
It was 7:15 when Patton’s alarm went off. He moaned slightly before reluctantly sitting up in his bed. Today was one of those days it seemed. He stared at the objects in his room for a second before casting his head down. ‘Not today. If you’re feeling like this then being reminded of those times…’
He shook off the thought and spun his legs out of the bed, finally silencing the alarm as he hopped up and stretched. He removed his onesie and tossed it onto his bed. And then bounded over to his chest of drawers. He selected clean underwear and trousers and then dressed in his usual shirt and cardigan, which were always hung on the back of his chair. He picked up his glasses and placed them on as he left his room and made towards the bathroom.
As he opened the door he gasped as his glasses fogged from the steam. He entered the room slightly puzzled. He reached for the fan cord and switched it on. After a few minutes, the room cleared and Patton noted the fresh water drops on the shower door. ‘That’s strange’ he mused. Patton was always the first out of bed. Although the others understood that he wasn’t as happy as he made out to be and wanted to help he insisted that breakfast duty was purely his, as he found the sensation of cooking for the others quite relaxing. Sure the early rises were sometimes a hassle but it was worth it to see their grateful faces each day, it was also an excuse to be out of his room for as long as possible.
‘You’re off track Patton. Right, the water, what was that about?’ Perhaps Roman had a late shower last night? He tended to lose track of time while perfecting his latest plans and forgets to do basic things like eating and cleaning. But that wouldn’t explain why the fan was off…
Patton bit his lip in thought, then just shrugged. ‘I can just ask when he wakes up. Now I better get ready. Water you waiting for Patton?’
“Haha. Water” He chuckled to himself as he closed the bathroom door.
***
It was 7:45 when Patton made his way downstairs in order to make breakfast. He turned into the kitchen with a skip in his step. He opened the cupboards and removed all the ingredients he needed. He took a large breath and began with the usual routine:
First was the coffee. Logan enjoyed the brewed variety and so that needed to be done first to give it time. Logan came down for breakfast every day at 8:30 on the dot.
Next came making the pancake batter. Eggs. Milk. Flour. Baking Powder. Patton hummed to himself the tune from the TV as he began mixing the ingredients together. Once completed he left the bowl next to the stove as he went to the fridge to find the fruit. Roman liked his pancakes with blueberries and lemon juice. Logan opted either to have them with bananas and syrup or, more commonly, spread with Crofters. Virgil was kind of a wild card when it came to pancakes. Some days it’s peanut butter, other times he’d eat them plain. One time he was still half asleep and poured his coffee all over the plate. Patton chuckled to himself as he put a variety of toppings on the tray just in case. Since Patton made his own pancakes last he added chocolate chips to the batter!
The song on the TV changed and Patton squealed as it was one he had heard before. He began to sing along loudly, though his serenade didn’t last long as he heard a sudden gasp from the living room.
Patton paused for a second. He hadn’t turned on the TV on his way down. He usually had the radio on when he cooked breakfast so the noise hadn’t struck him straight away as odd. Patton looked in through the kitchen opening to see a huddle of blankets sitting on the sofa. Curiosity piqued his interest as he started calling names:
“Logan?”
No response.
“Roman?” No response.
“Virgil?”
No response.
“…Kiddo?”
“Eh?” A weary voice emanated from the figure. Patton let out a little snicker. Virgil wasn’t really an early bird. He tended to be the last one of them to come down for breakfast, somewhere around 10, and even then he was very dreary and easily annoyed, a fact which Roman had learned the hard way.
“Geez kiddo you gave your old dad a scare then.” Patton called from the kitchen “I was on the Virge of death!”
There was a five-second pause.
“Heh.”
Patton raised an eyebrow to that response. Although tried Virgil was always vigilant enough to catch one of his jokes, well at least quicker than that. He also tended to smirk rather something that vocal, or that… dry.
“Anyway, you’re up pretty early, you sure you don’t wanna lie down there for a quick snoozy-pooze before the others come down?”
There was another pause.
“M’good. watching .” Virgil responded in a slurred manner as he pointed to the television.
Patton’s head tilted slightly. Looks like it was one of those days for Virgil as well.
“Well if you say so kiddo. Let’s hang out after breakfast though, okay?” Patton answered, returning to the task at hand.
No response.
Thanks for reading everyone! I don’t know why but Patton just seems the type of person to say phrases like ‘snoozy-pooze.’
