Thomas decides to try anxiety medication, working together with Virgil to find the one that works
AO3
….
I myself am on anxiety medication, and it is so helpful. I kinda hate the "Thomas takes medication and it hurts Virgil" trope, because that's not what the medication is meant to do, and if it does hurt you, then it's either the wrong dose or the wrong medication. This is mostly based off my own experiences trying to find the one that works.
….
“Hey.” He says, popping onto his place on the stairs, eyebrow raised as he looks around and sees no one else, just Thomas. “Sup?” He asks, nervousness creeping into him at Thomas's silence.
“I… wanted to talk to you about something. But I don’t want you to freak out and run away. I won’t do this if you don’t want me to.” Thomas says seriously, and his heart is racing now as he forces a deep breath in.
“Ok. Ok. Whatever it is, I won’t run, ok? Just… tell me now and explain after, otherwise, well, anxiety.” Thomas takes a deep breath, nodding once to steel himself.
“I want to start anxiety medication.” Static roars in his ears. He’s been too much, of course he has, and now Thomas is going to get rid of him just like he always should have.
“il. Virgil. Breathe. In for four… hold for seven… out for eight.” He slowly gets ahold of himself, following Thomas's voice out and back to reality until he blinks and his vision clears.
“sorry. I… whatever it was, I’m sorry." His voice is a whisper, but Thomas hears, coming closer and kneeling at the base of the stairs.
“no. It’s not like that, Virgil. I’ve been researching a lot. This isn’t to get rid of you. It won’t get rid of you. I want it to help. The both of us." He uncurls slightly, reassured at Thomas’s vehemence, curiosity peeking through. Thomas sees this and continues at his small nod.
“You work so hard, Virgil. And I appreciate it, I do. But we both know you go overboard sometimes. I’m not blaming you, I know you can’t help it, that we, can’t help it. But that isn’t healthy. Not being able to sleep, not being able to eat, heart racing and stomach churning constantly, isn’t healthy.” He nods again. He knows this. He can’t stop how he is, but he knows his habits are unhealthy. “That's what the meds are for. Not to get rid of you, not to impair your purpose, just… just to take the edge off. To give you space to breathe. To just… be. Help us relax, help us not overblow things, and if it is doing more than that, if it is hurting you, then it isn’t doing its job right, ok? If we do this, I need you on board. If you feel wrong or bad or sick, then either the dose or the med isn’t right for us, and we’ll try something else. The goal is not to get rid of you, Virg. It’s to help you.”
He’s silent for a moment, taking it all in, processing the information, before taking a deep breath, pushing back his hair.
“ok.”
“Ok?”
“Yeah. Ok. A few years ago I woulda laughed in your face, but I… I trust you, Thomas. Yeah, I’m freaked out and scared half to death but that’s part of the problem, isn’t it? I’m scared and guarded and overwhelmed all the time. I’m so… tired.” He bites his lip, looking down, feeling the tension thrumming in his shoulders, the slightly too fast beat of his heart, how even now his mind is screaming danger, and feels the weight of the world atop him. “I’m tired Thomas. So if you think this will help, ok. Let’s try it.”
“Thank you, virg. For hearing me out. I’m proud of you.” He hides his smile by rolling his eyes, looking up at Thomas.
“yeah, well, don’t go soft on me now, Thomas.” A small salute, and he's gone, leaving Thomas chuckling to himself on the staircase.
…
He pops into the living room with little fanfare, flopping onto the couch with a low sigh, faceplanting into the cushions. He can hear the scratch of Princey’s pencil against paper, Logan turning pages in a book, Patton humming softly to himself, but his hair prickles.
“It’s rude to stare, y’know.” He says, voice muffled by the cushion, but still loud enough they all hear.
“You’re not even looking at us! How do you know we’re staring?” Roman asks, and he rolls his eyes, flipping over so his head is against the arm rest, hugging a pillow to his stomach.
“Logan reads faster than that, he was barely turning pages. Patton only hums like that when he’s nervous and trying to pretend he’s not focused on the thing that he is focused on, and you kept stopping writing every few seconds before picking up again, erasing whatever you just wrote.” Roman gapes at him, Logan adjusts his glasses and Patton whispers ‘wow’.
“You got all that from listening?” Princey squeaks and he smirks.
“Amazing what you notice when you shut your mouth, Princey.” Roman splutters, making him laugh, Logan shaking his head fondly.
“so kiddo… how’d it go?” Patton asks softly, slipping onto the end of the couch, and Virgil looks up at him in surprise.
“You knew?”
“We did. Thomas approached all of us first, so we would be prepared to help, whatever the outcome of the conversation was. Based on your demeanor, I would assume it went well?” Logan asks, and he sighs, sitting up, hugging the pillow closer.
“Y’know, usually I’m not a fan of people talking behind my back, but I’ll let it slide this time.” He comments, smiling slightly as Patton slides across the couch, sitting so their sides are touching.
“We get it, doom and gloom, how did it go?” Roman asks, throwing up his hands in faux exasperation.
“good, I guess. We talked, and I’m still… anxious, obviously, about it, about what could go wrong, but Thomas said that if it affects me… badly… he’ll stop. That it isn’t supposed to get rid of me, so we’re gonna try.”
“Thomas is correct. The medication is not supposed to impair you, rather it is supposed to help you better distinguish what is urgent and what is not. If it is doing anything other than that, it is not only harming you, but harming Thomas as well. I will be making daily observations, about your mood, physical state, mental state, sleep and food intake, to help monitor the effects of the medication and make sure that it is not causing you harm.”
“Oh Logan. You do care.” He snarks playfully, catching Logan’s stifled smile.
“Of course he does. We all do, Virg. We’ll all be keeping an eye out, ok?” Roman, soft and serious as he catches his eye.
“thanks, princey.” Patton simply shifts closer, waiting for his nodded permission before resting his head on his shoulder in silent support.
…
The first medication goes poorly.
Things are fine, at first. It takes two to three weeks to kick in, after all, though Virgil starts noticing changes by the end of week one.
He feels strange. Odd. Off. Sometimes, the world seems to tilt under his feet, and he finds himself losing his balance, stumbling over his own feet, running into doors and walls, misjudging their distance. He writes it off as a result of not getting enough sleep, which is true. He’s sleeping less than normal, almost not at all, going through episodes of heightened energy before crashing.
The crux of it all is when he’s been awake for five days straight, unable to turn off his mind, twitchy and sure that Thomas is being watched, being followed. He jumps at a hand on his shoulder, heart speeding, already on the edge of panic, eyeshadow dark and breathing rapid.
“Virgil. We need to speak to Thomas.” His heart rate spikes further, and he pushes Logan away, shaking his head, hands shaking.
“No. no, no, no. I can’t, I’m busy, they’re watching, I can’t go out there or they’ll see. They can’t see.”
“I promise nothing will happen to you. They can’t get you if I’m there. I will keep you safe.” Hesitantly, he nods. Logan is smart, Logan can outsmart them, trick them, maybe he can get them to go away.
“Thomas. This one isn’t working.” Logan states as they rise up. He is pressed against the wall, eyes darting wildly, breathing erratic and wrong, pressure building in his chest. Thomas looks up at him, eyes wide, and he stumbles back further.
“Virgil?” He shakes his head, panic taking over him. Because that isn’t Thomas. He doesn’t know how he knows, but he knows, that isn’t Thomas, someone has taken Thomas and replaced him, this isn’t his host, his friend, and Thomas is in danger, and he didn’t notice and how could he fail like this, fail Thomas, like this?
Then the world goes black.
…
They take a month. The medication needs to get out of Thomas’s system, and he needs to wean himself off it. He is paranoid and stressed and when it finally stops, he sleeps for nearly three days straight. During it all, the others take turns staying with him, never leaving him alone, constantly talking him down from his ever present fear and panic, wiping himself out with panic attacks day after day. It’s the worst experience of his entire life.
…
“Hey.” He appears of his own accord on the stairs, Thomas looking up from the couch, concern in his eyes. He hadn’t appeared since he’d passed out, though the others had, to give Thomas updates. He’d admitted he hadn’t been feeling quite right either, but hadn’t really noticed how bad he himself was getting until Virgil.
“Virgil, are you ok? I’m so sorry, I-“ He holds up a hand, gathering his thoughts and stopping Thomas’s rambling.
“I’m fine. You don’t need to apologize. It wasn’t your fault. We knew there was a chance it wasn’t gonna go well. Stuff like this, doesn’t usually work on the first try. But I think… I think we should try again.” Thomas blinks in surprise, looking at him carefully, trying to asses his words.
“You do? I thought you’d be entirely against it now.” He shrugs, looking away.
“Sure, that one didn’t go well, to say the least, but… I don’t want that to stop you. Stop us. It’ll still help, once we find the right one.” Thomas smiles softly, nodding.
“ok. Ok, let’s do it. I’ll set up another appointment.”
…
He doesn’t notice the changes, this time.
They are gradual. Slow.
He finds the ever present tension leaking out of his shoulders.
He finds it easier to breath. His chest feels lighter, open, not tight and taut and suffocating.
He doesn’t panic, when the waiter asks Thomas to order. When a stranger bumps into Thomas on the street. When he fumbles over his words on a phone call.
He’s sleeping. He finds himself drifting farther and farther from his usual 3am bedtime and noon wake up, until he’s forgoing his usual tumblr scrolling, phone set aside by ten. The first time he wakes up at nine, well rested and light, is when he realizes that this… this is working.
He cries that day. He sits on the couch and cries, letting Patton pull him close and hold him, letting himself lean into the touch, and for once it doesn’t feel too much, it feels nice and good, and he cries harder as Patton shushes him, rubbing his back.
“you ok, kiddo?” Patton asks, when his cries die down into sniffles, slipping off Patton’s lap, but not going far, letting the fatherly side keep an arm around his shoulders, gently rubbing circles with his thumb.
“I didn’t realize… I didn’t realize I wasn’t supposed to feel like that, all the time. I didn’t realize I wasn’t supposed to be afraid all the time. I… I just…” He swipes at his eyes, letting out a shuddering sigh.
“it’s ok, Virg. I’m just glad it helps. I’m so glad you’re doing better, I’m so glad this is working. You’re sleeping more. You’re smiling more. You’re laughing, Virgil, and it just makes me so, so, so, happy. You don’t look like you’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders anymore. You don’t slouch as much, you’re more confident, you’re more open to touch, you come to us when you’re worked up, you’re not constantly second guessing yourself, and it’s beautiful, Virgil. It’s beautiful, to watch you grow like this. To watch you be able to let go of some of that.” He stares at Patton, mind spinning out, because he’d noticed some of that, but not all of it.
“I hadn’t noticed.”
“You aren’t supposed to. It’s not changing who you are, Virg. It’s just… letting you be who you are without all of the fear. It’s slow and steady progress. And I’m so proud of you, kiddo.”
He buries his face against Patton’s side, laughing and crying all at once, because he loves this feeling, loves feeling like this, loves… loves himself.
