Ache
Pairing: Pre-ThVi (Thomas/Virgil) - could be read as platonic
TW: Illness, self-deprecation, swearing(?)
Pre-Accepting Anxiety
@girl-with-cat-eyes @forever-forgotten-angel
@organizeddiscord @shut-it-nerdywolverine
Read on AO3
Anxiety was miserable. He sniffled and impatiently yanked another tissue from the Kleenex box, managing to rip it in half. Cursing under his breath, he threw the pieces away and pulled out another - more carefully this time. Wiping at his nose, he laid back on his bed and stared up at the ceiling of his bedroom. Dim glow-in-the-dark stars stared back at him.
Being sick is the worst, Anxiety thought as he aimlessly tossed the used tissue at the wastebasket next to his desk. He missed entirely but fuck it. Too fucked up to give a shit right now. He closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind but that became hopeless when his nose clogged up again and it was near impossible to breathe.
Turning onto his side, Anxiety curled up and clutched at his pillow. The breaths spilling from his mouth laboriously grew hiccuped and he choked on a sob as he forced himself to not cry out loud. Fuck, he hated being sick. He felt so useless.
Not that he wasn’t most of the time anyway, but at least he was able to give his usual deadpan snark when he wasn’t ill. When he was, he was just a grumpy, emotional mess who couldn’t even do his job properly. Anxiety felt a couple of tears wind their way over his cheeks and he swiped at them angrily, letting out a low growl that morphed into another choked sob.
Stop fucking crying!
Turning his head, Anxiety buried his face in his pillow and kept it there until the burning in his lungs reminded him that he did, in fact, need to breathe - for some reason - forcing him to pull away and suck in harsh breaths through his mouth that left his throat raw.
He needed tea or something. Lemon juice and honey would help his throat, or at least that’s what he’d read.
He’d just have to brave leaving his room and going to the kitchen. In the Mindscape. Where there was a chance of him running into the Lights.
Which he was not considering an option.
Shivers wracked Anxiety’s body and he coughed, grimacing as his throat protested painfully. Pushing himself to sit up against his headboard, Anxiety rubbed at his sore and aching eyes with his palms.
I need medicine and tea, he thought monotonously as he let his arms fall around his legs. The sleeves of his hoodie draped over his hands and he stared at a loose thread hanging from one of the hems. A few minutes passed with only the sounds of his labored breathing.
Fuck it. He was going to the outside to get what he needed. There was less of a chance of Thomas catching him than the others.
Turning, Anxiety let his feet fall off the edge of the bed to the floor with a light thump. Then he stood up, stumbling slightly when a wave of dizziness overcame him, the edges of his vision shadowing for a moment as he braced himself against the wall. He glanced at the mirror on his closet door and scoffed when he caught his reflection.
Pale, gaunt, eyebags deeper and darker than they’d been in a while. He looked like a skeleton in an oversized hoodie with a mess of dark bedhead.
Tugging his pajama pants straight, Anxiety took a deep breath before closing his eyes and sinking down into the outside.
He nearly fell off of the step he usually perched on when he manifested, grabbing onto the banister and clinging on tightly as he regained his balance. His head swam and spots of white flashed in his vision.
That... was not good.
Blinking, Anxiety tried to muffle a hacking cough that attacked his throat before he began shuffling toward the kitchen. At least it wasn’t that far away from his spot on the staircase.
Reaching the entryway, Anxiety used the counters as leverage to help him across to where Thomas kept his teas. Searching through the cabinet, he managed to find a box of black tea. A few minutes later, he had a bottle of honey and another of lemon juice. Setting a pot of water on the stove to start boiling, Anxiety leaned back against the refrigerator and closed his eyes, arms wrapped around himself.
Another storm of shivers wracked his body and his teeth chattered. He felt both hot and cold at the same time and he could feel sweat trailing down his spine. He refused to take his hoodie off though, for multiple reasons.
So lost he was in his misery that Anxiety didn’t hear a pair of quiet, shuffling feet making their way across the living room from the direction of the staircase. Neither did he hear the nearly inaudible gasp.
He did, however, hear his Host’s concerned voice when the man spoke quietly. “Anxiety...?”
The Side jumped, nearly falling over as his eyes widened and he caught sight of Thomas standing just a few feet from him, hair messy from having just gotten out of bed. The man was clad in a pair of pajama pants and a white t-shirt. He’d taken to actually wearing clothes when he slept due to his Sides tending to show up in the outside world now. The first time Patton had popped up, Thomas had been fully nude and just walking around the living room. Patton had had no issues with it, giggling and making some kind of pun that left Anxiety wondering if the moral Side was as innocent as he portrayed himself, but Thomas had been very embarrassed - even if it were technically himself having caught him. It got weird if you thought about it too much, honestly.
Anxiety was frozen. He’d specifically come to the outside world in order not to be caught unaware by anyone else and now look at what had happened!
“Are you... alright?” Thomas asked carefully, taking a hesitant step forward.
Anxiety just stared at him, his breath caught in his throat, before he coughed harshly all of a sudden, pressing a hand over his mouth as his eyes watered from the pain. He turned away from Thomas slightly to keep himself from falling to the floor by bending over the counter next to the refrigerator.
“Anxiety!”
The anxious Side flinched when he felt a hand rest on his shoulder. The hand pulled back for a moment before gently lowering back down, moving to rub over his back as he continued to cough. Finally, he got his body under control - well, minus the shivering and trembling of his legs.
Breathing heavily, Anxiety swallowed, wincing at the rawness of his throat. Thomas continued rubbing his back, trying to soothe him as best as he could with the limited contact. The water in the pot was boiling by then and Anxiety pointed a shaking finger at it. Thomas left to go turn the heat off, the absence of his hand against Anxiety’s back feeling colder than ice. However, he returned quickly and resumed his comforting gesture.
“Anxiety, you’re sick,” Thomas said, voice thick with concern. Anxiety snorted and held his hand up with his thumb sticking out.
“Good job, Sherlock... You’ve successfully deduced the situation.”
He heard Thomas huff before the other man moved around to face him. Once again, the loss of contact ached. Anxiety kept his head ducked, refusing to look up at his Host.
“You’re making tea, right? With honey and lemon juice?” Anxiety grunted.
Nodding, Thomas went to work. Grabbing a large mug from a cabinet, he settled a teabag in the vessel before pouring some hot water into it. They were quiet as the tea steeped for roughly five minutes.
When Thomas judged it to be dark enough, he removed the teabag, pressing a spoon against it to gently coax out the last few drops before tossing it into the trash. Adding a generous dollop of honey and a few squirts of lemon juice, Thomas stirred the concoction until it all dissolved.
“C’mon,” The Host said, carrying the steaming mug in one hand and holding out his free arm toward Anxiety. The Side then looked up at him with an impassive face, though there was a hint of confusion. Thomas rolled his eyes and slipped his arm around Anxiety’s waist, pulling him toward the living room while the Side protested weakly. “Hey! I’m not... I don’t need your help, Thomas!” Thomas frowned and dragged Anxiety over to the couch before nudging him against it, making him fall onto the cozy furniture with a huff. Taking a seat beside him, Thomas held the mug up to his face and blew onto the hot beverage before holding it out toward Anxiety.
Anxiety stared at the mug for a moment before taking it hesitantly, letting his hands wrap around the warmth as he brought it to his lips. A shiver ran down his spine and he trembled as he took in a deep breath of the aroma. The citrus of the lemon juice was already working its magic, his sinuses feeling just the tiniest bit clearer as he inhaled.
Keeping his gaze locked on anything other than Thomas, who watched him carefully, Anxiety sipped at the tea. It was still hot and he let out a small hiss as the drink burned his tongue slightly. Thomas merely observed.
Anxiety looked... small. Obviously, he was pale, but he was almost paper white right now and he seemed so much more gaunt than usual. He looked utterly exhausted and his body was wracked with shivers and trembling. His hands shook slightly as he clutched the mug and he almost seemed... lost.
Thomas took in a slow breath as he leaned back against the couch, keeping his eyes on Anxiety as his Side sipped at the slowly cooling tea.
When Anxiety was about halfway through the mug and no one had spoken, Thomas finally cleared his throat.
“Why are you out here instead of in the Mindscape?” Anxiety scoffed and rolled his eyes. Of course Thomas would wonder why he’d dared leave the Mindscape. The only times he ever showed up outside of it was to antagonize his Host into not doing something stupid or to remind him to do something he needed to do. Get the blood pumping and whatnot.
“Why do you care?” Anxiety finally demanded to know, his eyes never leaving the mug in his hands. He took another sip.
Thomas sighed, “I care because you are my Side, Anxiety. Plus you’re sick. I want to know why you’re forcing yourself to come out here instead of just getting what you needed in there. I know it takes effort to manifest and that can’t have been good for you right now.” Anxiety flicked his gaze over to his Host and stared at him through his bangs. Thomas truly seemed concerned. Why? He was his Anxiety. The bad guy. Why...
The Side shrugged and sipped at the last of the tea, leaning forward to set the mug on the coffee table and making to stand up. Thomas reached out and pushed him back down with a hand on his shoulder. “What the fuck, Sanders?” Anxiety hissed, pulling away from Thomas as if offended by the very notion of his touch. Thomas’ frown deepened and he crossed his arms. Anxiety could feel the tendrils of power seeping from his Host - reaching for him and wrapping around him.
“Anxiety,” Thomas spoke, the command in his voice overriding the Side’s will, “You are sick. You cannot pop back into the Mindscape right now. It’ll probably make you pass out or something.” Anxiety growled weakly though he bowed his head, feeling his Host’s demand force him down. Thomas softened after a moment and uncrossed his arms, reaching out to place a hand gently against his Side’s arm.
“Anxiety... I’m worried, buddy. I don’t want you to get hurt.” Meeting Thomas’ gaze, Anxiety was caught off-guard by the pure concern in those brown eyes - the same eyes he had but his were duller and less lively. Thomas’ eyes were so warm and affectionate, sparkling and twinkling with amusement and love so much of the time.
God, how he wanted Thomas to look at him with such affection. It was all he ever wanted. He loved his Host so much but... He could never show it. He could never say how he yearned for Thomas to be happy, to be carefree. To be able to live and laugh and love and all that good shit.
He could never show that side of himself because he was Anxiety.
He was the bad guy.
Anxiety deflated, clenching his jaw as he forced the sobs threatening to break through back down. His chest ached and he stared at the floor beneath his feet.
Silly Thomas, he was already hurt. He hurt every day of his life.
Thomas, having noticed Anxiety’s defensive position grow lax, squeezed his Side’s arm in an attempt to comfort him. His voice softened even more and he willed his Anxiety to feel the affection he felt towards him. Even if his Anxiety scared him most of the time, making him upset and nervous, he had an inkling that it was the only way he knew how to get his Host to listen to him.
Thomas hoped that, over time, they’d be able to work out a better way to communicate with each other. To be able to talk without senseless aggression getting in the way of them growing into a closer, more amicable relationship.
“Hey,” the Host leaned in, a gentle smile curling his lips, “C’mon, Anx. Come sleep, okay? I’ll get you some cold meds and you can rest with me until morning. You’ll feel better afterward, I promise.”
Anxiety looked up at Thomas, thinking, before breathing slowly and nodding. Thomas’ smile widened slightly and he stood, offering a hand to his Side. Letting himself get pulled to his feet, Anxiety allowed Thomas to support him as they made their way upstairs. It was an arduous task but they managed to reach Thomas’ bedroom soon enough.
Letting his Anxiety settle on his bed, Thomas quickly visited the bathroom to grab a bottle of cold medicine. Returning to Anxiety’s side, Thomas managed to get him to down a couple capfuls of the liquid - the other man scrunching his face up at the taste.
As Anxiety curled up on his side, Thomas joined him and they lay facing each other. Host stared at Side as the latter closed his eyes, exhaustion and illness coming together with the soothing warmth of tea in his belly to make him start to doze off.
When the first soft snore passed Anxiety’s slightly parted lips, Thomas felt himself smiling as he reached out to brush a few strands of hair out of the Side’s face. Resting his hand on Anxiety’s own, Thomas observed the sleeping man for a few more minutes before closing his own eyes and slowly drifting off.
