Trials, Traits and Truth

Happy Meals

A/N: Trigger Warning: vomiting and crying at the start. Virgil is sad. This is about self care.

Each of the Sides' rooms in the mindscape were completely soundproof, something that Logan had always been incredibly grateful for. He did not need to hear whatever ridiculous antics he imagined that Roman got up to on the daily. Logan had his personal bets that his room was either a 24/7 musical production, or a dreamscape where there was always a battle to be fought and a maiden to be saved.

Logan himself had on occasion conducted scientific experiments in his own room (when the common spaces were being otherwise engaged) and had concluded that - as the others hadn't heard one or two minor explosions from mistakes or failures - their rooms would block out everything, unless it was right beside their doors.

He had shared his discoveries with the others with satisfaction, but he didn't know that he was not the first to have tested the limits of sound in their rooms.

It was one reason why Virgil felt so comfortable in his room, after all.

Virgil had managed to move himself to his bed - with Truth's encouragement - and didn't bother to censor his wounded howls. He wrapped his duvet around him, craving warmth and security, craving safety...

Craving...

"i don't think that's a good idea right now."

Virgil pulled his head under the cover, making it a complete cocoon.

"Great." He thought miserably. "You don't even want the only person that can physically speak to you to visit you anymore."

Virgil could feel Truth's emotions flare. There was pity...understanding...frustration...and something else Virgil couldn't place.

"no, i mean...i would love to see you. but i don't want you to lock yourself away permanently, or for too often...we have no idea what the ramifications could be."

Who cared.

Today had definitively proved that Thomas could only function best if his anxiety was dulled to the point of...what? Nearly non-existence?

He wasn't needed here. A shade of himself was.

"virgil, you can't risk fading."

The Duvet was wet with Virgils tears, and through his shivering, he could feel that his skin was slick with sweat.

He was shaking. He was weak. He was...

The room was spinning.

Virgil raced to the bathroom, dragging the duvet - as it was still tangled around him.

White spots appeared on his vision as he retched, desperately hoping there was an element of soundproofing in the bathroom as well.

The hot chocolate came up, as well as the half a dozen small snacks he had consumed over the day.

After what seemed like an age of dry retching on his empty stomach, Virgil collapsed on the tiles of the bathroom floor, drawing his duvet around him and shakily wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"you need to sleep, buddy."

"Don't wanna." Virgil croaked, throat sore.

"someone could come in..."

Virgil's stomach lurched uncomfortably again. He did not want or need the fuss.

"'Kay."

As quietly as he could, Virgil picked himself slowly up from the floor, and moved shakily out of the bathroom - using the wall to brace against for support.

Once again in his bedroom, Virgil just collapsed with his trusty duvet, having absolutely no intention of moving ever again. Fresh tears weaned their way down his face as he reviewed how pathetic he must look.

"listen virgil. i want you to get into bed and drink that glass of water on your bedside table. you'll then try to get to sleep. in the morning, i want you to get up and eat whatever breakfast patton makes you."

Virgil snorted in derision. He could feel Truth sigh.

"fine. i'll make you a deal: if you do all that, i'll let you come visit me again."

Virgil looked up shyly, and gave a slight nod.

He willed his aching body to scramble the last few feet to his bed.

"Thank you, Truth." Virgil muttered.

"tristan."

"I'm sorry?" Virgil croaked, exhausted eyes already closing.

"my name is tristan."

Even half asleep, Virgil noted the importance of the moment. So he did what he always did: he played it down.

"I'mma call you Stan cause it's funnier." Virgil slipped away into sleep, exhaustion finally giving way. He was not awake to hear Tristan smile, a little sad but also a little hopeful.

"yes, i'd like that...verge."

~

A face stared back at him.

Virgil blinked, trying to recall any moment he had ever given Patton cause to believe that his favourite breakfast was...this?

Two sunny side up eggs for eyes, a few strips of bacon for a frown...and...

"PANCAKE SLICES FOR HAIR!!!" Patton exclaimed excitedly. "That was my own input!"

The 'hair' was arranged to look like spiky locks...in a way that in no way resembled either Virgil or Thomas.

The effect was quite astounding.

Virgil managed a smile of gratitude to Patton, and started to slowly munch on a piece of bacon.

As he pondered whenever he may have indicated he would like to eat a frowny faced breakfast, a hazy memory floated into focus...

"Well I think breakfast is the most important meal of the day." Logan puffed. "Which meal is the 'happiest' is both an illogical question and something that can't be quantifyably measured."

"WELL I think they're ALL the happiest meals if you share them with good company!"

Virgil snorted. Roman rounded on him like a shot, grin on his face.

"I suppose YOU prefer UNhappy meals at McDonalds!?" Not his best...but hey it was Monday, am I right??

Virgil just leaned forward dramatically.

"My favourite meal is a face made up of breakfast food, bacon mouth in a perpetual frown, so I can consume and win against a symbol of discord and happiness, hopefully an indicator that that day will not in fact, be a series of failures and losses."

Roman blinked, trying to figure out whether Virgil was winding him up again or not.

Virgil smiled, a spark of bittersweet gratitude flickering in his stomach.

Oh Patton.