🌹Chapter 10🌹

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TW: talks about suicide attempt and panic attacks, even more tears

|Previous chapter:

"You can do this, Deceit," I told myself, pacing a little. "You only have to tell him the basics of what happened. Virgil just attempted suicide, we don't know if he'll wake up, and he wrote us all letters."

I took one last deep breath and then sunk down to break the news to Thomas.|

Deceit POV:

I appeared on the stairs in Thomas's living room and could instantly tell that something was off. I glanced around the room and saw that everything was neat and. All Thomas's pictures and trophies were neatly arranged on his shelf. All the cushions on his couch were nice and neat, and the floor looked immaculate. But that wasn't what was off.

Thomas was lying in about the same spot as he was before, except he was hugging his knees and rocking back and forth. At a glance, he looked like he was on the verge of another panic attack.

I rushed over to Thomas, dropping the letter on one of the stairs. I made sure that Thomas could see me as I approached so I wouldn't startle him.

I knelt down next to him and repeated what I did earlier.

"Thomas, can you hear me?" I asked.

"Y-yeah," he said. I sighed in relief when I heard his response. He could actually talk, which meant he wasn't even close to the state he was in earlier.

"That's good. Is it okay if I touch you?" I asked hesitantly.

"Y-yeah," he said again.

I put my hand on his arm and slowly started to rub it, hoping it would help him calm down. After a few seconds, I saw Thomas start to relax a bit, although his breathing still seemed to be a little irregular.

"Thomas, your breathing looks kinda irregular. Do you wanna try that breathing exercise from earlier?" I asked.

"Th-that'd be n-nice," he said, his breathing a little shallow.

"Alright. Do you remember how to do it?" I asked and paused to let Thomas think for a second before he nodded.

"OK, in for four," I said, waiting to start counting until Thomas started. "Good, now hold for seven."

I counted on my fingers because, news flash, we're kinda holding our breath.

When I reached seven, we both started exhaling, my fingers restarting the count.

We repeated the exercise a few times until I was certain Thomas would be okay. When I asked him if he was okay, he sat up against the couch and smiled, saying that he felt great.

"One question," I said. "Why's the living room so clean? It was a mess when we were in here earlier."

"Oohhhh, that," Thomas said, chuckling a little. "When I woke up from the nap I took, I felt the tiniest bit anxious. I was in the mood for cleaning, so I did that, and it helped some. Once I was finished cleaning, I felt a massive wave of anxiety, so I laid down on the floor, and that's when you arrived."

When Thomas mentioned a giant wave of anxiety, I could only assume that came from Virgil's attempt. I looked to the floor and frowned, reminded of why I had come.

Thomas must have seen my frown because I felt a hand on my shoulder.

"Deceit?" he asked, and I could hear the concern in his voice. "What's wrong? Why'd you suddenly get sad?"

I sighed, looking up at Thomas. "It's a long story."

"Well," Thomas said, "I've got time."

I silently debated how I wanted to start this. I didn't want to go too far back because that would most likely confuse Thomas and make this take forever.

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