For the few days Vessel is sick, II and III remain a constant at his side. He is grateful for their presences, but- He doesn't know what to do with their clear affection and care.
Vessel allows them to hold him, his body half strewn over their laps as either II or III hold him as close as he'll allow. Even sick as he is, Vessel grows distressed whenever they try to hold him in places near his chest or neck, not allowing either of them to even hold his forearm in attempts to deter them from his wrists. They hold him as he cries from the pain of his migraine, as his body aches.
He is cool against their stomachs even as his fever runs rampant under his skin, most prominently felt on his forehead. They wiped his tears and shushed him gently, so soothingly that sometimes it made Vessel cry harder, taking turns watching over him when one needed to sleep or eat.
III was still so new, but he settled in so easily with them, eager to talk Vessel's ear off at any hour of the day. To keep him company when everyone knows Vessel gets no reprieve from this sickness. Every day they would show Vessel a new drawing of a different flower, the one worded meaning written below or to the side. They were in increasingly better quality, Vessel notices, as III very slowly improves their skills with traditional art. It was touching, for III to sit next to Vessel with Vessel's book on flower languages open next to them, carefully inking lines into a spare of Vessel's notebooks.
Vessel had gifted it to them when III dejectedly realized that they had nothing to draw with here. They didn't even think about it while at the store.
III hugs Vessel, then, and if Vessel's heart was in his chest, it would have stopped. Vessel doesn't push III away. He is so warm, head leaning against Vessel's own and arms wrapping securely around him. When III pulls away after a few seconds, it kills Vessel to write out a request for no hugs, unable to meet III's confused, but understanding gaze.
Vessel wants III to hug him again, and again, and again until Vessel is sick of it though he's sure he would never tire of III's warmth wrapped around him. Wonders what it would be like if II hugged him. If he was even tall enough for Vessel to comfortably rest his chin on the top of his head. Vessel wants to pull II to himself, wrap him securely in his arms-
III isn't what Vessel expects. II wasn't either.
III redo's the braid in his hair, even as it gets gross with oils and tears until finally the both of them help Vessel into the bath, giving him the mercy of keeping on his underwear, as uncomfortable as the sensation is. It should be mortifying, to let someone else care for him this way but II was there the last time he was sick, and III never shows any judgment, not even with the full scope of Vessel's self-harm scarring on display.
Vessel likes the way he feels cared for when II washes his hair and III fills the silence with idle chatter and jokes that are sometimes the furthest thing from funny yet never at someone else's expense. Vessel tries to pretend his metaphorical heart doesn't flutter when III brushes a finger under each of his six eyes in wonder, tries to pretend he doesn't flinch away when that same careful hand reminds him of someone else as it brushes his jaw in something a bit too close to grabbing it.
III pulls away with a quiet apology and doesn't comment on it, only squeezes Vessel's hand and goes back to talking about their budding plans to start a garden. They help him dry off as Vessel looks down with an embarrassed blush the entire time, leaving him for only a moment to change into dry underwear and pajamas.
III can't stop staring, glad Vessel is too embarrassed and staring resolutely at the wall to notice because II certainly does. II smiles knowingly at III as he rebandages Vessel's arm and thighs, and the shorter man is thankful that there hasn't been any more cuts added. He supposes its the one good thing about Vessel being too sick to move around much.
II brushes his hair when his arms shake from the effort and lets III show II how to re-braid the damp strands.
II makes Vessel soup, even knowing he doesn't need it. Vessel appreciates it anyway. He can't remember when someone had made him a meal before II, and it makes II happy to see Vessel eat it.
II and III only speak of the weakness of the vines all throughout the house down in the kitchen, where they are sure Vessel won't hear. They're hesitant to leave him alone, even for a moment, but its hard not to notice the lack of movement of the vines when usually they react so keenly to Vessel's emotions, and II is quick to point it out when they're alone. They're listless, like they're weighed down, only moving like they used to when Vessel leaves the room with help from one of the others, reaching out to him, brushing his arms and legs and catching gently in his hair as though to caress the unruly strands. III is a little bit in awe, to truly see something so supernatural, even though they had accepted a God, had undergone and seen the results of their own transformation into a vessel of that God.
As Vessel's sickness wears off, he tries to speak less and less, not from a lack of trying, but because it hurts. As the days drag on, his tongue aches like its on fire, and eventually he is afraid to move his mouth at all. On the third day, Vessel is in the middle of listening to II talk about a new style he wanted to incorporate into his drumming while III also listens in rapt attention, laying on his stomach with his hands under his chin, feet kicking leisurely. Their masks lay piled atop one another on Vessel's nightstand. It hit suddenly, the spike of pain lancing through his tongue.
Iron fills his mouth and Vessel nearly leaps off the bed, stumbling instead, to reach the trashcan that he hasn't needed as often the past few days as his stomach settled.
Blood spills out of his mouth like a river, the taste of iron coating every inch of his mouth unceasingly. II and III exclaim his name in shock and worry, II hopping off the bed and pulling Vessel's face into his hands, carefully keeping his hands away from Vessel's jaw. He turns it this way and that, inspecting him for any obvious wounds.
Vessel lets his tongue spill over his lips to show where it hurts at II's prompting and both II and III stare in confusion at the appendage. It drips blood over his chin onto the floor, split right down the middle about halfway into his mouth.
"Your tongues' been split." III says, an odd expression of interest on his face.
Vessel tilts his head in confusion, head still held in II's careful hands. The touch is soothing, and Vessel basks in it. "A change from Sleep, maybe? Where the split begins, your tongue fades into a black at the tips. " II inquires, contemplative.
Grim realization settles over Vessel's features, but there is no regret to be found in the bond, only acceptance.
The blood spilling from his lips begins to darken as black seeps into the red. It mixes together, swirling like the stars in the sky.
"Your... Vessel, your blood is- black is mixing with the red." III states unsurely, leaning closer to get a better look.
Some emotion they don't have time to try and name raises to concerning heights and Vessel pulls away from II with an expression of great distress.
II and III share a look of concern, a silent conversation passing between their bond with ease. They really need to have that talk with Vessel, they both know that if they do, so many things will come to light, if Vessel will only speak of them.
Vessel needs to see. He doesn't care if the knife gets taken away, he has others. He needs to see, see what using something that wasn't his has done to his blood. He doesn't regret a fucking thing but he needs to see with his own eyes what he has done to himself, in the same way he loves to watch the blood drip down his skin with some morbid fascination at the glimpse into what he looks like on the inside.
Before either II or III can figure out what he's doing, Vessel is pulling a blade from under his mattress and slicing into his arm as they cry out his name in alarm.
Blood spills immediately, and distantly, Vessel knows he went deeper than he normally would've.
Like III said, it is human red mixed with pitch black, swirling together like oil and water, never mixing to become entirely one color.
III pulls the blade out of Vessel's hand with haste, cutting themself on the sharp edge, throwing it somewhere Vessel doesn't care to follow. II is already trying to staunch the bleeding with one of Vessel's blankets.
Vessel's bond does not change to anything like shock, only a little more realization as he watches, entranced by the sight of his own blood.
"Sleep's blood." Vessel manages, though its slurred and far more quiet than usual.
He looks up and all six eyes zero in on the blood on III's hand, dripping slowly between the cracks of their fingers as they try to hide it.
Clarity bleeds into the mess of Vessel's mind.
He slams the door of his bond shut and III cannot stop the tears that fall from their eyes at Vessel being gone, even if he is right in front of them.
"I-" Vessel starts, "S- orry. Sorry. Sorry." He repeats, unable to stop the tears that well in his eyes and slip over.
They drip onto his shirt and the blanket where his blood is seeping through. "Sorry, sorry, sorry-"
III shakes their head frantically, "Not your fault, Vessel. I'm the one who grabbed the bladed part of the knife like an idiot."
II cannot speak, cannot form a word and shove it past his lips because he knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that if a single noise escapes him, he will break down into sobs that will never cease. So he keeps his lips tightly shut, biting on the lower one to remain silent. He has to be strong, for both Vessel and III's sake. They are upset by the proceedings and so II needs to remain calm in the face of the storm, for their sakes. For them. No matter how he wants to cry, no matter how it causes his throat to ache or his eyes to sting.
He has to be strong for them.
Vessel lets III hold his hand with their injured one, as III holds his available hand to Vessel's bleeding forearm with help from the now ruined blanket. They both fall silent while II leaves to get a medkid he keeps in a few places throughout the house. He'll have to show III where they're all hidden, II thinks grimly as he picks up the pocket knife III had thrown, pocketing it.
III cannot feel Vessel's guilt at making them cry, at hurting them. Its all consuming, eating away at his mind with such force he wants to claw out of his own skin. He wants to apologize, over and over and over again with the hope that III can forgive him.
When II comes back, Vessel insists that II wrap up III's hand first. He holds his arm close to himself, refusing II no matter what he says. II is desperate to get bandages on Vessel's arm and III just the same, so III offers up his hand quickly to get it over with faster.
Vessel apologized with every wince, a repetitive 'sorry, sorry, sorry' that only further saddened II and III. III was trying desperately to reassure him that it wasn't his fault but it was like talking to a brick wall as Vessel stared at III's hand with unseeing eyes still leaking tears even after the injury was bandaged up.
It wasn't a bad wound, all things considered, but Vessel just wouldn't stop staring with wide eyes that screamed of his shame. III excused himself to take the bloody blanket to the washroom as II began on Vessel's arm and as soon as that door closed behind him, still feeling Vessel's gaze on their back, III rushed down the stairs and all but collapsed into the washroom door after closing it as quietly as they could, struggling to keep his sobs quiet.
The blanket is still held tightly in his hands, and when III can see the blurry crimson and black stains still wet beneath their fingers, they drop the blanket to the floor as though burned by the plush fabric.
They do not want to look at it, covered in Vessel's blood as it is, and it makes III sick to look at. It was one thing to see Vessel's scars and watch II rebandage the healing cuts on Vessel's thighs and arms and hips-
To watch as Vessel so casually cut into his own arm without even hesitating- To watch as blood beaded slowly at first on the surface, then started dripping down as it all gathered at the opening of the wound-
Every time III closes their eyes they can see that exact moment, imprinted into their eyelids-
III sobs harder, struggling to breathe through their nose as he hiccups, hiding his face in their hands. Even as Vessel's bond is closed -He's gone, he's gone, Vessel is dead, III can't feel him, he's dead- , III is glad for II, who keeps the bond open so III can feel he's alive, though he's upset, as upset as III is and still holding strong to the mask of courage he's wearing for Vessel's sake.
Waves of reassurance are stemming from II's bond and III latches onto those feelings like a lifeline, trying his damn best to send the same thing back even though he can barely think through the red bleeding behind their eyes.
Red was III's favorite color. Of his memories from Before, they can remember wearing it often, and how they always wished to dye their hair a bright firetruck red color but could never commit to it.
Red reminds him of blood, now. He wonders if he'll grow to hate it.
As III's sobbing dies down and they gain control over themselves, they venture back up to Vessel's room after grabbing a clean blanket from the cupboard. They nearly scream when Elvira, who had taken residence in that very cupboard whose door had apparently not been closed all the way, meows and blinks bright eyes up at III that seem to glow in the darkness. III picks her up along with the blanket she lays on. When they knock, it is II who tells them to come in. Said man has taken residence towards the middle of Vessel's bed as the taller man lays on his side, half on top of II with their head buried in his stomach, hiding his face from view. Vessel's arm is noticeably bandaged, laid across the material of II's shirt that Vessel doesn't occupy, hand fisted in the material so tightly its like Vessel fears II will disappear. II lifts the arm not occupied holding Vessel close to beckon III closer, and III couldn't stop himself if they tried.
Elvira jumps down from III's arms and makes her way to lay against Vessel's back, rubbing contentedly along the length of his spine before settling down with her tail flicking back and forth.
III crawls onto the bed and takes up residence on II's other side, laying the blanket over all three of them, II laying his arm over III's shoulders to pull them closer. II's chest is warm under III's head as III reaches out and grabs Vessel's hand with his injured one. Vessel doesn't pull away, doesn't make a sound or move at all except to blink slowly at III, like he's not all there in his own head. Even so, he squeezes back, entwining their fingers together, careful of each of their claws.
III notices something for the first time then, notices that while he and II have long, sharp black nails, Vessel's are shaped a little differently. His are sharper, curved down only slightly. III glances to Elvira, whose tail he can still see as it slowly flicks back and forth as it lays over Vessel's hip. Vessel and Elvira's nails kind of look similar, in a way II and III's don't. He lets the thought linger in the back of his mind, focusing back in on Vessel and II beside them.
The bond remains shut, but III can feel Vessel's skin on his own now, the touch grounding him to the reality that Vessel is alive, Vessel is okay.
None of them keep track of how long they lay there until II, forever the sleepiest one out of the two of them who can sleep, eventually succumbs to exhaustion and begins snoring lightly. III forces themselves to stay awake for Vessel's sake, but after a while, can feel their eyes begin to droop in exhaustion as well. For as much as the Second and Third Vessels don't need sleep, human emotions are taxing at least and utterly draining at worst, and the last couple hours have been an exhausting affair.
"Sleep." Vessel says, and at first, III thinks he is calling out to their God.
That is not the intent behind Vessel's words, and he refuses to use that power unless its required for their health. Vessel really is only urging III to sleep because the other is tired, and does not need to stay awake to keep Vessel company. Already, Vessel is coming back to himself from where his mind had half slipped away from his body. He'll be back soon.
Though III shakes their head in refusal, it is only a few moments more that their eyes are slipping closed for the final time, succumbing to their exhaustion much like II had.
Vessel is content to bask in both II and III's touch, and listen to the soothing sounds of their respective breathing, II's snoring, and the occasional sniffle from Elvira at his back when she kicks him in her sleep.
Feeling III's bandaged hand in Vessel's kind of makes him want to die.
::
Both II and III have nightmares that night.
Vessel eats them and feels sick, disgusted with himself when they're both about him dying, covered in his own blood with numerous wounds in his arms or his thighs or both. He can never tell them what he does. They wouldn't understand.
The nightmares taste delicious, sliding down his throat so easily and settling in his stomach. Vessel is satisfied, and yet, he craves more. More.
::
The next morning, as the edges of the sun peek through the corners of Vessel's blackout curtains, Vessel slips out of bed, the chill of the room seeping into his bones as he leaves the warmth of the others, grabbing his mask from his nightstand and buckling it on. That warmth leaves his skin in minutes, and Vessel wants to get back in bed and bask in II and III's bodyheat, but he has something he wants to do.
His most recent journal full of lyrics sits on his dresser, and Vessel grabs it, then one of his many pens that lay about.
Gifts always seemed to placate his past partners, even if II and III were merely close friends. Friends.
Vessel is silent as a wraith as he heads downstairs, Elvira trailing after him, thankfully only meowing when they get to the bottom of the stairs. Vessel goes around turning all the lamps off first, which had all gotten left on the night before. Then he makes sure to feed Elvira, who rubs against his leg the entire time he's fixing up her food. After giving her a few careful pets on the head, he heads off.
In the kitchen, he makes tea for both II and III. A floral sort for II that Vessel sees him using often, and a sweeter blend for III, that Vessel adds far too much sugar into. Vessel likes his coffee sweet, but even he thinks the sheer amount III uses in their teas and coffee is pushing it.
He carefully pens two notes, one for each of them, wasting a few pages of his notebook to get the wording for III's as close to what Vessel wants as possible, even if he still overthinks the whole thing he has planned. As he places both of their drinks on an older silver platter that has begun to show signs of age, II's bond clears of sleep, while III's remains fuzzy.
Vessel realizes suddenly that his bond is shut off when II's panic strikes through him, distant, and Vessel can feel the faint, faint impression of II tugging on his side of the bond in frantic question. Vessel's own bond is locked shut, but he opens it a crack, so II can feel his presence again. II's bond calms immediately, and if Vessel concentrates, he can feel the relief II is purposefully sending Vessel. Guilt churns Vessel's stomach. He really hurt II yesterday, didn't he?
An idea strikes him, and Vessel tears off a couple small pieces of paper from his notebook again. Before each drink, laid in front of them, he draws a little smiley face with six dots for eyes, and their names right next to them.
II is still in bed when Vessel pushes open his door. When Vessel enters, II looks over from where he is running his fingers through III's curls. It would be comical how small II looks with III laid beside him, their head still on II's chest, if it didn't make Vessel so sad to see.
Vessel wants to be close to them that way. He's not sure when his feelings evolved from some mix of envy and jealousy into just wanting to hold both of them. Perhaps somewhere between just caring for III and loving them the same as he loves II.
"What's this, Ves?" II asks, keeping quiet so as to not wake III.
"Apology." Vessel replies, sidestepping a stack of books with grace and coming to a stop at his bedside.
He holds out the platter, and while II takes his drink, he smiles wide, but his eyes are sad. "You don't need to apologize, Vessel, I told you already. I- I- just please don't do that again. You scared me. Scared us. But thank you, for the tea. It's just as I like it." II corrects himself, voice as soft as his smile.
Vessel looks away with all six eyes, before forcing himself to meet II's kind gaze with one pair while another watches the slow rise and fall of III's chest. "Sorry. Won't hurt in front of you again." He manages, the words coming out a little slurred, but its the most he's managed in a while.
"That isn't what I meant, Ves. I'd prefer you not to hurt yourself at all." II takes a careful sip, and sighs when Vessel averts his gaze again.
"I'm sorry."
"No, no, don't apologize. I-" II pauses, releasing a long breath before gently jostling III after setting down his mug. "Three, Ves made you tea."
III doesn't stir the first time, nor the second, but the third time II shakes his shoulder finally works. They blink their eyes open, pretty blues surrounded by endless black, squinting with sleep still.
Their mug is still steaming as Vessel holds the platter out, and when their eyes light up at the sight and they shoot up, Vessel cannot help the blush or the widening of his eyes, nor the tiny little subconscious smile that pulls at one side of his lips involuntarily. III is just so pretty.
Vessel is still looking at II, and he is also struck dumb by the others beauty. Why did Sleep have to pick such pretty vessels? It wasn't good for Vessel's heart. He knows if he could feel it in his chest, it would be thumping wildly.
III grabs the little note first, with the smiley face. They're smiling when they show II, who holds up his own little drawing. Vessel's face feels hot, and its not because of the fever he'd gotten over.
They both compliment it, laughing lightly and saying how cute it is, how accurate, and somehow Vessel's face grows even warmer.
III takes the mug with both hands, then, and without a care for the temperature, takes a large gulp. They smile afterwards, a big grin that radiates the same happiness Vessel can feel faintly through the bond, "Just how I like it. Thanks, Ves!"
III laughs when Vessel blushes up to his ears again, and Vessel folds his arms in front of himself, using the platter as a barrier, holding it tightly. While taking greedy sips of their drink, Vessel takes a moment to sit beside them on the bed, taking pleasure in the way they make room for him and also get closer at the same time. Their knees all touch as II and III sit cross legged, while Vessel bends one knee and lets the other hang off the bed.
It's comfortable, as he finds things usually are with these two. Vessel is free to simply... exist, here, in this house. II and III never yell at him for making too much noise, or when he asks to hold their hands. Their touch is always gentle, never crossing the line into painful. They're- They're both so gentle with him in ways he isn't used to.
Vessel has never loved someone who was gentle with him. He always seemed to gravitate towards people who treated him like he was used to, treated him with familiar pain and anger. II and III are nothing like the people he fell for before. He is glad for it.
Realizing this only solidifies Vessel's resolve to give them those notes, to do what he's going to, despite the thought making him nervous. It won't be much different from the contact you allow now, Vessel tells himself.
Vessel loves them, he knows. Somewhere deep inside, Vessel hopes II loves him like he says he does. Hopes that maybe III can love him like Vessel can see he loves II.
So Vessel listens as II asks for opinions on what meal he should prepare later that night, listens as III makes corny jokes that are sometimes so stupid that they all laugh anyway. Vessel gives his own input on things, with short sentences that are becoming easier and easier to say, and feels as though he is heard, he is seen, and he is not in trouble for it.
His smiles come easier and easier the longer he spends with them, and Vessel could not be more thankful to Sleep for bringing both of them to him than in that moment.
Vessel waits until the afternoon to enact the second part of his plan, going in search of the others when he's sure they're apart. He finds III first, the other in the practice room with all the lamps turned on, strumming at their bass to one of Vessel and II's songs. They're good, even if they don't have all the parts down yet. The bandage seems to be limiting the things they can do with the injured hand picking at the strings, and Vessel still feels so guilty.
III looks up when the door squeaks as Vessel pushes it open enough to get through, smiling when they see Vessel. "Hey, Ves! I was just finishing up in here before I go to water my plants! Did you need the room, or want to practice together? I know we haven't practiced as a group yet."
"Ah, no, I- Was looking for you. Want to give you something." Vessel stumbles over his words, a little surprised that III looked so happy at the sight of him.
"Oh, what is it?" III asks as he sets the bass aside carefully, standing and meeting Vessel halfway.
'Thank you for the flowers you left me on those receipts, but if anyone's smile were like sunshine, it would be yours. I've wanted to tell you.' Vessel hands over the note, an embarrassed blush on his cheeks hidden by his mask.
When III sees what Vessel has written, taking a couple minutes to squint at the elegant cursive writing, they grin brightly, leaning closer with a glint in his eye. Vessel leans closer on instinct, not quite realizing that their foreheads are nearly touching. "You're adorable, Sugar. I plan on giving you many more in the future, to go with all the ones I gave you while you were sick. And real ones, eventually! Alas, my children need watering, I'll see you in a little while."
With a sly little grin and a peck against the cheek of Vessel's mask, III bounds off with a skip in their step but not before they get to see Vessel's pointed ears turn red. They grin triumphantly as they bounce off and Vessel is left reeling.
When Vessel regains his composure, he sets off to find II. His blush is still prominent when Vessel finds him in the altar room, cleaning the offering table of invisible dust. Vessel's heartbeat pounds in his ears with his nerves, though it must be only him that hears it, since II seems none the wiser. It's a curious thing, one that Vessel doesn't want to think about.
Vessel glances at the sigil on the wall that contains his beating heart, but can't stomach looking at it for long due to the phantom pains of ripping it out creeping up on him.
"Ves? Everything alright?" II asks when he notices him, putting down the rag they were using, uncrouching and walking towards Vessel, a cutely concerned expression on his face.
Vessel does not allow himself to back out, does not let himself over think it any longer. He hands over the folded note, watching intently as II opens and then reads the single word written.
'Hug? :::)'
II looks up at Vessel with wide, disbelieving eyes, but there is excitement there too. Vessel opens his arms wide in invitation and there is no hesitation on II's part to collide with Vessel, almost knocking both of them to the ground. II is laughing, happiness surging down the bond like a tidal wave. Vessel huffs out a laugh of his own, wrapping his arms a little tighter around II.
Vessel didn't know someone could be so happy to simply... hug him. Not even with any skin touching.
Vessel had put on many, many layers of his thickest clothing, and it was greatly uncomfortable, but he wanted to hug II, just once, so he doesn't mind. II holds Vessel tightly, arms wrapped around his waist, and even then, II is keeping away from Vessel's chest, leaning his head into the space nearest Vessel's shoulder.
Vessel is swimming in elation, utterly content and happy and his heartbeat thumps in his ears and there are butterflies in his chest. Vessel adores II. Utterly adores him, body and soul.
II is one of his beloveds. Vessel would die for him, kill for him. Vessel- Vessel thinks he might have wanted to live for him if death was permanent for him anymore.
II is warm, so warm, and hugging him feels right. Right in the same way his mask brings him comfort, in the same way III's voice makes him happy to hear, just as II's does.
Vessel wants to cry, wants to hold II tighter, to never let him go. Vessel wants II to open him up and climb in to where his heart used to rest. Its where he and III already reside anyway.
Where Vessel's heart used to be, II and III have made a home, whether they know it or not. Vessel wants to live in every breath II and III inhale and exhale.
Vessel and II hold each other for what feels like hours, but must have only been minutes. Despite his initial contentment, Vessel grows more and more anxious the longer he hears his heartbeat. He worries that II, if he can even hear it at all, may begin to wonder why the thumpthumpthump isn't sounding from Vessel's chest, but under the floorboards and in the walls.
Vessel forces himself to start pulling away. He relishes in II hesitating to begin doing the same, hopes with everything in him that the happiness he felt from II was real, that the disappointment II is broadcasting distantly down the bond is real, that Vessel's mind is only playing tricks on him.
Vessel wants II to love him so badly he aches with it, but Vessel is a coward who is stuck under the abuse he suffered, who doesn't know what it means to be loved.
Vessel excuses himself, blurting out an excuse that he had an idea for a song, glad for his mask to hide his tears, even if his smile is true. Vessel... doesn't know what he's feeling. He's sad, happy, confused and filled with all consuming yearning.
II stares after Vessel, his own longing mirrored in the bond. Vessel wants to hold II again, but his heart stops him. It beats under his feet like a drum as he escapes the altar room, flustered and crying and elated and about to crumble under his fear of the unknown.
Vessel escapes to the practice room to transfer his emotions onto the worn keys of his piano.
After that, Vessel recovers quickly. They all paint smiles on their faces in the hopes of reassuring one another. Vessel quickly regains his usual health, though his migraine has only devolved into a headache but he is quite used to those.
He knows that if they decide it is time to give up the caring act, then he at least wants to make sure III's hand remains cared for. He can do that much, at least. It was his fault, after all.
He expects things to change, for III to lessen the casual touches but they continue to lean on him when standing near each other. They continue to ask to hold his hand, they continue knocking on Vessel's door to talk or read together.
III continues drawing him flowers, talking over his plans for the garden he wants to put out in the front of the manor. Vessel helps them design the layout, such as which flowers they'll put where, with occasional input from II. During one of these planning sessions, III asks Vessel if he'd like to help him with the garden itself, even after it was completed. Vessel couldn't refuse, not when III was looking at him with a big, hopeful grin and shining eyes.
Every drawing Vessel gets from III is pinned next to the original receipts with the utmost care. Every time Vessel leaves his room, the sight causes a smile to pull involuntarily at his lips.
II and III do not leave Vessel to rot under the weight of his negative emotions even if they cannot feel them. They comfort him in small ways, always reaching out to help, and it is only right Vessel does the same to the best of his ability.
It is a struggle to navigate III's outgoing personality, when louder noises or sudden movements cause Vessel to flinch or go silent, when he had been working so hard to get used to his new tongue and speak around the thorns wrapped around his throat at the same time.
Vessel does not want III to stop being themselves. All he wants it to get used to them, used to the way they live because Vessel does not want them to leave. Vessel doesn't want to keep letting those in his past, people whose faces he can't fucking remember, taint what he is creating with II and III but he is afraid. Always so afraid.
Faceless, nameless people haunt his every move, his body, his blood, their actions are ingrained in his soul. He is nothing without them, they made him who he is.
It is easier to forget what they did when II and III are nothing like them.
III worms himself into Vessel's heart so easily, with pretty smiles, jokes, and an exuberant personality. It feels like they belong there, beside II, in Vessel's heart. He can't recall a time when he felt this way, safe, in someone else's presence. Its easy to feel safe when II holds his hand or smiles when Vessel enters a room. It is easy to feel safe when III sits on Vessel's bed and goes over all the different plants they saw that morning, showing Vessel the rough sketches of his favorites.
The house seems to notice the change in Vessel's heart, and it's only been a little while since III arrived.
When III loses something, and he loses things often, he always seems to find it after a few minutes, returned to whatever surface is closest. II explains that its just the house, and that things don't stay missing long, that the vines are sentient and react to all of them, but not quite the way they react to Vessel.
Vessel knows better. He knows what lies in the altar room, what beats through the walls and floorboards though it is not apparent unless he is in the altar room itself.
He knows exactly why the house helps them.
Vessel always has fallen in love quickly, with the entirety of his heart.
::
III is flabbergasted. Utterly appalled.
"Who organized this nightmare?!" They exclaim, waving a hand at the entirety of one of the living room walls, lined with bookshelves, which are filled to the brim with books.
"Well, we didn't really... organize anything. Vessel just stuck them all down here because I told him he couldn't keep them all in his room. Some are mine, but since there wasn't any order to them, I also just stuck them wherever." II explains, sheepish.
Looking at all the bookshelves, he realizes it is a bit of a mess. There is no order to any of the placements, not to mention a lot of the books are just stacked on top of one another until they can't fit on a shelf any longer and are placed on a different one.
III sighs in mock exasperation before beginning to sort. II offers to help but III shuts him down quickly with a pointed glare at the rest of the mess. II sits back down and simply stays nearby, watching and keeping III company.
III arranges all the books on the shelves in alphabetical order by authors last name and in sections based on genre, dedicating specific bookshelves to each of them living there. It takes hours, and when they are finally done, they ask about Vessel's room.
"As I said, I told him he couldn't keep any more than seven stacks because he trips over them all the time. Nearly split his head open- Well, I'm exaggerating but he scared the shit out of me. Anyway, he now stacks them all as tall as they'll go before toppling while sticking to my seven stack rule. I'm sure you noticed them in his room while we were taking care of him."
III grimaces, remembering how they, too, had tripped one night while going to the bathroom when he was watching over a sick Vessel. Even with the night vision, they were half-asleep and their coordination was a bit off. The whole stack had fallen over, some of the pages in a couple of them getting folded, and Vessel had only waved III's panicked apologies off with a tiny, half-hearted smile.
Vessel didn't tell them that his books had often been put through worse intentionally, by others, long before Sleep came to him. That folded pages was far better than torn pages, or books where entire chapters had been purposefully ripped out. Hateful words written in with permanent marker or scribbles left everywhere.
II had always been careful with both Vessel's and his own books, and Vessel knew III did not trip intentionally, and made sure to tell III that much, at least. III's smile came out a little wobbly, and when they came back from the restroom, they had scooted as close to Vessel as the other would allow.
"Do you think he'd mind if we brought all of 'em down here?"
II takes a minute to ponder the question but ultimately decides that he doesn't think Vessel would mind at all.
III goes to ask, a little nervous but not sure why. When he knocks on Vessel's door, pushing it more open a moment later when Vessel tells them to come in, III does not let himself falter.
Vessel is laying on his bed, Elvira curled on his chest with his hand in her fur as she purrs up a storm. Vessel slides one pair of eyes to look at III curiously, keeping the top pair closed and the bottom pair eyeing Elvira with clear affection. They're adorable, and III wishes very suddenly they had a phone, wanting desperately to capture the moment.
"Hey Ves, I was organizing the books downstairs and wanted to know if you'd mind me putting yours down there as well?"
Vessel tilts his head just slightly, the action coming across a little odd as he is still laying down, but he nods easily. He bites his lip when III smiles, opening all six eyes to look at III properly, before asking shyly, "Can I keep a couple of the ones I'm currently reading in here?"
"Of course!" III exclaims, a little sad that Vessel looked so nervous to ask for something so ordinary, "Keep whichever ones you want, I don't mind. I'm gonna start taking some down, I hope you don't mind me coming in and out for a bit."
"I'll help, they're my books." Vessel says before turning one set of eyes to stare down at Elvira forlornly, "Gotta get up, Ellie."
The cat meows in complaint, stretching out over Vessel's chest further. Vessel picks her up as he sits up, her body hanging limply in his hands as he holds her so gently, meowing in docile outrage. The small, misshapen braid in his hair falls into view, II's work that Vessel had refused the shorter man upon him asking to take it out because it looked 'awful.' A few more tiny braids have been woven into other parts of Vessel's fluffy mess, III's additions that they are very proud of. If II's hair were longer, III would love to add braids in his too, but will settle for the both of them torturing Vessel with II's practicing. III and Vessel match, with the braids, and III feels warm at the thought, giddy even.
Vessel apologizes again and sets her down, where she immediately hops off the bed and runs out of the room past III's feet.
III watches her go with a smile before bending down to pick up as many books as they can carry. His and Vessel's longer arms allow them to nearly carry a stack each, and III tries their hardest not to drop any as they head down the staircase. Glancing at Vessel as he follows them, III concluded Vessel is surprisingly elegant for a man that trips over his own items so often. He's noticed it often enough in the way Vessel moves about the house, silent and lithe. He's pretty, always so pretty.
When they bring down those stacks, II follows them back up without a word, only a loving brush of his fingers against III and Vessel's shoulders as he breezes past them. II makes a comment that somehow, Vessel had accumulated more books since the last time II was in there, and there were more of them strewn about under his bed and on his desk.
Vessel blushes in mild embarrassment at being caught as he hurriedly puts his mask on, avoiding II's disappointed gaze.
Things go quicker then, as II is easily able to carry more books than they can. III makes it a game to see how many they can stack in II's arms before he loses one or II's arms get tired. No strength limit was reached before all the books were taken downstairs, II not having broken a sweat, but he had dropped at least four making his way down the staircase. Vessel had snorted quietly, an action quite unlike him, but III supposes they also thought it was funny to watch II be swamped by books that he couldn't really see past, stacked as high as they were in his arms, laughing easily and with his whole chest at II's expense with nothing but pure affection. Vessel and II glanced at each other with little smiles as they looked at their Third.
After all the books are brought down, III thanks II first, giving him a peck on the cheek. II blushes but kisses III's cheek back, right over one of their little freckles which had slowly been growing into the shape of a question mark.
Vessel is a bit jealous, but III, despite not being able to feel it as Vessel's bond is almost entirely shut off from them, quells it quickly when they walk over to Vessel, kissing his masked cheek and calling him Sugar again as they thank him for helping.
Vessel stammers out a response, too flustered to pay much attention to what was said, excusing himself, cheeks burning as the vines on the walls writhe gently, reaching out in III's direction longingly.
III laughs quietly when he's sure Vessel won't hear and assume it was out of cruelty, leaning into II who has come up to lean half against their side and back. "You're far bolder than I am."
"He's just so pretty when he blushes. I can't help it." III admits, turning around to wrap II in a hug, enjoying how the action sends mutual contentment lazily down their open bond.
They melt into each other easily, "He is pretty when he blushes. Too bad his mask covers it most of the time."
"Yeah, but the blush always spreads to his ears if I get him flustered enough, so its still kinda visible! Well worth it if I can get him to smile too."
II hums an agreement, closing his eyes as he takes in III's heartbeat and the rise and fall of their chest. III lets the hug linger for a few minutes, happily enjoying II's warmth and swaying them back and forth a little while they hold one another.
"I'm gonna make labels." III decides suddenly after a few minutes, "For each of our shelves, I mean."
III pulls way to begin writing out little notes to tape onto each bookshelf. Each section, if whoever owns the shelf or shelves has multiple genres, are given a piece of paper taped over.
They do their own first, and since they mainly read dystopian and sci-fi, it's pretty easy, adding an upside down question mark to represent themself. II's shelves get a big label with the Roman numerals for II, like his name, and a pair of crude drumsticks, and then taped to the right of his name something for the genre, 'II's Gothic horror.' Vessel only has textbooks, so that's what III puts on Vessel's shelves, of which he has quite a few, filled to bursting even after being organized. III adds a little, six eyed smiley face next to Vessel's name on his label, because it's cute, like Vessel himself.
"So, do we just not need phones?" III asks, as he begins rearranging the books on the lower shelves of one of Vessel's bookcases, after realizing they did that shelf wrong.
II smiles sheepishly, "Vessel never said anything and I was kind of leaning into the mystical messenger of a God thing. Didn't think phones fit that, uh, vibe."
"We should definitely get phones. Vessel turns his bond off, and doesn't seem to like going into town with us. It would be best if we had something to communicate with! I think he'd feel better about it too."
"Also, I need photos of you both to admire when I'm sad." III states bluntly, a bright grin directed up at II.
II blushes down his neck but laughs anyway, letting it fade out before stating seriously, "You can just come to either one of us. I'll never refuse you and I'd imagine Vessel wouldn't, even if the physical contact would be limited."
"Let me rephrase. I need photos of you both to admire whenever I want. Just to have them. You're both very pretty and I need physical evidence to carry on my person." III jokes, but in reality, they know they're not joking at all.
II snorts, but doesn't say anything further, only shakes his head in amusement, letting III continue working.
When the organizing is done, II comes to stand next to III to get a better look. III leans their arm on II's head, gently, without much of their weight and II only looks mildly put upon. III gives II a kiss on the cheek, a shy little smile afterwards. II returns it, getting on his tiptoes to kiss their cheek in return.
"The little drawings next to our names are cute." II says as III places their arm on his head again.
"Thank you. Oh! I'm getting a gaming console. As much as I love to read, I love gaming just as much."
"Sure, not like we're wanting for money. Sleep has us set for eternity with that credit card Vessel holds on to. Never played any games myself though."
"Oh, you have got to try NieR: Automata! I- Hm, I think I was only on the second ending but that shit is painful but so, so good. Soundtrack is one of the best I've ever heard."
"Maybe we can rope Vessel into watching you play then." II agrees, interested.
"Hell yeah, this game is going to make us all cry, just you wait."
::
The first practice session they have as a band is the most chaotic one to date. All three of them were trying to get the feel of how they wanted their music to go with a bass added in to the mix. Vessel couldn't quite sing yet, struggling with his voice still, and so they decided to work on his piano segments and how II was going to incorporate his drumming into the song they were working on.
Fiddling with the tuning on his bass while Vessel sat at his piano playing the song, III was half-watching II playing a drumbeat full of hi-hats and fast bass drum kicks, casually as though it was second nature.
When II moved to play a beat on the medium tom, his drumstick slipped out of his hand due to the speed at which he was drumming. As it flung towards the wall, silver glinted in the lights of the practice room as it spun, transforming into a battle ax with a spray of golden sparks. It barely misses III, who lets out a loud shout of alarm, jumping back and falling on his ass while simultaneously trying to protect their bass.
Vessel startles at the sound, hunching into himself and slamming his fingers into the keys of his piano, creating a discordant sound at the same time the battle ax made a loud thwack as it struck the wall.
II looks down to find that his other drumstick has transformed in his hand as well, and put a fucking hole through his snare drum.
Everyone stares in silence, stunned by what has just occurred. There was something to be said about vessels of a God having strange eyes or skin that turns pitch black, or literal fangs. It was something else entirely for an everyday item that II has used his entire life to suddenly turn into a deadly weapon while in use. It was something else entirely for said deadly weapon to break through a drum head as though it were paper. It was something else entirely for said deadly weapon to get launched in the direction of someone he cared for, barely miss them, and get stuck in the wall five inches deep.
"What the fuck." II states, with a blank expression.
They all continue to stare, looking back and forth between the wall and II's broken snare, as though II hadn't said a word. II wonders if they sit and stare at the weapons long enough, they'll turn back into drumsticks like nothing ever happened. He wonders if this was a dream given to them by Sleep-
Ah. II has an idea.
II reaches out and tugs on the bond in his chest that leads to his God, so different from the ones he shares with Vessel and III, and yet so similar. He does not tug with the same intensity or aggression as he did before, but Sleep is clearly displeased all the same when they answer his call.
"While not as disrespectful as the last time you called upon me, I am quite disappointed, my Second. What is it you have called me for?" Sleep's voices bounce around the practice room, displeasure clear as day.
"Why- Why in the everloving fuck did my damn drumsticks turn into axes?" If there was a way to exclaim something with utmost feeling while having the most dead expression in the world, II would have accomplished it.
"It is a gift. You ate the apple of Eden, and it has granted you abilities." Sleep states, indifferent to the confusion his vessels share.
Vessel turns his head away, refusing to look anyone in the eye, or even in their general direction. He is well aware what the apple of Eden is, but to find out the others ate it as well is... unsettling. His heartbeat thumps on his tongue, and its like he can still taste it, still feel the texture of his own heart as he bit into it.
II glances at Vessel and takes a gamble. At worst, the God can correct him and he'll apologize to Vessel for assuming things without first asking for a proper answer. Its besides the point as to whether Vessel would answer in the first place.
"Is it like Vessel's ability to put people to sleep?" II asks, and purposefully does not glance at Vessel as he does so.
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Vessel stiffen further, going rigid as a corpse. Ah, so II was right. He should feel satisfied at the confirmation of his theory, but he is only profoundly saddened.
"That ability is not my Firsts. It is not meant to be wielded by anyone but myself. It is a dangerous ability, much like the Firsts penchant for-" Sleep pauses, and everyone turns to look at Vessel as he frantically shakes his head, six eyes begging Sleep not to say anything.
"As I was saying, you have all been granted a gift by eating the apple of Eden. It is only a matter of unlocking them." Sleep continues as though He had never even mentioned another dangerous ability that Vessel is using, "My First and Third ate the entire apple, so their gifts will be stronger. You, my Second, ate everything but the core. Transforming your drumsticks into weapons of battle will likely be the extent of your gift alongside your superior strength."
II will not be forgetting the God's slip up. III either, from the way they squint in displeasure, their brow furrowing alongside the thinning of their lips.
"My... strength?"
"Yes, you are far stronger than any human ought to be. Especially one of your... stature. You're quite vertically challenged for males of your species."
III cannot stop the laugh that spills from their lips, a little high pitched and unsure. Even Vessel, who has remained silent and tense, manages a small, silent huff of a laugh.
"Yes, well, thank you for answering my question, Sleep. That was all I wanted." II bites out, flustered as his brows furrowed in something akin to anger, perhaps outrage.
There is a laugh that echoes around them, sounding as though it was from a man and a woman, a child and an elder, fading into nothingness.
With an answer given, the silence wears off quickly.
"Sorry Vessel, didn't mean to scare you, but that sure scared the fuck outta me." III apologizes, and Vessel slowly untenses, glancing nervously at the weapon in the wall with one pair of eyes, III as they finally stand from the floor, and the last pair on II.
Plucking the ax out of his snare as though it weighed nothing, II walks over to grab the other from the wall. Despite how deeply its stuck, he pulls it out with ease. The weapons look right in his hands, as though he was always meant to wield them.
"Suppose I'll be keeping these in my room until I figure out how to turn them back." II mutters, before heading to the door, bond radiating fervent upset.
III has wandered over to Vessel, trying to coax the other into standing. He remains frozen in his seat, two pairs of eyes now watching II as the last set watches III. Through his mask, which he continues to wear nigh on constantly, unlike the others who do not feel the need to hide around people they care for so deeply, his expression is hidden from view. Without the bond, without being able to see his face, Vessel's feelings remain a mystery.
"Vessel," II stops just before the door as III silently rejoices Vessel letting them hold his hand, "I'm not upset with you, to be completely honest so you don't think I'm angry. I'm upset you hid something dangerous to your health from me, and clearly there is still more I've not been told. I just- I want to talk it over with you."
Vessel loses some of the tension in his shoulders, then, disbelieving relief creeping into the cracks of his soul. He knows he cannot avoid this, no matter how he wants to.
"Tomorrow." Vessel states, hoping that if he gets it over with faster, the longer he'll have to pick up the pieces of his heart when they learn what Vessel has done for them.
He knows they will not be grateful. They do not seem to like anything Vessel does that puts his body in harms way. Its something Vessel doesn't understand, but has grown to expect from them.
As the day turns into night, Vessel emerges from the practice room he had insisted on staying in, long after II left, no matter how III tried to convince him to go rest or come out for dinner, even just to be near while the others ate.
Quiet laughter can be heard as Vessel makes his way into the upstairs sitting room. He pauses at the top of the staircase to listen as III giggles at something II has said. It makes him smile, but also causes sadness to weigh heavily on his chest.
III opens their door to leave his room, an empty mug in hand, just as Vessel turns to head to his room.
"Vessel!" III sounds so excited, so happy to see him, and Vessel wants to believe he's reading their faint emotions right in the bond so badly.
"Did you want to sleep with Two and I tonight? We've got room!"
The vines on the walls tremble with Vessel's heart, his longing and desire. Vessel glances at III's hand, hanging limply at their side. The bandage is starkly visible. Shame fills him up, foul like tar, burning the back of his throat.
Vessel shakes his head. Vessel... doesn't want to refuse. But he is afraid they'll notice his lack of heartbeat. He's too afraid of the outcome of tomorrow. Perhaps he should bask in the affection they are willing to give him before they take it away but Vessel is a coward.
The hope Vessel felt faintly through the bond crumbles, but III smiles anyway, a wobbly thing that Vessel can tell they're barely holding up, "Okay, um, we'll- we'll see you in the morning then?"
Vessel gives a shaky smile back, unable to help himself as he walks forward, moving his mask up a little to leave room between it and his skin, taking III's hand and placing it under the mask on his cheek. Vessel leans into it, closing all six eyes for a moment, before pulling away, dropping III's hand and fixing his mask at the same time.
"See you in the morning."
III stares after Vessel as he turns away, not seeing II come to lean against III's door frame.
"'Night Ves." II calls out quietly, but Vessel doesnt turn around, no matter how he wants to.
They both watch him go, desperately hoping he'll turn back around and join them anyway.
He parrots the saying even quieter before his door shuts behind him firmly, hoping they don't notice the tears dripping down his chin.