A/N: this is the first fic I wrote for the Sanders Sides fandom. Originally it was a promptfor the ts fic exchange on Tumblr, however, I'm being re-assigned so I thought I'd post it here! (It is also on A03)
Ship: Romantic LAMP/CALM
TW: ANGSTY, eating disorders, self harm, suicidal thoughts, self hatred. You asked for angst so I brought angst. I'm sorry...
WC: 2236 (whoops)
validate me ok bye
~River xx
Slipping
That was the only word that came to mind when he thought of himself. His entire existence at present was a metaphorical landslide, and he was slipping into the valley below with no way to make his way back up to the peak of the mountain. He knew he was needed, physically. He knew he was valued by the others and the Fanders. If he ducked out, there was no way Thomas could function without him. But what was there for him to help with aside from being necessary to his host's physical well-being? He didn't offer anything of value, not like the others did. The others gave thoughtful input into things Thomas should do. They helped him attain the goals he set for himself. They helped him see the good in the world, despite all of the negative things happening just outside his door. He couldn't do any of that. Aside from being a "main side", he wasn't helpful. Wasn't necessary. Wasn't worth it.
He loved the other three with his entire being. He didn't know he could love another as much as he loved them. When they first started their relationship, he fell hard and fast. It was bumpy but they managed to ride the storm until they found calmer waters. He could tell you a million different things he loved about each of them, but he didn't know what they saw in him. There was something awe-spiring in the way their eyes sparkled when they spoke of something that they took pride in, or the way each of them had their own way of being intimate with one another, or the way they could communicate with each other with a simple gesture, like leaving sticky notes around the Mindscape, or having made a thoughtful breakfast to make the others feel loved. Loved. He felt loved. He was constantly reminded that he was, in fact, loved. But did he deserve it?
He knew what depression was. He saw the warning signs long ago. He knew he was just getting worse... but were the voices in his head really that wrong? They pointed out the flaws in his reflection, offering a not so gentle suggestion that he add a bit more makeup to his routine than before. He listened, but it wasn't enough. They pointed out the weight he had gained and how overweight his attire made him appear. He had cut down his eating habits, tracking his calorie and carb intake as to not make the situation worse. He had lost a few pounds, but it still wasn't enough. They whispered threats when he was forced to eat something with too many calories, saying he wasn't trying hard enough to make himself perfect for his loves. He then ate what he was given by his beloved boyfriends, and once it was acceptable to leave the table, he rushed off to his bathroom and forced it all back up. He focused on the numbers, limiting himself to 500 calories a day, but it still just wasn't enough. Soon the excess fat was gone, but the voices found more to critique. They pointed out that he needed to be more toned, to have a slimmer waist and more muscle to ensure that the others saw him as an appealing partner. So he went on long runs and took to the gym, weighing himself every morning and every evening to see the progress he had made, but it wasn't enough. The voices wore him down, made him tired and weak, which then only fuelled them to keep pushing him to be stronger, more toned, skinnier, prettier... better.
He knew what an eating disorder was... he wasn't stupid. But as he fell deeper into the hole he a dug himself, it soon became a routine. Wake up at 5am sharp. Go for a run around the Imagination until breakfast at 8. Eat breakfast with his boyfriends. Help with clearing the table and washing the dishes. Make it to his bathroom and force up the meal he just ate. Brush his teeth, drink some water and then eat a healthy snack of under 150 calories to replace the food that he brought back up. Spend time with his boyfriends in the commons until 11:30 where he would excuse himself to go workout, saying he had packed a lunch (a lie) and promised to stay hydrated (another lie) so he didn't have to join them for lunch. Finish working out at 2:30, pushing himself to his absolute limits to make sure he burned more calories than he consumed. He would then shower for about 30 minutes and then stand in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at his reflection in disgust and making note of where he still needed to improve. Repeat breakfast scenario at dinner, which was at 6:30 on the dot, but allowing himself 200 calories for his replacement meal to hopefully keep his energy up to avoid suspicion from the others. Spend an hour with his boyfriends for "family bonding time" until retiring to his room at 8, claiming he was tired from his day and needed some sleep. He would stay awake until around 2am, trying to find new ways to make himself better for the loves of his life. They deserved the universe and more, and he would try his damnest to give them just that.
The voices never quieted down, always repeating harsh remarks towards him, until one struck a chord with him. He was reading a post about how to make his progress matter when he stumbled on a blog on tumblr. It soon became his favourite site to visit. He created his own account, followed this blog religiously and even put on notifications to see when they'd post their next thinspo picture. The more he scrolled, the more he found different ways of taking out his hatred on himself. The voices still weren't happy with him, so he took to self harming. He knew it was dangerous. He knew it was an addiction. He knew that once he started it would be near impossible to stop, but the second the cool metal blade hit his inner wrist, he craved the sensation. So one cut became two, and two became four, and soon enough, he moved to his thighs and stomach because both arms were littered with scars; new ones that still stung, old ones that had faded to white until he reopened them again to see the crimson bubble on his skin before rolling down to hit the tile beneath him. He no longer wore sleeveless tops or shorts. He couldn't risk his secret being found by the others.
"Roman?" a soft voice came from his door. Patton. Of course it was. Sweet, wonderful, compassionate Patton.
"Yes my love?" Roman replied, mustering all of his energy to sound as he should: regal, proper, confident... worthy.
"Can we come in?" Patton asked, "We need to talk to you."
Of course. They were here to break up with him. They must have finally come to their senses.
Unlocking the door, he braced himself for what was to come with a solemn "Yes."
Patton came in first, followed by Logan and Virgil, who all had a hesitant and almost sad look on their face. Their eyes scanned the royal side's room, finding paper scattered across the floor, each with red X through whatever idea he had written down and words such as "stupid" or "insufficient" or "failure." His sword lay on the seat of the vanity, completely covered in blood stains that weren't even attempted to be cleaned. The ever-growing collection of makeup and photos of the flawless, photoshopped models from the internet covered the vanity itself, along with notes on scraps of paper stuck to the mirror with more red coloured words like "worthless" and "ugly." His Disney posters had been ripped off the walls and his curtains were shredded from the times he had taken his sword to them in a fit of rage. The scale placed in front of the mirror was surrounded by shattered glass, obviously from a previous mirror that Roman had punched in fear of his own reflection. And Roman himself. He sat on the floor in front of his bed. His eyes were red and puffy, his hair was sticking up in all different directions, he sat in his boxers, leaving his scars visible and a clear view of his ribs poking out from under his skin.
It took everything in the three to not freak out over what they saw. It would make the situation worse.
"I suppose you've come to your senses, then?" Roman asked, no longer trying to keep up his facade. His voice croaked from crying for days on end, never knowing when, or if, they'd stop.
"I'm not sure what you mean, my prince." Logan spoke softly, almost as if not to upset Roman. It would have been endearing if Roman didn't know what was going on.
"You're here to break up with me, right? To tell me I'm useless, worthless? That all I do is drag you down and make your lives miserable? I've been expecting it for a while so you might as well just get it over with."
Shock was evident on the other's faces. They had no idea that this was how their Prince was feeling.
"Roman... we're not here to do any of that." Virgil whispered, worried that he would end up scaring him away.
Roman scoffed, "Well then what are you here for? I don't know what else it could be. I don't see why you care."
Patton took Roman's hand and squeezed lightly, "Roman, we're here because we've been worried about you."
"What for? I'm not worth the hassle." Roman muttered, looking down at the ground to avoid the disgust he'd see on their faces.
The three looked at each other, making silent decisions on what to do next. Virgil made his way to the bathroom to get a soft cloth to clean his cuts.
"Roman, you are worth so much. You are irreplaceable. We are nothing without you." Logan murmured, kneeling down to Roman's height. He gently tilted his lover's head up to look at him. All Roman saw was the tears in Logan's eyes and the sadness that was evident across his face.
"You're lying."
Virgil returned with a damp cloth, carefully placing it on the thigh with blood dripping on the floor, "Ro, love. Why would we be lying?"
"I'm not good enough for you! That's why!" Roman exclaimed, "You're all perfect and wonderful and I don't deserve you. You all have a purpose. Logan contributes his knowledge and passion for learning new things. Patton gives him emotions and helps him make strong bonds between him and his friends and family. Virge, babe... you keep Thomas cautious in the world we live in. You might work overtime a lot, but you've only tried to protect him. All I'm here for is to come up with ideas and I can't even do that right. Plus, I hurt you without intending to and I can never forgive myself. Vee, I treated you like a villain for a long time and I hurt you in the process. I constantly patronize Pat without realizing it and I see the hurt in your eyes long after it happens. I fight with Logan all the time and make fun of him when he has a difficult time processing emotions. You're all breathtaking too, and here I am; a fat, ugly, good for nothing side that has now hurt the three most important things in his life because he's pathetic."
There was a pause while they took in what Roman had just said, until Virgil broke the silence, "Roman. Look at me please."
He does so, and he immediately regrets it. There are obvious tears streaking down his cheeks, messing up the eyeshadow beneath his eyes. Yet he still offers a small smile, comforting and warm.
"Roman. You have always been beautiful. Inside and out. You are... well... were so full of life. You cheer us up when we're down, singing silly songs or making us waltz around the living room. When you sing Disney at the top of your lungs, it comforts us, knowing that you're feeling happy, and sometimes we sing along. You may have done some not so nice things in the past, yes, but you've grown. We have seen you trying so hard to accept us and love us as we are."
Tears threatened to fall down Roman's face, but he wouldn't let them. He couldn't show them how weak he was.
"It's okay to cry, Ro." Patton spoke, "You encourage me to express all of my emotions, not just the happy ones. It's time I repay you for that. Let it go."
And so Roman did. He let all of his fears and worries and insecurities go as he sobbed in their arms. They all held him, whispering sweet nothings in his ear. It wasn't perfect. It was far from perfect, but this was the beginning. The beginning of learning to love himself again, of recovering. It was a long road ahead, but the voices of his boyfriends drowned out the ones in his head. He felt safe. He felt wanted. He felt loved. And yes, he did deserve it.