Saving Prince Charming

Tired.

"Okay. C'mon, Logic, you got this. Deep breaths. I need you, we need to think rationally. C'mon." they sat where Logic had fell, somewhere vaguely in the corner of the common area. Anxiety held Logic in his lap, tracing what he hoped were soothing circles onto his back. Usually, they didn't do this sort of thing outside of Logic's room (for Anxiety's was in the middle of a labyrinth, and because engaging like this before the others might make them even more wary of Logic, and Anxiety didn't want that. He hoped that eventually he would get a prime spot with the rest. He deserved it, for sure, and maybe that meant abandoning him, but that was okay if he could be happier.)

(They would never consider him a friend, though. He knew he would always be hated, god, he hated himself—)

Saltwater still leaked from Logic's eyelids, and Anxiety was still fighting to get words out past the lump in his own throat, but they were doing a little better.

A little.

"Hey, you could even say we need to think logically here." He tried for a joke, one he knew that consistently got him to at least bare a smile.

He huffed out a laugh, more like a harsh stab of choked sound, making his way to slowly climb out of Anxiety's lap.

Success.

He put his back to the wall, and Anxiety mimicked him, both looking up at the ceiling.

"Don't you even dare to use a dad joke at a time like this."

"It got you smiling."

"We shall never speak of it." Anxiety rolled his eyes. The amount of times he had been sworn to secrecy was honestly impressive. Logic removed his glasses, cringing slightly at the state of them: smudged with finger-oils and dried tears. They were a mess.

"Ugh. I thought I asked you to remind me to take these off last time."

"You did. I was a tad preoccupied, this once; you see, my best friend was kinda literally falling into my arms? Had to catch him, you know how it is." Logic was already looking more light-hearted, upturned lips and somewhat of a shine restored in his eyes that had nothing to do with the crying he'd been doing, and it definitely helped to clear some of Anxiety's lingering worries for his well-being.

"Oh, shut up." He pushed at his arm, and now even he was laughing, and they had almost forgotten what they had been breaking down about this time around.

Not for long, of course. These moments never lasted.

Because soon, Logic's glasses were clean and back in place, and his face grew grim again.

And they remembered that half their number was dying.

"So..." Logic broke first. "What was it like? On the surface."

"Freaking weird." Anxiety muttered, dragging his hand through his hair. "Thomas is... I don't know. He's acting more like me than himself. And he tried to make a video while I was there, but it was like he couldn't. And he didn't really want to eat, and... Logic, I think he thinks he's worthless."

"What?" he gasped.

"Yeah. I found it written on a post-it, you know, where he keeps the content ideas?" Anxiety let out a deep sigh, trying to displace the unease that rooted itself in his very skin by the thought of it. "Like I said. Freaking weird."

"Wow. That is strange, you're right. It almost sounds like his hope is gone, or at least, fogged? Is that the right word? Maybe his creativity also, maybe his deep emotion..." their eyes were widening.

"So the real question is, then," Anxiety shut his tired eyes and rested his head against the cool wall.

"Is the sickness that Dad and Prince have causing it or—"

"Or is it the other way 'round." Came a hoarse voice from the commons room door. Both traits jumped, turning so fast that that Logic would later wonder how they hadn't gotten whiplash.

There the regal mindset slouched in the doorframe, but he looked anything but royal. The bags under his eyes rivaled Anxiety's, and his attire reeked of sweat and illness. His hair was every which way, and he had a fluffy pink blanket draped around his shoulders, with slippers to match.

"Prince?" Anxiety spoke first, leaping from the ground to help support the trait, but as he was afraid of what would happen if they made contact, he just hung an awkward foot away, unsure of what to do.

"Don't touch me." Prince spat, recoiling from even the possibility. Anxiety nodded, stepping aside and letting Logic take over and lead the sick trait to the couch.

Logic was the only one who saw the flash of hurt in Anx's eyes, the one caused by the rejection that he in no way deserved. He wanted to lash out at Prince for doing this to him, not just for today, but for every day before, but Anxiety shot him a very distinctive Look, the one he had given him countless times, so he said nothing.

Instead, he sighed. Gave the Prince a Look of his own.

"What are you doing out of bed? I thought you couldn't even move."

"Well, I was feeling a little better, and what do you know, I tried to move my toes and it worked. So I decided to take a walk while I could."

"You shouldn't be out of bed."

"Oh, come on. Lighten up a little, it was just a little walk."

Logic was so tired of not being listened to. So, so tired.

"You know what, Prince? Fine. That's just fine. It's whatever. Do what you want. I don't care. That was –is— Morality's job." He sunk down into the rickety floorboards, shaking his head, wiping at his eyes.

He had hit his wit's end. He could only take so much, and having to constantly worry about the death of, not one, but two mindsets was rather trying. Tiring. God, he was so tired.

Anxiety could agree.

With no one left to talk to, Prince hesitantly let his eyes find Anx's.

"What's his problem?"

And this was probably the first time Prince had spoken to Anxiety without being forced to, and while that was thrilling he just couldn't handle this; his throat was closing, his heart was racing, his eyes couldn't open any further, he would probably faint if his breathing got any more shallow—

He ran.

Logic would have his blankets ready when he got there.