Sanders Sides One-shots

Betrayed (no ship)

Ship: no ship

TW: mentions of self-harm, character death, suicide, swearing

Okay, sorry for the late update everyone! I'm not even gonna bother trying to explain myself cause y'all can imagine that it's the same excuse every time: I've been busy.

So yeah, fuck that.

How many more angst chapters again? I think 2 more after this.

I've been meaning to do this for a while, but yeah. Only got around to doing it now.

Btw, I'm kinda feverish right now, so warning that this is definitely gonna suck.

Note is at the bottom!

Sleepless nights counted his numberless days. His absentminded gaze was settled on the digits of the clock beside him, but his attention had been whisked away by the demons that had opted to haunt his vulnerable mind instead of Thomas'. He just lay in his bed, numb with piercing pins and needles, as his sanity was chipped at and his self-assurance was questioned.

His consciousness had wavered; the only sleep he managed to get was in lapses that didn't seem to register with his mind or body. He'd supposedly blink, but the digits of his clock would flick forward. He'd fallen asleep. He just hadn't been able to register it. With every lapse came about, what felt like, another lead weight on his chest.

Breathing was becoming harder. His breath shook as he drew it in, his exhales unsurprisingly just as unstable. He paid no heed to it though; he was used to it.

His mind focused on not allowing any whispers to invade Thomas' own mind. They'd recently been working on a new project, and the anxiety that their host had been feeling about how it would be received had begun taking its toll on everyone.

Patton had been less bubbly. His grins had lessened in how wide they grew, and his movements were less energetic than usual. He dragged his feet when he walked. Meals had become more simplistic; he simply grew too tired to make the extravagant meals he often tended to make.

Logan had been confined to his room for the duration of the week. The thin walls of his room did little to trap the sound of the ripping and crumpling of paper that occurred every few minutes. The only time he exited was when Patton had enough energy to drag him out so as to eat.

Roman was the worst. His hair was as messy as Thomas' when he had ducked out, if not more so. Frustrated yells would echo through the Mindscape when his creativity did not flow correctly. The eyebags that decorated his pale skin were beginning to rival his own, and the exhausted glaze over his eyes had been present throughout the whole week.

'All in all, it's been a rough week,' Virgil mused in the clutter of his thoughts.

~~~~~~~~~~

Several days later, as the project began reaching its final editing stages, the mood of the Mindscape had changed almost entirely.

Thomas, after reviewing the (completed) work (thus far), had grown to become more confident. His eyebags, after several late nights and early mornings and interrupted sleeps, were slowly growing, but as was his grin.

As a result, Patton, Logan, and Roman had all started regaining the energy they had lost. Their movements were as if the weight that had been attached to their ankle had finally been removed; slightly awkward, but more free.