One Shots With The Ship: [Deceit X Virgil][Sanders Sides]

Bruises

[Warnings: insulting speech in second person, not meant towards the reader]

Deceit had been in his room for the past few weeks. Why? Where else should he have gone. His fellow dark sides started to bore him or just annoy him whatever happened. If anything happened it stompt on his nerves like a furious hippo. He just couldn't handle their arguments anymore. Not even his lies kept them satisfied and quiet anymore. If nothing happened he was bored out of his mind and everything seemed bland and faded. Nothing seemed to have any colour, emotion, or even meaning.

His room, usually with more colours in it then you might expect was dipped in a greyish tint as the side opened his eyes slowly. Not that he had motivation to stand up anyways. There was no need. If Thomas needed him he could do his job without appearing, without even leaving the bed. It was better to stay away from others when a lie was spoken. The bigger the more painful, the more exhausting to hold back, but could anyone know? No. No one could know about that. That was his issue. He was convinced that every side had something similar. He didn't know what, but he was sure. If it was a lie to himself he didn't know. The thought didn't even appear in his mind. He just thought. It was very much like a fact to him by now.

His eyes darted to the pale clock ticking away the hours, minutes, seconds. 7:38 am. A yawn escaped his mouth as he stayed in bed yet another day. Slowly moving his fingers, trying not to flinch, he wondered if his aspect would be used even if he was asleep. He knew for a fact that he slept even when Thomas wasn't. Usually the Sides would sleep at the same time as their host. But Deceit had lost track of that. He slept when he was tired. Which probably wasn't very useful to Thomas. The side furrowed his brows as he rose his hands up in front of his face, examinating the bruises and marks left by all the recent lies.

There was a reason why he always wore those gloves. The skin on his hands covered in bruises as if he was physically fighting back the truth from slipping through. Each bruise like a punishment for his existence. Lying causes pain. The embodiment of pain must cause even more. The bruises eventually faded but then a new scale would appear on his body. Those wouldn't fade but were much more fashionable and therefore easier to carry.

His hands dancing and turning in front of his eyes in pain he inspected every little bruise. It seemed like Thomas had told no lies again while he was asleep. Maybe he was really unable to. It is known that people are more likely to tell the truth after midnight. It must be because of his absence.

The duocrome eyes darted away from the poor looking hands up the left arm. It was almost completely covered with scales. The fingertips of his other hand softly run over the smooth yet textured surface as his eyes followed. He couldn't believe that the lies were so high in count already. Every white lie was saved. Every little deceiving word. It would never fade. The proof would stay as long as he would stay.

Stay.

His arms dropped back to his side as he remembered the true reason why everything seemed faded and bland. It wasn't the physical pain. It wasn't the scales. It wasn't the lies. It wasn't any of that. The reason he hadn't left his room for weeks and mainly stayed in bed was something entirely different. Something way worse. Something that was justified but tore him apart. Something he deserved but not wished for. Something he tried too hard to do right but it turned out wrong. Something that he couldn't tell anyone but wanted to shout out.

Stay.

It's interesting how much a word means all of the sudden. How often its repeated in your head, how often you want to scream it out. It suddenly possesses all the power. You need it. It's the only thing that could save anything. The only hope that's left. Even if the hope is yet so small, it's worth a try. It's needed. I wanted.

Please Stay.

It possesses all power but does it possess you? Does it possess your character? Does it possess the very fibre that you're made of? Does it possess your purpose?

"Just go. Run to the others. I don't need you. Leave."

No.

          No.
            
                    No.

No.

Why won't your mouth cooperate with your mind? Why can't you fix what you've done wrong? You could've saved everything. But you didn't. Something didn't want to allow you. Something didn't want to allow you to possibly be happy. Something knew you didn't deserve it after what you've done. The lies you told. The things you did. The way you deceived them.

The way you deceived him.

But that's your whole being isn't it? You're trying to justify aren't you? Trying to justify hurting him so you could glue him back together so he wouldn't leave you. So you wouldnt be alone. So you wouldn't lose the one you fell in love with. So you had a chance to show how useful you are. To show that you intend no harm. To show that you have value.

The very same value you have destroys all those chances. You're not able to have both. Happiness and your aspect. It doesn't work out for long. It isn't permanent. It'll be there for a short time and when it's exposed you're even poorer than you were before. The endless cycle.

Deceit cannot be happy without hurting the one's close to it. Isn't that true?
Of course it is and you know it.
The poor little attempts are pathetic. Everyone knows. Everyone can see that. Your pretty little lies. You barely fool anyone.

Not even him.

"Why did you lie to me?!"

"Virgil."

His voice was a mere whisper, barely audible. He could feel the wet on his face flowing down the sides. He didn't even realise that he had started to cry. He didn't realise that roughly 30 min went by. He didn't realise anything. Caught up in his mind as always. It really was pathetic.

With a sharp inhale he sat up against the wall. His bruised hands put to his face to while his tears as he forced himself to keep his posture. He couldn't let anyone hear. At least now that he had control, he couldn't let anyone know. This lie needed to be absolutely perfect. He couldn't slip up again.

His burning but now tear freed eyes darted through the room tiredly. Everything seemed as bland as always. If not more. What else was to be expected without him here. The sarcasm but hidden kindness, the careful movements, then tired eyes that lit up yet so slightly when he sees something he enjoys, the huff instead of a laugh, the beautiful voice that was a pleasure to listen to no matter which words would be spoken, the messy hair. That all was gone now. It was with the light sides. Of course Deceit had visited them here and there but the hate he was given, especially by him, got to him so badly that he rather retreated to his room permanently.

Deceit looked at his gloves, then to his hands, back to his gloves. Would he come out of his hiding shell today? Maybe he could. Just for a few minutes, just to leave a few sassy remarks, just to show the others he was still alive, just to see him again.

Sliding under his blanket again the decision was settled. Today was not today. He didn't have the strength. He didn't have the confidence. Fear ruled over him once again. Or better said, Anxiety. Keeping him away but yet wanting to be so much closer. But that wasn't possible. Not yet.

As he closed his aching eyes again he started to ponder.

Do they even notice that I'm not there? Does anyone?

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It's been a long time since the last update. But I still hope that you enjoy this. Just a little late night story.