Rare Ship Oneshots!

More LAMPT angst

Warnings: angst, major character death, brief descriptions of gore, disassociation (i think)

     Virgil slowly dank down to the carpeted floor of his bedroom, his back up against the dull gray wall. The gentle glow from the window was dull, too. Everything was dull now. He blinked. A wetness spilled onto his cheeks. He didn't have the energy to wipe the tears away, or even acknowledge their existence. He was so tired. Nothing made any sense anymore. Everything was confusing, and now there was no one to explain everything to him. There was no one to calm him down from a panic attack anymore, and despite Patton's attempts, the fatherly side didn't know the first thing to do. It hurt...until it didn't. Virgil had cried too many tears to have any left. His heart had shattered, taking every feeling with it.

     He was vaguely aware of the door opening and a warm presence coming to rest next to him. He didn't feel the heat radiating off of them. He stared blankly at the wall in front of him. It was textured with odd little bumps and lines. His eyes slowly traced the constellations. There was a bird, a flower, an eye, and a...a.... He was too tired to continue naming the shapes. He let his eyes droop. He wasn't sleepy, just tired. Tired of living. Tired of being hurt. Tired of existing in general. He didn't feel or acknowledge the hand being placed on his shoulder, or the gentle rubbing of a thumb on his shoulder blade.

     "Hey," a voice said. He was subconsciously aware that it belonged to Thomas, but that part of his mind was far away. "How're you holding up?" He didn't respond, only blinking at the wall. There was a sigh from next to him and Thomas' hand moved to his back. A sob cut through the quiet of the room. At first, Virgil vaguely wondered who was crying, but then realized that it was him. Thomas' hand gently continued rubbing his back, and a small, foreign part of his mind relished the pleasure of another person's touch, having been so very touch-starved. But every other part of his mind was numb. Nothing made sense, and there was no light to show him all the answers.

     "I miss him." It came from deep within Virgil's chest, and he had hardly noticed it leave him until he heard it. Thomas shushed him, whispering sweet nothings in his ear.

     "I know. Me too. I know." Over and over again until it became a chant. Until Virgil grew numb to it, too. Just like the low hum of the fan, spinning and spinning and spinning. Virgil watched it turn, staring blankly. Thomas wrapped him up in a hug, and Virgil became aware of just how cold his room was. He remembered how he had set the temperature down to help ground him. It hadn't worked. Virgil slowly moved his heavy arms to return Thomas' embrace. Suddenly Patton was there, too. Roman as well. They all hugged and cuddled him until he returned to his body, the walls and light regaining their faint yellowed tint. He gripped tightly onto them like a lifeline--- or or as tightly as he could in his malnourished, exhausted state. He had hardly eaten or slept since he had found the logical side on the floor with a knife sticking up out of his chest two weeks ago. Every time he tried, his mind replayed the scene over and over again. He had gone to Remy to see if he could help, but the task was strenuous and the Sleep side couldn't do it every night. So he used Remy as a crutch when he desperately needed to sleep. He went without sleep every other night.

     He cried onto Roman's shoulder as he squeezed Patton's hand. Thomas cuddled him from behind. I miss him I miss him-I miss him-I miss him-I-miss-him-I-miss-him-. The words ran through his head again and again and again until he was whispering them into Roman's ear. Roman petted Virgil's hair softly. He whispered reassuring things into his hair.

     We know. We've got you. We're here for you. We miss him, too.

     They stayed with him for a countless amount of minutes until he exhausted himself. Roman kissed him sweetly and held his hand. Thomas held him. Patton held his other hand. Thomas went back to rubbing his back as Virgil looked back at the wall. He wasn't staring anymore. Just looking. He rested like that for a long time, feeling like he was actually sleeping and not just cuddling and resting his eyes. His mind was blissfully empty, and he was content for the first time in two weeks. Thomas cupped his cheek and kissed him ever-so-softly, like rose petals on his lips. Virgil sobbed against his mouth at the gentle lovingness, leaning into the touch. Roman shushed him and placed a firm but gentle hand on his shoulder, grounding him.

     Five feet away, Logan smiled at the scene. He walked up to caress Virgil's cheek, but his heart cinched in his chest as his spectral, ghostly hand passed right through Virgil. Logan frowned sadly, wishing he could comfort them, but knowing that that was too much to ask. Now he just had to trust that they could get through it together.