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Thea stares up at the ceiling, unmoving. Muffins, his cat, sleeps right next to him, purring in her sleep as he gives her scritches. He’s supposed to be sleeping but the bed feels forgein and wrong. He’s never slept in his own bed. Vanessa always preferred he sleep with her, in her room. There were a few times where he was banished to his room for the night, when she was so furious she didn’t even want to look at him, but even then he didn’t sleep in his bed. He slept in a pile of pillows and blankets by the fireplace, or passed out at his desk, or curled up in the corner and cried until he eventually passed out from exhaustion. He’s been in this bed for his entire recovery, but before he was just too exhausted to do anything but pass out. Now all he can do is think.
The blankets feel too heavy, the texture too odd against his skin, the pillow too soft. It makes his skin itch and his limbs twitch, fills him with the need to throw the blankets off and curl up and try to escape the feeling of wrongness. But if he’s really being honest, the bed isn’t the real reason he can’t sleep. He remembers when there was someone next to him, a hand to hold, a body to hug, never warm but there. His skin itches.
The bandages are still tightly wrapped around his chest. He’s not sure what he looks like under them, he’s not sure he wants to know. They itch, but last time he tried to mess with them Logan snapped at him and he’s so tired of upsetting people. The uncomfortable blankets weigh down on him and the bandages tighten and there’s still no one there and of course no one’s there why would anyone be there no one’s ever going to be there- his skin itches. And he gets up, because he has the uncontrollable urge to scream and if he screams everyone’s going to rush in, scared that he’s dying again, and he’s wasted everyone else’s time far too much already.
So he stands up, his chest protesting the movement and his legs shaking because his body hates him now. The movement causes Muffins to move, electing a surprised “Ma!” from her. She stares at him with large, dejected eyes as he gets up, before laying back down where he had been just moments before. He has no idea where to go. So he just starts walking. Walking is hard, especially after not using your legs for well over a year, and you’d think if walking was that hard for someone they’d at least bother to have a destination in mind. But he’s too tired to think of one, so he just lets his feet go where they want and hopes he doesn’t run into a wall. That’s how he ends up at the entrance to the dungeon, staring at the steps leading down to her cell.
The shadows pull on his clothes, his legs, trying to force him to step back, frantically whispering under his skin. But he’s tired, and his skin itches, and he can’t stand to spend one more second alone in that room. He kicks them away and goes down. It isn’t hard to avoid the guards, not when you can slip in and out of shadow, and it isn’t long before he’s approaching her cell. She looks up at the sound of his footsteps, bright red eyes staring at him through messy blond hair. She doesn’t seem surprised to see him, she doesn’t seem to be anything at all, she just stares.
When he stops in front of her cell, she sits up, fixes her posture, looks him right in the eye, and smiles. “Hello my prince.”
“Don’t call me that.” The words are out of his mouth before he can even think about them. “I’m not your prince.”
“Of course you’re my-”
“NO I’M NOT!” He snaps. “Your prince was never me! Your prince was an idea I could never live up to, a bar I could never reach no matter how hard I tried. And I tried , Vanessa. For eight years I did everything I could to make you happy. I didn’t say a THING when you banned all my favorite foods or when you told me I couldn’t talk to my friend anymore or when you didn’t let me leave the castle or when you dyed my hair without my permission, because I wanted you to be happy. And I loved you. And I thought you were doing it because you loved me too. And then you tried to murder me.” His voice cracks on the last sentence, tears starting to bead in his eyes.
“I wanted to be your prince. I wanted to be him so badly . I wanted you to love me and I wanted you to be happy with me and not constantly disappointed because I wasn’t all that you hoped for. But I wasn’t. And you didn’t. Was that why, Vanessa? Was it because I couldn’t be who you wanted me to be? Was it because I was nothing but a constant disappointment? If you had wanted me to do something, I would’ve done it. I would’ve done anything to make you happy. You just had to tell me . But instead, you locked me in the cellar, and when I finally escaped you put an icicle through my chest . And I don't. Understand. Why!” He stares down at her, tears now streaming down his face. “....So, why ?”
Vanessa is silent for a moment. “You already know why, my...dear. You know as well as I do that you’re lying when you say you did everything I asked. We both know you asked to leave the house too often, we both know you kept spending time with those royals despite me telling you multiple times why I wanted you away from them. We both know you were visiting that….girl. What else was I supposed to think, when I saw you with her? Far too close physically and personally. Is it so wrong for me to think you were leaving me? When I think about how close you two were and how desperate you were to get away from me?”
He curls in on himself, wrapping his arms around his chest and looking away from her. “.....I’m allowed to have friends.”
“Are you?”
“Yes! It’s- It’s not wrong for me to spend time with people who aren’t you!”
“True, it’s not. But there’s a difference between you spending some time with others, and you spending all your time with others.”
“I spent all my time with you.”
“Did you? Because it didn’t feel that way. It felt like I got the scraps of your attention, the leftover bits of love. I felt abandoned, whenever you left, knowing another was getting your energy and love. Did you love them? Those moments where you’d “escape” me and my “awful” treatment of you? I wonder what lies they fed you in those times, to convince you that everything I did was to hurt you.”
“I- they’re not lies, you did hurt me! Even they could see that.”
“THEY COULDN'T SEE ANYTHING!” Vanessa snaps, slamming her hands against the bars, causing Thea to flinch and stumble back. “They know NOTHING ! They didn't live with us, they didn't see it all. All they know is what you told them, and you only ever talk about the bad times. They don't know about all the good things that happened, they don't know how irregular the bad times are. Admit it, they only believe our relationship was unhealthy because you wanted them to believe that. You wanted for me to be a horrible monster that hurt you time and time again so you could blame how broken you are on me. You wanted them to come in and protect you from the monster in your bed so you could feel special. You lied to them to hurt me, lied to them to make yourself feel better, and the moment they realize they’ll lock you up with me. Two monsters in a cell, right where they belong, perfect for each other.”
“...They won’t do that to me, I’m not like you.”
“Oh my dear, you’re even worse . At least I admitted that I was locking you up, at least I had some understanding of what I was doing. You though? You’re in complete denial. You’re fooling yourself and tricking everyone around you into believing that you’re in the right, when you're doing the exact same thing to me that I did to you.”
“That’s different.”
“Is it? Or are you just telling yourself that to make yourself feel better? Tell me my dear, if you were completely free of guilt, if you didn’t know that what I’m saying is true, would you be visiting me?”
“I’m not….” He went quiet, stared down at the floor, avoiding looking her in the eyes.
“ Why are you visiting me, my dear? What made you come down here?”
“I….I just….I missed you. I couldn’t stand being alone in my room, feeling like someone should be there next to me, but seeing nothing when I turned to look. I missed the nights where we could sit in bed and talk and nothing bad happened.”
Vanessa softens a bit. “I missed you too, my dear. I missed having you by my side, missed running my fingers through your hair and painting frost on your skin. It’s lonely down here in the dark. Maybe we can have those nights back, where we just talk. You come down here every night and keep me company, and we talk.”
“I…..no. No, I’m not coming back.” He said, stepping away from her cell. “I’m not doing this again….goodbye Vanessa.”
Vanessa simply studied her nails, not looking up as he walked away. “See you tomorrow, my prince.”
-----
He walks through the halls, the sound of leather boots hitting stone floors echoing through the empty chambers. Cam walks next to him, talking excitedly about something that he’s sad to say he’s lost track of. He’s been doing that a lot lately, zoning out when someone’s talking to him only to snap back to reality to find himself in a different place with a different person. He’s sure it’s nothing to worry about. It’s fine, he’s fine, he just needs to pay more attention is all.
They’re near the kitchens now, Cam finishing up the subject and him scrambling for something to say that doesn’t make it clear that he wasn’t paying attention, when he smells cookies baking in the oven.
And his stomach drops, his footsteps stutter to a halt, his breathing quickens. Vanessa was baking and he wasn’t there . Did she tell him, she had to have right? So he just forgot like an idiot and now she’s going to be furious with him because he isn’t there . But she’s bound to be more than just furious, if she was furious she would’ve knocked down him door and demanded to know what the hell he was doing, if she was furious he wouldn’t have to go down to the kitchens to realize he forgot to bake cookies with her, so she has to be absolutely enraged . His panic grows at the thought of her giving him the cold shoulder, of him desperately finding ways to make it up to her so she’ll at least acknowledge him even if it’s to scream at him. He quickly turns, hoping that if he returns quickly then he can at least salvage the situation a little.
There’s a voice behind him, someone grabs his wrist. He yanks his arm away, turns, expecting to see Vanessa, enraged and even more mad at him pulling away his arm, wanting to grab him and cover his skin with ice and leave him desperately trying to melt it for the next few hours, hoping the damage dealt wasn’t too bad. But instead of Vanessa it’s Cam, looking like he burned her (did he burn her he might have he can’t tell what kind of person burns their best friend-) and that’s even worse because Cam’s not supposed to be in the castle, why is she here, she knows she’s not allowed her and god Vanessa’s going to be so mad when she sees her and he’s sure she wouldn’t hurt Cam Vanessa would never hurt anyone but she’d be so mad and she’d yell and she’d cry and she’d freeze and he’s so tired of freezing and she might say he can’t go outside anymore and he loves going outside even if it makes Vanessa unhappy.
And now Cam’s trying to talk to him but he can’t hear her through the screaming in his head and he wants to ask her what she’s doing here she shouldn’t be here but his throat feels closed and wrong and he can’t breath and- Is she freezing him? She must be, he can’t feel the ice but his chest won’t move and his limbs feel stiff and his body feels wrong and he can nearly feel the spread of cold over his skin and that must be why Cam looks so panicked. He wants to tell Vanessa to stop, he's sure if he could then she would (would she? She probably wouldn’t but it’s the thought that counts) but his stupid voice still won’t work and he feels like he’s going to vomit because Cam’s right there and Vanessa choose now to do this and what if she does it to Cam next will she let him melt her or will she make him leave her, Vanessa wouldn’t do that would she?
Cam starts to move him somewhere and he wants to scream at her that that’s a horrible idea, that Vanessa’s going to be even more mad if he tries to leave and it’s going to make everything even worse and she just needs to RUN, she has to GO and not come back, but his stupid idiot voice won’t make a sound and she just keeps going and he wants to scream- and then the smell of cookies fades away, and then reality comes crashing back down.
There’s no ice covering his chest, Cam’s allowed in the castle now, Vanessa’s not baking anything because she’s in jail, and he just had a breakdown over cookies . He sniffs, curls up as tears drip down his cheeks, feeling so stupid . Cam moves forward to hug him but hesitates, as if she’s scared to touch him. He pulls her forward into a tight hug, hating her hesitation. Cam hugs him back, gently rubbing his back as he sobs into her shoulder.
“I’m such an idiot .”
“You’re not an idiot.”
“I had a breakdown over cookies. What kind of person freaks out and starts crying when they see a cookie?”
Cam’s quiet for a moment. “...A person who was hurt very badly by someone who loved cookies.”
He doesn’t say anything in response. Just pulls her tighter, and cries.
-------
It takes a week for him to go back down to Vanessa. He can’t sleep, everytime he thinks he’s close he jolts back awake, plagued by the nightmares his brain haunts him with. Maybe that’s why he goes, steps down into the dungeon and towards her cell, feeling exhaustion seeping into his bones with every step but still going forward. He’s so tired. His vision sways and his feet feel unsteady. He sees hands reaching out for him from every dark corner but when he jumps and stares there’s nothing there. When he reaches Vanessa’s cell he plops down, too tired to stand much longer.
Vanessa smiles at him. “Hello, my dear.”
He doesn’t look at her, choosing instead to trace the indents in the floor with his finger. “....Do you ever regret it?”
“Regret what? The cellar?”
“No, our relationship.”
Vanessa laughs. “My dear, how could I ever regret that? You were the best thing that ever happened to me. Mother was horrible, made my life a living hell, but then you came along and brightened that hell up, and I’ve been happy ever since. Sure there were a few little bumps, and sure things didn’t turn out quite the way I planned. But I don’t regret a thing.”
“....Do you regret hurting me?”
“Of course not, because I never did. Everything I did to you, my prince, I did out of love. I did it because I wanted us to last, and I wanted you to love me, and I didn’t want anyone taking you from me. Can you really blame me for that?”
“How-.....how did yelling at me when I forgot something or made a mistake make our relationship last longer?”
“Oh my dear, I never ‘yelled’. I simply raised my voice so you understood how urgent it was. And I may have gotten a bit too upset, but to be fair it is very upsetting when the one you love doesn't care about you.”
“I- I cared about you.” He protests, finally looking up at her.
“Clearly you didn't, if you had really cared you wouldn’t constantly forget everything I told you.”
“....I didn't forget because I don’t care about you, I forgot because I have a bad memory.”
“My dear, I could believe that if you only forgot things once or twice. But you were forgetting things constantly. Asking questions that I already gave the answers to, telling me things you already told me, forgetting important plans we had, zoning out during conversations. And on top of that, you were always making up things that didn't happen, talking about conversations and events that we never had, crying and freaking out over fights you made up in your head, like you wanted a reason to be upset with me. No, it was easy to tell you didn't care. And it upset me, because I cared. I wanted to go on outings with you, I wanted to spend time with you, I wanted to wake up with you every morning. I found it very sad that you didn’t want the same.”
“I did want to spend time with you Vanessa-”
“WELL THAT’S NOT WHAT IT FELT LIKE!” Vanessa snaps, going from calm to furious in an instant. “It felt like you were always spending time away from me! Always being with friends when we had plans, or asking to go outside, like you couldn’t wait to get away from me! Always “accidently” falling asleep at your desk, or losing track of time, like you didn’t want to be near me, like you didn’t want to sleep with me. I hated it! It felt like you wanted nothing to do with me! It felt like you didn’t love me! So can you blame me for what I did, feeling unloved and forgotten, seeing you with another woman when you had promised you weren’t visiting anyone? Maybe I did overreact, my dear, but it’s as much your fault as it is mine when you were the reason I had anything to react to in the first place. If you had just obeyed we wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place.”
He looks back down at the floor. “..........It’s not my fault that you locked me up.”
“Hmm, pretty words, but we both know you don’t believe them. Did they tell you that?”
He doesn’t reply, busying himself with tracing the stones again.
“What else did they tell you? Perhaps that I’m a horrible monster that ruined your life, or that nothing I did to you was justified? Or perhaps, perhaps they told you that you’re a good person. Now that is the most laughable of them all.”
He stares at the stone floor, refusing to look up at her.
“We both know you’ve never been a good person. You hurt people, only help people when it helps you too, you’re selfish and horrible and broken . It’s honestly a wonder anyone loves you at all. It’s not going to last, we both know that. One day you’re going to say the wrong thing or do the wrong thing and they’ll leave, they’ll realize how broken and horrible you are and leave, they won’t stay. I would’ve stayed my dear, I would’ve helped you and fixed you so you were loveable again. But you threw me away, discarded me like I was nothing. And now you just have to sit and watch as everyone around you realizes there’s nothing about you worth loving.”
His hand curls into a fist, fingers finally ceasing the tracing. He doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t need to. They both know she’s right.
------
Thea stares at the large, wooden doors, frozen in place. He’s allowed to leave without permission, he’s been told that multiple times, as long as he tells someone he’s leaving he’s fine. But now, staring at the doors, he’s too scared to move. His body aches and his skin burns with a need for warmth, but not even that is enough to make him move. He’s been stretching out in front of windows lately, following the bit of sun that shines into the castle, trying to soak up as much as he can. It helps but it’s never enough, never as good as standing in full sunshine and feeling fresh air rush through his lungs.
He misses being outside, misses it so much that it hurts. But he can’t. What if someone needs him and he’s not there, or what if he’s not actually allowed to leave without permission, or what if leaving breaks a rule? The rules so far have been simple: If you leave tell us, don’t pick at your bandages, you’re allowed to eat whatever you want, you’re allowed to be alone. But there’s always some kind of hidden, secret rule that he’s terrible at finding. What if that rule is the one that says he needs permission? Vanessa’s words ring in his head, one day you’re going to say the wrong thing or do the wrong thing and they’ll leave . Maybe it’s selfish of him, but he doesn’t want them to leave. The thought fills his stomach with a black glob that makes him want to throw up.
And so he stays, frozen in place by the want to go outside and the want to not break the rules. Even if he does need permission (he does), Cam practically gave it to him when she pushed him out of his room and told him to “go get some sun, you’re so pale it’s hurting my eyes”. But she could’ve meant he should get some sun inside and the uncertainty wraps around his throat and squeezes. He stares at the doors for a few more moments, before finally turning around and walking towards the guest rooms. Cam’s been staying here for his recovery and while now that he’s better she’s planning on leaving soon, she’s still here and it’s not hard to find her room.
He finds her talking to the plant he brought her from Helsoner, finally getting around to studying it, unable to do it before due to….well….everything. She’s asking it questions about what Helsoner was like, if it knew any other plants, all yes and no questions as the flower can really only shake or nod its head. He waits patiently in the doorway, not wanting to interrupt, but eventually the flower notices him and turns to face him, causing Cam to notice him too.
Cam raises an eyebrow. “I thought I told you to go get some sun?” She says it in a joking tone, but sometimes Vanessa said serious things in a joking tone too, and the words make his body stiffen.
“I uh- just wanted to ask if you….wanted to….walk with me?”
Cam stretches and stands. “Sure, just give me a moment to put this flower up.”
An overwhelming feeling of relief blankets him. If Cam’s agreeing to go with him, then he must be allowed to go outside. He waits as she gets ready, follows her through the large wooden doors that seemed so scary just moments ago, and closes his eyes as the warmth of sunlight finally touches his skin.
-------
“So as the temperature goes up, the liquid expands and fills up more of the glass, while if it gets cold, the liquid shrinks and fills up less. And by marking the glass we can tell how much it went up or down by. Using this, we should be able to easily tell temperature and figure out how much we’re raising it by, or if mixing certain chemicals causes the temperature to change.” Logan explains, showing him the small, glass tube of mercury. The Helsoner prince had been working on this project for a while now, taking careful notes and calculations on how the mercury reacted and how much was needed and what temperature made it rise to what level. The glass has neat, carefully written numbers on it to mark the temperatures, a complete contrast from Logan’s normal hand-writing.
“That’s amazing Logan! This is going to be really helpful to a lot of people.”
“I know.” Logan says, looking externally proud of himself. “I still need to do a bit more work: double checking the temperatures, figuring out if there’s an effect if I make it bigger, actually figuring out a name for the thing, but it’s almost done!”
“Hmmmm.” He thinks about it for a moment. “What about….heat stick?”
“what.”
“Heat stick! Because it measures heat and it looks kind of like a stick!”
“Thea, I love you, but I’m not naming this heat stick.”
“Well then I’ll just have to steal it and name it heat stick, because heat stick is a wonderful name and you’re just a coward.” Thea huffs, crossing his arms.
“If you steal this from me, I’m gonna tell Deb to not give you any more appy juice.”
Thea gasps, betrayed. “You wouldn’t dare! Deb wouldn’t listen to you if you tried!”
Logan smirks. “Would she? Are you willing to risk your appy juice for heat stick?”
Thea glares at him, before sighing. “Fine, I won’t steal your invention and name it heat stick.”
“Thank you. Now we should probably move before Derek comes in and blackmails us into going to bed again.” Logan says, standing up and stretching while he speaks.
“Wait but- what time is it??” Thea asks, confused. Derek only came in to blackmail them when it was late , and it wasn’t that late...was it?
“Uh, it’s late. Really late. The sky’s pitch black.”
His eyes snapped to the nearby window and he saw that Logan was right. It was completely dark outside, he’d lost track of time. The realization slowly spreads in his stomach like an illness, making him feel like he’s going to be sick. He never went down to see Vanessa. He’d been going nightly for a while now and she had to have been expecting him, she must have waited for so long. She’s going to be so mad . He curls up, fists his hands in his hair, his breathing quickening as he tells his brain that it doesn’t matter if Vanessa’s mad. She’s in jail. She can’t hurt him. It’s stupid to be scared.
But his brain doesn’t listen, spreading a yucky, bad feeling throughout his body, making him feel even sicker. She’s going to be so mad . And he knows what happens when Vanessa gets mad . He hates it, hates how much he cares, how much the idea of her being upset with him scares him. He shouldn’t care, he should be fine , he’s freaking out and panicking over nothing . A small sob escapes his throat and he grasps his hair even tighter, fighting to push the feeling down. Tears bead in his eyes and he squeezes them closed, hoping that stops them from failing. He’s ruining everything .
He wishes he could go back to before, when he didn’t break down over the tiniest things, when a cold breeze didn’t send him spiraling into a panic attack, when Logan wasn’t so exhausted all the time, when Derek didn’t stare at him like they were still seeing that broken bloody corpse, when Cam didn’t treat him like he was made of glass, when Vanessa still loved him and not some perfect version of who he could be. Wishes he could go back to when his body wasn’t a mess, when his brain wouldn’t force him asleep and wake him up screaming seconds later, when he wasn’t so broken .
And now he’s done it, tears are slipping down his cheeks and sobs are breaking past his lips and his body is shaking and Logan has noticed. The prince says something but he can’t hear it past the horrible buzzing in his ears. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Logan reaching for him and he curls up even more because the buzzing is too loud and his limbs feel wrong and his skin feels prickly and his cheeks itch and if one more thing touches him he thinks he’s going to scream. He feels the shadows rise, their whispering a slight comfort against the buzzing, and they must stop Logan because when he glances back over the Helsoner is just sitting next to him, watching him.
He forces himself to breathe, taking large, wet breaths in an attempt to calm down. He needs to calm down, needs to get a grip on himself before someone else gets wrapped up in this mess. He’s already wasting enough of Logan’s time, he doesn’t wanna waste anyone else’s. He stays there for a while, curled up in a ball with the Helsoner sitting next to him, before he finally uncurls and sits up. The sick feeling has faded, replaced with the post-crying numbness. His face hurts, his chest aches, and he’s so so tired .
Logan sits with him for a moment more, before speaking. “....Are you ok?”
Thea sniffs. “I’m fine.”
For some completely unknowable reason, Logan doesn’t believe him. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.”
At that, Logan looks somewhat awkward. Like he’s not really sure what to do. “.....Do you want to go back to your room?”
He doesn’t want to move at all, but if he stays here the entire night Logan will too and Derek will eventually find them and he really doesn’t want anyone else to get wrapped up in his problems, so he just says “sure”. The prince stands again, reaches down to help him up before remembering the other doesn’t want to be touched and stopping himself. Thea stands and follows the Helsoner, not really paying attention to where they’re going and somehow actually getting to his room. The moment he’s inside, he plops down face-first on his bed. The bed creaks and shifts as Logan climbs onto it and sits down next to him.
The Helsoner starts talking, not about anything in particular just random little things. Sometimes he asks a question and, after a moment, continues on as if Thea had responded with more than silence. He can’t focus on the words, his mind’s ability to focus slipping in and out, but he appreciates the background noise. After a while the constant words start to grate on him, hurting his ears, making his skin prickle. So he asks if they can go to bed. Logan immediately agrees, despite having complained about being forced to go to bed earlier. The Helsoner prince lays down in the bed with him, careful to stay far enough away that he won’t accidentally touch him. It takes a while for Logan to fall asleep, but after what feels like forever he finally nods off. Thea just stares at the ceiling.
He doesn’t sleep.
------
He’s so tired. His body feels like lead, like there are weights pulling down on his limbs, and his brain feels foggy and odd, like it’s been stuffed full of cotton. His eyes keep drooping closed of their own accord and he has to keep forcing them back open, lest his brain force him into another nightmare. He doesn’t want to get up, but he does. He doesn’t want to go down to the dungeon, but he does. He’s been doing a lot of things he doesn’t want to do lately. That’s probably bad, if Cam was here she’d tell him to stop. But she’s not, so he goes. He sits down in front of Vanessa’s cell like normal, the exhaustion weighs so heavily on his bones he wonders if he’ll ever be able to get back up.
Vanessa smiles at him. “Hello my prince.”
He doesn’t respond. The seconds tick by and her smile thins as she waits for a response, a look, for him to so much as acknowledge her presence. He doesn't do anything.
“Cat got your tongue, my dear?” Vanessa asks, sounding somewhat annoyed.
He’s silent for a bit longer, thinking, before he finally speaks. “Did you ever love me?”
Vanessa looks confused at that. “Of course I love you, I thought we’d been over this-”
“No I mean…” He runs a hand through his hair, trying to figure out how to word it. “...Did you ever love me and not who you wanted me to be?”
Vanessa goes quiet, then laughs. “That’s an unfair question, my prince. I might as well ask you the same. Did you ever love me and not who you wanted me to be? I’m sure you want me to be something .”
“....I don’t know….maybe….I...I guess I wanted you to care about me more.”
“See? Everyone wants someone to be something , everyone loves what another could be. It’s no different for you and it was no different for me. You wanted me to be more….caring, and I wanted you to be more loving. And my prince, I did love you. I remember the moment we met, how happy I was that you didn’t condemn me for my magic like Mother, how much I loved spending time with you. But as time went on, as I got to know you better, I wanted more . I wanted My Prince. And I’m sure you felt similar. Humans always try to twist the one they love into someone they can love even more, it’s just part of our nature.”
“But- I-- I just wanted you to care about me more, I wanted you to talk to me and let me leave the house and let me have friends and let me eat food without feeling guilty. You wanted me to be a completely different person.”
Vanessa’s eyes darkened with anger. “And there you go again, lying to yourself and justifying what you’ve done. You didn’t really want those things, you wanted to get away from me, you wanted an excuse to leave me and chase after someone else. I wanted someone who loved me, I wanted someone who didn’t get upset with me for using my ice, I wanted someone who actually wanted to spend time with me and didn't use every excuse in the book to get away from me. But all I got was you . We could’ve been happy, you could’ve had everything you wanted, if you had just given a shit about me. But you couldn't be bothered to even do that.”
A sick feeling forms in his stomach, wrapping around his insides. His face heats and tears threaten to escape, he does his best to push them down. “I- I- I tried to spend enough time with you. I wanted to make you happy, I tried so hard to make you happy-”
“Well you didn’t try hard enough.”
The sick feeling worsens, his stomach lurches, his breath catches and warm tears drip down. He shouldn’t care, he shouldn’t even be down here, talking to the woman who tried to murder him, searching for answers he’ll never find. But he does, and he is, and as he stares into her cold, red eyes he can’t lie and say there isn’t some truth in her words. Because he didn’t try hard enough. He knew he was breaking the rules, he knew he wasn’t allowed to visit Cam or hide letters in his room or eat outside the castle. But he did, because he missed her and because he couldn’t stand the thought of watching her tear those letters to shreds and because he was so hungry he couldn’t stop himself. He shouldn’t care but he does , and he doesn’t know how to stop.
She speaks, reaches forward, comforts him with falsely sweetened words dripping with poison. His stomach churns, wanting to purge it from his body. He should leave, should go back to bed, where he has his cat and his warm blankets and pillows that aren’t quite like hugging a real human but are close enough that it calms the itching in his skin. But instead he stays, takes her poisoned words, and glugs them.
------
He’s tired. He stares blankly at the wall, at the shadows of the trees outside imprinted on it. He’s tired. He needs to get up, he has things he has to do, people to convince that he’s fine and no don’t worry you don’t need to waste anymore of your energy on me . He doesn’t move. He’s tired. He has no idea what time it is, judging by the sunlight coming in through the window it’s fairly late in the day, maybe noon, far too late to still be in bed. He doesn’t move. There’s food on his nightstand. He can’t see it, but he knows it’s there because Cam brought it in for him. He’s supposed to eat it, he knows he’s supposed to eat it, she told him to eat it. He should eat it. He doesn’t move.
He’s hungry, he’s hungry and if he doesn’t eat it Cam will be upset, even more upset than usual, and he doesn’t want her to waste her time being upset about him. But to eat it he’d have to sit up, and turn towards it, and reach for it, and grab it, and bring it back to him, and pick up the fork, and put food on the fork, and bring it up to his mouth, and eat it, and then do that over and over and over and over until it’s all gone, and then he has to put the fork back down, and put the plate back, and it all feels like too much. He doesn’t move.
He should move, it’s so easy to move. Everyone else does it. Everyday everyone else pulls themselves out of bed and goes on with their lives. Everyone except him, because he’s so broken he can’t even live correctly anymore. Everyone wants him to get up, he’s upsetting everyone by not moving, he knows he is. But he’s so horrible and broken and lazy that he can’t even do that. It’s a wonder anyone still spends time with him, when he can’t even get up like a normal person. (And a part of him says they will leave, and a part of him says they’ll abandon him when they realize he’s not going to get better, and a part of him says they hate him, and he can’t find a reason to argue)
He should’ve died. The thought comes seemingly out of nowhere, but considering his day he’s surprised it didn’t pop up sooner. He should’ve died. People don’t normally survive having nearly all of their vital organs destroyed. No one knows how he’s still alive, no one knows why he’s not a corpse rotting in the ground right now. The shadows might know, he hears them whisper, hears them pulse nervously, but they won’t tell him anything. He wonders if that’s why this is happening, that he’ll just lay here until his body rots and the earth reclaims the soul that was stolen from it. He wonders what would’ve happened if he died (he wonders if Vanessa would be happier if he was gone, he wonders if anyone else would be happier if he was gone, wonders if it’d be better if he had died. He thinks about what Cam would do if she heard him say that, she’d probably punch him in the shoulder and say “of course it’s better that you’re alive! If you were dead, who’d help me commit felonies?” And that makes him feel a bit better). If he died, Vanessa probably would’ve be executed, if Cam didn’t murder her first. Everyone would probably be very sad until they weren’t anymore. His parents would probably take over ruling Subcon, would probably have another heir to replace him. And the world would continue on, like he never existed in the first place.
Something touches his hand, breaking him out of his thoughts. Muffins is sniffing his hand. She stares at him with large, green eyes. He blinks at her. She blinks back. She stops sniffing his hand, moves to the crook of his arm, right in front of his face. She makes biscuits, turns around a few times, and plops down, filling his vision with cat hair. He considers trying to get her to move, but then she starts purring and he can’t bring himself to do anything. So he lays there, Muffins sleeping right in front of his face, desperately trying not to inhale cat hair, successfully broken out of his decaying thoughts.
There’s a knock on the door. “Hello? Thea?” Cam enters the room, or at least he thinks it’s Cam, it’s hard to tell through all the fur.
“I brought you lunch.” He feels a jolt of sickness in his stomach as he realizes it’s noon and he has yet to eat anything like he was supposed to and spirits she’s going to be so upset with me . Cam gives Muffins a pat on the head, moving her enough that he regains some of his vision. The florist pointedly doesn’t look at the untouched food on his nightstand, just giving him a weak smile.
“Are you hungry?” He is, but he’s also tired, and moving feels like an impossible feat. So he shakes his head.
Cam’s attempt at a smile falls. “Thea, you need to eat something. You- If you don’t-” And now she looks like she’s about to start crying and suddenly he’s very much hoping that doesn’t happen because he has no idea how to comfort her.
“Here, what if- what if I help you up. Will you eat then? You don't have to eat all of it and I can help you eat but you need to eat something Thea-”
“Ok.” He’s tired and he doesn't want to move and at his agreement he feels the urge to sleep forever grow. But he doesn't want to upset Cam either, and he’s hungry and he doesn’t want to die. Cam brightens a bit at his agreement. She carefully helps him into a sitting position, brings the food to him.
And he eats.
-------
Thea heads back to her cell that night. He has to drag himself out of bed, and finds it funny how he can find the energy to visit but not to feed himself….maybe that’s not very funny maybe there’s something seriously wrong with him. But he goes and finds her waiting, as always. He sits down in front of her cell and she smiles at him.
“Hello, my dear.”
“.......what would you have done if I died?”
“Been executed probably, I couldn’t imagine they’d let me live if I had actually killed you.”
“No I mean….if I died…..would you miss me?”
“Of course I’d miss you, my dear. How could I not miss my prince? I miss you right now, I miss having you by my side. I miss having you in my arms, when you were happy with me and me alone, not wanting to leave the castle or talk to others or be with anyone else.” She gives an empty laugh. “Though I suppose you wanted something very different, didn’t you Thea? If only you hadn’t been so selfish, maybe our relationship could have worked.”
“I- it isn’t selfish to want to leave the castle more than once every two months, or to want to have friends. And if you really felt abandoned, nothing stopped you from spending time with me AND my friends. Maybe...maybe if you had talked to me about what you needed instead of trying to kill me, we could’ve worked things out. Maybe if you hadn’t hit me for every little mistake or screamed at me whenever I so much as tried to have healthy communication. But you didn’t and despite your best efforts I escaped, despite your best efforts I’m still alive.”
“Still-” Vanessa laughs. “Oh my dear! You don’t know?”
There was a sinking feeling in his chest. “....know what?’
“My prince, what makes you think you’re still alive?”
“What-” An icicle bursts out of the ground and through his chest, throwing him back and pinning him to the wall. He looks down at the all-too familiar sight of bloody ice going through his chest, of shredded organs and his intestines splattering onto the stone floor. His body gasps and fights for air he can’t have, his lungs punctured by ice. The only thing his screaming thoughts can focus on is how mad Logan’s going to be when he finds out he has to redo the stitches again . Vanessa breaks the chains and bars holding her back, ice snapping through them easily.
“You’re not a person, you’re a walking corpse that refuses to rot, a ghost that doesn’t know when to pass on.” She walks towards him, side-stepping the ice and blood, staring up at him with calm, cold eyes. “You’re in denial my dear, fooling yourself as well as everyone around you into believing you’re still living. Living people don’t have to drag themselves out of bed every morning, living people don’t just lay there staring at nothing knowing they have to move but not doing anything about it, living people eat . Accept it my prince, it doesn’t matter how much they stitch and bandage you up, you’re too broken to live.”
He chokes and coughs, dark red coming up his throat and out his mouth. “And, dear, the idea that you’ve “escaped” me is laughable.” The ice cracks, falls apart and melts, leaving him with nothing but a gaping hole in his chest and Vanessa. He forces himself not to look down, not wanting to see the hollow remains of his torso. Vanessa wraps one hand around his neck and places another on his cheek.
“You’re my prince and I’m your queen. We’re bound together, created for each other. You can’t just leave .” She laughs. “There’s nowhere else for you to go. No one could love you the way I do. No one could own you the way I do. I’m the only one for you, you don’t need anyone else, you shouldn’t even want anyone else!” Her grip on his neck tightens, he can feel her nails breaking his skin, drawing blood. His hands grasp hers, trying to force her to let go, but he’s too tired and in too much pain to do more than weakly struggle.
“You’ll always be my prince. It doesn’t matter how far you go, it doesn’t matter how hard you try to get away from me, it doesn’t matter how much you say you hate me. You’re my prince and nothing you ever do will change that.” Her grip tightens even more, her nails now tearing gashes into his bruising skin, the pain joining the overwhelming blurr of sensation in his brain.
“Even in death you’ll still be mine.” And she rips off his head.
Thea wakes up.
He bolts upright, hands snapping to his mouth and muffling any noise he might make. He takes quick, desperate breaths as he explores his neck and chest with shaking hands, searching for any sign of injury. He finds nothing aside from the large, aching scar on his chest, and takes a deep, heavy breath, relaxing a little. It was just a dream. Vanessa’s still in jail, unable to hurt him or use her ice, and he’s still in his room, trying and failing to sleep peacefully. He buries his head in his hand, runs his fingers through his overgrown hair. He’s exhausted, his head aches from the lack of rest and the overflow of nightmares. His skin itches.
The shadows curl around his waist, his arms, his chest, trying to comfort him. The weight is nice and he sits there for a moment, slowly calming down with the shadows hanging off of him. When the urge to tear off his skin finally fades, he uncurls and looks around the room. Sunlight drifts through the windows, lighting up the otherwise dark room. It’s daytime. He wants to dive back under his blankets, to curl up and stay there until he starves or rots. But Cam’s going to be really worried if he doesn’t leave his room again , and he’s tired of disappointing people.
So he gets up. Gets dressed. Brushes his hair. Leaves his room. Tries not to scream. Does his best to pretend he’s a functioning human being and not a broken mess that breaks down at the slightest hint of a cool breeze. Cam seems happy, relieved that he’s finally moving around on his own, treats him with some semblance of normal. But she’s still too careful around him, gets things for him and talks to him like he can’t do things for himself, like he’ll shatter if he so much as bumps into something. It makes him want to scream, makes him want to tear at his hair and tell her he’s fine he’s not made of glass Cam I’m not going to break if I pick something up- But he doesn't do that. Because that would be rude and mean and upset her. He doesn't want to upset her.
So he doesn’t say a word, so he lets Cam do what she wants, so he listens to the others and spends time with them and tries very hard to pretend he isn’t falling apart at the seams. The bandages have since been removed, but he still feels his injury. He can still feel the odd, cold, wrongness deep in his chest. Can still feel his torso ache and chill, pressing down on his lungs until he can’t talk, until he can’t breathe. He can still feel her loving hands on his cheek as she tears his body to shreds.
“Thea.” Derek says, breaking him out of his thoughts. He’s in the library, looking at a book he doesn’t remember picking up. Derek stands next to him and judging by her tone, she’s been trying to get his attention for a while.
He gives what he hopes is a convincing smile. “Yes?”
“When was the last time you slept?”
He has no idea. “Just last night! I didn’t sleep very well though, so if I seem a bit out of it that might be why.”
She looks doubtful…... very doubtful. “......What if tonight me and Logan spend the night with you? It’s been a while since we’ve spent a night together and it might help you sleep more.”
He wants to say no, he can’t spend time with others, not if he plans to visit her again. But if he says no Derek will get suspicious, she might follow him, she might find out what he’s doing. And that can’t happen. So he agrees and that’s how he finds himself in his room with Derek, Logan, and Debrah. Cam having to go back to her shop and Debrah having broken into their little group the moment she found out about it.
“I still don’t understand why carrots can’t be a spice.” Logan grumbles, currently arguing with Debrah about cooking. Thea shifts in his spot on the bed, next to Derek who he’s sure is keeping an eye on him. Logan and Debrah are sitting on the other side, a warm cup of cocoa in his hand. Thea sips from his own cup and tries very hard not to think about where he should be, about who’s waiting for him.
“It’s just not Logan! It’s not used that way.”
“Well why not? Ginger’s a spice isn’t it? Ginger’s a root and carrots are roots so therefore it could be a spice too!”
“Logan, spices need a strong smell.” Derek says.
“Carrots smell!”
“Really? Then what do they smell like?” Deb asks.
“Carrots!! It's a very clear smell!”
“Oh so I guess oranges are spices now too since they have such a distinctive smell.” His body tenses up.
“That’s a good point, why aren’t oranges spices?!” His throat goes dry.
“I was being sarcastic. Oranges can’t be a spice, they’re fruits.” He remembers her hand in his.
“Who says spices have to be vegetables? When you put orange juice on something doesn't that count as adding spice?” He remembers leading her to the hill just on the barrier of the forest, far away from town. It had a beautiful view of the night sky.
“Logan….no…...no that doesn't count as adding spice.” They couldn't visit it much, it was a long walk and Vanessa’s trips out of the castle were so rare, not to mention risky. Her mother hated it when she left, she would’ve been just fine with keeping Vanessa inside for her entire life. But Vanessa wasn’t. So she snuck out and went with him to that hill.
“Well it should! It makes the food taste different.” They always brought sweets and oranges with them, things to snack on while they talked and stargazed.
“Just because it makes food ‘taste different’ doesn’t mean it’s a spice.” Just them, their snacks, their words, and a sea of stars. He always looked forward to those nights. When he moved in with Vanessa he thought most nights would be like that. Not on the hillside and under the stars, but spent together with snacks and stories.
“Then what else doe s i t m…” And they were, at first. At first, most nights were spent together, talking and hanging out. And then Vanessa’s mother died. And then she stopped wanting to know his thoughts. And then she stopped wanting to talk to him at all. And then he wasn’t allowed to eat oranges anymore. Because she felt like he loved them more than he loved her and how could he do that to her how horrible was he to make her feel jealous over a fruit? So he stopped. And then he wasn’t allowed to eat other foods too. So he stopped. And then he wasn’t allowed to eat without her around. So he stopped. And then he wasn’t allowed to enjoy food too much. So he stopped. And then he wasn’t allowed to not enjoy food too much. So he stopped. And he was hungry, and he looked forward to when he would leave the castle and Cam would give him food, and his hands always shook during meals, and he hated nights where they would just talk and hang out, and he hated eating with her, and he hated eating. But it was ok. Because he loved her.
He doesn’t remember what oranges taste like anymore.
“T h e a ?” He doesn’t know what he’s not allowed to eat now.
“. . . T h e a ?” He still tries to stick to Vanessa’s list.
“T h e a ? ?” But sometimes they’ll give him something he’s not allowed.
“T h e a?!” And he can’t say no.
“ T h ea !” Because if he says no he’ll have to explain why.
“ T h ea !!” And then they’ll have a talk, where they explain that Vanessa’s gone and he doesn’t have to do what she says and he knows he knows he KNOWS.
“ T hea !!” And he doesn’t want to have that talk.
“ T hea !!” Because he’s fine.
“ T hea !!!” So he eats it.
“Thea.” He snaps out of his thoughts. He’s in his room, with Derek, Deb, and Logan. And all three are staring at him. And Derek’s hand is on his shoulder. And he’s been out of it for god knows how long, staring at nothing, freaking everyone out.
He clears his throat. “Sorry I zoned out for a moment. What was the question?”
Logan gives him a Look and for a moment he very much hopes the Helsoner prince doesn’t ask him if he’s ok. Because then Thea thinks he’ll start crying and he really doesn’t want to cry right now in front of everything right after having a breakdown for no reason -
“Um….I just asked if you agree with me….about the spice.”
Right. The spice, if carrots are a spice, if…….other things are spices too. “Well...if it has a smell...and can be cut up into pieces so small that you can sprinkle it onto things….then I guess I don’t see why carrots can’t be a spice.”
Logan throws his arms up. “YES! Carrots are a spice!!”
Debrah rolls her eyes. “Just because Thea doesn’t know how to cook doesn’t mean carrots are a spice.”
Logan crosses his arms, victory clear on his face. “It’s three against two. Carrots are a spice.”
Derek raises an eyebrow and takes her hand off Thea’s shoulder. “Logan, there’s only four people here. It’s two against two.”
“Wrong! Thea counts as two people, because the shadows. So there.” He takes a pleased sip of his hot chocolate.
“Ah...well they vote on their own, so Derek’s right it’s only two against two.” He glances down at his shadow. He’s 99% sure the shadows haven’t been paying attention to the conversation and his suspicions are all but confirmed when a boney, inhuman hand rises out of the shadow and simply gives a thumbs up. This is more than enough for Logan though who, in his quick scramble to gloat over the two who actually know how to cook, starts choking on his hot chocolate. Debrah gives him an unsympathetic pat on the back.
Thea, still scrambled and sleep-deprived, says the first thing that pops into his head. “Oh, he’s dying. Finally.” He regrets it immediately.
Logan’s choking gets worse, laughter mixed in with it, and Deb looks up with him with a shocked expression. “FINALLY?!”
“I-I can’t believe-- that Thea’s-Thea’s been trying to kill me this en-entire time.” Logan wheezes.
“The truth comes out: Prince Thea, poisoning Prince Logan’s hot chocolate this entire time!”
“I’ve been BETRAYED!”
Thea puts his head in his hands.
“Tell me Prince Thea, your plan that I’m sure was very well thought out in great and extensive detail, so I may know the full extent of your treachery.”
He sighs and drags his hands down his face. “......Oh no. My externally well thought out plan. Of murder. Foiled. Woe is me. My plan was to…...poison Prince Logan. Slowly. And very often.”
“Interesting, interesting. Tell me, what type of poison were you using?” Logan asks, quirking an eyebrow.
He hates Logan so much. “......Deadly poison. That kind.”
“But what kind of deadly poison? Adenium obesum perhaps? Or chelidonium majus?”
“Uh…”
“Daucus carota? The brugmansia genus? Hedera helix? Vernicia fordii?”
“That one.”
“Which one?”
“Yes.”
Logan laughs. “Wait--”
“ANYWAYS. Back to my plan. I was hoping to make Prince Logan sick. And then kill him. But it was taking forever. I was starting to consider just stabbing him.”
“Stabbing would be much simpler.”
“But. When he finally died. Helsoner would have no ruler. And I would….” he stuttered, having trouble remembering his very well thought out plan. “...make Muffins the queen of Helsoner. Because she would be a great queen. Clearly.”
“Ah. Alas, I see you’re right. Muffins would make a wonderful queen. Surely a much better ruler than I could ever be. Clearly I have no choice but to allow you to continue with your plan.” Logan says, closing his eyes and putting a mournful hand over his chest.
“It’s for the best. I shall let Queen Muffins know right away, she’ll be overjoyed.” They sit in mournful silence for about five seconds before Logan starts giggling again.
“What?” Thea asks, starting to laugh too.
“The way you said it. Like you were so fucking tired of waiting for me to die. Finally .”
“Muffins was starting to get impatient, she really wants to be queen.” He sits there for a moment, thinking. “.......Now I’m kinda tempted to declare Muffins as Subcon’s new queen, just to see how people would react.”
“DO IT!!!!” Logan cries, slamming his hands down on the bed.
“Do not do that.” Deb says.
“I won’t, I was just thinking about it.”
“Good.”
“COWARD!!!! IT’D BE AMAZING!”
“Yeah but it’d also get him in a lot of trouble.”
“Yeah it wouldn’t be worth it. I can make a little queen outfit for her though.”
Deb gasped. “A little queen outfit?”
“Yeah, with a tiny robe and crown.”
“Would she actually let you put that on her?”
“Probably not but I can hope.”
“How would you make a robe like that?” Derek asks, leaning over to face him.
“Ah well first I’d try to measure her and get an idea of how much fabric I’d need to cut, knowing Muffins it’d probably take a few tries but once I’ve got my measurements I’d pick my fabric and start cutting it…” He explains the process to Derek, trying to go into much detail as possible. It’s nice to talk about something he’s so familiar with, something he knows like the back of his hand. It’s almost enough for him to ignore the feeling of Vanessa breathing down his neck, to forget that she’s still down there waiting. Almost.
------
The path to her cell is familiar, as is the sight of her waiting for him, as is her greeting, hello my prince . The pet name makes his skin itch. He sits down.
“I’m not supposed to be here.” He says, staring down at the floor.
Vanessa smiles. “Yet you’re here anyways. Did they realize where you’re been going?”
“....No. I think Derek’s starting to get suspicious though.”
“Well, I suppose now if you ever just suddenly stop coming I know where you are. Locked up in your room so you won’t disobey.”
His eyes snap to hers. “They wouldn’t do that, they’re not-”
“Like me? My dear, they may pretend to be better but they’re all the same. They don’t want you to be what I did, but they do want you to be something . And here you are, disobeying and disappointing them, much in the same way you disappointed me. You really can’t make anyone happy can you?”
He looks back down, tears sting in his eyes. “......I make Muffins happy.”
“Muffins is a cat, my prince. A stupid animal that only loves you because you feed it. It doesn’t care about you. If someone else gave it more it’d abandon you in a heartbeat.”
“......”
She sighs. “I’m sorry my dear, but it’s true. Others only really keep you around because you’re useful to them, or so they can fix you. You know you’re broken yet you don’t allow others to help you. They put all this time and energy into you, yet you don’t give anything in return. Perhaps everyone would just….be better if you were gone.”
His eyes snap back to her. “....what?”
“Well, think about it. If you weren’t around any more they wouldn’t have to waste their energy dealing with you. They could just live their lives, without having to deal with you going behind their backs and disappointing them. It’d be easier for you too, you know. You wouldn’t have to eat anymore, or force yourself out of bed. You could fix yourself, you can’t be broken if you’re completely shattered. And all you have to do is fall asleep, and never wake up. Doesn’t that sound so much easier?”
He stands up. “I’m leaving.”
“What?” Vanessa stares up at him, seeming genuinely surprised for the first time in their many many meetings. “What do you mean you’re leaving?!”
“I mean I’m leaving.” He wants to vomit and he wants to tear off his itching skin and he wants to stay stay stay stay, but he forces himself to step away, to move towards the exit. “Goodbye.”
“Wha- GET BACK HERE!” Vanessa slams her body against the bars. He flinches, badly, but keeps moving. “YOU CAN’T JUST LEAVE!” He keeps walking. “I’M GOING TO GET YOU BACK! IT DOESN’T MATTER WHERE YOU GO, IT DOESN’T MATTER WHO I HAVE TO KILL, YOU’RE NEVER GETTING AWAY FROM ME!” She screams, her voice echoing through the corridor. He hears the clatter of the guards as they approach, her yelling alerting them, but she doesn’t seem deterred in the slightest. “YOU’RE MINE! YOU’RE MINE AND YOU’RE GOING TO STAY MINE. I DON’T CARE HOW MUCH YOU PRETEND TO HATE ME, YOU’RE NEVER GOING TO BE ANYTHING BUT MY PRINCE.” The guards arrive, and the shadows whisk him away before he can be seen. Vanessa’s screams of rage follow him.
-------
He walks the length of his room, turns around, walks back, turns around, walks back, back and forth over and over and over and over. Pacing until he can’t feel his legs anymore. He needs to talk to someone. He can’t talk to anyone. He needs to do something. He can’t do anything. So he paces. He can’t read, too anxious to get lost in words, and he can’t sew, unable to trust himself with anything sharp. So he paces. Muffins watches him from the bed, her eyes following him back and forth.
He wants to talk to someone, but he doesn’t want to bother anyone. He wants to stab a knife into his abdomen, but he doesn’t want to die. He wants to itch until his skin peels off, but he doesn’t want to get blood on the floor. He stops in the middle of the room. He feels sick, he feels like he’s going to cry, he feels like tearing apart his body, he feels like curling up into a ball and never moving again. He digs his nails into his scalp and immediately stops because he doesn’t want to hurt himself. His room feels claustrophobic, like it’s getting harder and harder to breathe and the walls are closing in and there’s nothing he can do. He feels watched, he feels like at any moment Vanessa’s going to grab him and never let go. (He can almost feel her hands around his neck, squeezing tight until his body ceases to move. Or her hand around his arm, digging her fingernails into his skin until he’s dripping red. Or her hands in his chest, ripping out his heart and claiming it for her own.)
He feels trapped and broken and like if he stays in this room any longer they’re going to find a corpse in the morning. So he does the only thing he can think of. He goes to Derek and Logan’s room. He stands outside the door, trying to knock on the door but unable to. He needs to talk to someone but he doesn’t want to bother them and what if they’re mad that he woke them up, Logan’s normally up at this time but what if he’s asleep and he deprives his friend of the megar rest he gets or what if they’re not there and he looks like an idiot knocking on a door with no one inside. He paces and he taps and he tries to leave and he tries to knock and he stalls and he shakes and he steadies himself. He needs to knock but he doesn’t want to but he needs to so he forces himself to raise his hand, and, despite the growing panicking and the sickness in his stomach and the itching, gives a quiet knock knock .
There’s movement inside the room, quiet groaning, the sound of someone getting up, footsteps. Derek opens the door. He forces himself to open his mouth.
“I need to talk to you.”
--------
Thea groans as sunlight drifts over his face, waking him up. He buries his head in his blanket in protest, but when sleep refuses to take him back he begrudgingly opens his eyes. He’s at the bottom of a mass of bodies and limbs. Logan’s completely spooning him, arms wrapped around his chest and legs slightly intertwined with his. He thinks the Helsoner might be drooling on him a bit. The things he does for cuddles. Cam’s right next to him and he discovers, with a burst of embarrassment, that he’s been using her right boob as a pillow. He carefully adjusts himself so his head rests on her arm instead. Derek is cuddling Cam, their arms going around Cam’s back and Debrah’s side. Deb herself is squished between Derek and Cam, using Cam’s stomach as a pillow.
Overall, it’s a mess. The blankets have been mostly kicked off and he’s pretty sure all the actual pillows have been lost to the floor. He has the feeling that everyone’s gonna wake up and complain of something aching. But it’s a warm mess and he doesn’t really feel like moving, despite Logan’s possible drool. He sighs and nestles himself deeper into the pile. It’s been….a while since he last visited Vanessa. Some days he can still hear her screaming at him, some days he can feel her tearing into his chest or painting frost on his skin. Some days his skin itches. But it’s rarer and getting better. And the therapist Derek practically forced him to go to might be helping too.
He remembers mornings with Vanessa, how he’d wake up with snow in his hair and frost on his skin and her hand gripping his arm so tightly it hurt. He remembers how for a while he’d been scared that the chill had permanently settled into his skin, that he’d never be warm again. But now there’s sunlight lighting his skin and warm bodies holding him in a way that won’t leave bruises and no sign of a chill. And he feels….he feels good. He closes his eyes, relaxes his body, and goes back to sleep, warm and surrounded by people who love him.