Chapter Text
Five whole days.
Five whole days Soul has spent rotting in bed, hardly moving. He had no energy, it seemingly all beimg used to simply keep him alive, keep him awake.
He wished he could be like the others, able to go freely without worrying about if they could get up in the morning, without feeling like they were constantly trapped inside their own limp body.
Five whole days he has spent in a never-ending pit of fear and self-disgust. Why him? He constantly wondered to himself. Why did he, the caretaker of Whole and Logic and Emotion, have to live like this? To live in filth that was his bed and his room. To live in a state of forever misery and depression. He couldn't do his job like this.
How he wants the others to feel how he feels. Heart and Mind were selfish and uncompassionate in this regard, not caring for how Soul felt, they just wanted him to do his job, for him to stop being lazy. He hated when they called a depressive episode as him being lazy. He was not lazy, he was sure of it. Are they just ignoring the work Soul has done for the both of them? The times he had to break up their fights, just for peace and for all of their sanities?
Five whole days Soul has been thinking about this. He was being unproductive, selfish, uncaring. He had to take care of Whole, he had to be the binding agent of the trio. Because nobody else was suited for that job. He was the balance between Logic and Emotion that they needed. And yet, he couldn't even be that for himself. Emotion taking over all Logic that said he needed to do his job, to care for everyone.
"C'mon Soul, you can't stay in there forever, Whole needs you!" "Hey Soul? We think Whole needs your help." "Soul? Can you help us?" Soul this, Soul that. He is only needed when he is useful. His only use was to help. They didn't care about him as a person. They didn't care for his emotions or his thoughts. Was he even a person to them? Did they see him as purely their convenience? More than likely, he deducted, he had no purpose other then that.
Five whole days he has wanted help. He wanted to take what he has given so much of, or what he hopes he has given a lot of. He wanted to be helped, to be taken care of, to be simply checked in on, even if its not out of concern, but just a simple "you alright?".
The little things have always mattered to him. The little gifts Heart always used to make. The times Mind would go out of his way to make Soul food. Soul would dwell on the past, and miss it so dearly. He hated this cacophony, this constant loop that always went wrong somewhere.
Five whole fucking days. He was sick of it. Sick of everything. He just wanted to end this loop himself, take control of his decisions just for once. He knew how he would do it. He just didn't have the strength to go and set it up. He was so weak he couldn't even attempt to take his own life. They were right. He was pathetic.