Chapter Text
Vessel was cuddling with his plush shark one morning, scrolling his phone. He had his legs around its tail and his chin tucked into its nose. There was a knock on his door, followed by IV’s voice.
“Hey, Ves. Can you please come help in the studio?” He pushed himself out from under his blanket, pocketing his phone, and went to see what they needed his help with, one hand absentmindedly pulling on his door handle as he stepped into the corridor.
Returning to his room, Vessel found the door open and II inside. There was a laundry basket on the foot of his bed and II was laying some clothes on his covers, sorting from a neatly folded pile. The other took a glance at where he left his plush tucked in and pointed at it when he noticed Vessel enter the room, “Cute,” He set the last of Vessel’s shirts down and lifted the basket, turning to face him.
Vessel froze, “Oh, uh–“ It was too late to tuck it back into his closet. He left the door open without thinking. Staring at the plush in his bed, he was frantically racking his brain for something to say.
“I got your laundry.” II tilted his head to catch Vessel’s gaze with a light frown, gesturing to the clothes.
“Tha– thank you.” Vessel stuttered. The other just nodded with a small smile and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click.
“Vessel?” Vessel looked up from where he had been actively avoiding their eyes and pushing around the food on his plate, II’s soft, almost pleading gaze greeting him from the other end of the table, “It’s fine.” The other two looked curiously between them.
“It’s fine.” Vessel echoed quietly. III opened his mouth, then closed it, looking at IV across from him, then at II, his frown posing a silent question. II eyed Vessel for another moment before glancing at the other two and lightly shaking his head.
Later, II was on his way to knock on Vessel’s door, only to find it open, with the man sitting at his desk, scribbling in his notebook. He shut the door behind him carefully to give them some privacy and looked Vessel over. His face still looked worried, and II noticed his bed was made, plush nowhere to be found. II stepped closer to the desk, taking in Vessel’s stiff posture, the way he was hunched and let his frame get lost in his loose sweater.
“Vessel, do you want to talk about this morning?” The pen in Vessel’s hand stopped the moment he heard his name.
He answered in a muted voice, hoping that the topic would get forgotten, “I’m not sure there’s much to talk about.” Vessel wrote over a word again, perfecting his lines.
“Okay.” II’s tone was soft and careful, “But I hope you know that it’s alright. Your shark, I mean.”
“Mhm.” Vessel still didn’t look at him, fiddling with the cap of his pen, fingers repeating the same motions. II placed a hand on Vessel’s arm, which prompted him to freeze in his movements. He still didn’t look up, just stared at his own hands.
“Listen, Ves. I’m not judging you, okay?” II’s touch grew softer, shifting a little, a careful, soothing gesture. “Wanting comfort is okay. It’s normal. You’re not any less for it.” Vessel’s mouth was a thin line as if he wanted to argue but knew it was pointless. He nodded after a few moments, but it was clear he didn’t agree with II. The other sighed, “Vessel, would you please look at me?”
That worked, and Vessel was quick to draw up his shoulders and turn his head, an apologetic look on his face, eyes immediately searching II’s expression. Maybe the request came out sharper than intended.
“Sorry. Just.” II’s eyebrows drew together, “I want you to feel comfortable here. It’s your home, you can do anything you want. If you want a shark plushie, who cares? We don’t,” Vessel looked strangely rejected, “Or, we do. Gods. I’m sorry. What I mean is, we don’t care if you have a plushie. It’s cute, it’s good that you get comfort from it and that’s it. No judgment, alright?”
Vessel alternated his gaze between II’s eyes, “Promise?”
“I promise.” II said with a soft smile. Vessel could be endearing in his shyness sometimes. He finally nodded, more assured, but looked so small, still, curled up in his chair, long limbs folded up to take up as little space as possible.
“Come here, you.” II gestured for him with his arms out, taking a step back to allow Vessel to stand. He did, reluctantly, and looked at II’s arms, hesitation clear in his eyes. II smiled to himself and stepped in front of him, leaning his head against the other’s chest, wrapping his arms around the stunned man. “It really is okay, Vessel. I mean it.”
Vessel was trying hard not to think back to other times, but failed miserably. As he reached to place a tentative hand on II’s back, images flashed to his mind, of a memory from many years ago, the burning ache suddenly fresh in his chest. A person with a fuzzy face stormed into his room one morning when he was barely awake. They were upset about something unknown to Vessel and decided to take their anger out on him. The stuffed animal he was hugging to his chest was torn from his grasp as he looked up at the figure, suddenly feeling exposed, unsafe in his own bed. They shook the soft, moss-green turtle around, and degrading words filtered into his ears as the person pulled the plush out of his reach each time he came close to grab it. Vessel was desperate to get that warmth back, taking the scolding with his eyes averted, stealing glances up, but looking down at his hands when another harsher word was spoken. After a few minutes, he could only dare to glimpse at the now blurry green shape, trying to hold his tears back and ignore the pang in his chest. It usually ended with the person throwing his plush somewhere in his room with force, causing him to wince, and he spent some time after cleaning up the mess they’ve caused before sneaking into the kitchen to get breakfast in the house filled with invisible tension. He wasn’t addressed after that, but there were disapproving eyes on him as he sat at the table.
That time was different. The usual empty threats took a more serious tone and the person walked out of his room with determined steps. Vessel spoke up with a trembling voice, stuttering out a weak question, getting up from his bed to follow them. Something was squeezing his chest from the inside as he heard the front door slam closed. He looked out the window to see them tear the rubbish bin open and chuck his turtle inside it, letting the lid drop. They started to walk towards the door, seemingly more calm, but he didn’t stay to find out. He padded back to his room and left the door open a crack. If he recalled, their words were ‘Now that’s dealt with’, followed by a snicker of agreement.
Vessel didn’t go into the kitchen to get breakfast that morning and only showed up for lunch so they wouldn’t reprimand him. He could still remember how the potatoes and chicken tasted dry and bitter as he tried to swallow around the lump in his throat. Tears pricked his eyes, but he couldn’t let that happen, so he quickly finished eating and excused himself. There wasn’t anything waiting for him in his bed, so he slipped under the covers and listened for footsteps. He was lucky, they were satisfied and didn’t bother him for the rest of the day. After dinner, he took out the trash, peeking into the bin only to see the familiar green material matted with some unknown liquid, undeservingly defiled. Numbly, he saw his hand drop the bag and bring the lid down carefully. He went inside to wash his hands, vision growing blurry once again.
Vessel pulled away from II, easing out of the embrace, but the other patted his back a few times before he let him go. II gave him an easy smile and Vessel tried to mirror it. That was a long time ago. They were different people. He was different.
After that, he kept the shark in his closet, tucked away into the back, wrapped up in an old blanket, and hidden away by a pile of carefully folded hoodies. He didn’t want to take chances.