Chapter Text
The two of them were in the green room, winding down after the ritual, taking their time to collect themselves before changing into regular clothes and returning to their bus.
Vessel had been trembling when II hugged him on stage, smiling through his tears as he bowed to their worshippers, but II saw the moment the other turned around and started walking backstage, brushing a not-so-gentle hand against his jaw to keep his tears from falling and sniffling in an attempt to keep his composure. His shoulders heaved with the effort and II knew he tried to tuck back the monsters he let out during performances into the crevices of his mind that he kept isolated for Sleep.
He had emotions that only gained release during rituals, and although II was familiar with the catharsis of a great performance, he was afraid that for Vessel, that divide wasn’t healthy. The crying was good, it was even happy tears sometimes, Vessel feeding off the energy and adoration of the crowd, but his tears didn’t come when he was off-stage. He just shut down and didn’t say a word, at times pulled on II’s sleeve to get his attention and ask for the familiarity of strong arms around him, grounding and reminding him that he wasn’t alone. Other times he hid away, closing himself off until II started gently probing, and softly ordered him to leave his room at least long enough to eat something.
Vessel sat down on the sofa, first leaning back, then propped his elbows on his thighs and dragged his hands over his face, thoroughly drained, smearing his tears with the already patchy paint around the lower half of his face. He drank a few gulps of water, then pulled his legs up and curled into himself instead, nursing his water bottle and continuing to cry silently, blinking long and forceful, struggling to get the tears to stop. II wiped his face and hair with a towel, sipping on cold water as well, stealing glances at the other. The way he bit his bottom lip to keep it from wobbling, the way he clutched a tissue and pressed it to his nose, but didn’t blow it, only wiped and opted to draw quiet breaths through his mouth. His gaze was fixed on his water bottle and II tried giving him space, letting him come down from his high like he usually would, adrenaline seeping out of his body with the remaining tears.
Except Vessel didn’t appear to be calming down, instead he seemed to work himself up more. His breathing quickened and he set down his water bottle after screwing the cap back on with trembling hands, fumbling with and almost dropping the plastic cap. He flexed his fingers and stared at them, eyes distant. II stopped to watch as Vessel hugged his knees and took a deep breath, trying to draw out his inhale. Vessel pressed his face to his knees and II took that as a cue to turn around and continue getting ready to leave. He just got his paint off and finished changing his clothes when Vessel let out the tiniest, yet most broken sob II had ever heard. It made him want to cradle the man close, but his friend simply looked up at him in shame, then averted his eyes, murmuring in a strained, shaky voice, "Sorry." Trembling hands wiped his face roughly and II knew there would be darker than usual circles under Vessel’s eyes with how harshly he was rubbing them.
“What? Why?” II frowned, but Vessel simply eyed II’s bag on the table in front of him, then his clothes beside it, his eyes drifting to the other’s face momentarily, then flicking away again.
“Sorry. Can’t—” A sharp, forced inhale interrupted his speech, “Can‘t calm down.” He looked so apologetic and leaned his face on one knee, sniffling, mouth open to breathe quietly. Vessel didn’t look at II, but somewhere on the floor as he kept firmly wiping his eyes, almost as if he was trying to push the tears back where they came from. His breath hitched and he started taking increasingly quicker, shallower breaths, muttering to himself “Shit. No.” Vessel put his elbows on his knees and created a little shelter for his head, pressing his hands against the sides of it, trying to keep himself together. His mumbles became higher pitched and even quieter, "No-no. ‘m sorry.” He was shaking his head now as panic overtook him, sobs breaking free of his chest, while he still wiped his face roughly, trying to hide behind his arms. II froze for a moment, then carefully stepped closer.
“Hey, Ves?” A soft whimper and some sniffling were the answers, “It’s okay. You’re safe. I’m here. We’re backstage. Ritual’s over. You were really good.” He sat beside the other, keeping some distance between them. “Can I—” Vessel drew in a sudden breath, causing II to halt, “—touch you?”
“Sorry, sorry.” Vessel was still shaking his head, but then he seemingly registered the question and muttered, blinking at II through wet eyelashes from behind his forearms, “Touch? Plea—hease?” His shoulders were shaking, so II set a hand there, a firm touch, brushing along with gentle pressure.
“It’s alright, Vessel.” II put his other hand to Vessel’s elbow on his knee, hoping another point of contact would help. He didn’t move that hand, just kept it there, letting his fingers caress the skin in a soothing back and forth motion, “You’re okay. Breathe.” Vessel let out a long exhale, but involuntarily started drawing quick breaths, gulping down a sob that threatened to break out, “Deep, breathe deep for me.”
Vessel blubbered something that sounded close to another string of apologies and forced the quick breaths to stop, tensing up as he inhaled deeply.
“That’s it. Now, out, looong.” II drew out the word for the other’s exhale, “Good. Now, again.” There was a hitch in Vessel’s breath, his control over his tense posture faltering, and he glanced at II, “You’re doing so good. Go on. Pretty, long breaths.” II’s hand went to his upper back, rubbing between the other’s shoulder blades, “Lovely, Vessel. Keep doing that.”
Vessel sniffled but nodded, leaning his forehead against his wrists, letting his hands hang and cover his face. It was wet and hot, but he could feel colder tear tracks dry and his skin felt uncomfortable, paint dissolved by sweat sticking to it and now tears loosening the paint and making a mess of his face and hands.
“Clean up?” He mumbled in the middle of a long inhale from behind his hands, blinking at II slowly, almost pleading.
“Clean up?” II frowned and Vessel gave a small nod and his own light frown, “Oh, a cloth. Right. Yeah.” II reached for the soft material that was set out on a table and gave it to Vessel, who wetted it from his water bottle and started wiping his face, letting out a shuddering breath, focusing on the way air was flowing in and out of his lungs at an almost steady pace. The paint mostly came away from his face, but his neck had long stripes on it from sweat and tears, and the wet cloth only smeared it all around as Vessel tried to soothe himself with long, slow swipes across his skin.
There was a fleck of paint on his nose, so II gestured to the cloth where Vessel was now fiddling with it, rolling the material between his fingers, “Can I?” Vessel let him take it, and II twisted it so there was a small folded up corner and swiped off that little bit of paint, returning, after folding the cloth to a clean area and wetting it, to gently wipe around Vessel’s eyes, careful not to irritate his skin any further. Vessel just watched II as he worked, but the man was lost in taking care of him, so Vessel allowed himself to blink sluggishly and let his presence calm him.
“I'm sorry, Two.” Vessel said finally, after II stepped back and folded up the cloth. His eyebrows drew together and he looked between Vessel’s eyes, gaze soft.
“Nothing to be sorry about, Ves. You know I’m here for you. Like you are for me.” II gave him a small smile, “Panic sometimes sneaks up on you. You couldn’t get down from the ritual high. It happens.” Vessel took that in, “You’re okay. We still have a bit of time for you to get ready.” Vessel suddenly froze as he realized they had to leave eventually, probably very soon. He fumbled for his mask on the couch beside him, then stepped to his bag, rummaging for clothes and towels and where did he put—
II put a hand on his arm to stop his frantic search, “Hey. Calm, Ves, calm.” He handed Vessel a towel and some paint remover, taking his mask and putting it away for him.
“Thank you.” Vessel tried to speak clearly, but his voice felt weak and he grimaced to himself at how croaky he sounded.
II threw the rest of his own stuff into his bag and helped Vessel get rid of his paint enough that the other wouldn’t be too uncomfortable under his clothes, just until he could take a shower. They were almost ready, Vessel was pulling his hoodie over his head, wiggling his arms to get comfortable in the baggy top. He looked tired, his hair tangled and his eyes puffy, but dry at last, still, he wiped under his right eye and over his cheek. It was a habitual motion, II knew it well. Vessel did it when he tried to collect himself, just like now, as he pocketed his phone and looked around to check he put everything away. II hopped off from the table where he sat, watching and waiting for the other.
“Can we—" Vessel zipped his bag and turned to II, “Can we cuddle on the bus?” He hugged his arms around himself, long limbs getting lost in the loose sleeves of his hoodie, looking almost small, and utterly adorable, with a hesitant look on his face.
II couldn’t help the smile on his face, “Of course, we can cuddle on the bus.” II grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder, then held out his hand for Vessel, “Ready?”
Vessel looked at him for a moment before putting his hand in II’s and nodded, letting himself be led.