Work Text:
Vox sighed.
He hated crowds.
Despised them, even.
It was way way too much effort to keep up appearances, but he was an overlord, one of The Vees, and the CEO of his own tech company, so it was almost impossible to avoid crowds. Even with this discomfort, he made it look like he adored all the attention.
He did, though the way it came to him always put him on edge.
Back to his current situation, he felt fortunate to have his own bedroom. No one went in except for himself, so he just flopped face first into his bed. He needed to wind the fuck down. With that in mind, he got up and went to his closet to see what he could change into. He chose one of his favorite things to wear when he wanted to relax on his own; his navy-blue shark onesie.
Once he changed into that, he went back to his bed, looking over at his wall, which was an aquarium with a few of his own sharks; two of the more technological looking ones, and what he liked to call his land-shark named Vark. (Vark was taking a nap on the floor of the aquarium, looking cute and adorable like always.)
Vox got out his tablet (he knew that if he was seen with it by the other Vees, he’d never live it down) and started up some shark documentaries. As it played, he only hugged one of his pillows, watching the screen with interest. (He couldn’t tell if he’s seen this one before. It didn’t matter though.)
He started to zone out as it played, his mind starting to wander away from him. It reminded him of how he felt throughout the day, what happened. A majority of his day was full of people; strangers actually. Interviewers, reporters, employees, random fuckers. It was honestly a miracle he was able to get through the day. He fucking hated it. He honestly wanted Vark with him, but he didn’t want to be seen as weak and dependent on a literal shark. (Vark was more than just a shark, but that’s for another day.)
The documentary was almost forgotten about as Vox clutched his pillow.
He hated what he had to go through. It was so stupid to hate such a thing, yet here he was. He didn’t understand why such a thing bothered him. He was thankful that he had to deal with literally no one other than himself. It was strange, yes. But he wasn’t forced to see anyone at the end of a day like this one.
Yet during it, it took everything to not hide somewhere secluded.
His breaths started to get shallow.
Honestly, just imagining all the people made his anxiety rise. It was funny to him, the fact that he was getting all worked up over a bunch of people.
Thinking of all the people around him, just pushed against him in that crowd. He hated that, interestingly enough.
He put a hand on his heart, feeling it race and his sharp breaths.
Why was he breathing so fast?
Why was his heart going so fast?
Why couldn’t he stop?
Vox had to let go of his forgotten pillow just so he could try and focus on calming the fuck down. Easy, right?
Fucking hell, why did his mind spiral?
He faintly registered the sound of water splashing by his aquarium.
Next thing he knew with his now blurry vision, he felt something like a mix of something smooth and sandpaper rub against his hand. He saw a blurb of pale blue and reached out to put his hand on it. The blurb leaned into it as it sat in Vox’s lap, also leaning into his chest.
At the comforting pressure and familiar texture, Vox’s breathing started to return to normal.
The documentary was still going and Vox looked down to see his most beloved shark lying on him; Vark. Vox smiled, giving him a few scritches that made the shark’s tail wag. He chuckled, thankful that he had Vark.
Knock knock knock
“VOX! GET YOUR ARSE OUT HERE, I NEED YOU FOR A MODEL!”
…Motherfuck-