Chapter Text
It has been a long time since The Mindscape has been as calm as it is now. As the Sides all start to finally get along enough to work together again, all the parts of the Mindscape that had disappeared and pulled away from each other start to merge back together, the old commons coming right back out of the woodwork— replacing the two that they’ve gotten used to, the two that had separated them— and allowing them enough room to all sit together like they used to so long ago, like they used to before it all went wrong. And they all think it shows that maybe they can get past everything, that maybe they can finally talk it out, like they used to.
Morale is high.
Or that’s how it seems at first glance.
Maybe all of this change, all of this confirmation that they’re doing something right, that’re doing better, is what makes it easy to overlook the way Roman shifts away, a gaping hole eventually taking up the space where he once was, and maybe that’s why even when people realize he’s gone they don’t expect anything to actually be wrong.
Patton blames himself for everything that went wrong with Roman, because it is his fault. Patton had been the one to make all the decisions that had led to Roman’s breakdown. He had Split Creativity. He had pushed Janus and the others away. He had decided that selflessness was right no matter what. He had decided to go to the wedding. Even if Roman had been the one to bang the gavel, it is on him. And then even after all of that he still hadn’t been able to make up his mind, switching sides and calling one of his kiddos wrong, even after Roman had tried to understand, even after he’d already been called wrong by everyone else. And he regrets it. He really, really, does. And he knows he can’t change the past— The past is the past, and it’s long over and done with— But he can make it right now; he can start making it right for Roman too.
So when some of the others agree that something is off with Roman he quickly agrees to go to him, and even though no one else feels worried, Patton does.
Though Patton takes Janus with him, because Patton isn’t sure he can face his mistakes without any support, and, despite it all, he and Janus have fallen back into their old relationship with ease— they are starting to give each other the reassurance and hope that they used to take for granted, the reassurance and hope that they now need desperately because they’ve already lost it once before and aren’t sure they can deal without it again— so it is only natural for him to want zir support. Janus also quickly agrees, as ze had confided in him, whispering about the manipulations effects ze hadn’t expected, and zir own worry, about how easy it had been to get Roman to dance to zir tune; it had been too easy. It has been troubling Janus since then, and Patton has felt his own concern rise with zir own. But he continues to assure himself that it’s ok, because he can fix it, Roman isn’t lost to them, he can’t be lost to them.
He will be fine.
And that is what had led to it. It being the discovery of something that is almost impossible to understand. Something Patton doesn’t want to understand but has to. Because this is another consequence of his actions.
The Notebook.
It had started out innocent. They came to see Roman, to sit down and have a talk, and to make sure he understands that there are no hard feelings and that they are all sorry, but they never got to talk about that because Roman isn’t in his room when they get there, instead the door to The Imagination is swung open, its doorway shimmering with worlds untold, leaving Patton feeling unsteady as he stares at it, hands unconsciously clutching at his cat hoodie paws. The world shimmers blue and green like a meadow, and then purple and white like a galaxy.
And the sight of the open door squeezes something in Patton’s chest, his worry prickling, because Patton knows how dangerous the Imagination can really be, especially when Roman isn’t feeling good. And he thinks… he thinks Roman might not be. He can’t sense Roman’s emotions in the Imagination, but the feelings of his room are sticky and gross and almost… lost. And it’s so similar to—
Patton shakes that thought away.
—He really hopes that Roman is ok in there. He hopes he isn’t being reckless again.
Patton forces his eyes away from the door and looks at the rest of the room, and then over at Janus, who is ready to leave. Patton sees it in the way ze angles zir body towards the door, eyes lingering on him in question, but Patton pauses as his eyes flicker away again, seeing something on the table. It stands out against the dark oak, white paper inside a spiral notebook, small bits of its chipped cover around it showing that it’s dark purple or possibly black, and, thinking nothing of it, Patton picks it up.
He expects a note about Roman leaving, details about the new quest he will be gone for, an estimate for about how long he will be gone, and a Do Not Worry, Signed Your Favorite Prince, Roman! Like always.
But as his eyes scan the page, he finds something he shouldn’t know about. His stomach curls into itself and his hands shake, horror bleeding into him as quickly as the shame, and the guilt, and clarity soon follows, making his mind heavy. This is where Roman has gone, and it’s Patton’s fault. Roman is not fine. He is not even ok. The notebook is snatched from him and he jolts out of his head, turning to watch the way Janus thumbs through the pages, eyes widening as they fly across the striking words.
Papers flutter to the ground and Patton numbly drops to pick them up, a biting curiosity— that he knows he shouldn’t have, that he knows will only make this hurt worse — burning at his fingertips as he turns them around and arranges them in the order of the numbers he finds shown at the bottom. Eleven pages in total, counting the one Janus is reading as Patton gathers them.
And he shouldn’t do it. He knows he shouldn’t, even as he picks up page number two and starts to read. The guilt only grows, weighing him down and digging its claws into his heart. It twists and yanks as Roman’s private thoughts brand his mind, so beautifully crafted but still so raw, like he’s been turning the phrases and words over and over in his mind before writing them down with a rough pen stroke. When the words are so obviously tied to him though that’s when the pain roars, gripping his heart in sharpened claws and pulling, pulling, until he feels like he can’t take it. But he always does, continuing to scan the words until the page ends and he has to sit the page down and grab the next one. He shouldn’t. But the hurt is deserved and the guilt is something he should have to feel. He’s invading Roman’s privacy, hurting his kiddo again when he is in a lot of pain already— and this isn’t right.
His movements finally stop, but it isn’t because he’s gotten a hold of himself. It isn’t because of the morals he deems so important, but instead it is because they run out. The papers, Roman’s writings, have run out. He’s read all there is.
Patton sits down on Roman’s bed, a hand pressing against his eyes to stop any tears from falling as he thinks back to all of the signs he always dismissed. All of the times that Roman has seemed not ok and how he’s always convinced himself away from asking. All because of his own guilt, all because he’s known it’s his fault and didn’t want to face the consequences. The hurt and pain he’s inflicted on his Family, all because he can’t do his job right.
It only takes a moment for Janus to sit down next to him, hand hovering for a moment above the one Patton has dug into the covers, like ze is unsure of what to do. Patton whispers, he can’t get himself to speak any louder, it feels wrong to speak any louder, like sacrilege of something holy, “We should have put it down after we knew it wasn’t a note for us.” And he knows he should have; he knows he’s right. But they hadn’t put it down. He hadn’t. Because he was so horrified by what was written, so captivated by the writings, so… desperate to fix everything that the need to know what needs fixing isn’t something he could have passed up, even if it ruins it more right now. If there is a tiny chance for their, for Roman’s, future he will swallow it up despite the barbs, and tend to it in all his earnestness until it is good. Not just ok, or even alright, but good.
Janus lets out an affirmative hum and Patton feels his heart thumping against his ribs in rhythm to the way he feels it behind his eyes. The burn of guilt makes its way up his throat and face, smoke in his lungs and cuts in his throat make it impossible to speak, but he refuses to let it stop his actions. Maybe he can’t say the right words, maybe he never will be able to. But… But Roman needs him, so maybe he needs help. Maybe the others can say what Patton can’t in a way that finally gets through. Maybe the others will be better when Patton can’t.
Maybe… Maybe this hurt is good for learning that.
But right now, Patton knows he can’t stay in this room any longer— even though they haven’t talked to Roman and even though he still feels as if he is on the edge of a deep cliff— His body is shaky as he stands, eyes blurring with unshed tears and mist like haziness, but he makes his way to the table anyway, the notebook clutched close to his chest. Janus follows his lead, grabbing the rest of the scattered pages and silently arranging them back into the notebook. Neither say a word as they work, minds occupied with wonders for the future that neither can confirm. Patton wonders if Roman can ever forgive what they’ve done to him, if he even deserves to be forgiven. The thought burns like hellfire, but he doesn’t turn it away, as he sets the notebook down gently, and takes a deep breath.
They leave the room, not looking back, as the door closes behind them. Leaving behind that shimmering doorway, and the notebook itself, even though his mind is now stained with Roman’s words, and aching with Patton’s thorn crown guilt.
It was an accident
A mistake that shouldn’t have happened
I said that to myself as I continued to read
We said that as we continued to read
Heartache and pain and beautiful metaphors
It shouldn’t be beautiful but everything you write
Is covered in velvet and bows and bleeding out
Pain and sorrow and you ached for help
You ached for our help, without asking,
Without a whisper of your pain or misty eyes
You pulled through those horrid winds untethered
Where I, we, wished to be your tethers
Save you from this world, from yourself, from us
Because of all the times you have helped us
It’s a feeling that’s quite hard to explain
To peek inside someone’s brain
But even if this was a mistake,
Even if this never should have happened,
It has, and I will use this to your advantage,
I, we, swear on our names, to make this right.
It isn’t hard to get the others all in one place, as the other Sides will do anything for Patton, and the ‘Dark Sides’ follow Janus like ze is their leader. So when both of the leaders of the group announce quietly that there would be a meeting to discuss something urgent and important, the normally chaotic group gathers quickly in the commons, the chatter and quiet fighting and arguments dispersing throughout the group as they wait for the two who have called the meeting. They aren’t long either, though their walks are more despondent than usual, and the group easily picks up on it.
Patton tries to look normal, because he knows how much the others lean on him, especially Virgil, to keep themselves steady, but his smile is still wobbling, and the normal bubbly walk he likes refuses to work, and he knows his eyes look red and a bit swollen from where he held in his tears, and he can feel the way an edge cuts through the air, all eyes snapping to him fast enough to give him a headache and make him start crying.
He doesn’t, but it feels close.
Even Remus is looking at him—
He quickly darts his own gaze away from her sharp inquisitive one. Remus is the last person he wants to talk to right now. Their pain is just as much his fault as Romans is, and he isn’t sure how to even begin apologizing to her either— especially because, despite his efforts, Remus still kind of scares him, and his aversion to it is still here.
But maybe helping Roman is a start.
Taking another breath, Patton thinks about the letters and tries to ignore his twisting gut, “We went to talk to, Roman, and— Uh,” His heartbeat is too loud in his ears, nausea swirling in his stomach, as a lump forms in his throat, “We found, I mean, there was a notebook. And Roman wrote in it, I mean he wrote about—”
Janus’ fingers curl around Patton’s hand, stopping his words and the way his hand has been tensing around the paw. His eyes dip to the ground in embarrassment as Janus picks up for him, zir voice smooth and calming. “What Patton means to say is that we happened upon a collection of Roman’s writings. Roman has written some… concerning thoughts of his down. And what we read has made us,” Janus pauses, and Patton can feel zir emotions in the air— concern, frustration, unsureness— “worried.”
“What’d the drama Queen write this time?” Virgil jokes. And Patton can hear the smirk in their voice, the forced lighthearted way they curl the words with a snickering laugh, and Patton realizes that it doesn’t feel out of place at all. It makes him wonder about how long this type of talk has been happening, how long it has taken for this to become standard, and how none of them noticed. It makes him feel sick.
Logan shifts in place, “Did we need to call an entire meeting for such a thing? Surely you could just talk to him about it. I have work to do, and this is a waste of my time. Although I suppose, we could make sure he doesn’t do this type of thing again and worry you unnecessarily.” Patton’s mind flashes to a shrinking Roman, curling into himself as he presses a pencil to paper, and he tenses. Words of a page swim in his vision and he can almost see Roman slipping away, he can feel the heartbreak that his kiddo would have felt at the harsh words if he was there. He remembers bandaged arms and bruised legs, and stuttered reassurances that he’s fine, really, no need to worry, You can go do other things, he can take care of himself.
Patton squeezes Janus’ hand, flickering his eyes over to zirs, and he must look lost, horrified maybe, because he can see the realization he’s having clear on Janus’ face— How long has this been going on? How have they not noticed?— coupled with a sympathetic wince that only Patton notices.
“I mean… It’s not like, super serious or something,” Virgil pauses, looking between the two of them like they’re noticing the tension that lines them. Like they’re noticing how serious this could be. The air feels as heavy as a cross digging into Patton’s shoulder, as Virgil tenses, curling into themself, eyes unsure, “… Right?”
Saliva sticks to the back of his throat, and Patton presses closer to Janus, breathing deep and trying to think of how to explain. How to explain in a way that won’t break himself, in a way that won’t break Virgil, who he knows cares about Roman, more than their words ever say. It burns as he admits, “Roman’s been feeling bad for a long time. He’s… I don’t think I know him anymore. I don’t think he knows him anymore.”
“Whaddya mean, Pat?” Remus asks, long and slow, something churning underneath her voice, and it makes Patton jump. He hasn’t forgotten that Remus is here. Not that he ever could. But— But hearing their voice makes the guilt in his chest clench, it makes it all so much worse. Especially since he doesn’t know what to say to that. He still doesn’t know how to fix this.
“What he means,” Janus picks up for him, nodding at the grateful look Patton sends zir, “Is that Roman is lost and confused… and hurt, and we have been making it worse. He needs guidance, and perhaps some reassurance, before he does something ill advised and possibly dangerous to remedy how he feels.” Patton nods along absentmindedly as his mind races. Roman has always looked up to him, he knows that, following at his heels and listening to everything he says with excitement, wonder, curiosity. He’s always seemed strong, like he could take on the weight of the world and shoulder his way through a flood if need be. But… But maybe that’s all been an act. Maybe Roman has never felt as strong as Patton thought he was. Maybe Roman’s been struggling to bear the same type of cross that Patton has his entire life. Janus’ next words pull him out of his head as he has to consciously steady his breathing. “Roman might harm himself, or he might already be doing so. Emotionally and possibly physically. I don’t know if that’s where this will stop. He has said some things that might warrant the worry of him possibly trying to duck out.”
Virgil tenses even more, leaning forward on the couch, and looking so worried that Patton has to smother the urge to comfort them. “Seriously? Roman might… but why would he—? I mean, I knew he was kind of insecure sometimes but…” Patton notices the way Logan’s eyes flicker, but Logan says nothing. And neither does Remus, even though they flinch minutely. “That’s… that’s not… How,” Virgil looks up at them again, eyes wide and brows furrowed, as they curl themselves even tighter into a ball. They’re worried and sad and kind of horrified— it radiates off them in waves as their voice halts, and then softens as they ask, “How do we help? What exactly does he need help with?”
Janus hums, pressing a thumb into Patton’s hand, “That… is complicated. He seems to be worried about being worthless. Perhaps worried that he is not worth anything if his work is not up to par. And he seems to think he is not loved. That he is a burden for needing and wanting things. He seems to think quite lowly of himself. So much so that he hasn’t told us he isn’t always a man, because he thinks it is different when it’s him. He… above it all, he seems… tired.”
Patton isn’t the only one that looks sick now. More guilt piles itself onto him. If only he’d been better at helping his family they would never have had to worry about this. Virgil would never have to stare wide eyed and horrified at the thought of Roman feeling so unloved and unwanted that he might want to duck out. Logan would never have to struggle with the idea that Roman has tied his self worth so heavily to his jobs instead of who he is as a person. Janus wouldn’t have to feel responsible for the way Roman is hurt and the way he feels pushed out. Remus would never have to listen to all its brothers' pains being shared with who Roman would least want to hear them. But Patton has failed, and this is his penance. And his atonement will be fixing his mistakes.
“So,” Janus speaks up, cutting through the fog of the room and commanding their attention, “We are going to try and… help.” The word makes her look uneasy, but there’s a resolve in it that makes it still sound genuine, like she really will try. “I am partially to blame for these thoughts after all, and I want to remedy that as much as I can.”
Logan nods, “Yes, of course. We would not want Roman to be harmed if we can stop it. That would not be ideal, nor would it help anyone.” His eyes flicker over to Patton— wondering if that’s alright, if he needs to say more even if it makes him uncomfortable— but Patton nods back, letting a small smile curl his lips for a second so Logan can see it, and relax just a bit, satisfied that he has said what he needed. It’s almost cute enough for Patton to calm down. But the air is still heavy and his heart is still trying to crawl up his throat, and he can’t stay still. Not when his mind won’t stop and Roman is still gone. Not when Roman could be hurt right now.
“Whatever you chuckle fucks decide to do,” Remus cuts in, their voice dark in a way that Patton has never heard before, chilling in a way that makes Patton’s hair stand on end, “Don’t make this worse. My bro is mine to hurt, you got it? I don’t care how you fix it but fix it, and— oh yeah— you should probably apologize for going through his very private letters. Just saying. Unless you want him to note that alone.” The outline of her Morningstar shines next to void as they grin, sharp teeth bared in a threat, “Cause if you do make it worse, then who knows what will happen.” With the shimmering weapon and the loud click of teeth being snapped together, Patton thinks he gets the idea, and as queasy as the threat makes him, he understands, nodding even as his face twists up, promising to do just that. Promising to try and make Roman feel ok.
“Shit,” Virgil jolts, “You’re right. That’s a huge breach in privacy, and Roman’s gonna be so upset, and he should be, cause that’s not cool at all and what if, what if that means we can never fix it and he just gets worse and—”
Janus gives Patton a look and— after Patton nods his understanding— lets go of his hand to sweep Virgil up into a murmured talk of reassurance and calm. If this new situation hadn’t pulled the world out from under everyone, Virgil would have never allowed this type of conversation, but now that them and Janus are on the same page it is almost welcomed.
It’s good to see the two of them getting along, but—
Now Patton’s alone.
— Patton twists the cat paw again and clears his throat, ignoring the shake under his skin that crawls into his words as he asks, “So, how about we hang out tonight? We could have a sleepover here! That would be fun, right? We could make a plan, and… and when Roman gets back, we could…” He comes up blank. Presents and offers wouldn’t help, at least he doesn’t think they would, and no matter what he says he doesn’t know if Roman will believe him. Not that he can blame him for that.
“Talk to him,” Logan suggests, “The only real way to understand what he needs and how he would like to gain it would be to simply ask him. He might be defensive at first, but if we make it clear that his wants are paramount, and apply enough pressure, then he will allow us to help.”
“Right,” Patton breathes, “We just… need to talk to Ro, and see what he needs.” No. “What he wants. We need to see what he wants from us.”
Logan nods, “Correct.” And Patton takes another deep breath, running his fingers along the fur like feeling of the hoodie, as he looks around the room, watching Virgil and Janus talk, taking a glance at Remus, who is staring at something Patton can’t see with a strange and unusual amount of intensity, and then back to Logan, sitting on the couch and seeming to be thinking of how to go about the talk, on how to connect to Roman and explain what he wants to explain.
Patton thinks he already knows what they need to talk about and just the thought of bringing that up to Roman makes his heartbeat spike, panic trying to curl around his head and dig into his skin. He has to stop himself from looking over at Remus, or the panic really will take him away and stop him from actually talking about it. And that can’t happen. Not only because Roman needs this now, but because this talk should have happened a long time ago.
He’s pushed it off for too long.
But he can put it off for one more day. Roman’s still gone and everyone else here is still worried and wrestling with their own different types of hurt that this talk has stirred up, so for now he can help with that. He can help the rest of his family in the way he failed to with Roman; he can do his job right.
And he can hope that despite the hurt he’s caused Roman, he can finally help him too.
Shattering Words and Big Revelations
Holy shit bro
I should have said something sooner!
Princey Did I cause this
Didn’t you say something before,
About an actual list?
I wrote that off as a joke,
Why did I do that when I knew,
Knew you were insecure and not ok?
Roman My oldest friend and confidant,
Perhaps I cannot call you that anymore,
As we are both reluctant
Since we both Chopped,
Stopped, being in a bond,
And turned to other muses,
Remus is worried now,
How cruel of you to do this—
Then again, how cruel has this world been to you,
My Prince?
I have been cruel, cynical, distant,
My list is just beginning and now I’m,
Restless, because of my carelessness,
And dead set on some type of selflessness
How out of character for me to care,
How rare for me indeed, but for you, I swear this:
If you want my help, I will be selfless for my Prince,
You shall never know another quite as dedicated to you as I,
if you take my hand and allow me the right,
I will grant you a blissful eternity by my side.
No one expected this Gotta admit that I did,
I’ve known you for forever,
I mean I’ve been you for forever,
Just because I wasn’t around
doesn’t mean that I stopped listening
watching
noticing
everything that you’re composing
And I’ll give you props! (What kind of Creativity doesn’t like applause?—)
They all bought it,
The smiles and the pristine image,
But I’ve always known better than
to read everyone’s missives
that they leave out in the kitchen,
assume them fact,
(Really only a dumbass does that!)
And be shocked when it’s proven
False and down right invented
Insouciant and argumentative
They might call me, but bro—
The other half of me—
No joking, I’d do anything for you
There’s no such thing as lonely,
When we’re each other,
When we’re together
And braced for stormy weather,
That’s when we’re in our element
And nothing can ever compare to it, to us,
In that moment,
And we’re both owed that, aren’t we?
Let’s go take back those times that showed us
what we’re worth, and own all the messy,
messed up, magnificent parts of us,
Let’s indulge ourselves in them, until we burst,
And smile in the face of their worst,
I say we tear up the town together,
Burn down the status quo, and live happily forever,
(Forget the boxes and rules and deadlines, those don’t work for us, they’re only a restrictive type of rust, digging their fingers into our perfect work and turning everything to ground up dust and muck—)
Look through my eyes,
ignore their yapping,
and see what I see,
Finally find out what it really means to be free.
Similarities They come from the strangest sources
Remorseless and untoward, I was,
Burning through bridges and could
have been linkages
Before I even tried to learn of you,
We may not have been close,
My words may hold no weight,
But I think we could be something to each other
Because of our pain,
Let me find a person in which I can relate, and
Negate my old words to the ones I now think:
I think our friendship could be,
And it could be quite great,
Won’t you think with me,
let us stop our old debates,
And agree, our opposition relates,
I’m sorry for my hate,
and my grating unempathetic tirades,
the ways I harmed and debased your
points without a second glance towards your
experience or your thoughts,
Let me now help throw this old weight off,
If you need me soft, I can be soft,
So please, let me right these wrongs,
And start anew, with our own new laws.
I’m sorry. Some Morality I turned out to be
Some friend I turned out to be
I messed up and somehow you’re to blame—
Well, you’re not, but I know that your own thoughts
Scream your name in response
To any bad thing that happens,
Or to any hurt you can Imagine
Because you think that you’re lacking—
Something, everything,
some type of compassion,
Because of my words and my teachings
I hollowed out the inbetween,
and tried to say I knew everything,
So everything fell to pieces,
and left you with a mess I refused
to take part in cleaning,
And then I refused to see
what was in front of me,
Your pains and your shame and your guilt
should all be mine
I deserve them, and yet you hold them
Because of my own choices and extremities
I hurt you and I failed you,
But let me try again?
I’ll listen to everyone and let go of the reigns
I’ll make right all these pains,
And I’ll go if you want me to,
But I hope you’ll let me stay.
We’re gonna make this better As Anxiety
I need the most calming here, but,
I know what to do,
I think I understand you,
And you do too
So we’ll stick together tonight,
For comfort and because it feels right,
But soon, when you get back,
It’ll be our turn,
to comfort you.