Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Of course, Brad, it's fine. Don't worry about it."

"Lie," Virgil muttered from his spot next to Patton on the couch. Janus shrugged, glancing apologetically at them both, and the Paternal Side patted his hand, but didn't look away from the screen. The Sides' Thomas-eye view shifted, darting over to the program for last night's show. All of his friends had made it out to see the show, some of them twice. All of his friends had made it to closing night.

All of his friends but Brad.

"Yeah, you're right, it's not like I'm the lead or anything… It's not really a big deal—"

"Lie!" Virgil said again, louder.

"I know you'd come if you could."

"Lie!"
"Falsehood!"

Virgil and Logan shouted in unison this time.

"Ha, come!" Remus snickered from behind the couch. Ignoring him, Virgil shot a quick glance at Logan and heaved himself up from the couch. Dodging everyone's feet and the—broken—bear trap sticking out from beneath the couch, he walked in a crooked circle around the coffee table. As he paced, Roman slid a little closer to Patton.

"Brad is a good friend," Patton asked the group. "Isn't he?"

Jaw tight, Logan looked down at his planner with a little sigh.

"The guy's bailed on us six times over the last two months!" Virgil snapped.

The others looked to Logan for confirmation. He nodded, eyes still down on the book. He hugged it to his chest. "We've missed our friend's shows from time time, as well." His eyes trailed over to Janus who waved a hand vaguely. "Famously so."

"And we made it up to Joan," Roman interjected. "After their play took off, we were there for opening night, two undersold matinees, and closing night. And we helped break down after the cast party."

"Brad missed opening night, too," Virgil perched on the armrest next to him, knees to his chest.

"Yeah," Patton sighed, then perked up. "He offered to run lines with us tomorrow. And he made it to the cast party for the show before this one. That counts for something."

"Sure, but he spent the whole time chatting up the director!" Virgil growled. "He only bothered to talk to us long enough to point out the typo in the program."

"Well, then… maybe we should tell him how we feel?" Patton suggested, voice rising up, making it a question instead of advice. Virgil resumed his pacing, lip caught between his teeth. "We've made the effort to get to his last three gallery shows. And we were there for him when he moved—"

"Both times," Logan added, rubbing his temple. Brad's girlfriend had also been there and the cloud of perfume she'd left behind in every room had given Thomas a killer headache.

"Both times," Patton agreed, inching forward in his seat. Logan's small backing seemed to encourage him. "Don't we want to be honest with our friends? Set… boundaries?" He said this last part to Janus who nodded slowly. "He's our friend. He'll listen."

Virgil opened his mouth but no sound came out. He glared at Janus then got up and resumed his pacing.

"Padre's right. If we had done something that upset a friend as much as…" Roman bumped Patton's shoulder and the Paternal Side gave him a weak smile. "We would want to know. We could make amends." He stood, one hand reaching toward the sky, err, ceiling. "It would be like a quest to win back the heart of our friendship!"

"Yeah…" Virgil winced, imagining Brad's face as Thomas told him he'd let him down for the last time. "But what if he's more like a witch tempting us not to be a good friend? What if he's just waiting for us to push too hard or be too critical or demand too much or—"

"That sounds like a cognitive distortion," Logan said, flipping through his note cards. "Perhaps we all need to 'chill-ax.'"

Roman snorted. "Uh, 2004 called and wants its slang back, Nerdenstein 3D."

Patton tutted and tapped his knee. Roman's laughter died down, long enough for everyone hear Remus' soft-for-him chant, "Chill ass, chill ass, chill ass…"

"You, too, Re," he chided, then turned to Virgil. "Maybe…" As he spoke, Patton twisted his catigan sleeves first one way, then the other. "Maybe Brad's just going through a rough time, y'know? He has been a little down in the dumps since Bea got that new job."

Virgil nodded. "And what if we're the last straw?" And why did Virgil not mind so much if they were? Thomas' friends were important to him, but Brad…

What was left of his thumbnail found its way between his teeth and he shoved his hands in his pockets. "We could make him hate us! The last thing he needs now is pressure from someone who's supposed to be his friend."

"And he is meant to be a friend to us, as well," Logan interjected. "Six times in two months," he repeated, tapping his planner. "And tonight makes seven. If we value this friendship, we should address the issue head on—"

"Heh, head!"

"In a respectful," Logan ignored Remus' intrusion, "and calm manner. Furthermore, we should…"

Thomas flopped over in bed and tried a different position. It was already three in the morning and he hadn't gotten a wink, just playing and replaying the conversation with Brad… and the indecision wreaking havoc his brain. He flipped the pillow over and wedged it between his head and shoulder, the cotton cool against his cheek. He let out a slow breath and tried to close his eyes.

"I still think leaving early to pick up our dear, ailing aunt after her emergency surgery would've gotten us out of there hours earlier!"

"But that would be lying! Aunt Patty was fine!"

"Brad didn't know that! One teensy white lie to avoid a literal headache wouldn't turn us into a—a—a—pumpkin!"

"Ha! Cum-kin!"

"Ugh, gross! Remus, put your clothes back on. No-one's ready for bed yet!"

"See? This is what I'm saying! What kind of friend is he if that could've worked? The last time Aunt Patty was in the hospital, everyone was there with us. He's—"

"Something keepin' you up, Babes?"

"Yes!" Thomas sat up and stared at the sassy, bratty, coffee-chugging enigma lounging over the foot of his bed.

Remy shrugged and took a slow sip of his iced coffee. "They don't ever shut up, do they?"

Thomas sighed. "Not until I fall asleep. And even then…" Even then, with the others asleep, the moment Remy dozed off, Virgil and Remus had free reign of his mind. It wasn't bad when they took turns, but when they teamed up. He shuddered.

"Sorry, Babes," Remy didn't sound very sorry as he sipped. No matter how much he drank, the level of his coffee never seemed to lower. "I can't be everywhere at once, you know."

"Ugh. I know." Thomas flopped back onto the bed, barely missing the headboard. "Can you just stick around tonight long enough for me to get some sleep? Virgil's on a tear and I just can't right now."

"You know, if you just talk to him it might… y'know," he made a gagging face. "Be emotionally healthy or something like that."

"I just need to put my anxiety out of my mind so I can rest," Thomas insisted, eyes screwed shut. "I'm running lines with Brad in the morning."

Remy stopped slurping and Thomas cracked one eye open. Remy was staring at him over his shades, lips pursed. "Say that again."

"I'm running lines with—"

"No, the other thing," he snapped, pushing his shades back into place.

"Uh… I… I just need to put my anxiety out of my mind so I can rest. You know, compartmentalize until I have the space to process and—"

"Okay, thanks, Doc. I get enough of that from Emi." Remy rolled off the bed and onto his feet without spilling a drop of his coffee. He grinned, a little too devious for Thomas' comfort.

"What are you thinking?"

His grin remained. "Nothin', Babes. I just know how you can finally get a good night's sleep."

Thomas sat up again. "What? Really? How?"

"Alright, Thirty-Six Questions, do you trust me?"

"Of I don't trust you!"

"Good," he laughed and tapped his cup. "That's probably pretty smart. Here—" He shoved his coffee into Thomas' hands. "Drink."

"But this is coffee!" Thomas shook his head, inching back from the cup. He had to admit, though, it did smell good. "How will that help me sleep?"

"Bitch, I don't know." Remy sucked his teeth and pressed the cup into Thomas' hands. "This is all in your head. I'm your fairy godmother or some shit, just roll with it, Babes, and play along."

The cup was cold and sweaty and inviting. Thomas took a tentative sip and hummed, the cold brew coffee perfectly balanced with just the right sweetness. "Not bad."

"Duh. Some of us have some taste up in this bitch." Remy rolling his eyes was the last thing Thomas saw before the room faded to black. "Now, go the fuck to sleep."

A soft, plaintive voice backed by synthy strings reached for Thomas from the deepest sleep.

How can you see into my eyes
Like open doors?
Leading you down into my core
Where I've become so numb…

The room was still dark—it couldn't be all that late, could it?—so Thomas fumbled in the dim light for the source of the music. His hand slapped down on his phone and he stabbed at the screen, squinting at the glowing words.

WAKE UP, EMO!

He managed to touch the stop button just as the chorus started.

Wake me up inside,
Call my name and save me from the—

"Very funny, Gavin." Wait, when had Gavin gotten his hands on his phone? That kid was fast. He dropped the phone onto the bed beside him and pulled the covers back up for a few more minutes—who was he kidding? hours of sleep.

Gavin didn't find his Christmas list, did he? Shit. Thomas' heart thudded and he bolted up in bed. Gavin wouldn't've gone looking through his photo roll, would he? Nah. Nah, it was fine. It was fine. Everything was fine. Shaking his head, he lay back down. "It's fine, it's fine, it's fine…" he whispered to himself. He'd just managed to drift off again when he heard a knock at the door.

"Kiddo? You up? I kept breakfast warm for you."

"Wha—?" Thomas pushed away the weighted blanket covering him and stumbled to the door. It sounded like—

"Kiddo!" Patton cheered when he opened the door.

"Pat?" Thomas blinked against the bright hallway light. "What're you doing here…"

Just behind him, Roman walked past. Well, stormed past, katana held high. "Release him, you foul fiend!" Remus' laughter echoed down the hall. "Release him or I'll—"

"Kiddos, hush! Virgie just woke up," Patton scolded them before turning back to Thomas with a soft smile. "C'mon out, Kiddo, your breakfast is waiting for you."

"What—but—how…?" Thomas trailed off, hearing his voice, really hearing it for the first time that morning.

It wasn't his voice. Wait—'Virgie' just woke up?

"Pat, what's going on?" Thomas asked, touching his throat when Virgil's low drawl came out of his mouth. It took that long for Thomas to register he wasn't wearing last night's pajamas. Instead, he had on his old Green Day shirt and heavy grey sweatpants, pajamas he hadn't seen in years. His hair hung over his eyes and his nails were painted black. Well, had been painted black. Now, they were chipped and bitten, just like…

"Oh, the usual," Patton shrugged, flinching when something crashed downstairs.

"Nothing broke!" Roman and Remus called up in unison.

It didn't sound like nothing.

Patton shook away his worried glance toward the stairs where the twins had become suspiciously quiet. "So," Patton said, wide grin back and eyes bright as he offered his hand. "Wanna come downstairs and have some pan—"

"Uh… guys?" Thomas'—or at least Thomas' voice shuddered through the hall. "Can you come in, uh, up here?"

"Kiddo calls," Patton grinned and sank out of sight. The rest of the house—the Mindscape?—fell quiet as everyone seemed to answer the summons.

But Thomas remained. He stepped out into the hall and his throat seized up as he took in the extra long carpeted hallway… and the six rainbow-colored doors lining each side. This wasn't his apartment.

This was the Mindscape.

What the hell was he doing here? And how was he supposed to follow them? He'd needed Virgil to help him get back the last time he'd ventured into the Side's room. What if he was stuck here forever? What if he was actually dead and this was heaven. He was alive, wasn't he? He went to pinch himself but was startled by a screech—Roman's screech, followed Remus' maniacal laughter reached him from memory or through the walls. Both?

Maybe this was hell.

He felt a tug, a strong hand pulling him up out of the churning waters, into warmth and light. Thomas closed his eyes and let it take him, chasing the feeling and the sound of the others' voices.

~

Gnawing on the edge of his thumb. Virgil paced from the kitchen to the television and back. With each pass, he spotted yet one more sign that he had woken up in the wrong place. Thomas' shoes in the corner, a half-filled coffee on the side table. Thomas' laptop, slowly dying as it sat plugged in with the cord not quite seated in the outlet.

Crouching down, Virgil pushed the plug in all the way and the little charging light began to glow. He stood and looked around the space one more time. A renewal notice for Edge magazine was stuck to the fridge and a pot with something burnt on the bottom soaked in the sink.

This wasn't the Mindscape. This was Thomas' apartment.

Whatever the hell was happening, he needed help. How exactly did Thomas summon them? "Uh… guys?" Virgil called out, thumbnail finding its way to his mouth again. He registered the bare nails and looked down at the red pajama pants and Hamilton tee-shirt. This Princey-ass getup was not what he'd been wearing when he finally crashed last night. "Can you get in—uh, up here?"

Logan was the first to arrive, still knotting his tie as he rose up. "Good morning, Thomas, how may I be of assist—" His voice trailed off, staring back at Virgil with his head tilted and eyebrow cocked. From this angle he kinda look a bird. "Thomas are you"—a note card appeared in his hand—"'crashing out?'"

Rolling his eyes, Virgil ignored the slang. "No, I'm—"

"All I'm saying is it could use a little improvement," Remus said as he popped up in front of Thomas' Lego map. "Open your mind to the possibilities!"

"He," Roman insisted, stamping his foot even as he rose up, arms posed dramatically. "He is perfect just the way he is! Now give him back!"

"Ugh, fine! Here!" Roman's plushie appeared in his palm a second before he chucked it at his brother's head.

Roman caught it with one hand.

"All that was for a doll?" Logan snapped.

Janus and Patton rose up next. "Yes," they said as one.

Everyone looked expectantly at Virgil's still-empty spot on the stairs. "Well, that's not good," Virgil muttered just as a wave of panic hit them all. "Okay, that's really not good."

"I knew something was wrong!" Patton's eyes grew wet. "Virgie was upset as soon as I opened the door this morning! Do you think I woke him too early?"

Like Logan's laughable attempt at internet slang, Virgil let go of Patton's 'Virgie'—he'd almost rather he just said 'Kiddo'—and tried a more direct approach. "Thomas?" He called. Virgil felt the others' eyes on him but he pushed away their obvious confusion. Helping Thomas came first. They'd figure it out. "Thomas, just follow our voices, okay, bud?"

"Uh… Thomas?" Patton asked, an edge of fear in his voice. He, too, felt Thomas' panic. "Are—are you okay?"

"That is precisely what I was asking before… Prospero and Antonio arrived. I believe they—"

Thomas finally appeared in Virgil's spot, crumpled on the bottom landing with his knees hugged to his chest. He rocked back and forth, a high-pitched wheeze pushing past his lips.

"Virgil!" Patton and Janus both cried, rushing toward Thomas.

Virgil beat them to Thomas' side and knelt before him. "Breathe for me, Thomas, okay? Just breathe…" he said, voice low. He didn't need to try to keep away his Tempest rumble.

It was coming out of Thomas.

Eyes squeezed shut, Thomas' nails dragged down his arms as he rocked himself, ragged breaths stuttering in his chest. "What's happening? What's happening? What's happening?" he muttered, full-on Tempest voice vibrating the air around him.

Roman drew his blade and looked around the room for something to attack. "What in Holy Hera's name is going on?"

"I would think it is rather obvious," Logan remarked.

Virgil ignored them all and covered Thomas' hands, stopping him before he could claw right through his sleeves. Thomas jolted at the touch, but then leaned closer, tears pricking the corners of his eyes as he struggled to breathe.

"Thomas is… Virgil."

Chapter Text

Thomas wasn't sure how he'd managed it, but somehow he was back in his own apartment. The living room just sort of fell on top of him and he suddenly he stood at the foot of the stairs, head spinning. The floor solid under his feet once more, he dropped, ears ringing and chest tight. He couldn't breathe.

The room exploded around him in fuzzy, distant sound, a cacophony of voices, but far away, like the time Thomas had fallen in the pool at Aunt Patty's 50th birthday. He tried to tease out anything from the warbling voices, but finally gave up.

A pair of hands—his hands—reached for him, his own voice low but insistent near his hear. "Breathe for me, Thomas. I've got you. All you gotta do is breathe." Thumbs tapped his shoulders, a slow, steady rhythm.

His chest hurt, his throat hurt. Just opening his eyes hurt. His heart was exploding in his chest and he could barely hear anything over the roaring in his ears.

But the voice, the hands, the tapping remained, and Thomas clung to it.

"In-two-three-four," the voice chanted. Thomas sucked in a breath, lungs seizing at three and forcing it out in a wheezing groan.

"Good. Good try. Let's go again."

This time Thomas made it to four.

"And-hold-three-four—"

The kept at it for… Thomas didn't know how long. But each time he lost count or breathed too soon or couldn't sustain the breath, soothing hands squeezed his arms. Oh-so-gently, the low voice urged him to try again.

His voice.

Finally, his head stopped spinning and the awful, whining wheezing eased. Thomas cracked open one eye.

His own faced peered back at him, brow scrunched in worry.

"Wha—" Polyphonic and cracking, Thomas' voice gave way. A glass was passed over Thomas'—the other Thomas'—shoulder and he held it to his lips.

"Sip slowly, Thomas," he murmured.

Thomas did as he was told, dry lips and throat loosening with the cool water. "What…" No, that wasn't the question he needed answered first. He sipped again and the glass was lowered. The glass and yellow gloved hands disappeared behind a familiar sleep shirt.

"Who are… am…" He shook his head, his own brown eyes looking back at him softly.

"It's me, Virgil," his own voice said. "And you're Thomas, right?"

"Of course I'm me, I—" Shadows spread beneath his eyes and his voice had begun to double over itself again.

"Oooh, goody!" Remus shoved his way through and stared at him. He blinked on eye, then the other, grin far too wide. "I always wanted to see a good old-fashioned brain swap up close!"

"Hush now," Patton's voice chided, tight and more scared than Thomas remembered hearing him in a long time. "Ro, could you—"

A flash of white and gold and Remus was gone, his Creativities' voices flitting away in almost-quiet bickering as they sunk out of the room.

"But… how?" Thomas' throat grew tight again and the gentle tapping resumed. Thomas nodded and counted out a few breaths.

When he'd calmed, Logan's face, his mouth and brow tight, swam into view. "What is the last thing you remember, Thomas?"

"Uh…" Virgil hadn't let go of his arm, half holding on, half holding him up. Thomas turned until he was leaning against his shoulder. Facing his own eyes staring back at him was… unnerving. "I… I was in bed. Um… You all were arguing—"

"I would call it more of a constructive debate—"

"And… Remy came by. He gave me his drink and I fell asleep. I woke up in Virgil's room."

"Oh for Thomas' sake!" Janus swore under his breath and Patton seemed to pretend not to hear. "Remy!" he called to the ceiling. "Get your caffeine-soaked ass in here!"

"Wait—" Virgil—Thomas—Virgil glared at him. "There's a wall. You can't summon them like that."

"No, you're right, I can't," Janus rolled his eyes. "I simply chose the name 'Janus,' the god of doorways and gates to entrap Princey into schoolyard taunts. I have absolutely no control over the comings and goings of our metaphysical neighbors." He glanced at Logan, who nodded approvingly at his phrasing. "No control at all."

"Yeah, Bitches?" Remy appeared behind him, lounging on the coffee table, drink in hand. He slurped loudly. "Whaddya need? Is it naptime already?"

"Are you responsible for this?" Logan demanded, gesturing between him and Virgil.

Thomas shook his head. It was starting to spin again.

Remy took a long sip, staring at each of them in turn. "Sure looks like it," he said at last.

"Well, put them back!" Patton cried. "Virgil can't be Thomas! He…" He'd twisted his cardigan sleeves around his hands, fingertips turned white. Janus tugged them away.

"He has an engagement to get to," Logan finished, tapping a small datebook. "We don't have time for… whatever this is."

Remy shrugged, still peering at Thomas through his shades. "If you actually traded places, Babes, you got something you gotta work out. Doesn't have anything to do with me." He shook the ice in his cup and took another long sip. "Have you tried, y'know, talking to each other?"

Thomas twisted, searching Virgil's eyes. He looked away. "Virge? Do you… Are we… Are we not good?"

Face turned, all Thomas could see were the muscles working in his jaw. "Well, I… You…"

"See?" Remy laughed and raised his glass to Thomas. "Bye, Bitches." And then he was gone.

Groaning, Janus shook his head. "I'll get him—" he began but Thomas waved him off, eyes on Virgil.

"Virge, what is it? Have I done something?"

Still holding onto his arm, Virgil played with the frayed edge of his sleeve—his own sleeve. Thomas recognized the shirt now as the one he'd found at a Goodwill back in high school.

Thomas had gotten rid of it years ago, but maybe that didn't matter in the Mindscape.

"You did do anything, it's just…" Virgil looked up at Patton, who nodded encouragingly.

"Go ahead, Kiddo," he said. "Tell him what you said last night."

Virgil gnawed at his lip, teeth pressed so hard Thomas was sure he'd feel it later. But he still wouldn't look at him. After a long silence, Janus and Logan exchanged a knowing glance and turned to him.

"Perhaps…" Janus began.

"Yes." Logan tapped Patton's shoulder. "Perhaps we could facilitate best if we gave them some time alone."

Thomas was about to say that wasn't necessary when Virgil looked up at them. "D'ya mind?"

Janus, weirdly quiet, bowed his head and began to sink down without another word. Patton smiled as he disappeared. "Of course not, Kiddo."

Logan nodded to each of them as he, too, sank out of sight. "Call us if you need us."

And then they were alone. Physically, at least. Hushed voices filled the background, whispers in a movie theatre. Even when his Sides weren't around, he could always hear them at least a little. But this was stronger than Thomas was used to and he wondered if that's what it was like each of them.

No wonder they got so bitc—cranky with each other.

Virgil's knee bounced beside him and he'd started biting his lip again. Thomas pulled back, and tapped at the spot. Virgil stopped chewing on it but still didn't speak.

"So…" Words dried on Thomas' tongue and finally Virgil got up and started pacing.

"Okay, here's the deal. Thomas, we…" he started, then deflated. "I… I don't know where I was going with that."

"It's okay, Virge," Thomas stood and moved to the counter. He hitched himself up on its miraculously clear surface so he could better track Virgil's movements as he paced down the hall and back behind the couch. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

Virgil froze, back turned to him. "I can say it but you still don't listen."

"What?" Thomas shook away the faint, brief laugh buzzing in his ears from Patton somewhere in the Mindscape. "But Virgil, we went through this. I know how important you are and how much I need you to…" He ruffled his hair, the memory of his on camera rat's nest strong. "To function."

He still wouldn't turn around and Thomas replayed their last few discussions in his mind. With two plays on top of all the videos, he had been spending a lot of extra time with both Roman and Remus. And he had to admit he'd been listening to Janus a lot more. And to Patton about that outburst after last week's rehearsal. He was finally taking that astronomy class, too. Maybe… "What haven't I heard that you've been trying to tell me?"

Virgil glanced at him over his shoulder. "Brad's…" Thomas tried to control his wince but Virgil still caught it and nodded. "Brad's not your friend, dude."

The background buzz fell away and he got the sense all the Sides were listening now. "Dude?" Thomas cracked a smile and patted the counter next to him.

He rolled his eyes, but still Virgil joined him, criss-crossed legs matching his pose. "I could get Remy in here to call you a bitch, if that's better."

"Nah, 'dude' works," Thomas chuckled but sobered when the shadows under his eyes darkened enough to see. "What do you mean he's not my friend?" he asked, a rock settling in the pit of his stomach. "We've known each other for years. I've always had his back."

"But he has had yours?"

"Ouch," Thomas muttered.

"I know we don't wanna lose his friendship, but…" Thomas started picking at his cuticles and Virgil took his hand. "He's not been been much of a friend to us, has he?"

Before he could answer, Thomas' phone rang. Virgil dug it out of his pajama pants and checked the screen.

"It's Brad."

Thomas stared at the phone then held out his hand. "Hey, Brad, what's up?" he answered, watching Virgil's face.

"Thommy, my main main," Brad crooned into the phone. "You comin' down with something? Your voice sounds a little rough there."

Shit, shit, shit. He'd gotten too used to Virgil's voice coming out of his mouth. "Oh, fine, just…"

"You just woke up," Janus' voice was in his ear.

"I—I just woke up… So, um, we're still on in"—Thomas peered around Virgil to see the time on the stove. Shit. "Twenty?" he finished. How were they supposed to make this work?

"Yeah, that's what I'm calling about," Brad said, that tone in his voice. Virgil met his eyes and frowned. "Can we move this to tomorrow?"

"Ah, tomorrow I'm meeting with—"

Brad continued as if he hadn't spoken. "'Cause I've got a thing I can't get out of." Laughter, a high-pitched giggle from someone else on the other line spilled through the speaker. Bea's giggle.

Right.

"Yeah, Brad, I've got my own thing tomorrow. And the show's Monday. I can't—"

"Thanks, man. Knew you'd understand," Brad cut him off, his voice already sounding further away. "See you then."

The call ended with a little trill. Thomas sat staring down at it long past when the screen went dark. Finally, he passed it back to Virgil without a word.

He couldn't meet his eyes.

"Brad bailed?" Virgil asked, putting away the phone.

"Brad bailed." Thomas scratched away a loose edge of his polish. "His girlfriend came over. I could hear her in the background. He wouldn't even listen when I said I couldn't do tomorrow."

"Yeah," Virgil sighed and opened his arms. Thomas fell into them, the scent of his own dryer sheets filling his lungs. He clung to him, shaking, but Virgil only held him closer.

"He's not really my friend." Panic warbled his voice and the others' words from the Mindscape hushed, listening.

"Yeah," Virgil said again, nodding against the top of his head.

Thomas buried his face against Virgil's shoulder, mouth trembling. "This keeps happening. I'm losing friends faster than I can—" His shirt did little to hide the Tempest voice pushing up his throat.

Virgil held him tighter as tears pushed past. "Nah, dude, you're just finding out who your real friends are."

Without the morning's run through with Brad, Thomas had nothing else going on. Virgil held him a long time, then finally they climbed down from the counter and made breakfast. Over a second cup of coffee, he called Terrance to catch up, then texted Quill and made plans for after their prop hunt. He even scheduled a call with Joan for the day after. Finally, he set his phone face down on the coffee table and collapsed onto the couch.

Virgil plopped next to him. "So… whatcha wanna do now?"

"I dunno, man." Head fallen back, he closed his eyes. Virgil slumped over, head on his shoulder. "I just wanna hang here a while. This is exhausting."

Virgil snorted. "Sounds like a plan to me," he said, stretching.

Thomas touched the polish on his nails, feeling for more loose bits to pry away. It was better than tearing at the cuticles. "We still gotta figure out how we get back to normal."

"I dunno," Virgil laughed sleepily. "I could stand to stay like this a while. Maybe finally get that security system set up on your windows like I've been trying get you to do in like a year."

"Ugh," Thomas groaned and pushed him down before laying on top of him. "Fine, but nap first."

Fingers already carding through his hair, Virgil chuckled. "Okay, nap first."

Thomas had already drifted off and Virgil's eyes were growing heavy when he heard the tell-tale slurp of Remy's cup. "What do you want?" he muttered, careful not to wake Thomas.

"Nothin'," he lowered his shades and peered at him over the edge. "Looks like you bitches figured it out."

"Wha—" Virgil looked down and realized he was sprawled on top of Thomas, once again clad in his Green Day shirt, bangs falling over his eyes. "When—" He pushed up and looked around, but Remy was already gone.

Tossing and turning, Thomas mumbled something in his sleep but settled when Virgil lay back back down.

"Nothin' to worry about, Thomas," he said, letting sleep take him. "Time for a nap."