Chapter Text
Vector yawned as he passed through the door, tossing his coat onto a hook haphazardly.
Charmy zipped passed his head, launching himself into the ceiling fan and draping his body atop on of the blades.
Espio lagged behind, savoring the fresh nighttime air one last time before he had to step inside the stuffy agency.
Poor maintenance combined with Charmy’s flying always kicking up dust made it feel like they had the one building in the world filled with air that wasn’t oxygen.
It was something thick and heavy, not of grease, or old wood, those were ignorable, but a chemical compound specifically designed to only effect him, one that made him feel like he was being crushed.
Espio was plucked from his thoughts when a large hand pat him on the back.
“Hey, Es, you feelin’ okay? You look pale.” Vectors hand moved to Espio’s forehead, which was quickly shoved away.
“I’m fine.” He pushed past the crocodile as he willed his scales to go back to normal, his steps were completely silent, a habit of his when he felt on edge. He knew Vector was going to try to talk to him, thankfully Charmy began begging for dinner just in time for him to slip away to his room, the air was lighter there.
As soon as the door clicked shut he began his search, he needed something to keep him busy.
First he checked his laundry, it had all been done yesterday, so had everyone else’s, everything in his drawers were tucked neatly away and organized by color. Not that there was much, most of his clothes were all black specialized ninja gear.
Along with the occasional pair of fuzzy pajamas donated by Amy, or dress shirts from vanilla, all the non-woman’s clothes he owned before were giving to Charmy after he had grown out of all of it.
Once he confirmed that everything was in the correct place he checked his desk, examining the top for any stationary he may have misplaced since the last time he frantically organized it.
After he was sure there were no supplies on or around his desk, he slid the drawer open slowly, wincing as it squeaked.
All he had inside was a spiral bound notebook that he wrote the occasional poem in before stashing it away for another month or two, and some of Charmy’s homework packets, all math.
He was ashamed to have allowed Charmy to get away with cheating at school, but he needed something to do, and when all he could do was a first graders homework, he did it. Though it only provided useful for a short amount of time before he had completed it, it was Charmy’s homework, after all.
He flipped through the pages, checking for any missed questions or wrong answers, there were none.
He slid the papers back into the drawer, this time paying no mind to the squeal as he slammed it shut.
His hands were shaking, it was pathetic, really. He could remain calm in most situations, having helped Amy with the resistance, and after with the restoration, he fought off more badnicks than he could count, he’s faced things that threatened his, and thousands of other’s lives without ever loosing his cool.
But here he was, trembling at the thought of having nothing to do, of being bored.
He dug the heels of his palms into his temples, his thoughts were getting too loud, he needed something to muffle them until he was able to silence them fully.
He forced himself to look around more, his bed was made, shurikens still stashed beneath a pillow. Polished kunai dangled from hooks above his dresser, and his cuffs had recently been restocked with smoke bombs.
He pulled on his scarf, tightening it slightly, his hands needed something to do, and his blood felt like it was bubbling under his skin.
A knock on the door brought him back to reality.
”Es, we’re ordering takeout, any objections?” Vectors voice, despite being loud and raspy, was kind.
”I won’t be eating.” Espio replied with his usual unwavering confidence.
”Yes you will, you haven’t eaten all day. You’re getting takeout.”
Before Espio could argue, Vector had walked away, why did he all of a sudden care about what he was eating?
A silly question, really, he wasn’t very stealthy about his disinterest in food. He had hoped it would be a welcome change, less mouths to feed meant less money for groceries. But instead of a smile he received an accusatory glare, Vector seemed to watch him more, or perhaps he was just more aware of it.
Why did Vector want him to eat so badly? Food was a luxury and Espio didn’t deserve it, every case he dropped in favor of spending time with friends or having a day of rest cost them, and now he had to pay the price.
His tail drooped to the floor, guilt overtook his body like a virus that made his whole body weak.
He sat down before his body could make him fall, sitting with his legs crossed and attempting to mediate.
’In, one, two, three, four. Hold, one, two, three, four. Out, one, two, three, four.’
The breathing helped to reduce the shaking, but nothing could stop him from looking to the boxes underneath his bed.
One of them was a porcelain container with a lid that doubled as an incense stand, and was where he kept them, alongside a lighter and matchbox.
The second box, however, was an old shoe box, filled with whispers of peace, promises of tranquillity, and a certainty of shame. That cardboard stained by self loathing and the scent of rot, that is what he wanted, but he had to wait.