Archive of Our Own ^beta

Roman stepped into the room, keenly aware of the eyes on him. He caught the door behind him and pulled it shut, slowly, silently. He gave himself another second before he turned to face the others.

Logan arched an eyebrow. “Thomas?”

“Asleep.” Roman kept his gaze on the carpet at Logan’s feet, his stomach turning at the memory of being with Thomas. It had felt wrong, to pretend everything was fine, to send Thomas off to sleep, knowing full well that if this worked… Well, if this worked, he wouldn’t need to worry about facing Thomas ever again.

“-man, Roman!”

He blinked and looked up, catching Virgil’s unblinking stare. “Sorry,” he muttered. “Distracted.”

Virgil’s expression pinched with what might have been concern. But did it really matter, anymore?

Janus crossed his arms. “You’re not backing out on us, are you?”

For a moment, Roman felt tears well up in his eyes. They were - they were going to - to erase - and this is how they would leave things? Fighting? Again? But then, the tears in his eyes turned to steam in his ears, but then he took a deep breath, and then another, and let it all recede back to his ribcage. They were a broken, useless lot. They had failed at their jobs, over and over and over, and worse, they had failed Thomas. He let resignation settle back across his shoulders. This is why they needed to erase themselves in the first place.

It didn’t change the fact that it felt like someone had their hand around his throat, squeezing.

“It’s fine,” Roman murmured, probably too quiet for them to hear. He shook his head and said, slightly louder, “Whatever.”

Patton clapped his hands together, once, twice, and said in a brittle, cheerful tone, “Let’s get on with it then!”

They sat in a circle. Remus sat to Roman’s left.

They sat in a circle, and Roman drifted, trying not to think about what Janus and Virgil were doing, trying not to think about anything at all.

Patton’s hand found Roman’s, and Patton squeezed.

They sat in a circle, and Logan disappeared.

Patton whispered something, but Patton was crying, and Roman didn’t want to think, he didn’t want to be aware, so he shut his eyes and let whatever Patton was saying wash over him, uncomprehending.

Patton squeezed his hand, and - and whispered three words - and Roman did not cry - and then Roman’s hand was empty. He opened his eyes on instinct, and very carefully did not count how many of them were sitting in a circle. (There were less than when they started).

“Do you think,” he asked, very very quietly, “that it hurts?”

It really was too late to be thinking about such things, but… 

Remus pressed his lips together so tightly that they turned white and shook his head. “Nah, doesn’t hurt,” he whispered, but it didn’t sound right, sounded like he was forcing out the words. “Feels just like going to sleep.”

Except Remus couldn’t know, obviously. None of them, not even Virgil, knew exactly what it felt like, to erase themselves so completely. Still, Roman thought, it was nice of Remus to lie to him.

They sat in a circle. Roman’s hands were empty. And then - he felt nothing at all.

*

“We’re going to be better this time, right?” Virgil’s hands were shaking. He couldn’t make them stop.

Janus gave him a look of pity. “Of course.”

*

“We’re going to try,” Janus said softly, to the empty space that had once held Virgil. “Because that’s all that we can do. And surely nothing can be worse than this.”

And then there were none.

“Oh hello.”

“He-llo.” He stumbled over the greeting. (Something isn’t right.) “You’re… Thomas?”

“Yes.” The other person - this ‘Thomas’ figure - gave a blinding smile. “And you’re… part of me?”

“Emotion.” Huh. (How did he know that?) “I’m Emotion.” He took a moment to glance around the room - Thomas’s living room. He knew where everything was, knew what everything was, yet was somehow seeing it for the very first time. “I - I think - I’m new.”

“Nice to meet you. Do you know where any of the others are?”

Emotion tilted his head.

Thomas continued, “I know there’s more but… I can’t remember. There’s other sides, and I know that, I don’t know how I know but… I know. And I can’t remember who they are. That’s… that’s weird, right?” Thomas paused for a moment, and then shrugged and shook his head a little. “Do you know where they are?”

“Uh. I don’t think so. But you - I think you could summon them?”

Thomas’s eyes widened and then suddenly there were 6 other figures in the room. “Huh. Wow. Easier than I thought.” His voice dropped to something quieter, almost unintentional. “How did I know…?”

Emotion took a moment to look at the others (whom he had never met, whom he knew all the same). 

There was a figure in a white t-shirt, some sort of mathematical graph drawn on the front, but the cobalt blazer he wore over it obscured most of the writing. His shirt was tucked into black slacks, and there were rectangular glasses on his nose. Reason.

There was another figure in a Hairspray t-shirt and paint-splattered jeans in high-top converse. He was wearing a light-washed jean jacket with several sewn-on patches, mostly depicting shows on Broadway from the past four decades. His left ear was pierced. Aspiration.

Another figure was dressed in a pale blue sweater with a dog paw print felted across the front and beige corduroy pants. He wore round glasses and had several thread-woven bracelets on his wrists. Responsibility.

Just to Emotion’s left, there was a figure in an oversized My Chemical Romance t-shirt, ripped jeans, and laced-up boots. He had several piercings in his ears and smudged eyeliner around his eyes. There were safety pins in his jeans above one knee. Caution.

Near Responsibility stood another figure, dressed in a button-up, waistcoat, and slacks, all black. He wore a long black overcoat over everything, and hints of yellow peaked out from the lining of the jacket. He held a cane in one hand. Preservation.

To Emotion’s right, there was a figure in a deep green leather jacket and black skinny jeans inexplicably decorated with zippers from ankle to waist. Whatever his shirt said, Emotion couldn’t read it due to the thin, jagged font the message was written in, appearing bleached on and perhaps homemade. 

When Emotion glanced down at himself, he found he was wearing a long-sleeve shirt with big color blocks in amber tones. He had on dark orange overalls and several necklaces. There were glasses perched atop his head, and when he pulled them off, they were round and tinted a sort of honey color.

“Dude.”

Emotion turned to Caution, who had bunched his shoulders up around his ears.

“Where the fuck is my jacket.”

“Your jacket?”

“I barely know who I am, but I know I have a jacket. I need one.”

Preservation started shrugging off his coat, frowning slightly, but Aspiration held up a hand and summoned a sweatshirt out of thin air, dark purple with a trio of children from The Nightmare Before Christmas across the front. He tossed it toward Caution, who caught it and immediately wriggled into it.

“Is this everyone then?” Thomas waited a moment for someone - Reason - to answer affirmatively, and then said, “Well, it’s lovely to meet you all.”

“It’s good to meet you too, kiddo!” Responsibility’s face squished up, eyes shut in little crescents of happiness, until -

“Meet us? How can you possibly only now be meeting us?” Reason asked.

“Um. Well.” Thomas glanced around at them. “I mean, have you ever met me?” After there was a chorus of no ’s, he continued, “So this is our first meeting, right?”

“No, no,” Reason shook his head. “I’m not saying I disagree. I’m saying this shouldn’t be our first meeting. You’re - how old?”

It was clearly meant to be rhetorical, but Aspiration wasted no time in throwing a hand over his mouth, giving a loud gasp, and stuttering out protests about the impropriety and rudeness of such a question.

Reason pinched the bridge of his nose. “Ignoring that. We should have met by now. We must have met by now.”

Slowly, Preservation asked, “So then how is this our first meeting?”

“Maybe we killed the old ones.” Impulse gave a grin with teeth that were much too sharp. “Maybe we ate them. Consumed them. Twins do that in the womb, you know?”

“They do not,” Reason quickly corrected.

“Maybe it’s like an upgrade,” Responsibility added, sounding a little eager to change the subject. “Maybe it’s like - like you get new sides every decade or something.”

“Regardless, we’re here now. And we will, of course, do our very best to help you in whatever way we can.” Aspiration gave a bow at the waist in the direction of Thomas. “I am at your service.”

“Huh. Cool, I guess.” Thomas eyed them a moment longer before raising a hand to the back of his neck and saying, a little awkwardly, “I, uh, don’t actually need anything right now? And I kind of have a thing later? So… It was nice meeting you?”

Caution pulled his hood up over his head and muttered with a scowl, “Social interaction.”

“Say no more, my friend. We can tell when we are not needed.” Aspiration made a sort of downward patting motion at everyone, and one by one, the sides sank out.

*

There was a knocking sound. Not from his door, but maybe one of the ones on either side. Emotion stepped closer to his door, not making any move to open it or go out into the hallway, but just getting close enough to touch the doorknob. Close enough to maybe listen in.

There was the sound of a door opening.

“Caution?”

The voice came distinctly from the right side. Preservation’s room, then.

When Caution spoke, it was very quiet. “Reason said - Reason said we had to have met before.”

“Yes,” Preservation agreed slowly.

“So. So what if we have? What if something went wrong? What if there’s a reason we can’t remember or a reason that everything’s all -”

There was the sound of movement, fabric rustling. A long pause.

“I think… we can’t know what happened… before. And as difficult as it might be, I really think you should try and let this go.”

“I can’t -”

“I know. I know. But whatever happened before… we can’t change that. We’re here now. All we can do is try our best to - to be better. To be the best for Thomas.”

“To protect Thomas.”

“Mm. To protect Thomas. To protect ourselves.”

“Okay. I can - we can be good. We can do this.”

“We can do this. You can do this.”

There was the sound of movement again.

“Thank you, Preservation.”

“Good night, Caution.”

A door closed. Footsteps.

Emotion stepped away from his own door, retreating further into his room.

How very curious.