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natalie-the-writer · 2 years

Note

After the events of the movie, the robots try to regain order in Imperfection.

Took me a while, but I finally finished this one! It'll be a bit for the other asks because I have a HUGE oneshot I'm working on. I definitely want to do them soon though. I hope you like this! Even if it turns out to not be what you were really going for

Also, I love seeing asks. Your ask is actually the first one I've ever gotten and I've been so excited to write for it. I'm always open to prompt suggestions!

Robot Overload

"What are the robots doing up there?"

It was the question of one brunette haired doll - Janice, he recalled automatically - that had Lou looking up from where he was hidden from others, mopping an alleyway near town square. He raised a hand to shield his eyes, pushing back his bangs in the process. His stupid hair was nowhere close to what it used to be: shorter pieces tried to hang over his left eye when he looked down and the longer pieces fell down his head in slightly curly waves, stopping at the base of his neck. It was annoying, but there was nothing he could do about it with his limited resources.

It had been three weeks since he was essentially 'dethroned from power,' as some dolls liked to put it. Three weeks since he was put through several intense wash cycles on the highest setting, causing his suit to shrink and hair to be frazzled for a while (not to mention the reoccurring nightmares of infinite drowning.) He was immediately moved from his mansion to a small shack on the edge of town. It was roomey enough, but far, far from what he was used to. He raged about it in his head, ignoring that part of him, deep down, that was thankful for it. No more too big rooms. No more empty halls. It was still lonely, just not suffocatingly empty.

Not long after, a mop and bucket were pushed into his hands, and he was told to get to work. He wanted to scream at them all, scream at himself for letting this happen, but something - maybe that small part of him that was thankful to be moved away from the mansion - kept him from doing that. Instead, he took the items and got to work. Dolls laughed and mocked. Ox wouldn't meet his eyes half the time. Lou threw himself into scrubbing, sweeping, pulling weeds - anything.

He was outcasted. A freak to the place he'd been forced to call home for ten years, watching dolls come and go. He'd been toppled from power, lost the admiration, and tossed into the shadows to be gawked at and made fun of.

But there was no more pressure to be perfect. Perfection wasn't needed. And you know what? That was fine by him. Let them make the mistakes. Let them figure out that his lessons had hepled. Let them figure it all out because no one listened when he tried to speak up. Not even Ox.

So he scrubbed, keeping his head down, invisible, all the way up until that question reached his ears.

Lou squinted at the forms of the robots flying over the town, then at the ones moving quickly through the streets, eyes glowing red and- oh no. The blonde dropped the mop and broke into a run down the street, dodging dolls, the glares thrown his way, and the curious questions from some slightly nicer, newer dolls who didn't know his full story. He ignored them all, only focusing on his feet hitting concrete and finding Ox. He was fast, but the robots were everywhere and could fly.

He had to make it in time to warn him.

The robots did an automatic check once a month. A check on dolls, sales, the portal - everything, including Lou himself. It had completely slipped his mind - how, he didn't know. He'd never forgotten a check before. His legs moved faster, arms swinging at his sides as he zig zagged through dolls of all kinds who were frozen in confusion on the streets. 'They must've started the check, didn't recognize me, and then saw the UglyDolls.' He thought, rushing up the stairs to the new, public capital building of the democracy. He threw open the doors to the grotesquely decorated place that always made him want to gag, letting his legs carry him as fast as possible down the middle hallway. The inside wasn't as disorganized and randomly colored as the outside, but Lou didn't exactly have much time to pay attention to those details.

He slowed his run a little to scan the signs on doors, his heart pounding faster with every little plaque that didn't have Ox's name there. Or mayor. Or whatever he was called. Dang it, he better not have to go back and sprint the set of stairs to the second floor. He would be wasting precious time

Finally - finally - he hit the last door. It was in the center with a plaque that read 'Mayor.' He skidded to a stop, toes hitting the wood, and threw open the door, knocking forgotten. "Ox! I know you hate me, but-" He paused, heart going to his throat at the scene before him. The table and chairs were overturned, papers everywhere, and the window was shattered. No Ox. The robots got to him.

He ran to the window, ignoring the glass on the floor - they had to have busted in from the outside - and looked out. He could just barely see several colorful figures being herded by metallic grey ones around the corner of some buildings. Ox, Moxy, Mandy, Nolan, Babo - all of them. The robots must have recognized them as the perpetrators of this whole mess. That or the others came to Ox's rescue only to get taken themsleves.

With no time to spare, he undid the latch and pushed open the window, sending some shards of glass outside. He hauled himself up and over, thankful for how grand in size the window was, and hit the ground sprinting in the direction of the robots. The direction of the furnace.

Other robots were keeping dolls - Pretty and Ugly - from moving far, hands or paws up in the air and backs pressed to the multicolored building walls. Lou saw their wide eyes following him in his peripheral, but he only had eyes for one direction. When robots tried to grab him, he ducked and dodged nimbly, too fast for them to catch. He'd be proud of himself if his heart wasn't going a million miles a minute. If his appearance wasn't so shaken up, they'd recognize him on the dot without a scan of his chip - a scan they wouldn't do to a doll running from them.

He made his way around the corner and crouched behind an alley trash can, watching the few robots chasing him pass. Lou dragged in breath after breath as quietly as possible, observing as they slowly headed back the way they came, likely communicating to each other that they would find him later. When he was sure the last robot passed, he edged his way to the opening, peering both ways around the corner. To the right, a couple of blocks away, were the captured forms of Ox and his merry gang. He could vaguely hear Ox talking, trying to reason with hunks of metal that only followed coding.

Lou needed them to scan him, recognize him, and follow his orders to get everything back on track. Subconsciously, he reached up and touched his neck over where his chip was. The thing that separated him from every other doll. The thing that made him a prototype. He sighed, shook his head, and made his way quickly and silently down the street, ducking by buildings, taking empty alleyways, and, when those disappeared, taking cover behind washed up cardboard stacks and big rocks. He crouched by another small stack of cardboard, taking a moment to watch and catch his breath. They were only a few yards away, his... the dolls pressed back to back where the robots circled them, red eyes glowing. Lou was so close he could throw a rock and hit a robot in the back of the head.

Of course, he wasn't stupid enough to do that. But he did need a weapon.

"Listen, robots, please. There has been a misunderstandin. We can talk an' fix it." Ox was trying to sound firm and reasonable, as always, but an edge of pleading was seeping into his voice. A foreign, forgotten feeling slipped into Lou, squeezing his heart. Ox wasn't supposed to sound like that. Those dolls behind him weren't supposed to be pressed together, trying to stand tall as they clung to the hands of each other, no way out with the hulking figures around them. "I'm Ox, the new mayor, and-"

"Protocal section A1," the robot in front of him said in a blocky voice, "dictates that the only ruler we follow besides the creator is the Model 12 Prototype: Louis Everett." Lou grimaced. He was the only (technical) doll with a given last name before recieving a child. He had his creator's last name. He hadn't seen that strict man in years, and he didn't hope to see him again after everything he was put through with him. (Learn everything, know everything, do everything-) "Our sensors and cameras failed to find him among the dolls. We were met with foreign entities instead. Video footage proves you, green mistake and others, started all of this, and need to go into the furnace with the other miscreant figures."

"Where is Lou?" The blonde heard Nolan quietly ask the group, receiving head shakes and nervous shoulder shrugs. "He didn't leave. He was at the square earlier."

Nolan noticed him? Something about that made his heart widen and squeeze at the same time.

"He probably left because he knew all this would happen." Ugly Dog grumbled, the quaver in his voice overshadowing the anger. Lou found he couldn't blame him. Once again, his blue eyes looked over the area for some kind of weapon-

There was a short, broken ended pipe on the other wide of the pile. He grabbed it silently, weighing it in his hands. Not too heavy, roghly six doll feet long, and the sharp end would be useful. He got up onto his knees, one hand tight around the pipe, and got ready to run again.

'Why am I doing this?' The inner question made him pause, the next part of the conversation disappearing admist his buzzing thoughts. 'They threw me to the side. They took my place. My mansion. Ox left me. Everyone has left me. I'm all alone. Why do I care? Why, after everything, do I still care about anyone?'

The answers came in the form of memory flashes. Being created under the strict and watchful hand of Greyson Everett. Trained under the harshest conditions. Running the Institute, unable to leave for the world he taught other dolls to go to, knowing he would never see them again. Knowing he could never build a connection with them. Then Ox came along, taught him how to feel and understand emotions on some level, and though he left, who could blame him? He couldn't blame Ox for wanting to go to the Big World. He couldn't blame Ox for leaving after what Lou showed him, could he? The loneliness ate Lou, turned him more bitter with every passing day, and then dolls like Ox came along and turned everything upside down. He lost everything, but maybe, he needed that to happen.

A yelp of alarm slammed him back into reality.

The claws of a robot had reached out, grabbing Ox by his ears and arm, dragging him forward, foot by foot. The others tried to reach out to help only to be constrained by the four other robots there, their arms stretching to wrap around them all in a rough hold. Despite Ox's frantic struggling, he couldn't slow the robot down. In fact, it was moving faster.

"You will be the first to die." It said tonelessly. The furnace was still a good several blocks away, but it didn't make the threat any less horrible. Lou's heart pounded in his ears, his lungs seizing up at the thought of Ox 𝑏𝑢𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔, and he froze in place. Every thought urged him to move, to do something, but he couldn't.

The robot's claws tightened when Ox continued to struggle.

His brother screamed. Not in surprise, but in pain.

Red washed Lou's vision. Every thought was erased. Every bit of fear was gone. It was all replaced by the sound of his brother screaming and the need to stop that pain.

Lou crossed the distance in four seconds, sliding under the arm of the robot that tried to grab him. He jumped into the air in front of the robot holding Ox, then slammed the pointed end of the pipe into the eye of it. The robot crackled and popped for a moment, then fell to the ground in a heap. Lou used the falling momentum to his advantage, flipping over the pipe with his hands still wrapped around the metal. The force yanked it free of the eye and Lou was standing again, spinning to face everyone, robots and dolls alike. The formers' faces didn't change, but the dolls? They were painted with shock.

"Lou?" Ox questioned quietly, pulling the blonde's attention to him. The robot was dead, circuits and wires pulled out through the break Lou caused, but the claws were still wrapped around his appendages tightly. Lou wanted to help him, but the robots were letting go of the dolls, their red eyes zeroed in on the prototype.

"Yeah, I'm here. Big shocker." It was all he could come up with. His feet moved him paces to the right and back, away from Ox. The robots followed. "Just... all of you, stay out of the way." When one robot surged forward, he raised the pipe like a bat and swung, hitting the weak spot in its neck. The force of the hit reverberated through his entire body, but it sent the metal head flying off and the rest of it crumpling to the ground. Two down. Three left.

The remainder moved in quickly, navigating to surround Lou as much as they could. He spun, trying to keep his eyes on all of them at once. It was no use. One was always out of his field of vision. His heart slammed against his chest, adrenaline making his hands shake where they were clasped tightly around his makeshift weapon. He couldn't see all of them. What if-

"Behind you!" Mandy yelled.

Lou turned in barely enough time to slam the pipe through the stomach of his attacker. It was not a clean hit, but when he pulled it back, there was a good sized hole. It sparked. The robot fell. Three down. Two left.

"Thanks." He called to Mandy over his shoulder, ignoring how his breath was stalling in his chest. His legs ached. His body shook. Too many nights of little sleep from nightmares was taking its revenge at the worst possible time. He spun the pipe between his hands, taking a step back as the two robots moved slowly forward, clearly surveying him. The stand off gave him a moment to think. He couldn't destroy both of them. He needed one to scan him and send out a signal to every other robot to call off the attack on the Institute before anyone got burned.

"Listen to me." He said, pouring every inch of formal command into his voice. One robot stalled. The other kept moving. "I am Louis Everett. Prototype Model 12. Created by Greyson Everett." He had to pause for breath, taking another step back away from the advancing robot. "I am not missing. I have a... temporary look and the scanners didn't catch me. I am still in charge." The lie slipped off his lips like honey and salt. "Nothing is wrong."

"Explain the unknown entities." The stopped robot stated.

"You weren't updated properly." This lie was easier. "These new dolls are called UglyDolls. They are a new product for the company and have been selling off the charts with kids." That was not a lie. He'd heard Ox talking about it with Mandy once, while he was hidden in the shadows. "They are not to be disposed of. I repeat: do not dispose of them."

The moving robot lunged forward. Lou raised his pipe up, catching the claws with it, but the force of the robot sent his back to the ground. He was pinned, the pipe between them the only barrier. He heard the urgent yells of his name as he pushed back against the robot, desperate to free himself. The bar came further his way, pressing down on his chest until he could hardly breathe.

Think. Think. Think. Think, Louis!

He heard the patters of several feet moving his way. No. They couldn't put themsleves in danger for him. He wouldn't allow it. "No!" He managed to yell. "Don't come closer!" The last word ended in a hiss of pain as the pipe further crushed his chest. "I... I can do this." The sentence was barely a whisper, more to himself than anyone else. In a last attempt, he managed to bend his legs and press them to the torso of the robot. With a burst of desperate strength and adrenaline, he pushed up. The robot was forced back and couple of inches along with the bar.

Lou took his chance.

He rolled out from under the bar and let it slam down against the concrete. The sharp end cut into his shoulder, resulting in him biting back a yell of pain. He couldn't worry them. They would come jumping into the fray without knowing how to defend themsleves, making everything more complicated. He rolled away from the robot and up onto his shaking legs. The robot tossed the pipe to the side as it faced him, the red glow in its eyes blinking in and out. It was closest he'd ever seen a robot come to expressing anger, or an emotion of any kind.

The blonde spared a quick glance around. No more pipes besides the one on the other side of the robot. Nothing-

Nolan grabbed the pipe as Lou was forced to duck a grab to the neck. His mismatched eyes were wide with fear and uncertainty as they met Lou's, his hands clasped tightly around the only possible weapon in the vicinity. After half a second, he raised it. "Lou, catch!" He reared it back over his shoulder.

"This way!" Lou dove to the side to get out of the way of another strike and to get clear of the robot. Nolan stumbled forward and threw. It soared through the air.

Too high. When it went over him, it would be out of reach by a few feet.

Mind racing for a solution, Lou did the only thing he could do. He ran toward the robot, earning many yells of alarm, and jumped. It was only by sheer luck that he dodged the arms coming for him, kicking against the chest of the robot with one foot, sending himself into the air. His fingers wrapped around the pipe as the robot grabbed his foot, slamming Lou down against the ground like a rag doll. The impact knocked the breath out of him and he saw stars in his vision, but he didn't let go of the pipe.

The robot released his foot to try and pin him down again. Lou was ready for it. He turned the pipe at the last second, slamming it upward and through the chest of the robot. He didn't need to see to know it came out the other end. Quickly, he scrambled out from under it right before it fell in the very spot he was laying.

Breath heaving in his chest, he pulled himself to stand, dimly aware of everyone else not far behind him, including Ox. Their eyes were burning holes in the back of his head as he faced off the last robot. "Scan me." He told the frozen machine. "Scan me and listen to my orders or I'll have you toasted." He somehow managed to keep his voice strong and commanding even as he felt like falling over on the spot. The adrenaline was fading and he had to lock his legs at the knees to keep from hitting the ground then and there. He only hoped the others couldn't see his struggle.

The lights in the robot's eyes turned blue. Lou faced forward, palms out at his sides and feet spread to shoulder width. It casted a blue light over him, scanning him from head to toe before zeroing in on his neck. His chip. It made him feel vulnerable, but he didn't dare move.

"Authorization complete. Hello, Louis."

He heaved a sigh of relief, pushing back a smart remark. "Hello."

"What commands would you like me to carry out at the moment?"

Lou took a second to gather himself, crossing his arms over his chest and pulling his feet together. He ignored the sting in his shoulder when he moved. It didn't feel like a deep cut, but it definitely hurt. "Communicate to all robots that the Model 12 Prototype is fine, here, and," he spared Ox a momentary glance over his shoulder, "in charge. Everything is under control. You were not programmed correctly, and so didn't recognize my... other look and the new dolls on the market. Have them release everyone. They are not intruders. New code will be given to you all in the next few days." His voice was strong and calm, but his body felt anything but that. He was beginning to waver inwardly, the last of the adrenaline disappearing into hand shakes and tiredness.

"Understood, sir." The blue lights blinked in and out. "Done."

Some of the tension coiled in his chest loosened. He could've collapsed right then from relief. "Good. That's good." He cleared his throat. "Now, go help clean up the mess you all made and apologize to those dolls for the miscommunication."

"Yes, sir." The robot headed back toward town, leaving Lou with the other dolls. He spun to face them, pushing a hand through the hair that hung over his right eye. It was annoying how much it fell, though he was more concerned with how much he was shaking and the darkening of his vision at the edges.

"Lou, are you okay?" Of course it was Ox to ask, running up to him with his one eye wide with concern. Lou had to glance away a second, caught off guard by the sheer amount of emotion radiating from him. "Oh my gosh. Your shoulder-"

"It's fine." He cut in, shaking his head. "I'll fix it myself. It's not bad. Are you all fine?" The question slipped out before he could properly think about it, exposing more worry than he thought he had in him.

"We're okay, thanks to you." Mandy said, stepping forward. Her hands hovered in front of her, fingers reaching for him unsurely. Subconsciously, Lou moved back an inch, disguising it as shifting the weight on his feet. She stopped in her tracks, eyes displaying something he didn't quite understand.

"Those were some moves you pulled, Lou." Lucky Bat said. Ugly Dog appeared to agree, letting out a low whistle despite his earlier words. "We knew you were athletic but wow-"

"Do you know why that happened?" Ox asked, pulling them back to the topic at hand. The robots still sparked around them, dead and gone. They weren't anything to worry about. The factory would retrieve and fix them at some point. By then, their code would be upgraded.

The blonde ran a hand down his face, letting out a small sigh. "Yes, I actually do. The robots do a maintenance check once a month. I completely forgot about it. If I hadn't, I would've warned you. With me... like this," He made an absentminded gesture at his loose hair and outfit, "they didn't recognize me without an actual scan. Their code wasn't updated for the new dolls, so the robots took action by recognizing them as threats and trying to bring back order without me." It was after he spoke that he realized he didn't call them 'Uglies.'

Nolan was the one to ask the next question, wringing his hands in front of him as he stared off in the direction of recycling. "Is it fixed now?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it should all be fixed. They'll have a temporary code on the surface. Micheal might be able to fix it up in their hard drives, or any other doll with an engineering or coding role, like Amy or Zack." The names came to his mind instantly when searching dolls for tasks. 'One of the few good things about being a prototype,' he supposed, pressing his forefinger and thumb to the bridge of his nose. They needed to get back to town. Ox and the others would have to calm several dolls down, he was sure of it, and Lou needed to fix his shoulder and fade to the background again.

Moxy took the words out of his mind. "Let's head back to town. Everyone's probably really shaken up. We need to get things taken care of, including your shoulder, Louis."

"I said I'm fine." He touched the rip gingerly. No stuffing had come out yet. It was peeking at the tear's edge. "It's not a big deal."

"I say it is." She sing-songed. Lou didn't understand how, after such a terrible ordeal, she was skipping her way back toward the multicolored buildings, getting them all to follow. Lou's feet moved on their own accord, falling in line with Ox, who didn't leave his side to go to the front. "And you're not allowed to leave until you're fixed up."

His eyes narrowed. He expected the familiar heat of annoyance to build in him, burn him up on the inside, but nothing came. The warmth he did feel was foreign and slow, gathering in his chest. "Moxy, seriously," the bite in his words was lost no matter how hard he tried to find it, "I'm-"

"If you say you're fine one more time, I'll..."

"It's alright, Moxy." Ox assured her midway through the threat. "I'll handle him." Lou huffed, crossing his arms, but couldn't find the energy to interject. In fact, he was losing energy for everything. Putting one foot in front of the other felt almost impossible and-

All at once, his visioned tunneled out, going grey and black. His legs crumbled beneath him. The world felt like it was spinning out from under him, sending him and his suddenly pounding head pitching toward the ground. He would've face planted if not for the fluffy arms hooking around his torso, holding him up.

"Lou!"

His eyes were closed. That's why it was so dark. He felt his head hang forward, all control over his body lost and his mind fighting to stay above the waves trying to pull him under. He vaguely felt himself being turned and shifted, the back of his head resting gently against the ground with the rest of his body splayed out. Something - a hand - hit his cheek lightly. "Hey, hey, Lou, buddy, what's wrong?" Ox's voice was strained and shaky. He could sense everyone crowding around him, casting shadows beyond his closed eyelids. His friend shook his shoulder. "Lou, open your eyes. Don't do this to me right n-now." The word cracked. Lou's heart cracked with it. He wanted to open his eyes. Forget coldness and indifference - he wanted to take the pain out of Ox's voice. They hurt each other. It didn't need to keep happening.

Another hand cradled his chin, then moved to his cheek. "He's completely out." Mandy said quietly, her voice almost washed out by the white noise growing in his ears. Conciousness was taunting him at this point.

"That fight took a lot out of him." Babo said - his first time speaking since this whole fiasco began. "I can't blame him though."

A heartbeat of silence passed. "No," Ox stated. "No, that's not all this is. Something else is wrong. I can feel it. Get him to my house. Babo, help me." Hands and arms lifted him gently. The waves crashed down again. He knew no more.

___________________________

It was warm.

Lou's conciousness slowly emerged through the blackness, gaining feeling in his body and coherency in mind. It was warm. Comfortably warm. Nothing like the shack with too thin walls. It felt good to be warm again. There was a light weight across his entire body and a softness at his back - bed and blankets. An incredibly soft bed and blankets that were so warm. He could feel every breath going in and out of his lungs. The world was there, but distant, clouded, and he couldn't find it in him to care-

Someone was holding his hand.

It was a soft hand. Paw-like in a way only certain dolls could be and entirely familiar. Ox. This was Ox's hand, wasn't it? Why was Ox holding his hand? After everything with the recycling, the Gauntlet, the portal, the dethroning, the menial duties - why was he here at all? Wasn't he supposed to be hanging out with those other dolls? Being where Lou couldn't?

An image flashed into his mind. A metal claw holding the arm of his brother while he yelled in pain, fear beginning to move into eyes that were always so brave and warm like this bed-

Ox. The robots. The town.

Everything snapped into place at once.

Lou yanked his heavy eyelids open, ignoring the grainy feel to them, and started to sit up. His bad shoulder sent a pain through his arm with the sudden movement and his back ached from the earlier impact, but he needed to 𝑚𝑜𝑣𝑒. Why? He wasn't sure. 𝐼 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑜𝑘𝑎𝑦. The grip on his hand tightened as he tried to let go. "Woah, Lou, slow down." Another paw grabbed his good shoulder, the closest to Ox, and pulled him back down to the pillows. The blonde struggled, but his strength was gone. How long had he been out for? What happened? "I'm right here, brother. You're fine. Everything is fine."

Words tumbled out of Lou's mouth without his consent. "The robots-" He tried to fight Ox's grip, but the green doll held firm, standing at Lou's bedside. Where in the world were they? The shack definitely wasn't decorated like this-

"The robots are fine, too. They're cleaning up, so lay back down before I make ya. Those stitches and bruises have got ta' be smartin." The light threat to Ox's words wasn't missed, though it wasn't like when he was told he had cleaning duty. Lou laid down either way - mainly because his heart was calming down, he was too tired to stay up, and his shoulder was hurting the longer he put weight on it.

"Where am I?" He asked, forcing his voice to remain level. His hands fisted on the blankets as his eyes swept around the room, looking anywhere but at his old friend. The sun shone dimly through drawn windows, leaving the room dark and comfortable.

"My house. We brought you here after you passed out. You scared me half to death, buddy." Ox ran a hand down his face, letting go of Lou's shoulder.

"Sorry." Lou muttered, glancing at him briefly. Why in the world was he using all those old nicknames? Calling him brother? He thought that relationship was dead and gone. Lost in dust years ago. "Don't know why that happened."

"I think I do." Ox leaned back in a chair Lou only now noticed, parked mere inches from the bed. "You're exhausted."

Annoyance flared in his chest, masking the part of him that knew Ox was right. "Am not. I am perfectly fine."

"I have never believed you when you've said those words. I'm not believing you now." The green doll crossed his arms. Lou drew his hands together, interlocking his fingers to try and replace the lost feeling of Ox's hand. "You said you forgot about the bot check."

"I honestly did, Ox." Did he think he was lying? After defending them? He looked away, ignoring the unnatural sting behind his eyes. "I-"

"I know. I believe you. We all do." Ox put a paw on his good shoulder, shaking him a little until Lou looked at him again. "But you and I both know you never forget anything. Your brain has one astounding memory, and you'd never forget something like that without a reason. Lou, you're plain exhausted, and not just from running across town and fighting robots. Have you not been sleeping?"

"Ox, it doesn't matter." He pulled himself to slow sit up, ignoring the light hands that tried to push him back down, pushing force into his voice with energy he didn't have. "Just let me go. I'm fine."

"It does too matter." He stood on the chair to make them almost eye level. "Louis, answer me honestly." The blonde bristled a little at his full name, gazing intently at his legs. "Are you sleeping?"

Maybe it was the fact that no one else was around. Maybe it was because he and Ox had a friendship, a brotherhood, so many years ago. Maybe, on some level, they were still brothers with a lot of trauma. Maybe Lou just wanted to let out the emotions he'd been bottling uo and unable to understand. No matter the reason, the true answer tumbled out of his mouth. "No." His voice was quiet, but in the near empty room, it bounced back to his ears.

"Why?" The doll was equally quiet, bending down until Lou was forced to meet his eye. "I know we haven't been on the best terms at all, but put all that away for a minute. You can talk to me. It's only me and you here. Like old times." He offered a small, shaky smile. "What's keeping you awake?"

"I..." He hesitated. Him and Ox, but it was nowhere near the same. Lou wasn't helping Ox as the one in power. Ox was in power. Lou was the outcast. And yet he felt safe for the first time in a long, long time. He hadn't felt safe since not long before Ox left. Since before Lou found out he wanted to leave. "A lot of things, Ox. I'm not exactly on the best terms with anybody. I can't talk to anyone. You won't even look me in the eyes sometimes. And that stupid, stupid washer-" His breath hitched momentarily. "I can't stop the nightmares. I can't deal with it. It's easier to not sleep than be afraid." He put his face in his hands, trying to push back the tears as he laid his heart out for the first time in.... he didn't know when.

Soft arms wrapped around him, enveloping him in a hug. He stiffened. The last time he had a hug, it was from Ox. Slowly, he pulled his hands from his face, breath frozen in his lungs. The tears he'd been trying to push back moved down his cheeks, plopping down onto Ox's shoulder where Lou's chin was placed. "I didn't know this was happening to you, Lou. I'm sorry. I... I didn't think you'd want anything to do with me after everything. They turned the washer on high, didn't they?"

"It's not supposed to go on high." Lou muttered. "I never put it on high."

"I know, I know. They didn't know. That shouldn't have happened. I'm sorry."

Hesitantly, Lou raised his arms to wrap them around the green doll, closing his eyes and letting out a stuttering breath. Keeping it together was futile. Were he and Ox friends again? Or was this a fluke of a doll pitying him? For the moment, Lou didn't care. He turned his head to put his face to Ox's shoulder, breathing shallowly as he tried to get himself back under control. With his racing thoughts, that was hard to do. Suddenly, there was so much he wanted to say and the chance to say it was right here, right now. He raised his head again so he could speak clearly. "I'm sorry for what I did. All I did. I shouldn't have left you. I shouldn't have fought you. I got bitter and so, so angry at you. At everything. It might've been better if I told you I was a prototype from the start, but... I could only see you leaving me. I couldn't handle it and... and... I'm sorry." He hid his face again.

Ox's paw moved up and down his back soothingly. "I know I can't say anything for the town but.... I forgive you, Lou. We're going to have a lot of work to do, yeah, but I forgive you. Nothing's going to snap right back into place though."

"I didn't expect it to, after everything."

"I'm sorry for trying to leave you like that. I should've picked up that there was something else going on the first couple of times you tried to sway me away from it, and at least talked to you about it. I already knew you said you'd never leave the place, wanted to teach dolls. I should've thought about how I'd be leaving you permanently. I didn't think about how the portal was a one way thing back then. I only focused on getting a kid, not the friend I wasn't going to see again."

"No, that wasn't your fault. That was on me, too. There's no way you could've known."

"We can agree to disagree then because you're not changing my mind." He squeezed the hug a little tighter. Lou ignored the twinge of pain that went through his body, focusing on how the first hug he'd recieved in eternity was still happening. "And Lou, I've been meaning to tell you something. It's about what you said at the Gauntlet."

His heart plummeted to his stomach. "What?"

"You're not just a prototype. You may not be able to leave, but you are a doll. You're no less a doll than I am or anyone else for that matter."

A lump formed in Lou's throat and he had to push it down, more tears flooding his eyes. He hadn't cried like this in a long time. The nightmares were different. He might wake up crying involuntarily or unable to force back a few stray tears as he tried to calm down after waking, wrestling with his lungs in order to stop hyperventilating. "I'll try to believe that." He managed to say.

"I'll keep telling you until you do." They pulled back from each other. Ox gripped Lou's shoulder again. "Are we okay now?"

"Yeah, we're good, I think. Maybe a work in progress at the moment." The blonde offered the tiniest smile that Ox returned.

"I'd say we are."

Lou pulled in a deep breath, using his sleeve to wipe away the tears on his cheeks quickly. It was only then he noticed that he wasn't wearing his suit, but a set of pajamas he definitely didn't recognize. He rarely worpajamas and when he did, it was his white undershirt and a loose pair of black slacks. He didn't have real pajamas. These were green striped - a button up shirt and fluffy pants. "Huh?"

"Oh, yeah." Ox plopped down on the edge of the bed by Lou's side, dropping his hand to pat the taller doll's knee. "They're an extra set of Nolan's pajamas. You only have suits in your house. Care to tell me about that?" Ox raised an eyebrow.

"Nope." He moved the collar to look at where his shoulder was currently ripped. Correction, had been ripped. Ox said something about sitches earlier. The cloth of his shoulder was pulled together by near invisible stitches. Eventually, by the same magic that made them alive, it would all merge together and only leave a scar of white - or whatever color thread was used to tie it together. "Who did the stitching?" Last he remembered, Ox wasn't the best at stitching anything.

"Nolan. He stayed here for a while. Everybody did."

That surprised him. "Everybody?"

Ox nodded, a soft smile on his face. "Lou, after what you did right there - nobody can hate you completely. If they were there, anyway. Actually, a lot of dolls who saw you run earlier came by to ask if you were okay. The others were here for a while to make sure you were okay, but they had to go help the other dolls and the robots. Nolan left only twenty minutes ago."

"How long was I..."

"Six hours. Again, scared me half to death."

"I'll try not to do it again."

"Ya better."

They shared a small laugh. Lou dropped his collar and tested the stretch of his arm. It hurt, but that pain would go away after a day or two. Another thought hit him and he steeled his nerves, feeling confident enough to talk in this comfortable space. "Hey, Ox..."

"Yeah?"

"I... know I deserve my punishment. Heck, I deserved more than what I got, and while I don't hate cleaning at all, just doing that is going to eventually drive me nuts. Possibly literally." He raised his good arm to rub at his temple.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, my programming demands I run this place. I was made for it. Every stitch is meant for it and yet I'm not doing it. Eventually, my programming is going to go nuts. It's already starting to happen. I sometimes can't focus at all. I know I'm not supposed to, Ox, and a lot of dolls won't like it, but if you don't want me to go absolutely crazy, I have to do 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 for this place that's not just cleaning. Paperwork, at least. Please." He was practically begging his former- no, current friend to give him a good job.

Ox tapped his chin, letting out a low hum of thought. "I think your actions today have gotten you off of menial duties." He smiled slightly, making Lou's heart thump with hope. "There may be some dolls adverse to it, but if you're with me, I think they'll be fine. You can work with me in the background. We'll call it a new job where you can do all the paperwork you can handle."

A smile of relief and happiness spread across his lips involuntarily. He let out a sigh and gave a small nod of agreement. "Yeah, I will take that deal."

"Plus, it would be a really big help to me, honestly."

Lou raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Go on."

Ox rubbed the back of his neck. "I kind of don't really know how to do the paperwork. We've been trying, but it's really complicated. I've been on the edge of asking you. I just didn't think you'd be open to it."

"Granted, I might not have if all this hadn't happened, but..." He sighed, folding his hands once more. "I really need it, and I really... really want to be friends with you again."

"We can be. We are. Time will help us." He smiled. "For now though, you need to sleep."

"What are you talking about? I've slept enough. Can't we do the paperwork plan now? And don't you have dolls to check on? Seriously, you're the mayor. They probably want to see you."

"Six hours isn't enough, Lou. Lay back down." He pushed against Lou's chest with his hand, not relenting until the doll gave in and laid back on the pillows. Honestly, he was tired, but the notion of actually doing something sounded better than sleeping. "And the others can take care of em. I'm takin care of my brother. You're my priority."

That warmth of earlier swelled in his chest again. Not fire, not ashes, not hot coal, but warm heat that filled him up from toes to hair and made his heart do little squeezes. "Whatever you say."

"I do say." Ox chuckled, pulling the blankets back up to Lou's neck. "First thing tomorrow, we'll eat breakfast together and get to the office. My kid is on vacation without me, so we'll get the whole week to make up for lost time, got it?"

He bit back a yawn. "Got it."

"Good. Now go to sleep before I make ya."

Lou rolled his eyes then closed them, letting himself relax. The tension he hadn't known was in his chest has lessened, allowing him breathe a little deeper mentally. The tension between him and Ox wasn't completely gone, but this was a start. A good start. The relationship between him and everyone else... it would depend on the doll, and he wouldn't blame him if they never forgave him, but he hoped, really hoped, they would. Three words came to his mind to describe this new phase of his life as he dropped off into nightmare-less oblivion:

A new start.

_______________________________

The next day, the other dolls would walk into Ox's office in search of their mayor and Lou to find the two sitting side by side at a brand new desk. It was really Lou's desk that he insisted they get from his old mansion as it was big enough for the two of them to work comfortably without bumping elbows over and over again. Each had different stacks of paper - Ox was sorting whatever Lou handed to him and the blonde doll was actually filling out the paperwork from the information on the computer. To every other doll, it would look like a jumble of jibberish words but to him? It was what he'd been used to for ten years.

They would walk through the door to find the two dolls - brothers - arguing good naturedly about the files, one half eaten breakfast plate from Wage's diner to the side.

"How in the world did you manage to get this disorganized? Did your office have a tornado in it?" Lou was asking, shaking his head as he spun a pen in his hand. His suit was back, covering the stitching in his shoulder, and he sat a little bit hunched to try and take the strain off his bruises. Less than perfect posture, but in the new institute, who cared? "Seriously, why are the April files with the October files?"

Ox rolled his eyes, tossing a wad of trash paper at the blonde head. It bounced off, landing in the trash can and earning him a little, unheated glare from a blonde who was trying to fight off a smile despite his frustration. "I have no clue."

"That's really helpful."

"I try to be."

"You're insufferable."

"I try to be that, too." Ox grabbed a piece of toast off Lou's plate. "You need to finish your breakfast."

"Ox, I am not a child-" He was cut off as the French toast was put in his mouth and he was forced to chew lest it drop to the ground. After swallowing, he said, "No fair." Ox only laughed, going back to sorting files as Lou's effortless cursive flew across the blank pages. There was only one way to describe the scene before them.

It was the beginning of a new era.

#lou uglydolls #fanfiction #uglydolls #comfort #fanfic #friendship #sleepy bois inc #oneshot #answered

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youreyeslookliketheocean · 8 months

Text

Summary:

The city sprawls in front of him—as dense and expansive as moss growing off the side of a house. Tommy’s ivy tightens, digging his ribs uncomfortably into the railing as it urges him forward.

Go, its pressure says. Take the jump.

Tommy doesn’t want to. Tommy, staring at a six-story drop to pasty white concrete below, thinks he might throw up. Pass out. In the best case scenario, he might wake up and find out that this was all some horrible nightmare, and he’s not actually sprouting vines from his hands. He doesn’t actually have a…

Superpower, Tommy thinks with startlingly clarity, for the very first time. I have a superpower.

I can’t have a superpower.

****

Or, Tommy develops a power. Unbeknownst to him, his older brother has one too.

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jallieae · 2 years

Text

put the hearts (and bruises) on ice

crimeboys figure-skating au || oneshot || 7.4k words

[[read on ao3 or below the cut]]

inspired by drhair76′s “from ice to water” series

Summary:

For a moment, he could almost be in the middle of one of his fancy turns, limbs thrown out deliberately like he’s flying.

Then Tommy slams into the ice.

He slams into the ice and his head bounces off of it.

He slams into the ice and he doesn’t get back up.

After accidentally hurting Tommy during a scrimmage, Wilbur forgets how to trust himself.

(this au is based on Drhair76′s “icing those hurts” fic on ao3. 100% credit goes to her for pioneering the au, though you do not have to read the original for this to make sense. happy hurt/comfort-ing)

***

Tommy is getting steadier on the ice.

Well, maybe that’s misleading. Tommy is always steady on the ice. Always twirling with grace, gliding like he’s floating, jumping like he’s weightless. In fact, Tommy may even be doing worse than usual right now, as he wobbles his hockey stick across the rink.

But the reason Wilbur can’t shake the smile off his face isn’t because Tommy’s doing good on the ice, though he is, it’s because he’s not caring about doing good on the ice. He’s smiling, eyes scrunched, and he’s not stiff, like he’s bracing for a blow that’s in the process of landing. His shoulders are loose and his smile is easy and he is as light as a sunbeam, skittering across a crystal pool of water.

Wilbur watches him swipe the puck from Quackity and the beaming grin that he shoots over his shoulder is bright enough to warm the rink.

And then Wilbur remembers that Quackity is on his team.

Tommy’s eyes flash challengingly as he skates up towards Wilbur, who’s playing goalie until next round. His glides are a little stilted, and his grip on the hockey stick is wobbly, but he’s darting up the rink like a shot. And Wilbur needs to be the one to block it.

But he’s thinking about that smile, about how far they’ve come, about how nice it is to hear Tommy’s laughter ring freely across the rink like a spill of bells.

And he’s not thinking when he kicks off the ice, prepared to swoop in front of Tommy and cleanly block the shot. He’s not thinking when he whips to the side with his shoulder braced the way he was taught by cruel hands to do.

He’s not thinking when he cuts Tommy off—because if he had been, he would know that Tommy’s not familiar enough with his playstyle to compensate for Wilbur jolting in front of him, too quick to avoid.

Because if Wilbur had been thinking, then what happened next would never have happened.

The worst part is that, right before the collision, Tommy doesn’t even look afraid.

His body twists, like an instinct more than a contemplated movement, to the side, leaning away, but not for a moment does his bright expression fall or his gentle smile waver as Wilbur carreens too close, too fast towards him. Because somehow, even as they both slide towards each other like two comets destined to intersect, he doesn’t shy away.

Like not even momentum nor speed nor the strands of the universe could ever change the fact that Wilbur wouldn’t hurt him.

And as Wilbur’s shoulder comes up automatically to slam into Tommy’s chest, Wilbur is reminded what he’s made for.

(Not for fixing things or keeping good things or anything besides hurting and getting hurt.)

Tommy is small. He’s always been, since the day Wilbur first saw him, standing in the shadow of his coach with his shoulders curled in and his limbs pulled close to him. Has always been more delicate, more breakable, by the pure nature of his sport. It’s only recently, with his coach gone, that they—all of them: the team, Phil, Wilbur— have coaxed him into something fuller, like restrained flower petals unfurling in the spring.

He’s decently tall, sure, but he’s not built like a hockey player. Not built like Wilbur, who is built for giving blows and taking blows and not stopping until somebody (usually himself) has been painted red. Tommy’s just not.

Which means that when Wilbur crashes into him with too much momentum to pull himself back, Tommy doesn’t even stand a chance.

Tommy chokes on a gasp as the force of Wilbur’s body throws him backwards. He loses all his grace, lips parting in surprise, and for a moment, he could almost be in the middle of one of his fancy turns, limbs thrown out deliberately like he’s flying.

Then Tommy slams into the ice.

He slams into the ice and his head bounces off of it.

He slams into the ice and he doesn’t get back up.

In that breath before time resumes, Wilbur can’t move, shock stealing all of his breath as the illusion of flight is shattered.

Then, everything catches up to him. And Wilbur suddenly feels very, very sick.

Seeing Tommy crumpled, unmoving, on the ice is worse than every bruise Wilbur has ever had put on his skin. All at once, everything feels underwater. Cotton swells over his brain, blocking out everything except Tommy and the unforgiving ice and the sound of his own breathing, growing quicker.

A chorus of shouts and gasps and swears ring over the rink — somehow, Wilbur hears that through the descending haze.

Wilbur stays frozen as the rest of the team surges forward, suddenly shoved out of his body as he stares at Tommy. He can’t tear his eyes away, even as he’s bowled over by guilt so strong he almost throws up. He might if he could bring himself to do anything but heave for breaths as everything tilts.

The floor seems to sway beneath his feet as he watches. Schlatt gets to Tommy’s side first, dropping down harshly onto his knee pads and fumbling to get his gloves off, brushing his knuckles gingerly over Tommy’s slack face. His voice filters in Wilbur’s ears like he’s standing at the far end of a long, train tunnel.

“Tommy? Kid? Shit— shit—” His eyes are panicked, jaw clenched, as he looks over his shoulder, face carved out of restrained desperation, “Techno—”

Techno was already on his way, and he makes it before his name is out of Schlatt’s mouth. His shoulders are stiff, and his face is stony, worry carefully tucked away behind a gritted jaw and steady hands. Though Wilbur, even fifteen feet away, can recognize some of it peeking through in Techno’s slight frown, in the slight wrinkle of his brow.

From the corner of his eye, he can see Phil jump up off the bleachers, disappearing to the side — presumably to grab the trainer or a medic or– or someone. Someone who can undo what Wilbur has done.

Over Techno’s shoulder, Sapnap and Quackity hover, pressed so closely together in their mirrored concern that Wilbur can hardly tell where one ends and the other begins, especially as his vision starts to take on this weird, blurry film.

Techno gently takes Tommy’s face in his hands, stabilizing his neck between his fingertips, thumbs pressed delicately beneath his jaw. It’s just a precaution, Wilbur knows — he can register, distantly, that Tommy would have to get hit a lot harder than he did to be hurt so badly. But that doesn’t stop the fear, the terror, from shredding through him.

He’s not in a helmet, Wilbur thinks, thoughts whirling. He’s not in a helmet why didn’t we put him in a helmet why—

“Wilbur,” someone says, right in front of him.

Wilbur blinks hard as George’s face comes into focus, features sharp and firm. He thinks it might be concern, but it must be for Tommy, because there’s no reason for George to be worried about him, not when he— when he—

Hands clasp around his, squeezing hard. “Breathe, Wilbur, breathe.”

Wilbur is breathing. Or— he’s trying to. Each breath he draws into his lungs feels delayed, off kilter and staccato. He tries anyway, because at least if George is giving him things to do, then he has the chance to do something right.

“Good,” George breathes, wetting his lips as his dark eyes flick over his face. “Keep doing that. We’re— he’s going to be fine, Wilbur. I think it was worse than it looked.”

Wilbur’s frowns, even as his half of his face doesn’t respond. And as George’s face swims in front of his fuzzy vision, features contorting strangely as Wilbur blinks, he looks over his shoulder and sees that Phil has returned with a pair of trainers who are laying out a collapsible stretcher-type thing next to Tommy.

Schlatt is crouched over him still, though, riddled with tension. He looks ready to fight off anyone who touches the fallen ray of sunlight below him, and Wilbur can dimly appreciate that Schlatt is looking out for Tommy. That he’s doing what he used to do for Wilbur. That he’s doing for Tommy what Wilbur never should’ve made him do.

Wilbur steps past George, pulling his hands out of George’s slender ones. George winces, trying to put his hands out—

“Hey, maybe you should take it easy for a—”

“I have to see him,” Wilbur rasps, eyes locked onto Tommy, as he’s eased onto the black stretcher, still totally limp.

Schlatt doesn’t look happy, but Wilbur knows it’s a front. Schlatt knows that Tommy needs the medical trainers, and his worry is starting to feel like anger. He rises to his feet as Tommy is lifted, and oh, God.

Crimson spots the ice, just a few drops that glitter like rubies, but it slices right through his chest. Wilbur is going to be sick.

He turns away, bile on his tongue. He needs— he needs to get his skates off, for one. He needs to get off the rink, and he needs to get to Tommy. He— fuck. He never should’ve frozen up. The least he could’ve done is comfort Tommy, is been the first person at his side.

“Come on,” George tells him, cutting through his spiraling thoughts, as Wilbur pitches forward, threatening to double over. “I’ve got you.”

Slender hands lock around his bicep, keeping him upright with strength that would be surprising to anybody except his team. George’s hands are a vice grip, and they’re the only thing keeping Wilbur from untethering from the Earth. An anchor.

Wilbur feels like a kid again, roughing it on a frozen pond with his hand locked in his father’s, as George guides him over to the gate.

Something like hatred hammers at his skull. Why is George here, with Wilbur, making sure he doesn’t keel over like a crumbling glacier, when Tommy is the one who needs people at his side? Not Wilbur, who did this, who hurt him, who—

“Wilbur, I need you to breathe or we’re not going anywhere.”

He’s past the gate, being ushered towards a bench, and he hardly remembers doing any of it. George’s hand rests lightly over his back as he hunches over his knees, fighting to inhale. He needs to calm down. If for nothing else but Tommy’s sake.

Wilbur nods, fumbling to get his numb fingers around his laces. He distantly hears George doing the same thing, and a moment later, his normal shoes are being pressed into his shaking hands.

“He’s going to be alright,” George interjects, even though Wilbur hadn’t said anything. “You hear me?” Wilbur nods, and George’s hand settles firmly on his back. “Come on, say it out loud.”

“Tommy’s fine,” Wilbur agrees thickly, even though his heart skips a beat like he’s telling a lie. “He’s— he’s—”

“He is,” George agrees, walking the line between soft and affirming. The pressure on his back is the only thing that reminds Wilbur to keep inhaling. “And we’re going to go see him right now, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Wilbur breathes, chest rattling.

He thinks he at least owes Tommy that much.

–

Wilbur doesn’t like the medical facility.

He likes it more than he used to — Techno and Phil and Schlatt and all of them had made sure of that. Even if he still refuses, in a silent way, to go on his own. He refuses in a way he’s never had to voice, because without fail, someone would be at his side the minute he’d picked up any sort of injury during a match.

George is the one who’s with him now, a typical frown inscribed on his face as he leads Wilbur through the doors. His shoulders are straight, steps firm — a stark contrast to Wilbur, who feels like he’s relearning how to walk.

Wilbur is too tired to feel embarrassed that he has such an obvious escort. And as they enter, Ponk pops out from a side door, and when he sees them, he offers them a faint smile.

“Tommy’s this way,” he informs them, and Wilbur prays that he’s not imagining the note of solemnity, of sorrow, in his voice.

Wilbur kind of-sort of wants to falter, but George pulls him along.

He hears his team before he sees them, a faint blend of murmurs and hushed voices floating down the hall. They follow them into another room, with several empty medical beds separated by curtains—all of which are empty, curtains open. It’s dark, but Wilbur can still see, at the far end of the room, surrounded by a small sea of red and gold—

Tommy.

He looks even smaller in the bed. Wilbur catches a short glimpse of his face, pale with flushed cheeks, eyes closed in his sleep, features utterly slack, before his team sees him.

He wonders if they can feel the guilt as strongly as he is right now. It clings to his skin like oil. Surely, it radiates off of him as potently.

He braces for accusation, for shouts, and the scowl on Schlatt’s face makes him sure that that’s what’s coming but it… doesn’t.

Rather, Techno stands, takes two steps to meet Wilbur halfway, and pulls him into his arms.

Wilbur breaks.

Techno’s embrace doesn’t falter even as Wilbur falls into him. He just holds him, lets Wilbur sync their breaths, their heartbeats, before—after a few moments, when Wilbur can hear again—murmuring, “Tommy’s fine.”

Wilbur steps back, eyes flickering over Techno’s shoulder. “Is he?”

He thinks of blood and ice and an impact and his heart wants to crumple all over again.

“He woke up halfway to the clinic,” Techno informs him, and the words settle firmly into Wilbur’s chest, grounding him. Techno smiles faintly, but the muscles on his face seem to protest it. “He’s concussed as hell, but he’s fine. He’ll be out of here in no time.”

Wilbur nods, exhaling. His hand still shakes at his side as he jitters in place, fumbling with the bottom of his hoodie without rhythm.

“That’s good,” Wilbur croaks through the guilt slicking his throat. “That’s, I mean that’s—”

“He was asking for you, Soot.”

That’s Schlatt’s voice, low and gruff, from over at Tommy’s side.

Wilbur jerks his head over to him. “What?”

Schlatt leans forward, looking tired. There’s a dull heat in his eyes, though — not anger so much as the faintest whisper of a challenge. A challenge, not against Wilbur, but for him.

“Wanted to know where you were before he fell asleep,” Schlatt continues. “You better be here when he wakes up.”

And then he leans back, eyes drifting over to Tommy, lowered and far off.

Wilbur wonders if Schlatt knows he’s unraveling at the seams. And if he does know, then why isn’t he letting him?

Doesn’t he realise why they’re standing in the medical bay in the first place? Because Wilbur wasn’t careful, wasn’t better. The thoughts stick to his brain like syrup, clinging even as he tries to wipe them away — but it’s harder to disguise the truth than a lie.

For his team’s sake — his team who are all watching him as if he’s the one laid out in a borderline hospital bed — he swallows those thoughts down.

“I saved you a seat, c’mon,” Techno mutters, and George’s hand on his arm is traded for Techno’s.

Wilbur drops into the chair next to Techno’s and sighs, wishing he could lean over and drop against him. He doesn’t feel like holding himself up. Doesn’t feel like doing anything but wasting away on an ice floor and—

Not an ice floor. In a medbay. Wilbur’s done collapsing on ice floors — he left that behind.

(So why does it feel like he’s right back there again? Why is this all that it took to send him right back to who he was?)

“I think Phil’s with Quackity, buying him stuffed animals,” Sapnap whispers, drawing Wilbur’s exhausted gaze up. He smiles a soft, half-smile. “To give him something nice to wake up to, you know?”

Wilbur hums, throat still dry. “Mhm.”

It’s quiet again, save for the sound of his team shuffling around in the plastic chairs bordering the bed, stolen from all over the room, and Wilbur tries to marinate in it. His thoughts still feel frazzled, sharp and messy.

But Tommy’s here, and his team is here, and if he was unforgivable, they’d send him away. Surely. So Wilbur comforts himself with that bitter relief.

If he can’t trust himself anymore, then he can at least trust his team. And his team says Tommy is okay. Wilbur will just have to believe them.

Until you can tell me yourself, he thinks, wishing he could summon the courage to take Tommy’s hand.

(Wishing he deserved it.)

–

Wilbur’s wrong.

It’s not okay.

And he’s made very aware of that when Tommy stirs an hour later, jolting Wilbur out of the haze he’d let pull him down down down. He whines, short and quiet, and the air goes cold.

Wilbur blinks, and the rest of his team looks up from their phones, or from where they’d been dozing off — skipping their actual practice, surely, but he thinks Phil will forgive them.

“Tommy?” Techno intones lowly, leaning forward.

His eyes are rich with concern, a frown pulling at his lips. His hand hovers over Tommy’s shoulder, looking as unsure as he is sure. Though as soon Techno’s hand ghosts his body, Tommy jolts, eyes flying open.

He recognizes instantly that Tommy is not quite there. His eyes are glossy, tears already building, and they’re terrified. That expression might make sense if he was looking at Wilbur, but Tommy’s not. He’s looking vaguely at Techno and he looks so, so afraid.

Wilbur swallows, glued firmly in his chair. He can only watch as Tommy’s eyelashes flutter furiously, chest heaving shallowly and slack face contorting minutely into an expression of discomfort.

“I’m sorry,” Tommy breathes, eyes still not quite seeing, and everyone in the room freezes. Wilbur’s heart contracts, forgetting how to beat. “Please don’t— please don’t—”

His frantic whispers trail off, and Wilbur wonders, almost masochistically, if Tommy is pleading incoherently because of him.

“I can skate,” Tommy whimpers, shuffling around in bed, and nausea slams into Wilbur like a hockey player. His teeth rattles with the force of it. “Coach, I can…” A throaty keen, broken and barely audible. “Please, don’t leave me, I can win, I can—”

And Wilbur must be a coward because that’s enough to shatter him.

He jerks to his feet, head spinning and oddly light, and the chair skids harshly against the tile. He sees Schlatt whip his head to look at him as Wilbur’s lungs deflate, heavy and unresponsive like two limp cantaloupe skins hanging in his chest.

Ice crawls over his skin, and he can barely see as he stumbles out of the room.

By the time he’s made it past the doorway, Wilbur’s chest is going to give out. Every strangled breath draws tiny knives into his lungs, and Wilbur collapses against the wall, feeling everything and nothing.

He stays standing, somehow, but he thinks that if he pulls his back off the wall he’ll collapse for good.

Tears streak down his cheeks, salt gathering on his lips, and Wilbur is weak and he knows he deserves it as he presses his hands into his eyes. He hurt Tommy. He put Tommy in a hospital bed, he didn’t mean to, but he did and—

Another thought, sharp and jagged, shoots through his skull.

And it asks, But did you mean to?

Wilbur inhales sharply, breath getting caught somewhere between his lungs and his throat.

Did he— had he meant to? He can’t remember. He can’t remember if he’d turned on purpose but it would make sense, wouldn’t it? There was no saving Wilbur from what his coach had turned him into, and maybe if he had learned that sooner, Tommy wouldn’t be paying the price.

Another tremor wracks through him, but he’s not alone for long, even if he wants to be, even if he should be, because Techno is here.

Techno is here and he doesn’t remember when Techno got here, but he is always there when Wilbur starts to spiral, so it makes sense that he is now.

Techno is here, and he’s whispering something, slow but frantic, and it’s too much for Wilbur to latch onto. It’s easier when things are fuzzy, when the full barrage of his emotions are dampened by that clinging haziness. Wilbur almost can’t remember why he’d stopped doing this in the first place.

“This is my fault,” he wheezes, forcing himself not to slip too far into it because he needs to speak. “I’m— I did it on purpose.”

He says it like a confession, but Techno doesn’t even falter. “No, you didn’t.”

Desperation rakes through his chest. “I did, Tech, I did—”

“You didn’t,” Techno repeats, and he’s somehow found Wilbur’s hand to squeeze. “It was an accident. We all saw it.”

Wilbur would scream if he wasn’t trapped in his own head. All he can do is gasp and heave.

“You don’t— you don’t know that—”

“I do,” Techno counters easily, smooth and certain. Infallible. “And you do, too.”

But he doesn’t and that’s the worst part and Wilbur doesn’t understand and—

Biles climbs up his throat. His knees shake. Techno seems to anticipate his collapse before Wilbur is even aware that he’s falling because he catches him as his knees give out.

Wilbur is heaving as he’s guided, undeservedly, to the ground. Techno gets him against the wall, head tucked towards his knees, and any other time he’d push him away, but right now, he can’t. Can’t do anything but slump against him and try not to throw up.

“I’ve got you,” Techno rumbles, and he does a good job at disguising the shake of his hands as he threads his fingertips through Wilbur’s hair. “It’s not like that.” Because he knows, he always knows where Wilbur’s head is. “You didn’t hurt Tommy. Not like they hurt you. It’s not the same.”

He squeezes his hand, like he’s trying to press his reassurances through Wilbur’s skin.

And Wilbur — crumbling, falling, undeserving Wilbur — lets him try.

–

Wilbur doesn’t go back to the room. Not right away.

He stumbles away from Techno’s gentle arms and gentler reassurances and goes to the rink, first, because he knows it’s a mess. They still have it booked for practice, and Wilbur is able to clean it up himself. He gathers the abandoned sticks, the puck, the skates haphazardly discarded at the gates.

He can’t carry it all back, so he shoves everything in the lockers and leaves it. His hands shake as he scribbles a quick note, letting the janitorial staff know that there’s been an emergency, and they’ll be back for the duffle bags later.

He’s still jittery when the rink is cleaned, and he doesn’t want to go straight back to the room.

(He still hasn’t looked his team in the face since he broke down in the hallway, not even Techno, and he doesn’t know which reaction he fears more: their hatred or their love.)

So he walks to the back of the rink, passes the water fountains, and stops in front of the vending machine. If he focused his eyes enough, he could probably make out his ruined reflection in the streaky glass, but he doesn’t.

Instead, he pulls a crumpled dollar bill out of his pocket, feeds it into the machine, and hits his thumb against the right button. A bottle of blue Gatorade hits the bottom of the machine with a thud. Wilbur reaches in and grabs it, squeezing it tightly.

It’s on his way back, as he’s contemplating whether or not to hole up in his hotel room until tomorrow or check back on Tommy — despite the dread that threatens to close around him at the thought — that his phone rings, buzzing in his pocket.

Wilbur drags it out of his pocket, biting the inside of his cheek hard when he sees Techno’s name staring back at him. Swallowing and attempting to restore some sort of moisture to his mouth, Wilbur swipes his thumb over the screen.

“Hey,” Wilbur greets hoarsely, a dull flush of embarrassment consuming his face. “I’m on my way back, I just needed to—”

“Say it,” someone whispers, so quietly Wilbur can barely hear it.

He frowns, pulling the phone away from his ear and looking back down.

“What?”

“You’re a bitch,” Tommy slurs into the phone, and Wilbur freezes, perplexion burning away whatever else he’d started to feel because, “Did I say it right Schlatt?”

“That was excellent, kid,” Schlatt’s voice filters in, rich with amusement. “Keep cussin’ him out.”

There’s a pause, a shuffle of blankets, then, so terribly quiet—

“I don’t want to,” Tommy mumbles. “I miss him. Where’d ‘e go?”

Fuck. Wilbur’s heart aches.

Aches because he doesn’t know if Tommy means it — or how he could mean it. But Wilbur wants him to mean it. And that’s almost enough to cripple him further.

“‘s he coming back?”

“I’m coming back,” Wilbur whispers, suddenly sure. His heart thrums, like it’s ready to leap out of his chest and onto a silver platter if that’s what Tommy wants. “I— I am.”

He picks up his pace, circling back around so he can head to the medical center. Despite the ugly, twisting feeling gutting his chest like a pumpkin, telling him to turn back, Wilbur at least figures he owes Tommy the chance to crucify him in person, if that’s what he wants.

“Good,” Schlatt’s voice cuts in, no longer so muffled. “Glad you’re not makin’ me drag your sorry ass back here myself—”

“Give me my phone back,” Techno drawls from somewhere in the back, cutting him off. There’s a shuffle, and then, cutting back with clarity, “See you soon, Wil?”

He nods, as if Techno can hear him, because he can’t say no. Not to Tommy and not to his team, even as an anxious sheen of sweat clings to the back of his neck. The Gatorade hanging from his left arm feels impossibly heavy.

“Yeah,” he croaks, even as all he wants to do is go the other direction.

It’s an old habit, not as unbroken as he thought. But walking into what might very well be his demise is an even older one.

“I’ll be there,” Wilbur finishes, swallowing hard. “See you in a bit.”

He hopes he isn’t imagining the faint smile in Techno’s words as he says, “Good.”

And then it’s just Wilbur and the click of the phone call ending and the skip of his heart in his chest and the fragile shell of ice around his heart, squeezing and squeezing and squeezing.

–

Quiet laughter floats out of Tommy’s room.

Wilbur chases it before he can talk himself out of it.

A few hours ago, it’d been dark and morose, a storm cloud hanging over all of them. Now, there’s a dim light in the corner, and the air feels lighter.

Wilbur already knows the reason, because the reason’s eyes swivel to him the minute he steps through the door.

Tommy looks tired, under eyes creased with violet bruises, but he’s sitting up, and he’s holding some sort of fuzzy blue bear in his arms, and he’s smiling and it’s faint but it’s the Tommy-smile, and that’s enough. Enough to observe from afar, anyway.

When he sees Wilbur, his smile dims. Doesn’t fall, but the corners of his mouth dip into a partial grimace.

Wilbur tries to return it, the smiley part anyway. Not because he feels like he should, or that he deserves it, but because Tommy looks nervous, a minute frown chipping at his face, as his eyes scan Wilbur’s face.

Wilbur doesn’t want him to look nervous around him. But he’ll take it. If that’s what Tommy wants. Wilbur will bear it.

(It’s what he’s good for, after all.)

He continues walking forward, shoving his hands nervously in his pockets to disguise the anxious shake. George’s eyes laser onto him. Wilbur meets them steadily. After a moment, George tilts his head, just a little, but Wilbur knows what he’s asking. He nods, clipped, and hopes that the I’m fine he wants to say is conveyed.

As Wilbur steps closer, the rest of the team stands. His heart barely has a chance to climb up his throat before they’re shuffling past him, offering gentle smiles as they go. Well, except for Schlatt, who bumps Wilbur’s shoulder softly as he strides by, eyes glinting.

“Don’t overdo it,” Schlatt tells him under his breath. He pauses, slinging an arm over Wilbur’s shoulder for a second and leaning in. “I’m talking about yourself, Soot.”

And then he’s gone, following the rest of the team out of the door and leaving Wilbur in the eye of a hurricane of his own creation.

Well, not quite alone. Tommy’s here.

Tommy’s here and he’s watching Wilbur with a delicate sort of restraint as he steps closer to the bed. Wilbur kicks at the leg of a plastic chair.

“Can I sit here?”

Tommy, still watching him, blinks, face twisting into something like confusion. “Of course.”

Wilbur drops down beside him, eyes hovering anywhere but Tommy’s face.

“Are you alright?”

He sees Tommy wince in the corner of his eye, barely a movement but something Wilbur notices nonetheless, and almost winces with him.

“I’m fine,” Tommy says carefully, and when he shuffles a little closer towards the edge of the bed, towards Wilbur, Wilbur leans away. Tommy freezes, tripping over his next words. “It’s— it’s not that bad. I’ll be back to practicing in no time.”

Wilbur tenses, finally looking up. Tommy’s chest is starting to heave, and that ignites a bolt of panic in Wilbur’s chest.

“Don’t worry about practice, please, sun—”

Wilbur barely chokes the nickname down, but the guilt makes it easier to swallow.

Who is he, to call Tommy anything of endearment? He’s acutely aware of how easy it is to blur the lines between affection and patronization. He’d obliterated the line the second he’d been unable to check himself. He’s barely any better than Tommy’s old coach.

(And really, not much better than Wilbur’s.)

“That’s not what’s important right now,” Wilbur finally amends, each word slow and deliberate so as to not send more knives into Wilbur’s lungs. “You need to focus on getting better.”

There’s a moment, a tense silence, where Wilbur once again — weakly — loses his ability to look Tommy in the eyes. It’s a painful notion, one that shreds him from the inside out because that’s all he wants to do, but it’s necessary.

Except, Tommy maybe doesn’t seem to think so, because he swallows, and the next thing out of his mouth is, “Where were you earlier?”

“What do you mean?”

“You left,” Tommy says, and it’s too quiet to carry any bladed accusation but Wilbur thinks he hears it anyway. “I wanted to talk to you and everyone said you needed to clear your head or something.”

Wilbur clenches his fingers into tight, bloodless fists, tucked in his lap. “I did.”

“And?”

“And what?”

Tommy swallows, eyes scanning Wilbur’s eyes with a hint of drowsiness that Wilbur’s heart latches onto like a leech. “And did you clear your head?”

“...Yes.”

There’s a beat of silence, charged with tension, and Wilbur sort of wants to claw his skin off in this interlude, because he can feel something’s coming. But he’s doing what he’s supposed to do, he’s not overdoing his words, he’s letting Tommy lead the conversation, he’s—

“Did I do something?” Tommy finally blurts, voice wavering.

Wilbur jerks his head up so fast he almost gives himself whiplash. He stares at Tommy, something like horror wrapping fingers around his heart and crushing it.

“What?”

“At the scrimmage,” Tommy says quickly, breaths coming shorter and shorter. “I— I didn’t mean to run into you and land myself here, if that’s— I mean Techno said it was fine, and Schlatt said you weren’t mad at me but— I mean I figured I’d ask, sorry if that’s—”

“No,” Wilbur interrupts, throat oddly closed off. He doesn’t mean for it to come out so forcefully, but desperation bleeds into his words and sharpens them . “God, Tommy no, I could never— none of this is your fault. All of it’s mine, alright? All of it.”

“What?” Tommy echoes, frowning, leaning forward. “Why would it be—”

He cuts himself off with a short gasp, squeezing his eyes shut as his face pales. Wilbur reacts without thinking, hand flying out to steady Tommy’s shoulder. Tommy cracks his eyes open, just for a second, just enough to flash Wilbur a look of gratitude, before closing them again and exhaling shakily.

The sight sends a javelin directly into Wilbur’s chest. He tries to breathe through it.

“Do I need to get someone?” Wilbur asks quickly, skimming Tommy’s face and wishing desperately he could siphon the pain out of it, could take it himself. “A doctor, or—”

“No,” Tommy bites out, leaning tiredly against the flat, grey pillows behind him. Leaning tiredly into Wilbur’s hand. “No, it’s fine. Just a headache. It won’t go away for a while.”

Wilbur knows. God, does Wilbur know. His sport made sure of that. So did his old team.

He knows but Tommy shouldn’t have to.

Not because of Wilbur.

Why did Wilbur think this was a good idea, again? He can’t remember.

“I’ve— you don’t need to— I get migraines,” Tommy tells him, breaking Wilbur out of his scrambled thoughts. “I can handle this.”

“You shouldn’t have to,�� Wilbur whispers, letting his venomous thoughts slip off his tongue. “Tommy, this is why I was—”

He can’t say it, head bowed.

This is why I was falling apart. This is why I deserved it.

Tommy cradles him gently in his gaze, a faint scrunch between his eyes. “Wilbur?”

“I hurt you,” Wilbur finally says, chest convulsing. “How can you even look at me right now?”

He needs to know. He needs Tommy to tell him the best way to fall apart, because he’s on his way down, and he needs to do it right. He needs to make this right.

“What are you talking about?” Tommy breathes, genuine confusion bleeding into his voice. His eyes widen, mouth dropping open. “Are— the scrimmage? Is that what you’re— Wilbur, you didn’t mean to do that.”

“I wasn’t careful. I was— it doesn’t matter if I meant to do it or not because I did, and that’s— that’s on me, Tommy.”

“It’s not,” Tommy whispers, and when Wilbur looks up, he’s — horrifically — shaking. “You wouldn’t do that. You love me.”

If this is my love, Wilbur thinks instantly, words so bitter they dissolve before they reach his tongue, Then what kind of person does that make me?

But it sounds too much like a question, falling off of Tommy’s lips, and Wilbur will allow a lot of things, but he won’t allow for Tommy to feel unloved. Not after— not after everything.

“Of course I do,” Wilbur whispers.

“Then it was an accident,” Tommy insists, voice hoarse, reaching for his hand and—

Fuck. The sound of his voice cuts Wilbur open more thoroughly than anything else that’s happened.

And before Wilbur can utter another word—

“My coach never helped me off the ice,” Tommy tells him softly, eyes not meeting his. Wilbur inhales, swallowing down a twin bolt of magmatic anger and twisting sadness. “He’d always make me pick myself up. Even if I was tired, even if I was shaking, even if I could barely breathe.” Wilbur squeezes his hand, letting Tommy say what he wants to say even as his chest is crushed. “It— it means a lot that you guys did.” A harsh breath. “It means a lot that you’re here right now.”

Wilbur’s heart cracks. “Tommy—”

“I know you didn’t mean to shove me,” Tommy interrupts, soft but firm. “That’s what I’m saying. I know it was an accident.” A hesitant breath, “I’m not— I’m not mad at you.”

“You should be,” Wilbur whispers automatically, hardly registering the words until Tommy has frozen up.

“No, I shouldn’t,” Tommy counters, voice wavering. “Don’t say that.”

“Tommy—”

“It was an accident,” Tommy whispers, and it sounds like a hiss. “You guys do it to each other all the time. And I’m— I’m a little scared, yeah, that I won’t be able to practice for a few weeks. But you said— you promised me that medals don't matter. That you’d stay anyways.”

“I will,” Wilbur swears, heart racing. “That’s— of course I will, if you’ll have me.”

Even if I don’t think that you should.

“Well good,” Tommy breathes. “Because, you know, if you want to convince someone you didn’t mean to hurt them… maybe don’t leave them alone.”

It'd hurt less for Tommy to punch through his chest and yank his heart out.

“You weren’t alone,” Wilbur offers lamely, panic bleeding into his voice. “I wouldn’t— you had the team.”

Tommy frowns, fiddling with the blanket across his lap. He finally meets Wilbur’s eyes, arctic irises intense.

“I didn’t have you.”

Wilbur’s breath hitches. “Is… that what you wanted?”

Tommy meets his eyes, and Wilbur can’t tell whose heartbreak he sees more thoroughly reflected back at him: Tommy’s or his own.

“Wilbur, that’s all I’ve wanted since I woke up on a stretcher.”

Wilbur trembles. “How?”

Tommy’s chin wobbles. “Because you’re my brother. And that matters more to me than anything that you could accidentally do to me on the ice.”

Wilbur fractures. “I don’t—”

“I know you didn’t mean to,” Tommy whispers. “I knew it the first time I opened my eyes.” He swallows, pale throat bobbing. “Me and you both know it’s different. Getting hurt versus… getting hurt.” And he does. He does. “And I’m going to be honest, you’re doing a lot of grovelling for someone who’s convinced you’re a bad guy.”

Wilbur snorts, still choked up. “Grovelling?”

Tommy smiles, faint but bright. “Am I wrong?” His eyes flick to Wilbur’s hand. “I’ve been waiting for you to give me the Gatorade.”

Wilbur blinks, looks down at his lap, in the hand he’s had tucked there since he sat down, and— oh. He did— he did forget to give Tommy the Gatorade. A dull heat prickles over his cheeks, and he lamely extends it to Tommy.

Tommy’s eyes scrunch as he takes it, fumbling with the cap. That, at least, sends a shock through Wilbur — gives him a chance to be useful. Wilbur reaches over wordlessly, unscrews it properly, and presses it back into Tommy's hands.

“Thanks," he mumbles, bringing it up for a drink.

Wilbur hums noncommittally back to him, too wrung out to offer much more than that. Tommy sips at his Gatorade before reclining properly against the pillows, sighing.

It’s quiet again, and Wilbur has half a mind to call his team back in — or maybe just leave Tommy altogether, let him sleep — but he’s stopped by a hand closing around his wrist when he tries to pull back.

“Tommy?”

“Are you done?”

Wilbur hesitates. “Done…?”

“Blaming yourself, idiot,” Tommy croaks. He cracks a wry grin. “Beating yourself up.”

You think this is me beating myself up? He almost laughs. You should’ve seen me three years ago.

Instead, he admits, voice strained, “It’s… hard. I don’t—”

How does he explain it? The visceral fear that cuts straight down to his marrow to be better. One a normal day, he has a hard enough time convincing himself that he’s good. That he’s not a punching bag, that he’s not just good for breaking things.

But now? Now that he’s hurt the one person whose pain makes every single bruise Wilbur has ever earned feel tame? Now, he’s destroying himself. And now, he wants to.

“You know what my old team were like,” is what he settles on, and Tommy nods hesitantly, some sort of infinite grief pooling in his eyes. “I don’t want to be like that anymore. Not to anyone, but especially not to you.”

“And you’re not,” Tommy tells him, voice strangely firm. “I promise you’re not. Wil, you—” He breathes out a humorless laugh. “You showed me what it means to be happy. I didn’t even think that was possible, but you— you made it possible. This is nothing.”

And you are everything, Wilbur thinks, before he’s breaking all over again.

Fissure lines race up his chest, and Wilbur takes the first full breath he has all day as his lungs expand.

“I’m going to make it up to you,” Wilbur promises, words unspooling off his lips—

“You’re so annoying,” Tommy interrupts, eyes glinting, like sunlight bouncing off a glacier. “There’s nothing to make up, I just said—”

“I don’t care,” Wilbur tells him, meeting his eyes dead-on. “I’m putting you in bubble wrap, sunshine.” And Tommy loses his faux annoyance to beam and Wilbur’s heart swells into some semblance of okay. “We’re going to watch some many movies—”

“And skating performances?”

Wilbur glares playfully at him. “If you insist.”

“I do,” Tommy cuts in instantly, drowsily. “And you know what else this means?”

Wilbur doesn’t think he does. “Hm?”

“This means you have to sneak me hot cocoa,” Tommy whispers, eyes shining. “I want to try it with caramel, that’s how Tubbo does it.”

And he says it like a joke, as if Wilbur isn’t prepared to bend the universe for him. He’s been given a second chance and he intends to take it.

“Sure,” Wilbur tells him, and he relishes in the tired grin it produces. “Whatever you want.”

That’d be a dangerous game to play with anyone else, but Wilbur means it. Whatever you want is just the tip of the iceberg, is just the start of how far he’d go for Tommy. He means it, and he thinks Tommy knows that he means it because he loses that last shred of uncertainty and sighs.

“Can you tell them to come back in, now?” Tommy murmurs, as Wilbur rubs the top of his hand with his thumb rhythmically. He’s surprised that Tommy’s been so coherent, and awake, for this long. “The team.”

“Yeah,” Wilbur says, lowering his voice as Tommy’s eyelids begin to droop. “Anything else?”

He pulls out his phone, thumb hovering over his messages with Techno, and—

“Stay,” Tommy whispers, lips hardly moving. “Even if you’re scared.”

Wilbur’s heart stops. He swallows, weaving his fingers through Tommy’s and squeezing.

“I will,” he promises, and he thinks it’s a promise he’d spend his dying breath on. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Because Wilbur may not always believe in himself but he believes in Tommy, and Tommy believes in him which means that he’ll stay.

For as long as Tommy will allow him to, he’ll stay.

–

The team stumbles into the room ten minutes after Techno receives Wilbur’s text. They’re a rowdy, anxious mess, and they crash into the room with a series of hushed laughter and uneven footfalls — only to instantly fall silent once they break through the doorway.

“Finally,” Schlatt whispers, a grin twisting his lips, followed immediately by Quackity fumbling for his phone camera, and countering Techno’s raised eyebrow with a hasty, “For blackmail purposes.”

Techno lets that slide, because he’s similarly amused by the display in front of him. Tommy’s out again, but even in his sleep, peace has settled over his face. And slumped over in his chair, upper body completely on the bed, with his hand interlocked with Tommy’s, is Wilbur.

“Phil will be mad he missed this,” Techno remarks after a moment, lips curving, just to fill the quiet as his team shuffles back towards the array of stolen chairs.

“Forget Phil,” Sapnap hisses, settling back in his chair at Quackity’s side, “I’m here and I’m mad I’m missing out.”

“He is concussed, Sapnap,” George reminds him, eyes flickering over Wilbur and Tommy with a stifled sort of satisfaction that is quickly transformed into sarcastic amusement once his eyes are back on Sapnap. “We can’t all pile on the bed.”

“We could try—” Sapnap complains in a whisper—

And his voice trails off, blending into white noise that Techno has come to appreciate, a harmonic medley of joy and banter and full breaths and completion.

And things that are still jagged, uneasy, but Tommy is asleep, and Wilbur is safe and in that moment, looking around him, Techno knows.

Everything is okay again.

***

thanks for reading if you made it this far! feel free to check out my ao3 for other cool fics (AO3 LINK HERE). and maybe interact with this fic a bit on ao3 if you have second to leave kudos because it really means a lot <3

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darlingcass · 9 months

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The Lava Lake

Wheel Spins: 25 Minutes, SBI, Hurt/No Comfort

The wheel said: be sad bitch and I am attempting to deliver soooo….. I hope you like it!

Great way to start this account amiright

Word Count: 804

TW: Unaliving Oneself, Talks about Unaliving Oneself, I'm Sorry

--------

Tommy stood over the lava, for what would not be the first time, but what he hoped would be the last. It was devastatingly hard to realize that things were never going to be better. That at the end of the day, everything he fought for, was for nothing. The discs were lost long ago, his brother dead, his hero hated him. What more was there for him here.

He remembered the first time he stood over the lava, back then Dream cared enough to pull him back, but he supposed that toys weren’t important if they didn’t fight back.

So Tommy found himself standing at the edge of a precipice, asking the same question he always found himself asking. Does he take the leap?

He wished that there would be someone to tell him no, to take him away from the ledge, even if it was Dream. He thought back to Tubbo, of days when jukeboxes would be turned up all the way, of sunsets, and hugs, and laughter. Tommy wonders if Tubbo will miss him. He knows that he won’t.

Tommy thought of Technoblade, his once hero, turned… Well frankly Tommy didn’t know what Techno thought of him, but Tommy, Tommy thought the world of Technoblade. He can think of a couple words that left Techno’s lips that summarized most people's opinions of him. Annoying being the top contender.

But most of all, Tommy thought of his brother, of Wilbur. He thought of joining him in the afterlife, at this point Tommy would take the cold and empty of the void over this feeling any day. At least there he didn’t have to wake up, he didn’t have to feel if he didn’t want to.

Tommy wondered if Wilbur would be waiting, like last time. A smile on his face, a cigarette burning, a game of cards ready to be played. Or maybe Tommy annoyed him too, maybe Tommy wouldn’t be greeted at all, but left alone in the cold dark nothingness for eternity.

Tommy let out a soft chuckle, it seemed fitting, that even in his afterlife he wouldn’t receive freedom. But maybe he never deserved it. Maybe Dream was right, Tommy was selfish and cruel and irresponsible. Tubbo was right to exile him, his friends were right to not visit, and most importantly, Dream was right, Tommy was nothing.

He took one last look at the burnt surroundings of the nether, before he let his foot step over the edge, as he tumbled into the burning lake.

Tommyinnit tried to swim in lava

Tubbo saw this notification on his device and pushed it off at first. Tommy had a habit of getting himself in tough situations before and everyone knows that in order for it to be a cannon death, it has to have meaning.

And Tommy, while he was many things, he was not suicidal.

Tommy was Tubbo’s best friend… If they still were best friends, that is.

And even though Tubbo hadn’t seen Tommy in a while, he knew that Tommy was more full of life than anyone he knew. Tommy was fine, he was just fine.

But more than anything Tubbo wanted to see Tommy at that moment. While logically, he knew that he was fine, just as he always was, Tubbo couldn’t shake off the feeling that he was in trouble.

So there Tubbo was digging out the compass, waiting for it to point towards Tommy, but it didn’t. It spun wildly, as if searching for some unattainable thing. And Tubbo began to panic.

He ran to the nether portal, hoping through, not even worried about throwing on armor, or grabbing tools, just hoping that he would see Tommy standing on the other side with his normal grin, a big laugh, and calling Tubbo clingy.

But that didn’t happen. Tubbo stepped into the fiery landscape of the nether, and no one greeted him. The compass still did not settle on a single location. And Tubbo ran, looking for any sign of Tommy.

When along the shore of the lava lake Tubbo saw a burnt piece of a familiar green bandana, he couldn’t handle it. He broke. He grabbed the shard of cloth holding it to his heart and sobbed. His whole body hurt, feeling tight as the air pushed out of his lungs in an unnatural way. He knew Tommy, Tommy was a ray of sunshine, always smiling, always joking.

His Tommy would have never done this.

But Tubbo supposed that he lost his Tommy the minute he exiled him. And with that thought, Tubbo felt a wave of guilt rush over him, a voice chanting, ‘you killed your best friend’ over and over in his head. Tubbo did this, Tubbo abandoned Tommy. And in that moment Tubbo wished the lava would consume him as well.

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eeriefeelingsat3amuwu · 2 years

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Okay I know barely anyone will see this or care. But I really wanna promote my fics, so too bad for you guys who actually will!!!

Fic no. 1! Smut/angst/hurt comfort, Quackbur, past?Karlnapity, 7.8k words. One shot. Canon setting, but this time I don’t completely shit on Quackity.

Fic no. 2! Angst/hurt no comfort/MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, Dreamnap (implied Dreamnotnap), 1.1k words, One shot. Songfic. I really like this one but it’s my least read fic. Give it some love.

Fic no. 3! Angst/hurt comfort/fluff/humour/found family, no ships, but Sleepy bois Inc. + Kristin, 17.7k words (not finished), multi-chaptered. Started out as fluff one shot, wound up being the longest thing I’ve ever written and I slowly started adding characters lmao. I really love it and I’m proud of the newer chapters!

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mcytrauma · 2 years

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― tommyinnit’s clinic for supervillains

author - thebonesandthebees (bonesandcacti) status - completed length - 26 chapters / 188.6k words dynamics - SBI, bench trio, the syndicate worldbuilding - superheroes & supervillains au genre/tropes - angst, hurt/comfort / found family, dark!SBI content warnings - (should mostly be tagged in chapter notes) graphic depictions of violence, miscommunication, temporary character death, graphic depictions of injury, implied/referenced murder, implied/referenced child abuse, the consequences of a capitalist society (/hj), lots of blood, vomit, mentions of broken bones (& bones in general), derealization, reality confusion, dream sequence-y plot points, panic attacks, manipulation, kidnapping, tommy innit is Constantly in pain but it’s fine, self-harmful behavior

summary

“W-What do you- I mean can I- are you here to rob us?” The person managed to stammer out.

Siren snorted. “No. I’m just here to order some food.”

“Wh-What about him?” The cashier asked, glancing at Tommy. “Did you- did you kidnap him?”

“I mean… yeah, let’s go with that in case this ends up on the news,” Siren shrugged, looking back at Tommy. “I kidnapped you, right?”

“Yeah, sure,” Tommy agreed, knowing that if they said he was kidnapped, it would keep people from getting suspicious of why he was seen in public with Siren. “Anyway, can I get the chicken nuggets happy meal, with a coke?”

or, how Tommy—who is not a hero, or a villain, or even a vigilante—saves the life of one of L'Manberg's most feared supervillains, and accidentally ends up becoming the resident doctor for every supervillain in town (and maybe gets a family along the way too).

thoughts - this was so good. so well written, the character interactions were bEAUTIFUL. i don’t know what to do with myself after reading this fic. i will never recover /pos. seriously though, highly recommend this fic, especially if you like superhero AUs. the author spins tommy in a way that’s much different than i’ve ever seen him written before (/pos), and he’s got a lot of depth. he’s not just a little ball of chaos. he also doesn’t have super OP abilities, which is really cool to see. overall just an amazing fic /gen

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ashedflower · 2 years

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Sleep Deprived Prompts

Chapter 2: Set in Butterfly Reign AU.

TW: Sickness, Mentions of Neglect, Hurt no Comfort, implied death.

Tommy gets sick, right? Yeah, and at first it was just a normal sickness. A headache and a sore throat, maybe some dizziness here and there. But overall, he can still power through the pain. (Pog through the pain!)

So he downs some warm tea and gets to work. He is the Crown Prince, after all, he's got a alot a of dutys to attend to.

So, our dear Theseus, with little to know self-preservation, ignores his sickness and continues to spend a sleepless night doing his paperwork with barely any food in his stomach, and a pounding headache. Sickness lays in his bones and his body is just begging to get some rest. Theseus ignores the call of his bed and continues to do his work.

This continues on for another day until eventually (and inevitably) he passes out in his office's.... Floor. Yes, the floor. Why? To make it more dramatic.

His sickness has taken over his body, and made him unable to work any longer.

Now, nobody actually knew that he was sick. Beau noticed how he was a little warmer than normal, but got told not to worry by Tommy. Dream was worried because of how usually uncoordinated his little brother friend was, but again, Tommy told him not to worry. That he'll be fine. Of course, his .... family, didn't notice. They were too busy having sticks up their ass.

So Theseus ended up being passed out and incredibly sick in his office for hours until a maid (who cared about the Crown Prince just like the rest of the Palace staff) went to bring him a midnight snack, and was shocked to see the Crown Prince passed out on the floor.

Of course, she didn't really think he was passed out....she thought he was dead. So naturally, she screamed bloody murder.

"THE CROWN PRINCE IS DEAD!!!!"

And of course, since it's not every day a maid screams how the crown prince is dead, the closeby apalace staff who heard rushed to checked to see if the crown prince really is dead.

He wasn't, just passed out with a VERY horrible sickness.

One of the other maids slapped the maid who was still screaming, grapped her shoulders and told her to stope crying and shouting, the Crown Prince is still alive.

The other staff went and carried little Theseus to the.... Medical wing? Of the palace? Um.... To his room! Yes, to his room, and called a medic.

Now, naturally the other Royals noticed how the staff seems to be in a frenzy. Some of them rushing for a medic.

The other Royals were....um.... Doing stuff. Idk, maybe Techno was in the library, Wilbur manipulating spineless Ranboo, Philza sitting in the thrown room. ... I really don't know. Oh! And Tubbo was... Getting some sweets from the kitchen...

Coincidentally (read: for plot reasons), they all somehow met up in a intersect hallways, Wilbur (or someone else) stopped one of the palace maids and asked them why the fuck did they act like a tsunami was going on.

And then the maid, who was coincidentally (read: for plot reasons) the one who screamed, rambles about how she found Crown Prince passed out on the floor of his office and heavily sick and how they couldn't get a hold of a medic because they were all busy and how it's possible he was gonna die that day... Yeah, they did not take that well.

Because as much as I wanna write them being heartless losers who doesn't care, I know they still do. They just- REALLY suck on showing it to Theseus. Doesn't mean I don't hate them tho.

So they rushed to ask the maid where Theseus currently was, the maid was hesitant because even the Palace staff was aware of the neglect and pain they caused the Crown Prince. Also, this wasn't the first time the Crown Prince got sick and nobody in his family noticed. It's just that it never got to the point where he passed out.

But still, orders were orders. So she told them how he was currently in his rooms.

They all rushed there to see Theseus layed in his bed with blankets on top of him, and still incredibly passed out and not showing any signs of waking up. He was surrounded by the servants, all looking sad and defeated. A lone medic stands at the side, because he'd already done what he can, and this wasn't modern times, or a wound that a health potion can fix.

Wilbur (the fucker. I still hate him) rushed to his side with tears in eyes, clutching his little brother's hands, because at that moment his brother looked exactly like their mother, and he was terrified of losing him too.

He whispered teary apologized over and over again. Wondering if he was already too late.

Technoblade came in next, clutching his brother's other hand. Silent with tears running down his face. Because this was another thing he couldn't protect his little brother from. And he knew that apologize can only do so much.

Tubbo fell down to the floor. Eyes wide and glistering with tears, while Ranboo tried to comfort him.

And Emperor Philza? He stood in the doorway, frozen. He was once again gonna lose someone because of his own actions... There was no turning back from this. He has to actually do something. Because if he doesn't...then his youngest soon will die knowing that the last thing his father said to him was that he wasn't good enough.

A few weeks later and the crown prince still had not shown any sign of waking up.

News had reached the street, and multiple people of their empire cried.

Cries rang around most of the streets, while those who remained silent kneeled before alters and prayed for their god to save their beloved crown prince.

Dream found out about the news and did not hesitate to travel to the Empire and had not left Tommy's side since. His sister stayed behind to take care of the kingdom whilst he was gone.

Sam tried to be there, but he was dismissed by the emperor, told that his son needed his family right now, not a random noble he'd only known for a little while.

(Truth was, Philza found out about the late night dinners and bonding times that the noble man and his youngest had. He would never admit it to anyone, but he felt jealousy after finding out that someone else was spending more time with his own son than him. Though he knew that it was mostly his own fault.)

The Empire was not it's usual shinning self. Not with it's Sun currently hidden behind clouds.

I'll let you guys take it from here.

#Butterfly Reign AU #Sleep Deprived Prompts #Sickfic #Prompts #Sleepy bois inc #Hurt no Comfort #Butterfly Reign #i fucking hate them #but I can't be TOO bias #butterfly reign #butterfly reign au #tommyinnit

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aslitheryprinx · 2 years

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#philza minecraft #philza fic #sleepy bois inc #sleepy bois au #sleepy bois fanfic #hurt/comfort #phil 5 + 1

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sbi-fic-recs · 2 years

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The Mindwalker by BananaChild

Official Summary:

“Then why?! Why let them use the people I care about against me?!”

Tommy turned away, biting down what he wanted to say. 'Because it’s already too late for me. They already have someone. Because the person I care about is being used too.'

16-year-old Tommy is a mindwalker, born with the ability to enter a person's mindscape and manipulate it from within.

Now he's being forced to use that power to help Dream, despite everything in him wanting to rebel. But he can't.

Dream has his best friend and Tommy would do anything to keep him safe.

Status: Complete

Word Count: 28k - 10 Chapters

Submitted by @sunnyvicky - thank you for the rec!!

Pigeon’s Thoughts: dude. dude. this has a COOL premise?? the summary is a banger - this is next on my list after i read guided evolution again askdfjalsdf

remember to read the tags!!

#mod pigeon #multichapter #super powers super heroes #angst #like heavy angst read the tags #mentions of abuse #blood and injury #fluff #hurt/comfort #happy ending #sbi fic #sbi fic rec #sleepy bois inc fic #sleepy bois inc fic rec

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anssh · 1 year

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just finished crying to an angsty fanfic

I need more angst

#neglectful sbi #hurt/comfort #dark sleepy bois inc #time travel

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12-toads-in-a-trench-coat · 7 months

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SBI WHUMPTOBER

SBI Whumptober day 1!! Bruises // Scars // "That's going to leave a mark" -Crimeboys hurt/comfort -Hurt! Tommy -2k words -Wilbur comforts Tommy

You can read it here!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/50444071

#SBI Whumptober #fanfiction #ao3 fanfiction #ao3 #ao3fic #ao3 writer #Sleepy Bois Inc.#Angst and Hurt/Comfort #yuh yuh yuh #ITS TIMEEEE

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natalie-the-writer · 2 years

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Hey y'all! I'm back again with another UglyDolls, Lou centric story. It's a long one (over 14,000 words that I didn't know I was capable of-) but I really wanted to write this as a gift for my friend (0PerfectImperfections0) here. It is a very far cry from what was originally planned, but I do like it. Lots of angst. Lots of comfort. Lots of Lou. It connects with my other stories, but they're not needed to understand this.

Happy reading!

Thunderstruck

Boom!

Thunder rolled over Imperfection, dark clouds blotting out the sky. It wasn't often that it rained, but it always did at least once every two or three months in order to give new dolls the storm experience. Lou could teach about it all in textbooks, but a doll might not be able to completely comfort their child if they hadn't experienced it themsleves. The blonde stood up under a tree as the first rain drop fell, plopping on his nose. He blinked at it, then sighed. Another storm to get through. He hated these storms - the factory never held back on showing them every level of storm intensity. The lights would likely be out by midnight.

It was just passed eight now. Most dolls had returned from their child if they weren't staying for the night. He'd already seen Moxy, Babo, and Mandy walking around, waving joyfully at him whenever they passed. Lou smiled like he meant it, but he'd been feeling the storm thrumming through his stuffing since last night, leaving him sleepless and on edge, unable to sit down until dawn. He wasn't scared of storms themsleves, no, but due to being so connected to this doll world as a prototype, he could feel it in his core. In his programming. It made his chest feel like a coiled spring, breaths coming a little too labored at times, and a lack of focus on his end. He could barely get through his classes today, often leaving them to their own devices with a worksheet as he tried to drown out the headache building behind his eyes. The only time he really forced himself to be present was when he ran emergency drills: what to do if something happens to go wrong at your house, if you get caught in the storm outside, etc. He wasn't about to let them get hurt because he couldn't focus.

With every roar of thunder, he felt a shiver move up his spine, his headache beginning to take on a new ferocity. This always happened. It was a terrible feeling. He'd already sent out the message to all dolls, telling them to hunker down in their homes, and soon, he would be returning to his. The cottage was much better than his mansion, but it would still be empty. Distractions from the storm only worked for a limited time. Once it reached full ferocity, he'd have a migraine to the nines and another sleepless night. He'd have to cancel classes tomorrow for clean up and to get his mind to relax.

"Lou!"

He almost didn't hear the male voice calling his name. He blinked, realizing that he'd tucked his hands into his pockets. The drizzle had picked up, little droplets soaking into his black tux and hair. A second later, Nolan practically slammed into him from the side, nearly taking him down. He stabilized himself as the doll wrapped his arms around him in a hug, face pressed into his shoulder. Lou hesitated only a second before hugging one of his best friends back, entirely confused. Mandy was walking toward them, her hands wringing together and a small smile on her face.

Lou's brain was slow to catch up. Nolan and Mandy likely hadn't experienced a storm. If Mandy had on the outside world, it was likely nothing compared to what they knew would come from a factory induced storm. It'd been four months since Nolan came, and three since they became friends. The storm was a little late, likely due to the chaos the UglyDolls caused, but Lou definitely didn't mind. "Oh," he said, forcing himself into complete focus, "you both are neverous about the storm?"

Nolan nodded into his shoulder, pulling away a little but still not letting go of Lou's jacket. Mandy shuffled forward, nodding a little herself. "We were worried about you, too," she added. "You weren't answering your phone."

Confused, he kept one arm around the brunette as he pulled out his phone, seeing missed texts and calls from everyone. Oops. "Sorry, I didn't realize my phone was on silent." The thunder rolled again, making him tense involuntarily. "You both should get back home. I've survived enough of these to know how bad it can get. Better have flashlights and candles." He tried for a reassuring smile.

"That's the thing," Mandy said. "We're having a sleepover at my house for the storm. All our friends are there. We just need you."

For a moment, he was floored with shock. Sure, they'd been friends for a while. They'd stayed at his house for a night or two when he got sick or exhausted, but it was never for fun. The only time he really remembers spending the night with someone was right before they all became friends - when he became ill from exhaustion and collapsed, spending three nights at Moxy's house to recuperate. That doesn't technically count as a 'sleepover' - a word he only knew of from a short section in one of the textbooks. It took him a moment to realize they were both looking at him expectantly, possibly with some... hopefulness. Seeing those wide eyes on him, he felt any walls crumble. No matter how bad of an idea it was, he couldn't deny them. "Alright, I'll go."

Nolan and Mandy grinned. A second later, both were on either side of him, taking him by the arms to lead him down the hill and back into town. He silently urged them to pick up the pace as the storm picked up, not liking the twinge behind his eyes. Why did he agree to this sleepover again? 'Because they wanted you to come,' he reminded himself. 'Not sure why, but they do. The least you can do is try to make them happy, somehow. You can ignore your pain for a little while.' Maybe Mandy would have some painkillers in her bathroom.

"Lou? Earth to Lou?"

He snapped back into focus at the sound of Nolan's voice, realizing they were standing on the porch of Mandy's house. She was undoing the lock with her key, and Nolan was standing at his side. A crack of thunder erupted from the sky and the brunette flinched. Electricity buzzed under Lou's skin, increasing the ache in his skull, but he managed a smile. He rested a light hand on Nolan's shoulder. "It's alright, Nolan. Just a storm. Harmless as long as you know what to do."

He smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Good thing we've got the expert here." They shared a small chuckle.

Soon enough, he was sitting on the couch, Moxy sitting by him on the arm of it and Ox on his other side. Everyone else was sprawled out on the other couches or floor, where blankets and pillows were spread. There was a movie beginning to play on screen - Toy Story, they'd decided, just for the ironicness of it. Lou let the back of his head lean against the cushion, forcing his eyes open even as the storm increased his headache. He could feel the chip in his neck growing a little hot. Not painfully so, but enough to keep him from going into a doze. He was somewhat thankful for that.

Everyone was either watching the movie, talking, or laughing amongst themsleves. Weirdly, it didn't aggravate the ache. In fact, it made it a little better. Lighter. In the past, by this point, he'd have been holed up in his mansion bed, the covers over his head as he tried to sleep a little. Instead of the pain and panic, he only felt a little stuffed in the head, maybe a little floaty at times, his focus drifting in and out.

"I've got pajamas!" Mandy announced, shaking him out of his comforting oblivion. The higher volume in voice rattled his brain a bit like the thunder, and he had to blink away the fuzziness in his vision with a wince. The girl doll dropped a pile of clothes on an open spot of the couch. "Robes, silk, anything." She grinned, beginning to hand out clothes. Robes and altered pajamas that she and Nolan likely made were passed to the UglyDolls first, then a plaid pajama set was tossed to Nolan. He caught it easily.

Lou was not as lucky. The silk blue pajama set nailed him in the face. Not hard, but he still blinked with surprise, staring at them as they landed in his lap. "Thanks, Mandy," he managed, earning a grin in return. She went back to sorting clothes.

Ox bumped his shoulder lightly, gaining his attention. "Hey, you alright, brother?" He whispered, concern pulling his lips down.

Lou nodded before he consciously knew what he was doing. "Yeah, I'm fine. I'm going to go change." He got up and headed to the bathroom, ignoring the slight waver in his balance and hoping no one noticed.

________________

Ox did notice the near mis-step, and watched the blonde go down the hall. Once he disappeared into the bathroom, he summed up the thoughts he was having out loud. "There's something wrong with Lou." All the chatter stopped, heads turning to him with instant concern, worry, and confusion. Huge steps from when he first brought up that something was wrong with Lou, four months ago.

"I noticed, too," Nolan said quietly. He was wrapped up in a blanket, pajamas in his hands as he waited for Lou to come back. "He's... out of it. His face keeps tightening, too. Something's wrong."

"Think he's nervous about the storm?" Babo asked.

Mandy shook her head. "I don't think so. He's been here for years. Seen every storm. There might be something else wrong, but he's not saying anything."

"What do we do?" Moxy inquired from her spot on the arm of the couch, small purple robe wrapped around her body.

Ox sighed. "There's nothing we can do. We can't force him to open up. He'll only close up more. We watch him as best we can, maybe distract him from whatever's going on in that head of his, and keep him comfortable. He'll tell us if he wants to - he'll run if he doesn't feel safe."

Nods went around the room, and they turned back to the movie, trying to act as normal as possible for when Lou returned. He did, a few minutes later, allowing Nolan to change as well. Ox kept a subtle eye on the blonde, noting how Lou didn't seem focused on the TV, keeping his hands clasped in his lap and sapphire eyes almost distant from the world around him. A round of thunder shook the room and the dolls shuffled unconsciously closer together. The Uglies had experienced some storms before, but away from the main area, they weren't this bad. Mandy and Nolan were the most out of sorts, and the others kept a hand or arm on them at all times for assurance. Ox felt Lou tense when the thunder came, hands twitching.

He wasn't scared, but he was definitely uncomfortable. The distant eyes weren't assuring either. He bumped his arm against him again, feeling his worry increase when Lou's eyes were slow to turn to him. "What?" The blonde muttered, a hand coming up to rub at the corner of his left eye. Was he tired? In pain? He thought he heard some of his students remark that he wasn't as lively today. Maybe he hadn't slept well last night, or maybe a headache? Before he could ask, Moxy stood. "Let's play a game!" He watched Lou flinch a little at the louder volume, but the blonde leader straightened easily.

"What kind?" He asked, eyes shining with a bit of curiosity and amusement instead of covered with that distant cloud. Moxy grinned at him.

________

One game turned into five. Toy Story turned into Incredibles. Lou got so wrapped up in board games, card games, and charades that he could almost forget about the building pain in his head. He wasn't zoning out, but he was distracted from the constant ache to the point where it almost felt... not there. During game lulls, he found himself thinking about the past. About how he was all alone back then. Maybe this was part of what he needed. Maybe being lonely had made the pain worse.

Then the lights went out with the largest thunder boom. His vision whited out for a brief second, his knees going weak despite being sitting, and he had to blink away the haze as everyone else turned to look up at the now dark lights. The light of a flashlight made him squint. Ox was holding it, having produced the little light from... somewhere. "Looks like the TV is over."

"Is this normal?" Nolan asked weakly. Lou leaned forward, peering past Ox to look at the brunette.

"Yes, it is." He tried not to be too blunt, but every heart beat was reverberating in his ears. "The factory wants you to know every condition with a kid, and power outage is always a possibility." It felt like he was reciting off the textbook with a little more care than typed words. He hated that. It felt like his old self, but it was all he could muster. Taking a deep breath in through his nose, he reached around Ox to pat Nolan's blanketed shoulder again, meeting mismatched eyes easily. "We're just fine. I promise."

Nolan gave him a real smile and the fissue of pressure in Lou's brain loosened a little with the knowledge he'd comforted his friend. He moved his hand after a moment, watching Moxy take the flash light from Ox and hold it up under her face. "Do you know what the dark means?" She asked excitedly.

"No lights?" Ugly Dog joked from where he laid on the other end of the couch. They laughed. Lou couldn't help the small snort that escaped him.

Moxy rolled her eyes playfully. "It means stories! Usually it's ghost stories, but I would rather tell happy or real stories. I'll go first!"

Over the next hour, the flashlight was passed around. The dolls told stories, some challenging others to figure out if they were fake or real. Even Wage joined in, telling of how her kitchen almost caught on fire. Lou watched with amusement, leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, head held in his hands. The darkness wasn't so bad with the light and the laughter of friends. The storm rolled on outside and he found himself comforting Mandy and Nolan with the others, offering small touches and smiles. Sometimes, a large thunder boom or lightning strike would shake even Ox, and he would be the one assuring them things were fine. It gave him purpose and fulfillment.

His eyes were almost half lidded when the flashlight was passed his way. He took it on autopilot, blinking himself fully awake. Moxy jumped up to sit on the arm of the chair again. "Tell us a story, Lou!" She leaned against his right shoulder as he straightened again, looking at him with huge eyes.

"What kind of story?" He fished for suggestions, brain unwilling to come up with anything on its own. As much as he was relaxed, the pain was still ever present, clouding his thinking. He resisted the urge to rub at his temples, knowing that would give himself away automatically. They couldn't have any fun if they were worried about him. They'd spent too much time worried about him.

"Hmmm..." Mandy tapped her chin. "... a memory?"

The memory that came to mind immediately was his first storm. Taking a moment to look at all their faces, hopeful for him to share something of his past, he leaned forward slightly, letting the light illuminate his face better. He'd have to spare some details so they wouldn't find his current predicament, but his first storm was a somewhat interesting tale. "Alright." They leaned forward, getting closer to him with wide eyes. "I'm going to tell you about the first storm I ever experienced."

He wove them the story easily, the memory breaking through the fog because he could associate it so easily with this pain. He hadn't known the storm was coming, just that he felt 'weird' the day before. (They didn't know he could sense the storm, only that he saw the 'signs' hours before, allowing them to go through the storm drills. For story purposes, he described it as a gut feeling.) He told them how the storm came while him and the newest batch of dolls were still outside. They'd never seen rain before, so it was terrifying on all levels, but he'd led them to safety back to his mansion. He told of how they all crowded around in the basement, scared beyond witts, until he remembered what exactly what was happening. Back then, he'd had an easier time talking to dolls, and had calmed down through a game. He recounted how the fear eased out with laughter. Even as the lights went out, smiles continued. "And that's how we survived our first storm," he concluded, waving a hand with exaggerated gusto. Not exactly the most harrowing of tale, but he hoped they could empathize with the fear and surviving. "Just like we will. It's alright to be scared, as long as we don't let it control us."

"Exactly!" Lucky Bat declared, jumping on the couch. "This storm can't bring us down, as long as we're together." It was cheesy, but Lou found himself smiling anyway. Five months ago, he wouldn't have been able to say he had anyone to weather a storm with. Now he had multiple dolls to stay with. They were together. Despite the usual pain, this was the best storm experience he'd had. Even his first one wasn't really the light he played it out to be. As much as he'd enjoyed the laughter, it had shaken his skull. He'd stood off to the corner, watching, feeling like his head was an anvil and every hit of thunder shaking him to the core. He hadn't known how connected he was to that world until right then. It really proved how much the factory had control over him. He could let go of his fear of storms, but the pain was a reminder than he couldn't shake the control.

Nolan yawned, triggering some other scattered yawns and following giggles. Even Moxy was leaning more heavily against his side. Ox chuckled breathily. "I think it's safe to say it's time to sleep." A chorus of murmured agreement went around, causing a little trill of fear to go through Lou. He quickly calmed it. Just because they weren't talking and playing didn't mean he was alone.

He helped Mandy and Ox grab rolled up sleeping bags from the storage closet, busying himself with directing everyone to the best sleeping spots where they could be comfortable but still close. He helped with handing out pillows and extra blankets. Ox insisted they keep the flashlight on, pointed toward the opposite wall like a little night light. No one argued with him. The rain pounded against the windows and roof, and he knew by the growing pain in his head that this wasn't the worst point. The wind hadn't even gotten bad yet, only a small whistle against the outside walls.

Finally, at nearing one in the morning, they were all settled down in the sleeping bags. No one felt comfortable taking the couches and having the others sleep on the floor, so they were huddled in a group, some talking quietly and others already snoring. Lou gingerly settled his head on the pillow, staring up at the ceiling as he listened to them, trying to block out the rain.

Ox scooted closer beside him. Nolan was already sleeping on his other side, his fear thankfully less. Mandy was quietly chatting with Wage and Moxy. Lucky Bat and Babo were having a similar, quiet conversation. Ugly Dog was likely asleep as well, though Lou couldn't see him from his vantage point on the edge of the group. "Are you sure you're okay?" Ox whispered, so quiet he doubted the others heard. For that, Lou was thankful.

"I'm sure, you worry wart," he muttered. Even in the dark, he could see Ox raising an eyebrow. It hurt, but he rolled his eyes. "Just a little tired."

The green doll sighed. "Alright. Get some sleep. Goodnight."

"Night."

Lou let his eyes fall shut, forcing his body to go slowly limp in hope of convincing Ox he was asleep. It worked. More snores slowly filled the room until he was almost one hundred percent sure he was the only one awake - some dolls didn't snore, one of them being Lou himself. Snoring was considered imperfect, afterall. He allowed his eyes to open, shifting his head to face the comforting light, knowing his friends were at his back. His head pounded, the pain increasing every few minutes. Definitely a migraine. Ow. The comfort and friends helped, but now the pain was almost too much. He grimaced when a loud thunder boom raised the pain to a momentary crescendo, pressing his lips together to hold back the small whimper. He focused on the fact that the thunder hadn't woken anyone, holding onto that little bit of mental warmth, and tried not to cry.

He failed. He didn't make a sound, but a tear slipped down the side of his face, hitting the wood floor. Wrapping his arms around himself, he screwed his eyes shut and pulled in a stuttering breath, willing the pain to just stop. It never did, but it never stopped him from praying. He pressed a hand against the side of his neck where the chip was, feeling the burning beneath. It wasn't unbearable - like a fever in one area, but it was a sign of his tie here. A sign of the storm. It was only half over, maybe not even that. He was waiting on the downhill slope, for the pain to ebb away and leave him dizzy and numb feeling.

Another tear slipped out, drifting down his nose.

___________________

Lou wasn't sure when he managed to doze off, but he knew when he was awakened because Mandy was there, gently shaking his shoulder. Her voice was white noise to the slight ringing in his ears, and he blinked a few times, both from the sudden stabbing pain behind his eyes and the blurry vision. It cleared by letting out tears. The ringing faded. "Lou, Lou, do you hear me?" She whispered. The doll was knelt down beside him, hand gripping his shoulder tighter.

"Hm... yeah, yeah I hear ya.." he murmured, squinting up at her. "What is it?" His groggy mind struggling to pull words together or understand the situation. He could still hear snoring. The storm was still raging, but nothing was wrong, was there?

She paused, looking almost hesitant to continue. A crack of lightning went off, lighting up the windows beyond the blinds. Before he could think about it, he pressed a finger to his temple with a wince. It did nothing to relieve the pain. "You... you were crying a little in your sleep. Is this storm... hurting you?"

Realization slammed down on him all at once and he quickly wiped his eyes, opening his mouth to deny the observation, only to close it again. What exactly could he say? It's exactly what it looked like. "Maybe a little." She raised an eyebrow, mouth pressing into a thin line. The expression screamed 'I don't believe you. Cough up the truth or no more cookies for you.' He sighed, pulling himself slowly to sit up. He didn't fail to notice Mandy helping him. "Alright, more than a little."

She sighed. His eyes fell downcast, guilt welling in the pit of his stomach. "I'll be back in a sec with some pain killers." She got up and disappeared into the kitchen. When she was out of sight, he pressed his hand to his forehead, closing his eyes. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. He shouldn't have stayed here. Now Mandy was worrying over him. At least if he were home, he could've hid this. He'd suffered through it a hundred times. What was one more?

He heard her foot steps coming back and straightened, trying to fix his hair in some semblance of normal and wipe any remains of tears away. She gave him a small, sympathetic smile, offering him two small white tablets and a glass of water. He attempted a smile back, then quickly swallowed down the medicine, not wanting to wait another second for a little relief. "Thank you."

"Of course." Her eyebrows furrowed together as she took the glass back. "Why didn't you just ask for some in the first place?"

"I... I don't know. I guess I just... didn't want you to worry."

"I'm worried because you didn't tell anyone. I'm your friend, so I'm going to worry either way. Just... here." She put the glass on the little coffee table that'd been pushed to the side for them all. Then she did the unexpected. Mandy sat down beside him and pulled him into a hug, arms wrapping tight around him. He hesitated a second, then half melted into the embrace, the pain still keeping him a little tense. She ran a hand up his back and gently through his hair. The extra touch somehow took away a little of the deep, skull breaking ache. It was like magic. "Does this prove I'm your friend?"

"I know you're my friend."

"Then let me help you. Let us help you." She shifted so his head was pressed up against her shoulder. "Go to sleep. I'm right here." Her hand ran up and down his arm before moving to his hair, fingers gently massaging his temple. He found himself relaxing involuntarily, eyes growing heavy. The pain was still a heavy sledgehammer, but not hitting quite as hard. He was willing to bet it was more Mandy than the pain killers activating in his system. It hadn't been long enough yet.

He could only mumble something even he didn't understand, letting his eyes shut. He didn't try to fight back the pain. He let Mandy have full access to it, her fingers soothing anything she touched. It was only a brief second of reprieve in a certain area, but it was better than it was. He slipped into sleep more easily, letting the oblivion take him away from the pain for a little while.

________________

Mandy sighed, watching as Lou relaxed a little. His breathing came deeper and she would've believed he was peacefully sleeping if not for the tense muscles in his back and shoulders. She settled in to stay for a bit, hoping her being there might keep him asleep for a little while. She'd woken up to go get something to drink only to see some tears drifting down Lou's face when she happened to glance toward him. It'd been easy to wake him up, it always was when he didn't consciously try to stay asleep, but it'd taken so long for him to focus... She brushed her fingers lightly across his forehead. No fever. Just what looked to be a very intense headache.

She found herself thinking back on everything and honestly getting angry. Not at Lou, but at the factory. He'd already been subjected to torture in perfection. He'd been told to eliminate any dolls with physical wrongs, constantly paranoid as he bent the rules for years. He'd snapped due to so many abandonment issues and being fed up with everything, like being a trapped prototype guiding others to happiness that he couldn't have. Yes, he had things to make up for. A lot of things, some more serious than others, and he'd worked hard to redeem himself in the eyes of everyone, returning to be more like a Lou that Ox once knew. He'd succeeded in their eyes, yet he was still suffering. The storm was hurting him. She wasn't sure how, but it was. She wanted to yell at the clouds. At the factory. Tell them to stop hurting him when he's already been kicked enough.

"Is he asleep?" Ox's voice almost made her jump. She looked over to see the green bunny awake, eyes trained on his brother.

She sighed again. "Yeah, he is."

"I knew there was something wrong with him." He shook his head, obviously frustrated with himself and a little at the blonde doll. He sat up, reaching out and brushing some hair away from Lou's eyes. "Headache?"

"A severe one." Thunder rolled again. Lou flinched a little in his sleep, eyebrows furrowing and face tensing in pain. His breath stuttered in its calm rhythm. "The storm is hurting him. Every time it thunders or lightnings, it hurts him more." Frustrated tears were stinging the corners of her eyes. She fought them back. "There's no telling how much pain he's been in this whole time. It's likely why he was so zoned out."

"We'll let him sleep as long as he can. I doubt he slept last night, judging by how his students were talking. Maybe he can get through the worst of it unconcious."

Mandy could only nod. "What time is it?"

He looked at his new watch, a recent gift from Lou. "2:27. The others won't be awake for a while."

"You can go back to sleep. I'll watch him."

"You know he won't like you doing that." Ox stood. "How about you both move to the couch? You can both sleep there." It was best idea they had besides moving her sleeping bag over. Even then, the one pillow between Lou's aching head and the ground didn't feel like enough. They worked together to carefully shift Lou to lay up against Ox while Mandy got up. The blonde didn't wake, only shifting a little. Mandy was soon able to pick him up bridal style, moving him to the couch. They ended up letting out the recliner part, Mandy laying on that seat with Lou's head in her lap, propped up by another pillow. Ox draped a blanket over both of them, tucking the cloth securely around his exhausted brother.

"There we go. Snug as a bug." He whispered. Mandy cracked a smile, hands already in Lou's locks to gently massage his scalp and temples. The blonde leaned into the touch with a small, content sigh, some more tension leaving him. The medicine had to be working by this point. "Get me up if anything happens?"

"Of course."

Ox went back to his sleeping bag, though it took him a while to go back to sleep, eyes looking at what he could see of Lou when they finally closed. Mandy turned to watch her newfound friend, studying his face. The pain lines were there, if less pronounced. How long would the pain go on? Until the storm ended? Longer? She didn't know the answer. She settled her head back against the chair, hands idly combing through Lou's hair as she drifted into a light doze, ready to wake up if he needed her.

About an hour later, he did.

A loud crack of thunder followed by lightning made it feel like the house was shaking. She jerked awake, other dolls following suit. A pit in her stomach said this was the worst point, and she was proven right when a few tears escaped from under Lou's closed eyelids, a small, almost undetected whimper coming from him. She gently shushed him, vaguely aware of Ox coming to his other side and wiping the tears away.

"What happened?" Ugly Dog asked groggily. Nolan pulled his blankets over his head, peeking out from under them after a moment. Mandy couldn't blame him. That was loud. It had woken everyone, all the dolls sitting up and blinking rapidly.

"Just thunder," Ox assured quietly, placing his hand on top of Lou's head gingerly. Moxy's eyes widened when she saw where Mandy and Lou were.

"What's wrong with Lou?" She asked in a frantic whisper, garnering everyone else's attention.

Ox and Mandy shared a look. As much as Lou would hate everyone knowing, there was no getting out of it. Mandy let out a small sigh, gently pressing her finger to his left temple. "The storm hurts him. That's what has been wrong the whole time. I don't know why it does, but he's has a lot of pain in his head."

"What can we do about it?" Wage asked worriedly. She'd been one of the ones to initially doubt Lou, but since he started to help her out in the diner and show his truly soft side, she came to care for him as much as they did. Lucky Bat, the main one with medical knowledge due to his kid having medical textbooks, moved forward, peering into Lou's tense face.

"Not much," he supplied. "You've given him medicine?" Mandy nodded. "Then if the storm is what's hurting him, we'll just have to wait it out with him." He moved to the side so Nolan could take his place, the brunette kneeling by the blonde. Thunder rolled. The formerly scared doll didn't flinch, watching Lou's mouth tighten minutely.

"Why didn't he just tell us?" He asked, resting a hand on his best friend's shoulder.

"He didn't want to worry us," Mandy said. "That's what he told me earlier. I told him we worry either way because we're his friends."

"Darn right." Ox agreed. Nolan's hand moved from Lou's shoulder to his neck, expression growing perplexed and alarmed. "Nolan?"

"His chip is burning."

Worried and a little confused, Mandy pressed her fingers near where his hand was. Indeed, heat was radiating from the area where Lou's most vulnerable part was. The piece none of them had. The sign of a prototype. He'd confided in them about it one night, telling them how it was the thing that kept him from going through the portal. When asked why he couldn't remove it, he'd said that it also contained his memories, his thoughts, his programming - even his emotions had developed within that chip. There was no way to remove it and still have Lou be... Lou. The robots had to remove it twice a year for scheduled maintenance, and he could never remember anything about that time besides being extremely cold. Removal wasn't an option.

"Lou's tie to the storm must be that thing," Babo said, ruffling through his pockets. He procured a rag. "Would ice help?"

"Good idea, Babo," Wage said, taking the offered item. "I'll have to open the freezer to get ice, but it'll be worth it." She ran off, coming back a minute later with a bag of ice wrapped in the cloth. Nolan took it and gingerly pressed it against the skin that covered Lou's chip. His face scrunched up, but some of the pain receded.

"What do we do now?" Nolan asked, watching worriedly.

Ox's face was grim. "We wait."

____________________

Most dolls had gone back to their sleeping bags, but they didn't sleep, quietly whispering among themsleves. Nolan sat at the end of the couch, holding Lou's feet in his lap, and Mandy stayed as a headrest for Lou. As much as her legs were likely getting restless and numb from being still, she didn't move, obviously worried she'd wake him. Ox sat on the armrest, watching his brother as Mandy kept the ice pack against his neck. It'd been three hours since everyone found out what was going on. Lou drifted somewhere between asleep and awake. When his eyes were open, they were vacant and hazy, his mouth unable to put together any sentences. Exhaustion was clear, but the storm kept him from sleeping peacefully.

'At least he's resting,' Nolan thought, turning from his friend to the nearest window. 'And the storm is dying.' Outside was mostly dark, clouds rumbling overhead, followed by the occasional lightning strike, but a bit of light was beginning to seep through. The rain wasn't as persistent, and the winds weren't so loud. Lou's pained winces were growing less and less.

"Mandy?" The voice was so quiet that Nolan almost didn't hear it. His head snapped over to look at Lou, who was blinking his eyes open slowly. Some pain and confusion clouded blue irises, and it made his heart hurt to see. "What's..."

"It's okay, Lou. You've been sleeping. How do you feel?" She asked quietly. Nolan could feel some tension rising in the air, the others silent now as they waited for Lou's response. The blonde's eyes moved from Mandy, to Ox, to Nolan, and he sighed.

"A little less like there's a wrecking ball in my brain." He closed his eyes fro a brief second. "Storm's almost over. Maybe two or three hours left. Lights should come on in a little bit." His left hand moved to press against his forehead and would've dislodged the ice pack if Mandy hadn't grabbed it. He blinked at it confusedly.

"How can you gauge that?" Ox asked curiously, pulling Lou's attention to him.

"I can feel it."

"How?"

"It's kind of hard to explain, but it's like it's in every thread I have. In my brain. I've been sensing it coming since the night before. It starts as a small prickling at the edge of my brain and in the..." he gestured to his chip, face pulling into a grimace. "It doesn't get painful until a little bit before it starts. It'll ware off in a while and I'll be fine."

"I don't think 'fine' will be the right word." Ox said. "I doubt you'll snap back to good the minute the rain stops. You haven't really slept."

"I've slept more than I normally would."

His eyes narrowed, face pinched with concern. "What do you mean?"

Lou pulled himself to sit up, Mandy grabbed the ice pack before it could fall, and Nolan shifted so Lou could sit between them. The navy pajama clad doll pushed away the blanket like it was an offending object, letting it fall onto his legs. "I mean," he put his index finger to his temple with a small wince right before thunder clapped. Nolan barely resisted the urge to hug him, shifting so his elbow was touching his arm. Lou offered a weaker smile. "I don't usually sleep any during these storms. It's too hard to. If I do, it's more similar to being knocked out by the pain. This time... I think I actually slept a little. So, better than usual."

"That still doesn't mean you're good to go. A little sleep isn't enough. I thought we established that?" Ox reminded pointedly. Lou glanced down, shoulders tensing a little as he visibly straightened himself. "Look, you've already cancelled classes and everything. It's clean up day. You already did enough yesterday to prepare everyone, so you need to rest."

Lou's eyes narrowed back at Ox - challenging him. "I've done this plenty of times before. I can handle it."

"Even if you can handle it, you shouldn't have to. Lou," he jumped off the couch, coming to stand in front of him. When Lou tried to look away, Ox forced him to look back, "you're tired. You've been in pain for several hours, and I doubt it'll go away without some kind of aftershock." The slight wince Lou made said that he was right. "You will stay here. You will rest. Then we're all going to come back here and figure out a plan for next time this happens."

"You can't fix it." The sentence was mumbled, so full of hopelessness that Nolan couldn't resist throwing his arms around Lou, hugging him tightly.

"Then we'll do something to soften the blow." Ox smiled softly, then hugged Lou around the front. Mandy followed on his other side. Soon, all the dolls were crowded around, hugging Lou from all sides and angles. Nolan felt him relax, the last of the tension in his body draining away. The rain was slowly pattering outside, a break in the clouds allowing the sunrise to start to break through the horizon.

Lou let out a sigh. "Alright, if you insist."

______________

'I feel miserable.'

Lou let his forehead rest against the tub, arms loosely wrapped around his torso. He was sitting on the floor of the bathroom by the toilet, breathing deeply as he tried to calm the rolling in his stomach. He didn't have anything to expel, so it was mostly dry retching, but it hurt. His head no longer hurt though it felt like he had cotton for brains. If he tried to stand, he was knocked back down with dizziness and the weakness in his limbs. It wasn't anything he was unfamiliar with, but he was used to doing this in the solitary of his mansion or behind a bush when no one was looking.

He blinked slowly, trying to chase the swirling colors from his vision. This storm had been a bad one, maybe worse than the others, but it was somehow better, too. Maybe because his friends were in the house, getting ready to head out to clean up. He'd disappeared in the bathroom fifteen minutes ago, hoping to get passed the nausea on his own. It never lasted overly long, but the weakness would be persistent for a few hours. His chest still felt tight, and he was exhausted. Ox was right. He wasn't going to snap back instantly. He never did.

'Be a lot easier if I could,' he thought with a deep breath, pushing against the tension in his chest. His stomach was calming, but he didn't feel ready to stand. He couldn't stand. He drew his knees to his chest, letting his head roll onto them. A knock on the door would've made him jump if he had the energy.

The storm sucked everything out of him. Sometimes, he was convinced that it took strength from him personally.

"Lou? You okay in there?" Nolan asked.

"Yes," he answered. It came out muffled. He tried again, raising his head. "Yes, just a minute." His voice sounded weak even to him.

"You've got sixty seconds. You have been in there a while." The worry in his voice warmed his heart a little.

"Don't rush me," he muttered, letting his head drop down. He doubted Nolan heard him. "Deep breaths," he told himself. "I've got to stand. No use worrying them more." He braced his left arm against the tub and went to rise. He made it halfway up before his legs collapsed underneath him, his knees hitting unforgiving tile. He winced, forehead coming to rest against the tub again. "Just a few more seconds. Come on."

He must've drifted a little longer than he thought because the doorknob jiggled, then twisted. Why didn't he lock it again? "Lou!" Nolan was at his side in an instant, hand on his back. "What's wrong? What do you need?" He was fretting, his other hand moving uselessly in the air. Lou would've laughed if his head didn't suddenly feel so off balance.

"Jus... just need a sec, Nolan. I'm okay."

"This does not look okay." The hand moved across his shoulders. "I'm going to go get Babo. This floor isn't doing anything for you." The hand disappeared, followed by Nolan's fast footsteps down the hall as he called for Babo. A small smile pulled on Lou's lips and he let his eyes fall shut, focusing on the air moving in and out of his lungs as the haze settled more firmly over his brain. It wasn't typically this bad. It might've had something to do with the off scheduleness of it all.

He didn't realize he fell asleep until he was being gently picked up by strong, fluffy arms, one looped under his legs and the other supporting his back. His head fell easily against Babo's chest and shoulder, his half concious mind trusting the bigger doll not to drop him. He kept his eyes shut as they moved, fighting back the small amount of vertigo that threatened to churn his stomach. Soon, he was laid across the couch again, a fluffy blanket pulled up to his shoulders.

A hand pressed against the area of his chip. He didn't flinch. "It's cooled down now," Mandy said quietly. "But just in case..." The ice pack was slid back into place. It was admittedly soothing after so much heat had burned up the area, but not as soothing as the thought behind the action. It loosened some of the tension in his chest as his heart warmed. He let himself float in his mind as he let the words of the others wash over him. They were organizing clean up crews after receiving reports of cloth being blown around, some trees and structures tipping with the wind, but no one was hurt. They'd followed his instructions.

Light hit his eyes and he squinted. Electricity was back. Said lights were cut off very quickly, letting him blink his eyes open further. He turned his head slowly, watching the others move about, reorganizing Mandy's livingroom back to how it was before the sleepover. Sleepover. An unconscious smile appeared on his face. It had been nice, hadn't it? They should do more of these sleepovers. That was a fun word. How often did people actually sleep on sleepovers? Kids sometimes pulled all nighters. He wondered if he could organize one. Something fun to make up for all of this. He yawned into his hand, fighting to keep his eyes open as he soaked up every bit of comfort. It was nice to be able to breathe after a storm instead of forcing himself to act normal.

"You jus' rest up here, brother." Ox appeared, patting his shoulder. "Recuperate. We'll be back in a few hours, with lunch."

"It's on me!" Wage called, getting a round of smiles and laughs.

Ox snorted out a laugh. Then his face turned vaguely serious. "You do anything foolish, I'm coming for ya. I can and will put you on bedrest if I have to, and I know you hate that."

Lou rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I got the message," he muttered. Everything was slowly getting a little clearer, but sleep was grabbing at his conciousness. The blanket, the softness of the couch, the warmth - he was safe to fall, right here, right now. "I, uh," he didn't know what was compelling him to say this, speaking so quietly only Ox and maybe near dolls could hear. "I didn't tell the full story with the first storm. Close, but not... complete."

"You don't hafta say if you don't want to," his brother said quietly, a sudden concern crossing his face.

"I want to." He thought for a second, unable to look him in the eye for a second. Finally, he forced his eyes to meet Ox's. "Everything about the other dolls was true but... I stayed off to the side. It was... the first time I really felt pain. I didn't know what was happening, but I wanted them happy even though I thought I might be dying. The factory never told me that storms would hurt my head so much, or why. I just figured it was because I am a deep part of this world."

"You don't deserve this pain, Lou," Ox whispered, eyes glossy and angry. Lou knew that anger wasn't directed at him. "If I could fix it right now, I would. We're going to try and fix it. I promise. We'll do everything we can to make it better." He took his shoulder and squeezed it. "Thank you for telling me all this. Telling us. Don't worry about anything. We'll take care of it." He fixed the blankets around Lou's neck. With the knowledge he'd told the story right, told someone one of his most terrifying memories, Lou let his eyes shut. The tightness in his chest was slowly easing and his head didn't feel so fuzzed out.

He fell asleep a minute later.

_______________________

Lou woke up an unknown amount of hours later, blinking dazedly. He felt comfortably warm under the blanket, none of those unpleasant chills racing up his spine like before the storm. The only chill was the ice pack, and it had mostly melted down into cold water. He rubbed at his eyes with his fists, forcing himself to wake up a little more. The sun was higher overhead - about noon. He'd slept peacefully for six hours. No dreams. No nightmares. Pure sleep. His head was still a bit cotton feeling, but it wasn't too the point where it was hard to focus.

Slowly, he pulled himself to sit up. The room didn't spin. He waited a moment before pushing the blanket off. As much as his body wanted to lay there for another hour or so, he also didn't like staying still right this moment. Ox's threat came back to his mind as he put his feet against the floor. 'I'm just going to change into my suit again,' he reasoned with himself. 'No use to stay in pajamas all day.' He pushed weight on his feet tentatively, then hauled himself all the way up. He stumbled a brief second, but stayed on his feet. "Success," he muttered to himself, glancing around as if he'd get caught. The others might not approve, but they weren't here to stop him, were they?

He moved carefully back to the bathroom where his clothes were neatly folded on a shelf, right where he left them. His strength wasn't completely back, leading to him placing a hand against the wall for balance as he changed. The weakness would be persistent for another few hours, though it definitely wasn't as bad as earlier. He could walk anyhow.

Lou smoothed back his hair as best he could and went to place his used pajamas in the hamper, only to see how much laundry had piled up. "Huh." He tossed the clothes in, grabbed the basket by the handles, and headed to the laundry room. He had to stop a few times on the short trek, cursing himself a little each time, but he did eventually make it to the washer. He chucked the clothes in, poured the exact right amount of detergent and softener, and started the load. "Ironic." He said aloud. As much as the factory told him to use the wash as punishment, the hypocrisy was not lost to him.

Before he knew it, he was picking up chores around Mandy's house. Dishes, clothes folding, sweeping, dusting - he did everything his eyes landed on. It was partly his inbuilt urge to make things perfect by cleaning, but the main thing was that this was Mandy's house. She hosted a sleepover and cared about him. The least he could do was clean up afterward. An hour later, he had most things done and shakily sat down on the couch, only then realizing how weak his legs were feeling. Ignoring that, he raised up his fingers in opposite 'L's, checking the symmetry of the pictures on the walls.

The door opened. "We're back!" Moxy announced loudly, running into the house with one of her giant, contagious smiles.

"Moxy!" Ox gently scolded.

"What? He's awake. You can't wake an awake person."

Lou decided to chime in, dropping his hands. "She's right."

"Ha! Louis agrees with me!"

Lou rolled his eyes, fighting back a smile. He didn't correct his full name. "Only because you're correct."

"Exactly. Proving my point." She jumped up onto the couch, sitting up against his side. "We got you pasta with pepper flakes. Your favorite!"

"Absolutely my favorite." His heart twinged. He'd went with them to eat numerous times and his main order was definitely pasta, with a medium amount of pepper flakes. Not too much, not too little. It was touching that they noticed, no matter his often he ordered. It meant they were listening to him on something that wasn't doll regulation related. Of course he knew they listened, but every reminder made him tingle with warmth.

"And something a little different that might help you," Lucky Bat said, walking up to him with a plastic cup balanced on his head. Lou took it when urged, eyeing the dark liquid suspiciously.

"Dude," Lucky Bat jumped on the couch, settling on the arm, "it's not poison."

He narrowed his eyes playfully. "That's exactly what someone who was trying to poison me would say." Despite that, he took a sip. It was minty and somewhat sweet. Tea with something else in it. Something like... "Peppermint tea?" He guessed.

"Yup!" Moxy replied. "Lucky said it might help your head. We can try it sooner next time, see if it might take off some pain."

He got that heart feeling again. "Thank you." He took another sip, getting used to the cooling sensation that settled over his mouth as the others settled the bags of food on the table, taking out styrofoam cartons and handing out drinks, happy chatter filling the room. He asked about the clean up and was met with stories of shenanigans and success. He was proud of the dolls, his students, who jumped in to help immediately. Apparently clean up was a cinch. He felt guilty for not being there, but he also knew they wouldn't have let him, nor would he have been much help in his state.

Mandy was looking at him strangely. He met her eyes with a raised eyebrow. She crossed her arms. He crossed his, crossing his legs too for good measure after placing down the drink. The others paused, looking between them.

Ox was the one to break the silent stare off. "What's going on between you two?"

"He cleaned." Mandy stated, sending eyes his way. "Even the dust is gone."

"You weren't supposed to do anything, Lou." Ox scolded.

"I wasn't supposed to do anything foolish," he defended himself. "I don't think straightening up a little is foolish. Also, that picture is crooked." He pointed, going to get up only to be gently pushed back down by Nolan, the brunette appearing at his side out of thin air.

"You didn't need to do that," Mandy said, dropping her arms with a sigh.

"I know."

"Then why did you?"

"I wanted to."

She shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. "I'm not going to get anywhere with this, am I?"

"Nope."

Mandy rolled her eyes, grabbed the box labeled 'Lou-Lou,' and pushed it into his hands. Before she stepped back, she ruffled his hair. He let out a little 'hey!' as he playfully batted her hands back, attempting to fix his hair to its original state. She chuckled and grabbed her food, going to sit on the other couch as Nolan sat on his other side, squishing Lou between him and Moxy, who was cheerfully drinking a milkshake.

A movie came on the TV, but most weren't paying attention. Lou definitely wasn't. He was twirling pasta around his fork and drinking the new tea they were so considerate to get, listening to pleasant, friendly banter and conversation. Jokes were made, some food almost spilled, and Lou was smiling to himself as he listened to it all. He was warm. Physically and mentally. Nothing hurt. The haze had receded, allowing him to fully feel and understand the care they were all showing him. They really did care. He knew they did, but every day reaffirmed it. He wasn't alone anymore.

That was the best feeling in the world.

__________

It was during a dinner three months later that he felt it again. The prick in his brain. The shiver in his spine. A buzzing feeling beneath his skin that wouldn't allow him to stop fidgeting with his hands under the table. He knew the feeling would get worse in a few hours, but in the beginning, it was manageable. He didn't want to ruin dinner - the first time they'd all been able to be together in a week. He forced a smile when looked at, talked when spoken to, and tried to keep breathing through the tightening of his chest.

Nolan lightly elbowed him in the torso. He looked up from where he was poking at his pasta, raising an eyebrow. "Hm?"

"You've gone quiet, Lou." He commented. He was smiling, but there was a worried tint to it. "Everything okay?"

"I'm fine, Nolan. You worry too much."

"Well, you're not one to be silent during a debate."

He tuned back into the conversation going on around them, vaguely aware it had become white noise to his ears. Moxy's kid had pineapple on pizza, and they were debating if that was right or wrong. Lou knew it didn't matter to them what someone ate, but it was fun to have an opinionated debate. Moxy was declaring it the best thing ever while Ox was against it. They were making their cases, pulling others to their sides. It was mostly laughter. "Just... want to watch."

"You were kind of watching your food."

He rolled his eyes, ignoring the numb feeling developing at the forefront of his mind. It would soon delve into sparks that left him unable to close his eyes. "Specifics. I was listening." He took a sip of his drink.

"Are you drinking the peppermint tea?"

"Yes," he admitted slowly. "Why?"

"Does your head hurt?" The question was spoken quietly, wide eyes staring worriedly at him. No one else noticed, laughing at something Babo said.

He huffed. "No." It wasn't a lie. Technically. It wasn't painful yet. "I just like it."

"Okay." He dropped the subject. Lou was thankful for that.

"Hey Louis!" Moxy called. He raised an eyebrow. "Pineapple on pizza: yes or no?"

He shrugged. "Never had it, so I can't judge."

Next thing he knew, Ugly Dog and Lucky Bat were flagging down one of Wage's employees, ordering a slice of pineapple pizza for him. While he knew he'd be throwing it up tomorrow, he smiled through it, reminding himself that the sun was still shining outside. He soaked up every bit of the comfortable familiarity of the situation so he could hold onto it later.

If Nolan noticed him ordering a peppermint tea to take home, he didn't say anything.

_________________________

Lou couldn't stay still.

It was one in the morning and he could feel the storm forming. It was distant, a pulse behind his eyes and electricity running across his skin, leaving him unable to stop and close his eyes. Sleep was futile, but he tried anyway. He didn't stay down for five minutes, tiring of tossing and turning.

Now he was moving from room to room in his house, taking the stairs two at a time whenever he happened to hit them. Moving a lot gave him a brief reprieve from the static in his brain, but it wasn't enough. He couldn't focus. He'd start a task and stop halfway through because something else caught his eye. All the half done tasks - laundary, book reorganizing, dishes - were driving him nuts, but he just couldn't stick to them. He'd drank all the tea. He was out of peppermint candy. He couldn't think, constantly on edge and unable to relax for one moment. It was frustrating. It was horrible.

"I've gone through this a million times." He told himself, pacing back and forth across his bedroom. When he took a glance at the mirror, he saw his hair was becoming a mess from running his hands through it. His suit was a little rumpled from running around. The visual made him feel worse. "I can do it again. It'll be over soon." Maybe they'd have another sleepover? But it wouldn't be like last time. They'd be worrying over him now that they knew how the storm affected him. They knew about his pain. They wouldn't be able to have fun.

Lou did another lap around the room, stopping at his bed to fix the already perfect blankets. His hands trembled, unnatural energy with no way to get out. Lou moved to his bookshelf where he had several stacks of books on the floor, disorganized and ready to be moved to the partly empty shelves. He knelt down and put a few away, only getting halfway through before he couldn't stand barely moving. Letting out a frustrated huff, he left and practically sprinted down the steps to the kitchen. He walked around the island counter a few times, flexing his hands. He hated this. How many times had he thought that at this point? Too many to count.

His thoughts were coming too fast. He pressed his index and thumb fingers against the bridge of his nose, dragging in a deep breath as he speed walked. Calm down. Calm down. Calm down. It didn't do any good for him to get upset. He just needed to go through the motions until morning, when the fidgeting would settle into exhaustion and more haze. At least he could think at the moment. That would be harder to do later. So much harder. "It's just temporary." He had to assure himself.

In the next second, he ran into the fridge. Rubbing his forehead, he glared at the offending appliance. His face softened when he saw a photo of his friends, held there by a smiley face magnet. They were all grinning at him. His eyes roamed over the metal, his body stilling for the first time in hours as he looked over various photos. Selfies covered his fridge, everyone smiling at him. A small smile chased away some of his frustration, allowing him to take one deep breath. The electric energy buzzed inside, demanding to be let out, but for a moment, it fell to the background.

He could text them. They wouldn't be awake, but he could let them know there was a storm coming. It might appease some of his anxiety because they would know. Maybe. He started walking again, feeling the nervous energy build once more, and grabbed his phone from where it charged on the couch. He found the group chat quickly and typed (making several typos that he had to go back and fix): Storm coming in tomorrow evening. Drills in the morning.

It was curt. He was typically professional (with snark when the time called), even in the chat, but it was a bit much. What else could he say? He dropped the phone back on the couch, not expecting anything of it. All of them were asleep, like they should be. Like he should be. Like he wanted to be. Running his hand through his hair again, he paced the living room, switching his hands from being folded behind his back to in front of his stomach multiple times. As with every time this happened, he wished he knew why. Wished there was a way to block it all out. Disconnect from the storm. Literally. He touched his chip area. It was cold. He was cold. The heat was turned up, but he was cold.

He headed up the stairs again. Spun when he hit the top and ran back down, almost tripping on the last step. What time was it again? Had to be getting near two in the morning.

Up the stairs again. Down the stairs. Up. Down. Try to shake off the edge. The anxiety. Up the stairs. Down the stairs. Focus on walking. Up. Down-

Halfway down, there was a knock at the door. He stumbled out of sheer surprise, missing the next step and tumbling down the last four stairs. He managed to catch himself in a crouch at the end only due to his athleticism, but impact with the stairs would leave him with a few bruises tomorrow.

"Lou!" That was Nolan. The doorknob jiggled. Lou was infinitely glad he locked it. "Are you alright in there? What happened?"

The blonde took a moment and straightened himself up, smoothing out his suit as best he could and attempting to organize his hair into some semblance of style. He shook himself, ordering his body to stop with the shaking. He could act normal until Nolan left. Why was he here anyway? Did his text wake him? A pit of guilt settled in his stomach as he opened the door. "Stop yelling. You're going to wake the whole neighborhood." He forced an eyeroll, immediately regretting it when he saw Nolan's worried face, the brunette looking him up and down. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

Nolan slipped inside the house. Lou let him, shutting the door and shoving his hands in his pockets to hide their movements. "I just wanted to check on you."

"Well, I'm fine and you should be asleep." He would've crossed his arms if they weren't in his pockets. Nolan was wearing grey sweatpants and a green t-shirt, obviously having been ready to sleep but was decidedly not.

"So should you." Nolan was free to cross his arms, but didn't. His mismatched eyes were full of worry. "You're not even in pajamas."

"I like my suits."

"I thought you loved your pajamas?"

Lou hesitated. "I do. I just didn't want to wear any right now."

Nolan glanced around, eyes narrowing on the half dome dishes in the kitchen. "Why is every light in your house on? And are you doing dishes?"

He gave an exaggerated sigh. Staying still was a pain, so he allowed himself to move to stand across the room, hopefully blocking out Nolan's view of the sink. He tried not to think of all the other half done chores. "Look, Nolan, I'm perfectly alright. Go back home and get to sleep. Big day tomorrow with the storm and all." He waved his hand dismissively, ignoring the slight tremor in his fingers.

"Louis." He almost flinched. Nolan never used his full name. This was bad. "Being very frank here-"

"I thought you were Nolan," he tried to joke. He was met with a raised eyebrow. The worry never left his best friend's face.

"-you do not look alright. Is it because of the storm? The way you said you could sense it?" Lou glanced away. His foot tapped at the ground, and not just because of the excess energy running through his stuffing. "That's what this all is, isn't it? You told me your head didn't hurt." The sadness in his voice made Lou snap back to him.

"And it didn't."

"Does it now?"

"No." Nolan watched him, silently encouraging him to elaborate. Lou heaved a sigh and placed his hand on the brunette's shoulder. "Look, I'm not in pain." His forming bruises begged to differ. "I'm just a little...on edge." That was vastly understating it. His hand shook against Nolan's shoulder and he yanked it back, offering a smile. Nolan surveyed him again.

"You're practically shaking."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am- ugh." He ran his hand through his hair again, walking away to the kitchen. Nolan followed him. "I'll go to sleep in a little bit." It was easier to lie when not looking at him.

"I really doubt that. You can't stop moving."

"Can too."

"Prove it then."

"You sound like Mandy."

"Still not seeing you proving a point."

Lou pressed his hands against the counter, forcing himself to be still. He looked Nolan dead in the eyes. "There. I'm still." The energy built up like a shaken soda bottle in his chest, tingles running through his brain and threads. Nolan stared at him. One second. Two. Three. Four. Fi- His fingers tapped against the cobblestone. "Ugh. Fine. I can't stop moving at the moment. It'll ware off in a little bit."

"And turn into head pain."

"Not until the thunder starts."

"That's not very comforting, Lou."

"Whatever." He was running out of mental energy for this. "Just..." he ran his hand down his face with another sigh. "There's nothing you can do." A shiver went up his spine, and he rubbed his hands together to try and create some heat as well as let out some energy. He started to pace beside the island counter, unable to stand the lack of motion any longer.

"But I want to help you." Nolan's eyes were so wide it hurt.

"If you want to do me a favor, then leave." The brunette flinched slightly. Lou winced and softened his voice, forcing himself to pause. "I don't mean it like that. I feel bad keeping you from sleep. It would make me feel better if you did get some rest. Really. I'll be okay."

Nolan spoke so quietly Lou almost didn't hear it. "But you're not okay right now."

Lou didn't answer. Instead, he turned on his heel and headed up the stairs, unable to handle this right now.

He didn't want to admit how much his heart hurt when he heard the door shut.

___________________

Lou was organizing the walk-in closet when he heard footsteps on the stairs. More than one set. He sighed, reaching out to hang up a black suit. He didn't really need to move it to another spot among other black suits, but moving clothes around allowed him to walk back and forth across the closet and still feel like he was doing something. No matter how pointless it was.

"Lou?" That was Ox.

Lou peered around the edge of the door, foot tapping anxiously. Ox and Nolan had just walked into his room, slightly open mouthed. The blonde couldn't blame them. The blankets from his bed were crumpled on the floor from where he'd wanted to redo them, only to jump to the closet when his focus switched. It wasn't entertaining enough. Engaging enough. It didn't require enough movement. The closet was barely cutting it, and he was about to move to something else. The rest of his room was also in shambles. More books off the shelves than on. Framed photos and trinkets were thrown this way and that, some on the bed and others sitting on the floor. His usually impeccable room looked like a tornado had gone through it.

He was the tornado. A storm inside a doll.

Deciding he couldn't hide anymore, he sighed. "Right here." He stepped out, aware he probably looked like absolute crap. The instant concern on Ox's face proved that. "What do you need and why are you both here?" His eyes narrowed, hands folding behind his back. "I thought I sent you home, Nolan."

"I went for reinforcements, a lot of whom were already awake, by the way," Nolan replied.

"My text?"

"No," he shook his head immediately. "I... kind of thought you weren't saying the whole truth at dinner and told some of our friends. They were awake when I called."

"Wait, some of? They?" He slipped by them, dodging the hands that tried to stop him. He got through the doorway, turned sharp, and hit the stairs two at a time once more. His legs were beginning to ache from moving so much. He might be athletic, but his energy didn't match his physical capabilities at the moment.

"Lou!" Mandy's voice startled him so much that he missed the next step and fell down the stairs. Again. Only this time, he didn't land on his feet. The air was knocked out of him as he landed hard on his back. "Lou! Oh gosh. I didn't mean to startle you." The girl doll was there in a second, grabbing his hand. "My goodness- why are your hands so cold?" Instinctively, he yanked his hand back and hauled himself off the ground.

"It's fine. Just didn't know you were there."

"How is it fine? You just fell down the stairs." She took him by the shoulders, looking him over. "Are you hurt?"

He took her hands off of him, already moving to spin around, seeing all the dolls doing various things around his house. Lucky Bat and Ugly Dog were on barstools, doing his dishes. Well, attempting. They were getting quite a few suds everywhere, but he didn't find himself able to mind. He'd already destroyed his room. Like he did every time this built up energy came. Wage was at the stove, a pot of something boiling on it. A styrofoam box sat to the side, away from the suds. Babo was fixing photos he'd taken down in an attempt to rearrange, replacing them on the wall hooks. Moxie was nowhere to be seen. That should unnerve him a little, but he was too confused to care. Everyone was wearing pajamas.

"Lou?" Mandy waved her hand in front of his face, pulling his attention back. Her face screamed worry. Nolan and Ox were coming downstairs, similar expressions on their face. The former was carrying what looked like a set of his pajamas. "You didn't answer me. Are you okay? That looked rough." A quick glance proved the others were visibly trying not to look at him, eyes as concerned as Mandy's. They were probably trying not to place mor attention on him.

"No, no, I'm fine." He assured, trying to keep his voice light even as he moved to the kitchen. The three followed. "Not the first time I've fallen down the stairs tonight." As soon as the words came out, he grimaced. Probably shouldn't have said that, but his mouth had a mind of its own. Too many thoughts to figure out what he should and shouldn't say.

"You've already fallen down once?!" Ox's voice was barely below a yell.

"I landed on my feet."

"But you fell down the stairs."

"I landed on my feet," he repeated. Stressed it. Why were they all here? "What's going on? Why are you all here and not, I don't know, asleep in your homes?"

"Because believe it or not, we care about you," Mandy stepped forward, taking him by the hand again. She squeezed his fingers without trying to stop his walking. In fact, she walked with him. "Nolan told us you weren't able to stay still because of the storm. We hoped we could help."

"I've already told Nolan - there isn't a way to help. This happens every time and I've tried everything." He walked around the island, then to the living room, fully aware of the eyes on him. It wasn't like when he was on stage. Mandy stayed right by his side, keeping up with his long strides.

"We can be here for you."

"I don't want any of you worrying. You all need to rest."

"And so do you." She reached out and took his chin, pulling his face to look at her. "I've told you before, Lou. We are going to worry because we are your friends. We don't want you to bottle this up and try to handle it yourself. Even if we can't do much, we'll do what we can. These messes," she gestured around to where the dolls were cleaning, "have to be annoying you, aren't they?" Hesitantly, he nodded. "We can clean them up. We can wait this out with you. Please, let us help."

He looked around. Everyone's eyes were on him. Silently pleading with him. It only took a few seconds for him to completely cave. He let out a long drawn out sigh. "Fine." She smiled and pulled him in for a hug. Just like when looking at the pictures, he found a second where he could pause, putting his arms around her. It only lasted a moment, but it calmed some of the anxiety keeping his chest tight and thoughts racing. Smiles went around the room as the dolls went back to what they were doing, Nolan and Ox standing at the edge of the kitchen with soft smiles.

He had to let go after a minute, going back to his pacing that the storm demanded he do. Mandy followed, hand in his and offering warmth that the heater couldn't. "Really, why are your hands cold?" She asked.

"I don't know. I really don't. Just like with the storm, I don't know how it affects me. It's... how it works."

"What does it feel like?" Nolan asked suddenly. Lou raised an eyebrow, turning his head while walking to keep him in his vision. "Having to walk around and all. What's keeping you going?"

His shoulders fell a little. Mandy squeezed his hand. "It's like...." He forced in a breath. "It's like there are a million sparks going through me. Too much energy without a real outlet. I can't focus on anything for too long because there are so many thoughts going through my head. It's kind of ironic because later, I won't be able to focus or move much at all, and there will be hardly any coherent thoughts going through." He winced. "Or maybe it's just how it's supposed to go."

"None of this is how it's 'supposed to go.'" Mandy insisted, eyes hard. "You don't deserve this."

"We don't choose the cards we get dealt."

There was a brief moment of silence at his statement. Ox broke it. "How long does it usually last?"

He thought for a moment, pivoting on his heel. Mandy switched hands. "Until about four or five o'clock, somewhere in there." He answered the next question before it could be asked. "No, I don't sleep."

"Why?"

"Too much stress. And I don't want to accidentally sleep through class." He replied. Ox's mouth turned down in obvious distaste, but he nodded. Nolan came up and pushed his pajamas toward him, forcing Lou to catch them in one arm. He blinked confusedly.

"At least change into these. You'll be more comfortable."

Knowing there was no getting out of it, he nodded. Mandy and Nolan passed his hand between them and soon he was being led upstairs to the bathroom to change.

________________________

When he stepped out of the bathroom and into his room, he was surprised at what he saw. Nolan, Ox, and Mandy had picked up his floor and remade the bed. The clothes he hadn't quite finished folding were done and put away. "You guys know you don't have to do this, right?" He more stated than asked. Mandy looked her arm with his.

"We know, but we want to." She said, smiling slightly as she threw back words he said months ago. He managed a small chuckle, already moving forward and pulling her along. She matched him easily, even as he took the steps two at a time. Ox and Nolan followed right behind. "So you've basically been running around the last few hours?"

"Yes."

"And it doesn't make you tired?"

He wasn't entirely sure how to answer that. "It's... complicated. I can be tired and full of energy at the same time. The energy isn't exactly mine." She nodded, worry once again covering her face. He hated that expression. Hated that they were all worrying about him even though it was touching his heart like it always did. "I'll be tired later."

"And you'll sleep."

He didn't say yes or no.

When they got downstairs, Wage pushed a warm glass of brown liquid into his open hand. "Drink up, Lou. If it helps or not, I know you like it." A little surprised, he took a drink. Peppermint tea. He smiled as the cooling sensation crossed his mouth once again. It was ironic in the fun way. His mouth was cool and the warmth of the drink was seeping into his cold hand.

"Thank you, Wage."

"Anytime. I've also got some pancakes ready for you in the morning." She patted his shoulder as she passed him.

He took a look around, still in constant motion. Everything was fixed back relatively close to how it was. He didn't mind the small changes - they were signs of care. Signs his friends cared even as they stayed awake for him. "Thanks everyone. It looks great."

Several 'no problem's and 'anytime's met him. He smiled. Despite the electricity running through him, he felt... calm. Truly calm for the first time in hours. Moxy then ran in from somewhere else in the house, holding something in her hands. "I have something for you, Lou!" She announced, almost slamming into his legs. He managed to pause his walk to peer at her curiously. "Here!" He knelt down to take a multicolored cube. At his confusion, she elaborated. "It's a rubix cube. The goal is to get one color per side. It might help your focus and give you something to fidget with."

He sat down the glass of tea on the table and Mandy loosened her hold on his arm so he could take the cube, flipping one piece experimentally. Then another. "It's cool, isn't it?" Moxy beamed. Then she did something unexpected - something he should really expect out of her. She lightly stepped onto his foot, putting her arms around his leg. "Carrying a weight around can help deplete that energy. Could we try?"

He couldn't say no to her face, but it wasn't like he wanted to. "Alright, we can try."

"Me too!" Ugly Dog barreled into his other leg, doing the same thing as Moxy. Neither weighed that much. "As long as you're fine with it, that is."

"I think I'm good with it. Hang on." He took a careful step with his left leg, causing Moxy to giggle. Then his right. Ugly Dog laughed. He soon settled into a slightly slower walking pace, Mandy on his arm and the two smaller dolls on his leg. He messed with the cube, silently trusting Mandy to pull him around anything. She did, leading them to walk around in a circle. He didn't feel compelled to switch tasks or sprint up the stairs. He was... content. Focus captured by a cube he was trying to solve and energy controlled by walking with two doll weights on his legs, listening to their laughter and feeling Mandy's arm interlocked with his.

It was nice. Really nice.

They kept it up for an hour. Four am ticked by. He barely noticed. Everyone was laughing and talking, a movie on the TV. Moana. It was almost like the all nighter sleepover he hoped for - just with him unable to sit down and some occasional concerned glances thrown his way. Next time, he hoped it would be without the brewing storm in his mind. Maybe next week...

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he almost didn't notice the energy drain. It was all at once, similar to falling into cold water and then being yanked back out. Near every bit of strength got sucked out of him, sending his head into a momentary spin. He was lucky Mandy was there or else he would've fallen face first against the ground, his legs giving out beneath him. She caught him the second he started to tilt, Ugly Dog and Moxy jumping off of him in alarm and worry. "Lou, are you okay?"

"Yeah," he said after a second, managing to get his legs back up under him only to be scooped up by Babo. He was placed down on an empty spot on the couch and he allowed himself to relax into the cushions, head tilted back a little. "I'm fine. It's just..." It was becoming harder to string words together. The fuzziness was already beginning to drift into his brain. A barely there barrier that would soon grow into a wall between his thoughts and focus.

"The energy is gone." Ox finished for him. He nodded gratefully. His legs had a full on ache in them, but his head was no longer buzzing. His body was his again. A very tired body. The next 'phase' of the storm would start soon, but right now he was content to breathe. After once again assuring them he was okay, they went back to the movie, talking quietly. Mandy settled in on his left side while Ox pressed against his right, trapping him in a good cocoon of warmth. His eyelids were growing heavy.

He'd managed to hold onto the rubix cube during the commotion. Only one piece left to turn. Gingerly, he flipped it, letting it slowly slide into place. A little smile pulled at his lips. Every side had been mismatched, yet here it was, whole and complete. A bit like him and his friends - a mismatched group of individuals who somehow manages to fit together perfectly. It took work to figure each other out, but it was all worth it in the end.

Lou let his chin drop down on his chest, unable to hold it up anymore. The anxiety and stress that typically plagued him wasn't there to twist his stomach or make his heart race. He felt... safe. Secure. Warm. Relaxed. It wouldn't be a terrible thing to sleep, would it? They'd wake him up before class started, right? It was Wednesday, so class wasn't until nine. Maybe some sleep would help the fuzziness in the long run...

Finally, his eyes fell shut and he sunk into the comfort of friends, head drifting to land on Mandy's shoulder as he slept.

__________________

"Guys, look." Ox whispered.

Moxy turned. The first thing she noticed was Ox's smile. The second thing she noticed made her replicate that smile. Lou was asleep against Mandy, face lax and peaceful. She had one arm around him, securing him against her side, and a smile on her own face. Something in Moxy loosened at seeing him finally still after having to be constant motion for who knew how many hours.

"He said he didn't sleep because of the stress." Nolan said quietly. "It looks like we did help."

"Proved Lou wrong," Ugly Dog sing-songed quietly.

Babo grabbed the blanket off the back of the other couch and draped it over the blonde, tucking Mandy and Ox in as well. He settled back down in his spot, the same smile on Ox's face being copied by him. Everyone shared the same endeared smile. Moxy took one more look at Lou to ensure he really was sleeping, then turned back to the movie. He'd looked - not an exaggeration - terrible when she first saw him, but now he was content. For the moment, all was calm. The storm would roll in tomorrow, but that was tomorrow's problem. They'd endure whatever storm came their way.

As long as they were together, they'd be fine.

________________

#fanfiction #comfort #lou uglydolls #friendship #uglydolls #sleepy bois inc #fanfic

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