Plenty of Treasures

Even if it's a Lie

Note: This was inspired by a headcanon made on tumblr by the user 'hetaliadere'.

Pairing(s): Platonic or romantic LAMP/CALM

Warnings: Deceit, panic attack, mention of manipulative/toxic friendships, betrayal, fighting/arguing, violence, crying, and lying (?)
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Something feels wrong.

Thomas can't explain what it is, but the air is much colder than usual despite it being summer, his chest aches with anxiety, but... something is missing. Where is the usual fight for breath? Or the heart palpitations that would always pound against his chest? Maybe he should just be grateful for the lack of those symptoms, but part of the reason he's feeling anxious at all is because they're missing and this is just becoming a huge mess.

What if he just summons Virgil? Would that make him feel any better? Perhaps not; he wouldn't want to be a burden. But Virgil is the physical embodiment of his anxiety, so his entire job is to appear at times like this.

Sighing heavily, he collapses back onto the couch and places his head in his hands. He feels like he wants to cry, but something is holding him back, keeping the tears locked inside. Hidden. He wants to laugh at a Disney reference that runs through his mind, but before he can, it's gone. Without leaving a trace of joy behind. If only he could ask Logan about what was wrong, surely, he'd be able to find a solution to his problems. Maybe. If only he would just summon him and ask for help. But then he'd be a burden even to himself. He can't have that.

Yes, they've willingly helped him in the past, but they would definitely get sick and tired of all his stupid and insignificant problems eventually, right?

The best thing to do would be to try and push this all to the back of his mind, swallow whatever baseless apprehension he's feeling, and get back to what he was doing before this sudden wave of empty fear washed over him.

What was he doing, exactly?
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Hell isn't red. It doesn't burn crimson, ruby, sangria, mahogany, or scarlet. It glows a sickening shade of yellow. One that would haunt the four of them long into the future.

Shadows lurk in every corner, mocking them, hissing at them to stay. They stare through the Sides with piercing neon eyes. "Stay," they whisper darkly, "you belong here. You're definitely safe. Nothing can harm you, not even yourselves."

It happens when Patton begins to struggle for breath. He slaps a hand over his mouth and grips the left sleeve of his cat hoodie, pressing it to his cheek and desperately trying to absorb any joy from the memories the article of clothing bring. Virgil manages to meet his frightened gaze for a split second before darkness slithers forward and obstructs his view. He can't see! Oh God, what if the damage is permanent? How will he help Thomas? What if Thomas is blind too? What if, what if, what if?!

"Deceit," Logan's voice has been hardened with frustration and set with disgust, "reveal yourself and speak with us. You can't hide forever."

Instead of the desired outcome where the Dark Side comes out of hiding and agrees to talk, Logan feels a grip around his neck. Suddenly, he can't think clearly. His thoughts are messy and nonsensical; they just don't make any sense, no matter how he tries to organise them!

Roman watches his friends slowly but surely crumble. What can he do? Is there anything he can do? He looks down at the sash slung over his shoulder and bites his lip. A prince would be able to save them. The shadows are coming closer. A prince would know how to defeat such a snake. They're praising him, but it doesn't feel right. A prince would have the strength to fight off this monster. Cold hands are clinging to his chest; airy voices beg him for forgiveness, plead for him to save them; his mind reels with one question-- should he?