Grey

Chatper 1 - Outcast

Deceit sat on his bed, gripping a long, plush yellow snake tightly in his hands. His yellow gloves concealed his white knuckles, paling from his unwaveringly firm grip. However, his body shook from bitten back sobs. He tried desperately to not let his tears fall down his cheeks but they slipped out anyways, streaming down his face and creating small dark spots on the duel-headed snakes head that rested in his lap as they fell.
Their words still echoed in his brain.

"What were you doing?!"

"You where what!? Trying to help him!?"

"Tat is not our job! We are supposed to prove Thomas is a bad person!"

"You are not one of us- get out!"

"I said GET OUT! How DARE you want to be one of them!"

If he's not one of them, who was he? He knew the answer he wanted. But it was a lie, that would never happen. They hated him. Everyone hated him. He was either too bad, or too good. Grey.

How did Anxiety suffer through this, and manage to make it out to the light? Deceit already wanted to go back, to say he lied. That he didn't want to help Thomas, and it's only been an hour since everything went down. His hand fell to his chest, the logo he made almost ripped off of him. He gently pulled off his cloak, running his hands over the tears. Everything needed a bit of mending. Hard work and time for nothing. At least it would take his mind off things.

---

On the floor, clothes and fabric strewn around him, Deceit silently mended his clothes. He had pulled his gloves off, occasionally carelessly pricking himself on the needle. His mind still focused on what had been done to his poor logo. His emblem, he spent hours coming up with something, he made that damn thing himself. He wasn't going to let anyone rip it from him. Even if he wasn't... One of them.... It was still his. He can dream. It was never going to happen, but that's what dreams are for. They didn't get him. They don't understand him. He works different than them, but so what? They should be accepting! But no. He's a liar. He can never change that. They wouldn't believe them.

Yet he still wanted to be part of their group. Helping Thomas made him feel better. Even if they didn't understand that, that he wanted to help, it still felt better. When they saw he was right, that he had a point, for a moment he felt ok. He wanted to show that Thomas was lying to himself. But no. They thought he was trying to show Thomas was a bad person. They didn't understand him. And he was rushed out in the end, pushed and shoved away like the villian they thought he was.

There. The mending was done. Goes by fast when you aren't thinking about it. Unfortunately. There goes his distraction, wasted. He carefully folded his cape, now in perfect condition, the seams hardly noticeable. What now... He could start another project, make another snake? Couldn't go wrong with that. Or... Deceit stood, rummaging through piles of papers, before pulling out a scrapped project. Small dolls, designed replicas of each of the "light" sides. Scrapped out of fear. They'd find it weird. But he could still make himself. Alright, dolls it is. Deceit dug out materials, tan fabric and green sequins and buttons and on and on. He buried himself in work. Work that required attention and thought, work he could use to distance and distract himself from his problems. To Ignore the fact he's in the grey now, not the light and not the dark. Despite his distracted mind, tears still ran down his face.