Virgil glanced at the clock on his bedroom wall; half-past three in the morning, not an uncommon time for him to be awake. He often spent the nights thinking or brooding seeing as he was his host's fight-or-flight reflex, it was up to him to be alert in case of danger. No one knew if there could be a break-in, freak natural-disaster, or something else, that being the case; he couldn't risk sleeping often. Frequently he stayed up for days on end, rarely napping, and that was only if he was certain that the others sides were in a position to watch over Thomas. For now however, he was left to sit alone in his mundane routine and the dim-light of his room. Currently he was resting on his bed, reading Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban; his fingers picked to the point of bleeding, and his lip nearly chewed through due to the fears that he embodied, and the dark thoughts that accompanied the lonely hours.
He snapped his head up from the pages at the sound of foot-fall echoing from the corridor beyond his corner of the mindscape. The others had made it clear in the past that they abhorred the night; with Logan claiming he needed adequate rest to function, Patton always trying to enforce a strict bedtime, and Roman going on and on about his beauty sleep. Therefore, Anxiety didn't know why he was still so startled at hearing them because, despite their insistence on needing rest, a pattern had formed as of late. One that consisted of the others roaming the halls, even long after they had informed him that they were going to bed. Stranger still was that all of them denied ever staying awake or getting up when he had questioned them on the matter, and instead received stern words about his own sleeping habits.
Closing his book and placing it on his bedside table, the darkest of the traits chose to ignore their claims, deciding that it was finally time to get to the bottom of the mystery that had plagued him for the last few weeks. He made his way to the door and opening it with care; listening more closely, a few moments later he recognized the upbeat, almost skipping like tread of Morality's footsteps. Virgil moved into the hall, peering into the darkness before him, just able to make out the silhouette of the aspect he had identified, who appeared to be wandering aimlessly, as if he had no destination in mind or reason for being awake at all.
He wore his dark-grey cat onesie, the hood pulled up over his head, but he didn't have his glasses. That's when he noticed it, the crucial detail that explained what had been going on, the one who was seemingly awake still had his eyes closed; he was sleep-walking. Having solved the enigma, he was about to return to his room when he heard the voice of his usually-cheerful counterpart, it was too low to decipher what he had said, but the tone was unmistakably his. Changing course and paying closer attention, the youngest facet was able to hear his next words, and they shocked him to the core. "W-What do you mean you don't need me anymore?" Before he could ponder the question properly, he spoke again sounding as if he were on the brink of tears. "I-I'm doing all I can kiddos…please…you know I only want what's best…don't- please! I'll do anything! Just don't make me leave! I don't want to lose any of you! I-" Patton's terrified whisper was cut short as he walked back into his corner of the mind-palace, closing the door behind him.
Anxiety knew that he would never have expressed such worries were he awake; perhaps it had just been a nightmare. Whether that was true or not, was he actually afraid that the others didn't need him, and moreover, that they would abandon him? Shaking his head, he returned to his own living-space, deciding that he would watch over the paternal character for a few more nights before addressing the topic.
The next night the negative emotion sat in silence by his door, awaiting the inevitable sound of steps from outside. As he lingered in his room, hours blended together, and yet minutes seemed to drag on for hours. He didn't dare pick up his book, for fear that he would be so engulfed in it that he would miss the echo of footfall from the corridor. At last he heard the familiar sound of someone walking around beyond the threshold, but it wasn't Morality. To say he was surprised and confused would have been an understatement at best, but still he held his breath, waiting for the indication of who it was in the hall, and after a few seconds he recognized the evenly-paced, confident stride of Logan. Turning the knob and looking out into the inky shadows, the frame of the second-eldest was clearly defined by the light that spilled from his room, and he had to stifle a laugh at what he saw, he was wearing a white unicorn onesie. Putting that aside, Virgil was able to notice that much like the persona the night before, he lacked his glasses, and his eyes too were shut.
One of the other sides sleep-walking was odd enough, but two seemed like more than just a coincidence, but he pushed it to the back of his mind and waited to see if Logic would say anything. Sure enough, just like with Patton the night before, the quiet was broken by a fearful whisper, "th-that's not what I meant!" Daring to move a bit closer, he strained to hear the rest of what his colleague said, "h-how could my calculations have b-been this in-incorrect? I didn't mean for any of this to happen!" The intellectual paused for a moment, giving the observant trait the impression that he was listening to only half of a conversation. "I didn't want anyone to get hurt! This is my fault…all because I was wrong…" Slowly he meandered back to his area of their host's mind, but as he did so, Anxiety could have sworn he heard the word infinitesimal go by just before the door clicked shut.
Returning to his own room; thoughts raced through his head, two of the three others seemed to sleep-walk, but more than that, they vocalized thoughts they would never say otherwise. Once more, the gloomy manifestation found that he was trying to convince himself that his friends were merely having nightmares, but he knew better than anyone that real fears were what fueled the dark dreams. A nagging sensation told him that there was more to the story than what he was seeing currently, and he wasn't anywhere near the end of it.
An idea struck him like lightning; rushing to his desk he took a small black notebook from one of its drawers. If he was going to solve this issue, he was going to have to steal one of Logan's tactics and take some notes. His hand moved with amazing speed as he wrote both names down, what they said, the time, and dates in which he had heard them. If he kept a log, he would be able to compare what they said each night and pinpoint the root of the fears. Maybe this was something he could do for the others if they had deeper psychological issues that they were suppressing; perhaps he could help them through it.
Virgil was lost in thought while the next day passed in a blur of activities, and for once he actually willed for night to approach faster so he could continue his monitoring of the logical and moral aspects. In the same breath, as he saw them throughout the day, he had to act as if nothing were out of the ordinary and be his normal, disinterested self. Eventually, after the agony of waiting through the ridiculous banter of the more light-hearted duo, and the deductions of the analytical attribute, they retired for the night. Sitting in the silence of his room was just as difficult, normally he would focus on his music or Tumblr to distract himself from the panicked thoughts that clawed at him when he was alone, but he couldn't risk it. He had to listen so he could discern the inevitable set of steps that would come from the hall during the witching-hours.
The night felt as if it would never end, and Anxiety was beginning to wonder if there was actually an issue to address, but just as the thought entered his mind he heard the familiar creak of a door being opened. From his place, the youngest facet listened intently for the tell-tale signs as whether it was Logan or Patton in the hall beyond. Instead he was met with the pace that didn't coincide with either of them, it sounded as if the one in the hall was dragging their feet or stumbling as they walked. Unable to distinguish who was up, he gently opened his door and for the third time in as many nights, gazing out into the shadows, and was once again taken by surprise when he saw Roman's darkened silhouette.
He wore a pair of red-silk pajamas with the letters 'RS' monogrammed on the front pocket, and ironically was more professionally dressed than either of the other two. That didn't account for his stride sounding so unlike his own; normally he walked with confidence, and loudly at that, as if he wanted everyone to be aware of his presence. Similar to the other two he was less than graceful in the way that he moved with no sense of direction, but he differed in the respect that there were no factors connecting his stature and gait to the way he acted when he was awake. Notebook and pen in hand, he waited with bated breath to see if the only commonality Princey had with the others was his sleep-walking, or if he would also speak.
Silence enveloped them for so long that Virgil was beginning to think that the creative side may not have been lying when he alluded to having no fears, but once more he was proven wrong. A voice pierced through the quiet, but just like his tread, it sounded off, raspy and dull, creating the feeling that he was too tired to make his vocal chords work properly. "No…No! This can't be…" his voice sounded deepened and disjointed in a vaguely familiar way. After a moment, the one dressed in black and purple found himself stunned as he came to the realization that his counterpart shared all the features of his own voice. The fear was part of it, but what made him so different from the other two was the range and lack of effort put into his tone. "Woe is me!" He rolled his eyes, even asleep the fanciful embodiment was over-dramatic, but he didn't have time to contemplate that as he broke the silence once more, "w-what do you mean? Let me prove myself…my-my…worth." Anxiety nearly dropped the paper and writing-utensil when his head shot up at the words that were murmured. "P-Please…I'm not worthless…" The way he trailed off made the younger feel as if he were once again listening to only one part of a conversation. "No, don't try and take it back…you're right…you're all right…I am…worthless." With the last word still hanging in the deathly-still air, Roman returned to his room, leaving Virgil in a baffled stupor.
Shaking his head, he expediently jotted down his notes and walked back into his own corner of the mindscape. Setting the notebook back on his desk, he couldn't help but think and re-think over what his friend had said, was he really afraid he was worthless? The Prince had always come across as confident, sometimes to the point that he seemed full of himself. Was it possible that his nature of being bold and brave was just a façade? In all the time that they had known one another, the negative side would have never have thought that they would share such a dark fear.
Days and nights blended together, each more exhausting than the one before, and the newfound responsibility of watching over the others during their bouts of somnambulism, resulted in the youngest trait getting even less sleep than before. His days were filled with acting ignorant, all while trying to discretely pick up on any idiosyncrasies that the others may have, to give him further information. Then his nights were spent restlessly awaiting their movement, writing down what they said, did, and attempting to formulate a way in which each of them could work through the fears they had. During the late hours, none of them were ever up at the same time, but throughout the night, it wasn't uncommon for two, if not all three of them to have an episode at some point.
Presently Anxiety sat at his desk, which he had moved against the wall next to his door, allowing him to work on naming the others' fears, and try to come up with solutions for them, all while being in a position to leap up whenever he heard footsteps. It was fairly early in the evening, so he was nearly certain that he would have time to review his notes before anyone else would disturb the silence. His head ached with fatigue as he read, but he kept going, knowing that it was the last night he was going to keep an eye on the three personifications. He was nearly finished with his work, and upon the understanding that it might be a bit crass to bring up each of their worries up in front of the others, he intended on pulling them aside one at a time the next day, and speaking with them individually.
The darker aspect continued to look through the neatly-organized and well detailed logs he'd been keeping over the past few weeks. All followed up by the techniques and plans he had prepared for each of them based on the doubts they had exhibited and the characteristics they embodied. Flipping back to the first page he glanced at the inside of the front cover, on which he had written a list of fears for each of them. After a few nights of wracking his mind and scouring though any reliable sources he could find, it had become clear to him that it was going to be impossible to narrow the information down to one phobia per attribute. Instead he had compiled a set of lists, that when put together encompassed the main worry they had. Carefully, so as to not miss any mistakes he may have overlooked in nights prior, he began reading over the lineups.
Patton
-Monophobia / Autophobia – The fear of being alone or abandoned
-Erenophobia – The fear of loneliness
-Isolophobia – The fear of isolation or solitude
Patton's had been fairly easy to figure out, each time he would sleep-walk, he would fret about not being needed by the others. Periodically he would say one of their names while he pleaded with them to be allowed to stay, but that was a rare occurrence to say the least. It was heart-wrenching to listen to his words as he begged not to be cast out; and it was almost as uncommon as their names, but some nights he even spoke of the hardships of already having been made to leave. Overall, his most common phrase was, 'Please don't make me leave,' and many times Virgil had to stop himself when he realized he was moving to wake the eldest facet.
Logan
-Atychiphobia – The fear of being wrong
-Atelophobia – The fear of imperfection (In Logan's case pertaining to knowledge or calculations)
-Kakorrhaphophobia – The fear of failure
-Paralepophobia – The fear of neglecting responsibility
Logan's fears were a bit harder for Anxiety to label, seeing as they upon first inspection seemed to vary so widely. After looking more in depth, both literally, and to some extent metaphorically at his words, he had been able to narrow it down to a few. At the root, his most basic fear was being wrong, and that having a severely negative impact on Thomas and his colleagues. Even the idea of failure or not making perfect marks seemed to terrify the second-eldest. Many times he fearfully rambled on about checking calculations over and over, and outcomes that didn't match up with the variables he had in the dream. During the day, the younger had even noticed him going over his work with more vigor, even if he didn't realize why. His frequented sentences consisted of two statements, 'but that's impossible,' and, 'this shouldn't be happening!'
Roman
-Allodoxophobia – The fear of others opinions
-Atelophobia – The fear of imperfection (In Roman's case pertaining to the self)
-Athazagoreaphobia – The fear of being forgotten or ignored
Roman's worries struck a particular chord with the anxious side, considering it was something that also affected him greatly. The real fear he had was not being useful or being worthless, but so far he was yet to come across a name for such a phobia. That issue was the one which influenced Virgil to start making lists in the first place, because once he put the worries together, they added up to the singular and much larger problem. The most painful part was that Princey's sleep-walking always ended with the exact same words, 'I am worthless.'
The youngest emotion jumped out of his chair when he read the words, because as he did so, he recognized the corresponding, stumbling footfall in the corridor. Taking the notebook with him, he stepped out of his room and began his notes of each movement made, and word said by the other for the last night. In his rush to write everything down however, Anxiety was too late to notice what was happening right before him. Throwing the book and pen back into his room, even his fight-or-flight reflexes weren't fast enough as he jumped for his friend, "Roman!"
