Work Header

Feel Like I'm Drowning

Work Text:

Deceit steps into the dark sides’ living room and immediately stops in his track, a cup of tea halfway to his mouth as he raises an eyebrow towards the figure currently slouching on the couch.

“You know you guys have your own couch over in the light sides’ commons, right?” he asks, calmly walking to the table to set down his mug, “and I’m pretty sure it isn’t at all more comfortable than the one you’re currently occupying.”

An intelligible groan is all Deceit gets as a response, making the tiniest smile take over his lips as he good-naturedly rolls his eyes.

“Morality again?” he guesses, moving to sit on the arm of the couch. The slouched side rolls on himself, the crown rolling off his head and onto the floor with the movement.

“He’s just so-” Augustus lets out another groan of frustration, snappily throwing his hands in the air- “he wants everything to be beautiful and sweet and perfect, I can’t do my work like this!”

But Augustus, that’s bad!” the creative side keeps going, voice rising to higher notes in a poor imitation of the moral side, “Thomas is a good person, you can’t give him thoughts like that!

Deceit lets out a snort, giving Augustus a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.

“I just-” Augustus sighs, sagging as all the fight seems to suddenly leave him- “sometimes it feels like I’m fighting a losing battle, you know? I know Patton just wants what’s best for Thomas, but… does he really know what that is?”

As the frustration and tension seep out of him, Deceit can’t help but notice the dark, bruised skin under Augustus’ eyes, the fatigue and exhaustion evident in his eyes as his mouth sets into a thin line -he looks nothing like the proud, regal side Deceit has grown to know and love like a brother. He looks like a tired king, watching helplessly as his kingdom falls and crumbles under him.

It scares Deceit, to watch helplessly as his friend slowly seems to deteriorate right in front of him.

When Augustus speaks again, his voice is small, almost frightened as he covers his eyes with his arm. “Sometimes it feels like I’m fighting against myself, the part that wants to trust Morality and the one that just wants to be free.” His voice breaks halfway through, chest spasming as he fights down a sob that threatens to leave his lips. “I don’t know what to do anymore. If I can’t even do my job right… then what does it say about my role as Creativity? About me?”

And that’s about all Deceit can bear to hear. He fights down the growl that threatens to leave his mouth, rage and fury coursing through his veins as he desires nothing more than to go find the moral side to have a little chat -he can do that later.

Now, he grabs Augustus’ arm, pulling him up until he’s sitting and ignoring completely the confused sound leaving the other side. Then he throws himself at him, letting his six arms wrap around Augustus' frame as  Deceit holds him close in a crushing hug.

“You’re the best Creativity Thomas could ever ask for,” Deceit murmurs, hiding his face in the crook of Augustus’ neck. He doesn’t miss the way Augustus briefly tenses in his arms, choosing not to comment on it as he feels the side sag in his arm and squeeze him in return.

He doesn’t say anything even as Augustus' frame starts visibly trembling, choked up sounds filling the silence around them as he feels wet drops fall on his shoulder. Humming, Deceit rocks them lightly side to side, stroking Augustus’ back in a reassuring motion.

“It’s going to be okay,” Decet says, the lie tasting bitter on his tongue, “it’s going to be okay.”