Some platonic Moxiety, because I got a 3-5 hour nap today.

I looked down at my arms, dizzy from blood loss and nauseous at seeing my own blood.

The cuts get deeper each day. The pain is too much to handle. I wish I could fade, but they need me. Thomas needs me, almost more than any other side.

He would be a monster without me.

I head downstairs. I know it's useless, but I made breakfast.

"I made breakfast!"

I hear a door slam and wait at the table. Roman comes in and grabs a plate.

"This food sucks. I hate eggs."

"I'm sorry, I wasn't expecting anyone."

Roman looks hurt. "You should have known I would come down. You're stupid to think I wouldn't."

I see the spark of regret in his eyes. The spark that keeps me from fading. I can't give up on him if he can tell what he does.

I smile at him, holding the tears back by sheer force of will.

He looks so sad and so angry.

I hear a door creak open, and someone steps down the stairs! Someone got up!

I get up and see Virgil looking at the ground. I see he's too pale, too thin, too bloody, and too scarred. I run to him and pull him into the warmest hug I can. "I missed you so much, Virgil!"

He smiles at me. It's broken, but he managed it.

I hear Roman come out. He sees Virgil, and stuffs his fist in his mouth, biting it to stop the words. His eyes tell Virgil he's sorry. He can't manage the words, but I can tell he doesn't want to hurt Virgil. He runs to his room, fist keeping the words in.

Virgil hugs me back. He's so thin. He's cold, and he's in pain, but he's out.

I just hold him for a few minutes, trying to inject him with all the warmth I have.

He smiles a little but starts sobbing into my shirt.

I just hold him, keeping my son close to me.

"I'm so sorry dad."

"Don't be." I pull him closer and wipe his tears with my shirt. "Never be sorry for being in pain."

He sobs harder. "But I hurt you!"

"It's ok. I'm not ok, but it's not your fault."

He sobs and a puddle soaks into my shirt. I pull him to the table and put eggs in front of him. "Eat these."

He puts a forkful in his mouth, and his eyes close in pure joy.

He shovels them.

He's crying, salting his eggs.

I hand him tissues, and he blows his nose.

When he finishes, I pull him to me and just hold him. I'm aware that every second we spend in here means Roman's alone in his room, so after a few minutes, I go to the fridge, and grab the bag full of food and supplies for Virgil, and walk him to his room. I go in there with him, ignoring the mess, ignoring the blood, ignoring the way the room falls apart.

I sit on his bed, and just keep him close to me.

He needs me, more than ever.

We sit like that for hours, but I have to take care of my other kiddos too.

When I'm not there to yell at, Roman's thoughts hurt him, and I'd take any pain for him.

When I'm about to leave, a single piece of paper slides under the door. Virgil grabs it and smiles a little, more tears falling. It says "I'm sorry." In Roman's loopy writing.

The tears start anew, and I hold him again.

A few hours later, he releases me, and I go to comfort Roman.

If I ignore all the pain, the blood, and the tears, it's almost like it was before.