They came to him in a dream as they were teetering on the edge of life and death.

They remembered choking, gasping for breath as their own blood bubbled past his lips as he coughed it up and back on to themself. His chest lit up with fire with every short, wheezing breath, their own blood suffocating him from the inside. His torso had been aflame, burning every nerve as they lay on their side, curled into himself as some sort of protection from the blows that had rained down. Whole lot of good that did them.

They'd called him a freak, an abomination, before kicking their knee in at the back. He didn't remember much after the blow to the side of their head sent stars exploding into his vision. Only the pain as the kicking started, the numbness that spread over his emotions as slurs were being spilled like acid from cruel lips of people with even crueller minds.

The God came to him with a promise of a wish granted as they floated in an expanse of stars. A galaxy lay in front of him, a swirling mass of white flecked beauty and he lay entranced at the sight. There was a presence around him, gentle and loving, voices beginning to speak as though they were right beside them.

"I can grant your wish if you'll become mine, offer your body and soul to me. Spread my message, my existence, to the world through music and I will give you your deepest desire."

"Who are you?" He asks, a little too eager at the thought.

"I am Sleep, though that is not my true name. It is unable to be spoken by your human tongue."

They think upon this answer for only a moment before blurting out their next thought. "Do Gods have pronouns? 'Cause I use he/they and I feel it would disrespectful not to ask for yours."

"You are the first to ask." Sleep comments in amusement, and he feels the God swirl around him like a cold wind though there is no visible presence.

"I find myself partial to being referred to as a he, though whatever my vessels call me is fine as long as it done in respect. I am a God, my pronouns are inconsequential in the face of eternity."

"Then I will use what you prefer." The third affirms with a bright grin and there is a chuckle that is like the booming crash of a waterfall.

"Let me think on it a moment." They state, and the God agrees.

To offer their body and soul to a God he knows nothing about?

He lets them take as long as they need to think over their decision, until finally he comes to a conclusion. Much of his life was spent never accepted by those around them. They grew up thinking they were odd, but despite this, never let the opinions of others beat him down. It was difficult to keep his smile in the face of all that hate, but they managed. Growing up in an adoption home could have been worse. They could have been stuck with abusers, and should be glad they only were emotionally distant. He thinks back to the terror of their schoolyears and the uncertainty of how long he'd manage to keep his current job. He never could seem to keep one for more than a year.

Then he saw those two men in the bookstore. He'd just started the week before and only lasted two weeks in total. Meeting them had been the highlight of his job, of any of his jobs. They were entranced by the two mask wearing cultists with the pretty eyes and prettier smiles. When they showed up one day, they were the talk of the town in a very negative way. Where he lived was small and stuck in the past, so imagine his surprise when two people showed up one day and became the main topic of gossip. It had finally moved off of them and his apparently strange way of dress and who he was fucking. They enjoyed crop tops and skirts as well as fancy modern victorian-esque clothes and patterns. They were always too loud, too much. It was odd, that he wanted to date men, as a man themself.

He only ever wanted to be accepted. For who he is, how they dress, and who they want to love.

"Sleep?" He questions, coming to a decision.

"Yes?"

"You said you'll grant my wish?"

"Yes, of course. You want acceptance, and my other vessels will give you that and more."

"Your other vessels? How many are there?" He asks, curious, waving a hand through a passing star.

It crumbles to dust around their fingers.

"Two others, a third if you accept my offer. Two more, perhaps, but I have not yet decided." Sleep responds.

"Can you show me them? I would be living with them, it can't hurt to see what I'm getting into." They ask, eager and yet trying to stifle it, to appear not so- himself.

"Of course."

The mass of stars and galaxies directly in front of him begin to converge into an image swirling at the edges that hangs a foot away, no bigger than a hall mirror. There's a drumkit being banged mercilessly by a very familiar masked man. He beats at his drumkit with such anger it surprises his onlooker, the song filled with rage.

Its fast paced at first and then slows down to a less angry tone that keeps the fast pace. Subconsciously, they can already imagine just what riff they'd play on his bass to the tune.

The man yells out in anger as one of his sticks breaks, throwing it at the wall next to a beautiful piano that sits closed and untouched, dust beginning to settle on its bench.

"Is he okay? They seemed happy when I saw them at my old job." He asks, as the man stands and begins pacing, rubbing at his eyes as a sniffle reaches the onlookers ears.

"They were happy. My First is isolating himself again. He does not know how to let others love him, and my Second is feeling the brunt of the Firsts silence in presence and in voice."

"I wish I could hug him." They whisper, finding his legs able to move forward, kneeling in front of the floating image.

The Second moves away before he can reach his hand out, leaving the room after turning the light off.

The room changes to one covered in pitch darkness. They squint, struggling to see in the lack of light, the brightness of the universe around him making it more difficult to see into the galactic image floating before them.

"Here, my Third, a taste of the power you could have. If you accept my offer, you will gain this ability once your transformation is complete."

There is a flash of pain in his eyes, overwhelming in its intensity and they crumble, palms digging into their eyesockets. When the pain lessens, he manages to blink his eyes open, breath caught in his throat at the sight before them.

The man with the pretty mask and the smile like living sunshine is sitting on his bed, six eyes dull and lifeless as blood spills from a cut actively being sliced into his arm. He lunges forward as the First goes to make another but their hands pass right through the floating image, tears welling in the onlookers eyes.

"You have to stop him. He doesn't deserve this! He deserves to be happy! I- I hate this. Why would you show me this if I can't help him?" He cries, tears spilling down his cheeks as he kneels, trying in vain even now to stop him as he makes another cut.

"My Vessel has always done this. I will not force him to stop. Actions such as these brought him to me, and he is my most beloved. It is up to the Second, and you, if you accept, to heal his mind and heart."

"You must see him as he is and choose to care for him anyway, as the Second has done. I will not have a vessel who leaves my First, as he was left by everyone he cared for before I came to him."

"He is my most precious creation. I am a flawed being, I know this, and recognize that I have the capacity to lash out in anger much the same as any human would. I am flawed, as everything is, but in my eyes, my First is perfect. You and my Second are perfect, no matter your own flaws."

"I need vessels who will accept me as I am, I need vessels who will accept my First as he is."

He takes in all this information slowly, truly trying to comprehend it all. They never thought a God would so blatantly reveal that they are a flawed being. A flawed being that clearly cares greatly for His creations, his vessels.

"If you will accept me, if the others will accept me..." He starts, changing what they were going to say entirely.

"Something within me calls out to the vessels in a way I've never felt before. My acceptance was already set in stone before you showed me them, but to see them again after my death... I'm meant to be with them in any way they'll have me. I was meant to be yours, too, I think. Accepting you feels right."

"You accept my offer then?" Sleep asks, voices echoing around him.

"Yes. I accept." He affirms resolutely.

Between one blink and the next, the universe around him is gone and replaced with a sandy beach. Waves crash against the shore somewhere nearby, and the sand is grainy against his knees.

He kneels in a circle of white candles. Above them, the moon shines as bright as the sun but does not seem to permeate the space outside of the circle and yet it doesn't touch him even still.

"Offer your blood to me, my third. Every drop of it, so that I can fill your being with my essence."

A decorative plate materializes in front of him, golden in color like the blade of the knife that sits atop it.

"Your blood, my third." Sleep urges, his voice a low croon.

"I will be accepted? Do you swear it?" Their voice wavers, the reality of what he is about to do setting in as he brings the knife to their skin.

Its cold.

"I swear it, my third. You will be accepted, you will be loved."

"Okay."

They dig the knife in. Sharp as it is, it glides smoothly, blood spilling from under its edge and down his arm. From wrist to forearm, a gaping wound is slit. Red blood spills out.

There is a cracking sound, and he looks up, mouth gaping open as the moon above splinters open at the bottom to reveal a gaping maw of sharp teeth and inky tendrils. Six eyes blink open independently and Sleep's voice is a firm command as he tells them to look away for their own safety.

"Did you know I was going to accept your offer?" He asks, blood dripping down from the wounds in his arms.

As they wait for a response, he sits, dizziness making it so that they don't trust their ability to remain standing. Sleep's tendrils reach down to wrap around and around and around his bleeding arms and he grows ever colder.

"I pick my potential vessels very carefully. I will not choose one who will not accept. I am too weak to not get something out of these meetings. This offering of your blood connects your body and soul to me, granting you eternity, connected to my life force, and strengthening my power through the offering itself. I will not even consider one I do not know for certain will not hurt my First. So, yes, I did know you were going to accept. I was drawn to you much the same as I was drawn to my First and Second. Your souls are perfect for my essence."

"I see. I suppose I feel proud that a God was drawn to me." Sleep continues lapping at the blood leaving his body.

"You're perfect, you should be proud. My vessels are all so perfect." Sleeps voices are smooth and reassuring, laced with his love for his vessel.

He gazes up at the expanse of stars above him, carefully avoiding the moon looming at the edges of their vision, the sand soft beneath their body. The gentle flickers of the candlelight in the corner of their vision is soothing, the Gods presence prominent as the tendrils leave his body carefully.

"Eat the apple of Eden, my dear third. Let divinity sate your stomach and accept me into your soul." Sleep urges once more, and he sits up again with some difficulty.

Using their arms to push themselves up causes pain to white their vision, an explosion of dizziness not caused by the bloodloss.

When their vision stops swimming, they notice an apple has appeared on the offering plate. The red skin shines in the candlelight and he reaches forward to pick it up with trembling fingers.

"Eat."

He takes a bite. It tastes of iron and something sweet and rich, and blood spills past his lips and drips down their chin. He licks it away between bites. Divinity settles in his stomach like a leaden weight.

He eats the entire thing, core and all, despite the chewy texture of the core itself. When they pull it away to look, only once, the sight reminds him of something. They continue eating, craving the taste even as what he saw begins to unsettle him.

Licking the blood from their fingers, he realizes that the apple had a faint heartbeat. Nausea swirls in their gut as he realizes the core looked an awful lot like a human heart.

"You will not remember the part of your reasoning being wanting to help my vessels after I'd shown you them. You will not remember being shown them at all. Everything else if for you to keep in your memories. Anything that my First could misconstrue as you not choosing to care for him of your own will, will be erased."

"I understand." He agrees, vision already beginning to blacken around the edges.

"When you awaken, my dear Third, you will be at the edge of my realm. My vessels will be collecting you. Taking you back to their home so you can start your transformation."

"Will it hurt?"

"Yes. You will wish you had died for good but you will survive it, as my other vessels survived it."

There is no time for a response as his mind fades. A name is just on the tip of their tongue. A simple word. They are the Third.

III

III

III

::

III wakes at the edge of a forest on his back, blue eyes blinking open to see a dark sky above him, lit only by the shining silver light of the moon. Whoever they were before that moment ceases to exist. He rolls over and lays there for a moment, struggling to think past the tiredness invading their mind.

A black mask with a white design sits beside them and he clutches it in one hand, attempting to sit up entirely with shaking arms that just can't seem to push up their weight.

Approaching footsteps cause them to look up and he sees II walking towards him with Vessel lingering at the treeline. A wide smile pulls at II's lips as he helps III up, but they notice the red rimmed eyes easily. "Are you okay?" He asks, and II cannot hide the widening of his eyes.

The smile he wears grows a little softer under his mask. "Not really, but it isn't something you can fix. I appreciate you asking though. Have you chosen a name?"

"III, in roman numerals, since I'm the third. The name called out to me after I accepted Sleep." II moves to help them stand, gentle hands gripping each bicep and pulling him up with a strength no man that short should possess.

"Pleasure to meet you, III. I'm II."

"I remember." III grins, warm smile lighting up his face.

"Ah, okay. Let's get you back home." II returns the warmth in III's expression and reaches an arm around to wrap around III's waist, the other arm slinging III's over his shoulder.

Pulling the man closer, they turn towards the treeline where Vessel waits. They meet him at the edge of the forest, where he wraps a large blanket around III's shoulders, tying it off at the front so it won't fall off. Throughout the process he never steps too close, never lets his fingers linger, never says a word. Only inclines his head in greeting with a tiny smile before turning around, fiddling with the long sleeves of his shirt so that they're pulled down to cover his hands.

"I'm sorry about Vessel. He's going through some things right now." II whispers, and III hums in acknowledgement, leaning into II gratefully and keeping an eye on Vessel's back as they walk.

Faced with both of their gazes on his back, Vessel ignores the chill in the air, continuing forward resolutely. He truly didn't mind offering up his hoodie to II, but didn't want to think about it any further for fear the careful calm he was deluding himself into thinking was his reality would crumble away.

With a twitch of his finger, the branches and roots part for their feet. Vessel steps over them, not caring much for his own safety but they move out of his way anyway. Not once through the trip back to the manor do II or III stumble over anything but III's own feet, weakened as they are.

A migraine pounds behind III's eyes, slowly spreading to the rest of their head. Every fractal of moonlight is a dagger to the skull. Wincing for the umpteenth time, III clutches his head as the agony persists.

In an instant, Vessel is at his side, sliding his mask over III's face and fastening the buckles at the back of their head. Darkness falls over his vision, a mesh film materializing over the eye holes, and III breathes a sigh of relief as the pain lessens immediately. The mask is weighty, but not uncomfortably so. It is almost like a comforting weight. If their head did not hurt so badly, he would have used this chance to see Vessel's face.

"Thank you." He murmurs, and there is a gentle touch to their arm, the barest of brushes that III almost could have mistaken for a low hanging branch or II had it not been for the coolness and the brief glance of a claw scraping featherlight against their skin.

Vessel accepts the gratitude he feels from II's side of the bond, his open only a crack. He sends back acceptance and nothing else. He lingers closer as III's steps grow weaker, II carrying more and more of their weight as time passes.

"Sorry." III mutters, and Vessel speaks up only briefly, quiet yet still loud enough to be heard, stilted like he was forcing the words out.

"Don't apologize, II and I were the same way."

"Who helped you?" They ask, head lolling to the side as their words get a little slurred, blinking profusely to combat the dizzying headache still pounding away at their skull.

III cannot see it, but Vessel's lips tighten to hold back the grimace as tears well up at the force of the memories. The pain of the scrapes and bruises and cuts he received on the journey to the manor. The bugs crawling over his skin when he collapsed in the foyer, on his eyes and into his open mouth. The foul taste of the black sludge. The awareness of every change happening to his body, unable to sleep, to close his eyes, to shut off his mind for even a second-

"Ves?" II's gentle tone snaps Vessel out of it.

His head snaps to look at II, six eyes widened and glistening with tears. He paints a smile on his face as II frowns with worried blue eyes.

"I would prefer you didn't ask, I'm sorry."

It wouldn't have hurt II or III any less if he'd admitted to having no one. II could see it in his eyes, in the hunching of his shoulders.

"You don't need to apologize either, Vessel. Unless its something detrimental to your health, I don't expect you to tell me anything you don't want to." II states firmly, pushing sincerity and care down the bond through that crack Vessel left open.

Vessel's smile is only a little more real when he wipes his tears, but he nods anyway and turns back to continue to the house, just a little bit closer than before. II cannot stop the happiness that shoots through him. Vessel spoke again, he looked at II, smiled at him. Its so much progress compared to the last week, compared to earlier that day that II cannot help the wide smile on his face.

"I'm sorry for asking." III manages, and there is the faintest trickle of their regret in the back of II and Vessel's minds.

II murmurs a gentle reassurance, smile dimming as reality hits him again.

Without a word or emotion shared between them, only a glance, Vessel and II come to an agreement. Vessel is at III's other side quickly, taking his other arm and letting their hips brush as they walk. They need to hurry. Their transformation is coming on fast, faster than they thought it would, if they're already beginning to feel the thirds emotions.

With both of them working together, II and Vessel get III back to the manor in record time, even as every brush of their hips together causes Vessel to hold back a wince but he knows he isn't very successful by II's increasingly worried glances.

The only light on in the house is a single lamp in the foyer window, Elvira pawing at the door when they enter. She weaves in and out of II's feet as they begin to make their way to the stairs. As Vessel moves to turn the lamp off, II starts up the stairs with III.

Making it to III's room isn't as difficult when they're not in as much of a hurry. Vessel turns the lamp on at III's bedside and frantically smoothes out an wrinkles in the sheets before II lays the taller man down on the bed. The first thing II does is remove III's sneakers, gaze catching on the multicolor tie dye sock on one foot and the leopard print of the other sock. Then, II begins the careful process of unbuckling the straps of Vessel's mask and pulling it away from III's face. III glances up at II, shielding his eyes with a hand when the light hits him to avoid the brightness. Only II's eyes are visible and yet III smiles, a little delirious. "You're real pretty."

II laughs, brushing a stray strand of blonde curls from III's forehead after setting Vessel's mask down on the nightstand. "Thank you, you're pretty too."

III's smile is wide and blinding before a grimace wipes it off their face, eyes clenching shut in pain. Vessel appears behind II with the blanket that was on III's shoulders from where he'd been lingering by the door. II isn't quite sure when Vessel had removed it or even where it was before this, but is thankful as he drapes it over the foot of the bed. III's eyes go vacant and expression falling slack but before II can panic, Vessel is gently coaxing him out of the room. He protests even as Vessel's hand is cold against his shoulder but so gentle, yet Vessel is insistent in a way II usually doesn't see from the other man.

"Go on, II. I've got him, you go rest." Vessel assures, and II turns back to him at the door.

"No, you need your cuts taken care of. I know you won't do it yourself."

Vessel glances nervously at III, wondering if II can feel the edges of pain beginning to seep under the door that houses III's bond that is still forming. It was not so slow with II and Vessel, but he assumes its a slower change since it was an eventuality instead of a surprise gift like before.

Vessel does not want III to be in pain for long, as the bond lacks that fuzzy feeling it gets when II sleeps. III is very much awake right now, and experiencing every agony of the transformation. If Vessel goes along with II's request instead of arguing or trying to change the subject, then Vessel can get back to III faster to put them to sleep.

"Okay." Vessel agrees quietly, and blushes at II's surprised but pleased expression that he tries to keep off his face, but can't manage to keep from the bond.

"Okay! Okay, good, uh. Let's head downstairs for the first aid kit in the bathroom."

Vessel nods, hands clasping a forearm each to hide the shake of anxiety. He doesn't want to see the look on II's face when sees what Vessel has done to himself.

When II doesn't move, Vessel looks up from the floor where he was watching II's feet to follow. The nervous expression on II's face is endearing but also floods Vessel with guilt. His hand is outstretched in a silent offering, and Vessel can't bring himself to kill the tentative hope over the bond and reaches his hand out. II takes it with both hands with a smile, giving a gentle squeeze before dropping one hand and keep hold with the other.

II leads him down to the bathroom, hand warm in Vessel's perpetually cold one and Vessel takes comfort in the touch when he knows he shouldn't. When he knows he doesn't deserve even a kind glance as he is still closing himself off from II after he'd finally been opening up to the shorter man.

II turns the light on and apologizes when Vessel winces from the sudden brightness, forgetting he wasn't wearing his mask. Vessel had accidentally left it sitting on III's nightstand and didn't realize til now, still stuck with his habits he's gained from living with II when his mind is not all there. II gestures to the bathroom counter for Vessel to sit, pulling out the first aid kit.

Vessel does and conceals his strained amusement when II steps up close and isn't quite up to Vessel's shoulder in height. II asks Vessel to remove his long-sleeve shirt and frowns when the hastily done band-aids are revealed. "Band-aids, Ves? You know those just exacerbate your wounds."

Vessel doesnt say anything, only avoids II's gaze. He doesn't even try to stifle his winces and hisses of pain when II, as gently and with as much care as he can, peels the band-aids from Vessel's cuts. Scabs pull up with the adhesive parts and II notices Vessel cleaned them, at least. There are no traces of dried blood around the edges of these, at least.

"I'm proud of you for cleaning them though."

Vessel frowns at II's words, a blush of embarrassment and happiness coating his cheeks regardless of the turmoil inside him. II shouldn't be proud of Vessel at all.

"Do you know why I'm proud of you?" II asks as he begins cleaning the cuts and putting antibiotic ointment over them.

Vessel shakes his head and refuses to look at II. "Can you look at me for just a moment? Please, Ves?"

Vessel forces his gaze to meet II's and is struck by the tenderness there, the sadness hidden further in his irises. "I'm proud of you because you tried cleaning them at all. When I met you, no, even up until a few months ago, you never would have done anything to make the pain easier on yourself. This is progress, even if you don't think so."

"But I haven't stopped cutting. I can't. I don't want to. I forced myself to do even that much with them." Vessel whispers, loud in the silence of the bathroom.

"Progress is progress, even if it's only a little bit. I'm proud of you for showing any amount of growth, and I'll still be proud of you if your progress hits a downward slope." II states, gentle but firm, as he wraps long strips of gauze around Vessel's forearms.

Vessel can't stop his tears from falling at II's words, cannot speak through the lump in his throat. He wants to sob, to break down and tell II how much he loves him. Tell him how confused he is by the constant support and care.

But Vessel is afraid. He has always been afraid and it is something he's not sure he will ever have the courage to move past.

And Vessel is guilty. So guilty. Its smothering him. He knows II's pride in him is misplaced because Vessel only agreed to this in order to get back to III faster where he can secretly keep putting them to sleep during their transformation.

All he can do is send his thankfulness down the bond, to try and keep his self-loathing from overtaking it. He could not cry loudly if he wanted to, and he does. He wants to be able to let out his pain that way, but every command to 'be quiet!,' 'stop crying so fucking loudly!,' and 'Shut it, crybaby.' is like a noose of thorns around his throat.

II would give anything to hug Vessel, to do more than take his hand in his and use his other to wipe the golden tears from Vessel's cheeks. II knows better than to even ask, knowing Vessel's answer would be a refusal.

When Vessel's tears have abated somewhat, II backs away a couple steps, keeping his hand in Vessel's for the time being. "Is there anywhere else?" He asks, leveling his eyes on Vessel's form and scanning him over like he can see through the taller man's clothes.

Vessel nods reluctantly, replying quieter than usual, "Um, my hips. And thighs."

"Is it alright if I bandage them too?"

Vessel only nods in response and begins awkwardly removing his clothes, leaving him in his boxers and socks. II doesn't let the sight outwardly faze him. He's seen Vessel like this before and its only ever been for situations like this, never for anything more intimate. Vessel's body is gorgeous even though his cuts and scars make II sad.

Vessel does not tell II about the cuts on his ankles, they were small and did not need any attention. They would be perfectly fine if left alone.

There are a multitude of cuts from the edges of his boxers down about half of his thigh, as well as over his hips and down onto the sides of his thighs that are shallower than the ones on his arms and legs. The cold of the countertop sends shiver down his spine that he tries to control. "Alright if I touch you?" II asks and Vessel nods less hesitantly this time.

II has never done anything untoward, his touches never even hinting at anything more intimate and its easier for Vessel to trust him. Aside from that, its to the point they've both had experience with II bandaging Vessel's legs and hips. There is no room for much awkwardness, not when the only thing to be shown here during these moments is care.

The antiseptic stings worse than on his arms as II starts with his hips, moving the waistband and bottom hemming of Vessels boxers up and down enough to make sure he cleans each cut. The thick, square bandages go over the ones on his hips, then II carefully wraps gauze around his thighs.

"I'm sorry it hurt, but thank you for letting me do this." II smiles and Vessel manages to lift his lips into one a bit smaller but as genuine as he can manage. "I feel better knowing they're taken care of."

"Thank you. For... For taking care of me. I don't deserve it." Vessel whispers, voice fading out as his throat closes up with anxiety.

II takes his hand again, raising it to his lips and placing a soft kiss against his middle knuckle. Vessel's six eyes are caught on II's form, one pair tracking his lips, another his eyes, and the bottom pair his hands. The blush on his face deepens.

"You deserve the world. I'll take care of you for as long as you'll let me. You take care of me, even if you think I don't notice the little things. Thank you for making III's bed earlier."

"Was nothing." Vessel smiles, embarrassed II brought it up, as he puts his shirt back on.

He didn't think the other man had noticed, and somewhere inside Vessel preened at the praise, at how II had noticed.

"I'm going to head to bed, this day has been... exhausting." II starts, and Vessel's bond fills with guilt that he shuts down quickly. "Its not your fault though. I don't want you to blame yourself for anything. I'm always glad to help you."

He couldn't even last the night before he broke his conviction to push II away before II could break his heart. It was killing Vessel to do it in the first place but... he couldn't help it.

II didn't truly love him. No one did and no one will. He's too broken. But Vessel shut down anyway at the fragile hope that had filled his veins at II's words, at the fragmenting of his soul when he was struck with the memories of all his past relationships.

Vessel is a man lost in the ocean of his past, caught in the middle of a hurricane where the calm is nothing but an illusion. The moment II said those words, it was like a switch had flipped in Vessel's mind and he couldn't stop picturing the faceless bodies of his past partners. It was a struggle to stop picturing II's face as their actions haunted him. II didn't deserve that, and Vessel would never, ever tell him. Somewhere deep inside, Vessel couldn't picture II ever hurting him like they did, but he thought the same of his past partners and they tore him to shreds. His mind and heart were at war and there would be no end to the turmoil any time soon.

They said they'd loved him too.

"Wake me, Vessel. Promise you'll wake me. I will not let you wear yourself thin when I am perfectly capable of watching over III as well." II's voice brings Vessel out of his own head,

Vessel nods, not trusting himself to be able to speak. Already that lump that had been in his throat since II said he loved him was reforming, and he could feel his ability to talk diminishing by the second. He'd gotten too lost in his head again and dredged up things he'd rather not remember.

Vessel reaches up with his free hand and taps his throat while shaking his head side to side, and II nods in acknowledgement while still keeping the gentle smile.

"Okay. No talking then. Thank you for letting me know this time. I- it hurt when you ignored me, but I understand it to a point. Was it the same thing as right now?"

Vessel nods, grateful to II for understanding even as the vulnerability of being known unsettles him and makes the lump in his throat even worse.

"Tell me next time, please, so I don't have the chance to work myself up into a frenzy of worry." II's tone takes on a hint of forced amusement, trying to lighten up the despair creeping into Vessel's eyes.

Vessel cannot meet II's gaze as the thought that he had ignored II intentionally persists.

"Goodnight Vessel. I- I... Goodnight." With a mere quirk of his lip in a shadow of a smile, II leaves the bathroom after a gentle squeeze to Vessel's hand.

Vessel sits there for a few minutes, lost in thought before getting up and heading to III's room. His pain is stronger now as their body settles further and further into the transformation process, muted though with Vessel's own bond off. Looking down at their vacant expression unsettles Vessel to the bone even as he loses himself in their beauty.

III is pretty, so, so pretty. Eyes like deep ocean waters and a pretty smile like the sun. Of course II would be enchanted. Vessel does not let himself linger too long on the jealousy swirling in his gut as he brings a careful claw to III's temple.

Vessel had held out hope up until this point that Sleep would listen to Vessel and let III sleep like They should've let II, but clearly that hope has been dashed.

Putting III to sleep is easy, like second nature at this point, and yet it still makes Vessel violently ill. He runs to the trashcan near III's bed, barely managing to bend over it before black sludge spews from his lips and he begins a coughing fit. His chest aches with every rough exhale, like glass has made a home in his lungs. Its different than before, and Vessel wonders if this will cause even more changes in his body.

When he pulls himself up and wipes his mouth on his sleeve, he heads back over to the bed. III's eyes have fallen shut and their bond is fuzzy with sleep, the faint tickle of a dream niggling at the back of Vessel's mind. With his ability to sense and eat nightmares, came the power to sense dreams as well. He wonders if he could see them as he does nightmares, but will not even attempt anything like what he does with II's nightmares.

He moves to sit on the edge of the bed, brushing a stray curl from III's face. A finger traces a small circle around the beauty mark near their eye. Beautiful.

Vessel pulls his hand back quickly, standing as he slips his mask back on, buckling it at the back of his head like always. The mesh around the eyes disappear with barely a thought and Vessel can see without anything blocking most of his vision.

II's door is open when he passes, footsteps silent in the hallway, and Vessel can't help but peek in. II is curled up around a large pillow, snoring softly and looking absolutely adorable with the covers kicked off. It brings a smile to his face, both the sight and the way II has continued to leave his door open for Vessel. Every day since Vessel went silent, II had left his door open. Sometimes, when Vessel was sure he was asleep, he would sit in the hallway, just close enough to hear II's snoring. The familiar noise helped him relax, calmed him enough so he could write. Elvira would come visit him if she noticed Vessel was sitting outside, rubbing against his side and batting at his pencil as he tried to write. She was a cute little thing, a memace sometimes, sure, but Vessel had come to care for her as his own pet since II had come to live in the manor.

Vessel couldn't bring himself to enter, not when every atom in his being knew that when III's transformation was over, II would move on from him. No matter what the other says. Vessel was used to empty promises.

Sometimes, he thought he really could believe that II would stay. In moments where II asks about the book Vessel is reading, when he listens, even as Vessel gets excited and begins rambling, never too loud. Asks him to continue, when he goes quiet as fear strikes that he annoyed II, going as far as to remind him of where he was when he last spoke.

When II will ask to hold his hand, or tuck a strand of Vessel's hair behind his pointed ear, pull it back in a half-up, half-down ponytail to keep it out of Vessel's face while he works at the piano. When II will bring him one of his own favorite snacks, knowing that Vessel doesn't need to eat but sometimes likes to enjoy the taste of too-sweet chocolate anyway.

Vessel shakes his head, holding his arms close as he enters his room for a blanket and a book, navigating the stacks that still litter his floor with ease. There are fewer now, at II's insistence, but Vessel doesn't care to organize them or take them downstairs so here they stay.

Back in III's room, Vessel settles down at the foot of the bed, leaned against the wall, legs curled close to him with only the moon shining through the curtains for company. Sleep's presence lingers in the back of his mind, distracted with III's transformation and Vessel knows the God will not be bothering him for at least a couple weeks, busy as they are. Vessel cannot help the relief, though he always loved to see his god, to be near the one being Vessel knew without a doubt loved him,neven if that love won't last. Not when They are gathering more vessels. A rag and bowl of water is set to the side on the nightstand, beside III's mask, to wipe the sweat from the fever burning under III's skin.

Both II and III's presences are fuzzy with sleep, peaceful as the expression on III's visage, and Vessel picks up his book to read in the low light, bookmark laid on his thigh.

::

The days pass much the same as they did during II's transformation, but Vessel is not alone, this time. He wakes II that next morning just as he'd asked and goes to relax at his piano with a song in mind, trying in vain to ignore the tiredness etched into the tense line of his hunched shoulders. Where before II had as much supervision as Vessel could manage between his oncoming sickness from using a power that wasn't his and the anxiety that something was going to go wrong, II was a steadfast presence at his side. Vessel still couldn't speak, words caught in his chest with no chance of escaping, but II understood, using gestures and emotions to get responses from Vessel.

Their bond with III steadily formed with every passing day. II was entranced each day he entered III's room to see more and more black covering up III's forearms, with a single spot on the palm of each hand was a question mark symbol, a bright red color. Every time III would begin to wake, Vessel was always quick to go to them, brush a curl behind their ear and wipe the tears of pain that slipped from their closed eyes. Vessel was not always close when III would wake, sometimes II would reach him first and Vessel would go into III's room and see the softest expression on II's face as he soothed the other as best as he could. Held their hand and wiped sweat from their forehead. Whispered words of comfort much like Vessel would murmur as he put them back to sleep.

II was better at comforting III than he was, and in some strange way, that too, made Vessel jealous. He had been entranced with III much the same as he'd been entranced with II upon first glance.

He wonders how much of a fool, how much of a shit person it made him, to be so envious of a sick person and their caretaker at the same time.

Vessel hated it when he didn't get to III first. He was filled with such envy at the expression of care on II's face. He was filled with envy at the way II was able to hold III so close, while Vessel didn't dare. The guilt of feeling that jealousy ate at him from the inside.

He wanted II to look at him that way, even if he knows he doesn't deserve it.

Vessel hated when II was with III before he could put them back to sleep. III always woke in agony, and both of them could feel it. Something within Vessel did not want II to know about his new abilities, abilities not gifted to him, abilities he took for his own. He was afraid of what II would think of him if he knew that Vessel could put him to sleep at will, could eat the nightmares in his mind and be privy to parts of II's past that he may not want Vessel to see.

So Vessel waited for a moment II was not looking at III, a moment where it could be considered III just passing out from pain as their bond raged with wrongness, for one of them to be in such agony. Vessel always had to excuse himself for a while after discreetly putting III to sleep, making a run for his room and the trash can inside it to puke up his guts and cry from the pain of the migraine using Sleep's power causes.

Divinity flows through his veins and he feels his connection to Sleep growing stronger, something he didn't think was possible since he was already their First. He locks himself in his room as his body runs a light fever, eyes feeling warm in his head as he cries, rubbing them away roughly.

II knocks on his door some time later and Vessel gets up from his spot on the floor, leaned against his bed. He wipes his golden tears on an old shirt and slips on his mask, meeting II at the door with a small, shaky smile. Vessel has a job to do, to watch over III and make sure they don't feel any of the pain he had. If Vessel could take II's week long agony during his transformation and give that torment to himself, then he would in a heartbeat without even a moment of hesitation. He wouldn't wish that torture on anyone, but most certainly not the man he loves.

Vessel and II try their best to keep III off his back for the most part, on their sides where black sludge could drip out of his mouth without worry of him strangling. They keep him in clean clothes, using Vessel's shirts and pajama bottoms since his size fits them best. Vessel, when he knows II is asleep and his voice cooperates, will read to III from his books, voice barely above a whisper, cracking and hoarse as he goes over the different flower meanings again. Most days, he can't even manage that and it fills him with such frustration at himself, hating that even when the object of his silence isn't near, his voice still fails him.

Secretly, Vessel hopes III would explain more if he asked. There are so many different meanings for the same flowers and Vessel wants to learn more, but refuses to leave the forest until III's transformation is over. Someone has to watch him, and Vessel can't force himself into a store on his own, not anymore with the mask. With the eyes. Even if they're not easily visible with his mask, just having them will make him too anxious to even get out of the car unless II is with him. He will constantly feel like every eye in the room was on him with every miniscule movement.

II is filled with worry most days. If its not his worry for III and the startling agony that assaults their bond when the other wakes up intermittently, its Vessel and the empty void where the bond should sit. Not once has he left it open, not even a crack, much like his door every night. Vessel is most often in III's room, keeping a watchful vigilance over them as their body changes. Vessel will wake II in the mornings, and II will watch over III until the evenings where they will stir, their bond alerting the two vessels that he is waking, and Vessel will appear to take over watch duty again. It becomes something of a routine, to take care of III and navigate Vessel's silence. II finds a bit of enjoyment in watching the transformation into a vessel of Sleep, the black slowly crawling over III's arms, the slow bleed of black over the white of their sclera, a little more covered with every waking.

II misses Vessel's voice. Misses hearing him sing quietly to himself in the practice room. Misses the soft spoken good morning and goodnight he would receive every day, before II ruined everything by telling Vessel he loved him. When Vessel could speak, when III first arrived, II wonders if Vessel not bringing up those three little words was a rejection, fear, or indifference. Based on that last spark of tidalwave of emotion he felt before Vessel has locked himself away in his room, it was fear, all consuming terror. But is Vessel afraid of II, or the love he has for Vessel?

III often wakes with a mind full of cotton. He is aware that things are different about them each time, something new happening to their body while he sleeps. He is never awake long enough to think past the agony of an active mind in a body overcome with pain. As the time between each waking grows shorter, III becomes more aware of the things going on around them. If he is alone, it is never for long. Usually, it is Vessel with him first but when the other man sees that III is becoming more aware each time, it is II who greets III with a smile as they open their eyes. When he can manage one back, groggy and tired as Vessel's form looms in the background, it widens as II's face lights up, smile splitting into a lopsided grin.

III can't think past how beautiful II is, wants to tell him so badly, but their throat is dry and there is still pain beginning to creep up behind their eyes, in their veins.

III wonders if he's dreaming, but knows their imagination could never conjure up a face to put behind II's mask.

"Do you see that Ves? They're smiling! The bond is awake. Does this mean their transformation is over?" II exclaims, bringing III's hand up to squeeze gently closer to his face.

There is something III can feel. It feels happy, but... not like it is their happiness. Its clear, bright,

Vessel moves closer, mask hiding his expression, but there is a small, strained smile pulling at one corner of his lips as he shakes his head 'no.' If III were more awake, less tired and not still working through a migraine, he might have wondered why Vessel didn't speak.

Vessel opens his mouth, hoping he can force some words out but can't manage a sound. Shaking his head in disappointment with himself, he scribbles out a note on the notepad he has taken to carrying with him.

'No, another week. Maybe less.'

Exhausted, III feels their disappointment mutely, unable to properly feel it past their tiredness. He's tired of the grogginess, the pain, when they wake. He wants this to end.

"Shit, okay. Would you like anything to eat since you're awake for now?" II asks, and Vessel wants to stop him, to make an excuse for II to leave so III can rest again.

But Vessel knows that those two need food (though not as often as they used to as humans), unlike himself, and III hasn't been able to eat anything for a few weeks now.

"Please." III squints, slow, sluggish movements bringing his arm up to cover his eyes.

The sclera is almost entirely black now, only a small sliver of white around the outer ring of their iris. The beauty mark by their eye has changed shape somewhat, Vessel notices as he moves forward to take II's place when the shorter man leaves to get III some food. Upon closer inspection, the little freckle has turned into an upside down question mark, much like the ones on the palm of III's hands.

III reaches out weakly, a hand moving towards Vessel's where he sits on the edge beside the third. Vessel, not giving himself the chance to second guess it, takes III's hand in his own and gives it a gentle squeeze before beginning to rub soothing circles into the palm. III grins, though it has a pained edge.

Nothing will come out when Vessel tries to tell III how sorry he is that the other is in pain right now, guilt causing tears to well in his eyes and his lips to press together.

III cannot look away from Vessel, cannot stop glancing between his hair, his pretty, delicately pointed ears, and the red rubies of his eyes that they can glimpse through the mask, the shimmer of gold that surrounds them.

"Pretty." III says, a blush battling with the fever over which could make their face more red.

Vessel laughs insecurely, a silent thing that doesn't make a sound, only a huff of air, shaking his head. He turns his head away, reaching for the buckles at the back to lift the mask from his face. Vessel uses his sleeve to wipe the golden tears from his face, then the inside of the mask, face hidden from III's view.

III wants to see him, to know what he looks like. He wants to catch a glimpse behind the mask that guards him from the world. III knows he's pretty, no matter what Vessel actually looks like. His smile is pretty, and his voice, and III can tell in his own soul that Vessel is radiant.

He remembers vague flashes of memories, of Vessel's soft voice as he read some sort of informational text on chemistry to them when he was lucid enough to understand any of the words coming out of Vessel's mouth. Even hurting, III wanted desperately to listen to the sound of Vessel's voice. It was alluring, and it had been even before they became a vessel.

III was drawn to them, II and Vessel both. To Sleep.

III frowns, and pulls Vessel's hand with their own. Vessel turns to look at them as he does his mask back on.

"You're radiant." III insists, and while they, somehow, can tell that Vessel doesn't believe him, is content with the small smile that pulls at one side of Vessel's mouth.

III can't look away from the blush turning Vessel red to the tips of his pointed ears and from that moment on, III vows to do anything in their power to make Vessel blush constantly.

Shaking his head, Vessel motions at himself, before nodding as he lays a careful hand on III's chest. Their heart beats fast under his fingertips and Vessel wants to be able to tell III himself.

If anyone were radiant, as bright as the sun, it is III. Vessel knew it the moment he laid eyes on them in that quaint little bookstore what feels like ages ago.

III keeps their grin but says nothing more, content to watch Vessel as the other looks anywhere but back at them. He randomly squeezes Vessel's hand every few moments while they wait for II, and Vessel squeezes back, gentler, as though too much force will shatter their hand in his.

When II returns, Vessel moves to stand by the foot of the bed. As his hand leaves III's, they let out a wounded noise, disappointment traveling down their bond. Vessel wonders if III even knows they can feel him like that, wonders what their reaction will be when II inevitably explains.

III devours the sandwich given to them, and chugs down the water bottle and II, when asked, helps them down to the restroom in a slow process that is comprised of II doing most of the work. Vessel follows, just in case, and hates the sad look in II's eyes the reflects the emotion in the bond when Vessel rejects the offer of a hand hold. No matter how he wants to take the offer.

When they get III back to their bed, Vessel struggles to come up with an excuse to send II away so that he can put them back to sleep. Their pain had been manageable up to this point only due to their need for sustenance, and Vessel can feel that their migraine, the aching of their bones, is no longer so ignorable.

"Hurts." They mutter, as II tucks them in.

"I know, I'm sorry. Ves said it should be over soon. You'll just have to sleep it off." II soothes, stroking III's cheek with a soft look.

"'Kay." They murmur, closing their eyes in a grimace.

Vessel taps II's shoulder, showing him the notepad and what he'd written.

'Make yourself some food. I'll watch them.'

II nods as he moves away from III, already making his way to the door as he speaks. "Yeah, okay, I'll- I'll be back. I haven't eaten in a few days anyway."

Vessel is glad II didn't question him this time. It makes this easier. When II's footsteps fade entirely, Vessel takes his place at III's side and without even a moment of hesitation, places a claw on their temple. III's eyes open at the touch, but fall closed quickly as Sleep's power works its magic. If Vessel's heart were in his chest, it would have stopped at the trusting expression laced with confusion when III saw Vessel looming above him.

Vessel cannot handle his guilt, the hate for himself, or the overwhelming sensation to puke up his guts. He escapes to his room with a final glance at III and their peaceful expression, glad at least to give them that. His door is locked securely and Vessel wastes no time tripping over his books to hunch over his trash can while foul black sludge claws its way up his throat and out his mouth. Tears fall freely into his mask, his hair becoming a mess.

Vessel thinks II might pull it back for him, if he were to ask. He won't ask. Won't explain why he is throwing up, what he has done. Why this happens to him.

There's only about a week left until III wakes fully, for the last time, and is truly born anew as the third vessel of Sleep. Vessel knows it isn't long now until II leaves him for III, and then, when Sleep realizes that they're better suited to be their vessels, tosses him aside, too. Everyone he has ever loved has left him after shattering his heart beneath their feet after it was given so freely.

Vessel would never be worthy of any of their care, anyway.

When II knocks at his door some time later, he ignores it. He lays in bed, holding a shaking hand to a bleeding wrist as he sobs, keeping him movement small, silent, and gaze blank like the dead. He can feel II's worry and hates that he is the cause, but he will not rise. Does not want to witness the care and the sadness that will fall like a veil over II's pretty blue eyes. He is not worthy of II's care or his tears or the gentle touch of his hands as he smiles so prettily at Vessel like he's worth something.

He is not worthy.