Chapter Text
There was something IV was hiding. The other vessels were not quite sure what, but IV had been with them for close to a year now and some things were still off. He’d isolate himself from their spiritual bond, retreating to his room in the manor for a few days without another word. He’d go out every few months, driving to the city for hours, not telling anyone where to go.
He was still afraid of their touch most of the time. It had gotten better, he no longer flinched away from a hand grazing his lower back, leaned into kisses and cuddled into the other vessels during movie nights but his boundaries were still clear, still a lot more guarded than any of the other vessels.
It did not bother them, not particularly. They loved their IV the way he was and yet they could not help but to feel like they were missing something, like they were using him. Because IV liked to give — give them everything he had. He was eager to get intimate with them, busying his hands and mouth to chase their pleasure and never asked for anything in return. IV would gently and expertly divert their hands whenever they attempted to slide his shirt off, snake them into his sweatpants — he never outright told them no but his body language was more than clear.
He reassured his lovers time and time again — he loved giving them pleasure, it was enough for him, he did not need anything else from this beside maybe the cuddles afterward, the hand caressing the line of his jaw, tracing the shape of his lower lip, a warm cloth wiping away the mess on his face but nothing more.
The vessels all had a past — memories that haunted them at night. For Vessel, they were the blurriest, Sleep’s influence on him had lasted the longest, had helped to deal with issues still lingering somewhere beneath the surface but now leashed, manageable. Vessel knew that without Sleep he’d be six feet under by now, he had felt the barrel of a gun at his back, had felt the heat of the gunpowder exploding, the metal tearing through flesh and bone. And then he had awoken in a forest, rain dripping softly from leaves as he had heaved himself onto his feet, following that strange pull in his chest.
II could remember very little of who he was and how he came to be. He remembered coarse rope around his wrists, someone shoving a gag in his mouth. He remembered as the water closed over his head and he desperately tried to swim to the surface. Something had pulled, pulled, pulled until he laid on a beach, shivering with his hands still tied and the gag around his neck. There was a pull in his chest, as though someone had tied a string and was tugging on it, guiding him where he needed to be and after days of walking he had found the manor and the strange young man living in it.
III did not show up at the manor. Vessel and II had found him in a shady bar, playing bass for an even shadier band. A bar fight had broken out and III had been right in the middle of it. He wasn’t weak, wasn’t useless — he’d brawled with them, even finding enjoyment in the fight. No one had calculated the knife that had been pulled. III had been too slow to react, only able to gasp as he felt the blade slide into his stomach, blood gushing as the metal was pulled out again. He’d stumbled towards the exit, fallen through the door as he was unable to stand by himself. Two men in dark clothes, one as tall as him, the other almost comically short in comparison, had supported his weight, had led him to a car and taken him to a manor. III had been sure he’d be tortured, killed, ritualistically sacrificed but instead they had treated his wound, granted him shelter and fed him.
Their polycule started naturally — soft touches and kisses just felt right. Being intimate just came to them, playing music together was a second language to them but one piece, a fourth, had always been missing. They’d tried to find their number four like they had found III, had brought back some potential vessels but none of them ever lasted, none of them were right.
Until the day IV crashed through the door of their manor.
A thunderstorm had raged outside, rain pelting the windows as lightning illuminated the sky and thunder rumbled in quick succession. The storm whipped around the house as the three vessels were cuddled underneath a blanket. Hot tea stood on the table beside the couch and a Studio Ghibli movie was playing on the TV.
It was peaceful when suddenly something crashed against their entrance door. The vessels shot up in a panic. No one came to their door that had not been invited beforehand — Sleep had not visited any of them to announce the arrival of a new fourth.
Treading carefully, Vessel entered the hallway, keeping II and III hidden from sight. He was sure he could hear a voice outside, another crash and then — rain and wind pelted him in the face and with a thud a body fell to the floor.
It had been a year since IV had arrived so theatrically, beaten and bruised, and yet, he’d never really talked about where he came from. He’d listened to all their stories, had found his way into their polycule and always seemed to still marvel at the fact that his boundaries — stricter than those of the other vessels — were respected without question but he’d never talked why he’d been covered in blood and bruises, why he’d slept for three days straight and why he had been out in a thunderstorm.
IV could rival Vessel with the amount and intensity of his nightmares. While Vessel woke up screaming from visions and messages from Sleep he could not decipher, terrible images the deity wanted to share, IV awoke from his past life. He screamed for the whole manor to hear and when the other vessels barged into his room he lay curled up, shivering on the floor as he mumbled to himself. The other vessels never pushed — though they had their theories. They’d heard IV’s pleas when he’d fallen asleep during movie night. They’d shared incredulous looks upon hearing his requests, that should have been common decency, when the four of them had shared a bed for the first time.
IV hid his past and that was okay, he still fit like their last missing puzzle piece, a limb that had been missing for years. Sleep had not yet made a request for his troubles to be shared and so the other vessels were content to soothe his nightmares and take what he’d give so gladly, returning the tiny favors he asked for with the utmost care.
IV hid his past. They’d never imagined that he would hide his present as well — not until III walked past a half-closed bedroom door. Not until III peered into the room, finding IV in his boxers and one of III’s hoodies, a syringe in hand.