Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Anxiety woke up with an agonizing headache to a bedspread that was too light to be his own.

He shifted on the thick duvet with a drawn-out groan, grimacing at the bitter dryness sticking his tongue to the roof of his mouth. Even with the lack of windows in the room, the fluorescent lighting still stabbed into his brain like a spoon though the eyes even with them screwed shut.

Through the haze of nausea and sleep, Anxiety tried to piece together the jumbled thoughts from the night before. He remembered being in the common room of Thomas' mindscape where everyone was celebrating for something he couldn't recall or care less about. Being the eternal dad friend he was, Morality had practically dragged Anxiety out of his room to join the party. Thomas had quite a bit of nervousness when it came to social gatherings, and it was only natural that Anxiety had inherited that attribute.

He recalled grabbing a random bottle from the drink table and tucking himself away on a chair in the far corner of the room, watching the amusing yet somewhat disturbing scene of Roman and Morality in an impromptu Disney song karaoke battle. Anxiety had been so distracted by the sight that it wasn't until halfway through the bottle that he realized that he had grabbed a bottle of alcohol. Judging by the gigantic gap of blurry memories after that revelation, it had been the strong stuff too.

Rubbing the heel of his hand against his eye, Anxiety rolled over on his back and sighed. Now he knew that his distaste for parties hadn't been completely unfounded.

"You're awake."

Anxiety instinctively jerked upright and regretted it immediately once it sent bile bubbling up his throat and another stab of pain through his skull. He clapped a hand over his mouth, forcing the nausea down with a shaky intake of air. As soon as his stomach settled and his vision cleared, his eyes focused on the desk across the bed. Then, they focused on who had been sitting on the chair next to it.

"I see you're still nursing that hangover, Anxiety," Logan, ever the impeccable dresser, was a direct juxtaposition to the darker trait's own state. It was then that Anxiety noticed the various states of disheveled and absent his own clothes were in. His stomach dropped and he scrambled to get out of the room—Logan's room—when he suddenly felt a pair of hands gently easing him back onto the mattress, "Try not to move too much. Vomit is very difficult to clean out of carpet."

His words were as cold as ever, but there was a new sort of warmth in Logan's voice and Anxiety couldn't help but do as he said. He let himself sink into the lumpy duvet as the other facet grabbed the bottle of water from the side table and pressed it into his hands. It took him a moment to find his voice, and it came out as a scratchy croak that made him wince.

"Er...thanks," Anxiety fumbled with the lid and downed nearly the entire bottle in one go, his throat and stomach ever grateful for having something that wasn't alcohol in his system. Logan hummed in acknowledgement and returned to his chair, taking a sip from the mug of coffee cooling on his desk.

As he finished off the last of his water, Anxiety took a moment to look around Logan's bedroom. He had expected it to be neat, but his things were stored in a way that made it seem more like a library than a place of rest. There was a bookshelf that took up the entirety of the far wall and every book was sorted alphabetically. Logan had even taken the time to level out the books so that they appeared as a smooth, solid wall of different coloured spines. It was oddly satisfying to look at.

He almost missed seeing his missing sweatshirt and jeans sitting on the dresser, neatly folded.

The knot in Anxiety's stomach returned and he pulled his knees to his chest, staring at Logan's casual demeanour as he sipped his coffee with a healthy dose of wariness. He seemed way too relaxed considering Anxiety was on his bed in nothing but a t-shirt and boxers. But then again, Logan was an expert at keeping a poker face at the best of times.

With the mug still pressed to his lips, Logan's gaze flickered behind his glasses and towards Anxiety. He finished off the last of his coffee before setting it down and swivelling to face the other facet.

"I believe you have some questions."

Of course he did. He had a lot of questions, but he summed them all up into one.

"What happened last night?"

Something unreadable flashed across Logan's eyes as he crossed arms and leaned back on his chair. His eyes darted back and forth for a few short moments and Anxiety started peeling at the label of the water bottle as he waited for his response.

"There was a celebration in the common area because Thomas had finished filming a big video. I assume that you didn't know. You didn't show up for that particular video," Logan pushed his glasses up, "Which is odd, considering it should have caused him to feel significant nervousness."

Anxiety shrugged. One would think that the other facets would have been glad that he was cutting Thomas some slack. His presence was rarely welcome, so the fact that Logan found it odd instead of relieving was confusing to say the least.

"A few hours into the celebration, I returned to my room. You should know that partying isn't exactly an activity that I would find 'lit'."

"Still studying those flash cards, huh?" Anxiety snorted, "You need to work on your timing and usage."

Logan grabbed the index card from the stack in his pocket, grumbling as he jotted something down on it. He twirled the pen and continued with his answer.

"Approximately half an hour later," He trailed off, still fiddling with the pen in his hand, "You came into my room and began taking off your clothes. Understandable, considering the increased body temperature caused by your alcohol intake."

Anxiety froze. He what?! His face fell into his hands to hide the horrified flush colouring his pale face. He almost didn't want to hear the rest of the story, if it was going where the thought it was going. If Logan noticed, he payed no mind to Anxiety's panic and finished it off.

"You then promptly passed out on my bed. Don't worry. As...bizarre as that exchange was, it wasn't all too inconvenient. I rarely sleep as it is."

He pulled himself free from his own cringing long enough to peek at Logan through the gaps of his fingers. He seemed a bit shifty, both in his story and his constant shifting in his seat.

"Nothing happened, then." There was an unspoken subtext in his statement and he felt a little relieved when Logan nodded.

"I assure you, we did not copulate."

"Good," As clinical as his wording was, Anxiety still ended up flushing even redder, "That's good."

Logan nodded in agreement and they were both plunged in another awkward silence. Eventually, he busied himself with stacking the saucer and mug on his desk into a neat pile and pulling out a package of papers. Anxiety took that time to stand unsteadily and fetch his clothes from the dresser.

For the next few minutes, the quiet was filled with the rustling of his clothes and the scratch of Logan's pen against paper. Anxiety knew that Logan wasn't a real teacher and he didn't have actual schoolwork to mark. They were just constructs made by Thomas after all. It made him wonder what exactly he was marking.

Just as he was about to ask, a sharp knock broke the silence.

"Logic, breakfast is ready!" Came the familiar cheery tone of Morality through the door.

"I will be there shortly, Dad," He responded. Logan turned back to where Anxiety was shrugging his hoodie back on, "You go on ahead. I have some things to take care of for now."

Anxiety nodded and pulled his jeans back on. He was all too eager to exit the room and try to further repress what happened the night before. After a curt nod, he closed the door behind him, leaving Logan alone in his room again.

He tore his eyes from the door and slid off his glasses, rubbing the tips of his fingers against the marks left by the nose pads. Feelings really were the bane of his existence.

Pushing away from his desk, he loosened his tie and approached the mirror on his dresser. He popped the buttons of his polo shirt and frowned at the blooming hickeys littering his neck and collarbone. If he kept his shirt fully buttoned, they shouldn't be too noticeable. Still, he couldn't afford to take any chances.

Logan opened his drawer and grabbed a bottle of concealer.

Chapter Text

Anxiety wasn't the only facet that inherited Thomas' slight aversion towards social gatherings. He was just lucky that he had less of it compared to him.

Even so, three hours of being exposed to the ever-present sunshine provided by Roman and Morality was starting to get to him. If he were anyone else, it would have coaxed him into joining the fun, but he just ended up feeling exhausted from watching the two mess around.

As he went to switch his glass of scotch for a bottle of water, he passed by Anxiety curled up in his chair, staring ahead at the other two facets with a sleepy look in his eyes. Logan felt something akin to sympathy. It seemed that he wasn't the only one getting sick of the festivities.

"Anxiety," The facet looked up as Logan approached him, blinking owlishly as he was handed a bottle of water, "I will be heading off to my room. You're not under any obligation to stay, so you should probably head out too."

With a quick pat to his shoulder, he turned to exit the common area. Logan barely managed to dodge the chattier facets and retreat further into Thomas' mindscape, sighing in relief as Roman and Morality's incessant singing faded with every hall he turned. It took him a while to find his room and once he did, he made a beeline for his bed and threw himself on it.

He wondered sometimes how those two could be so cheerful all the time. They were always so loud and for what? He could understand calculus and facts, but the other sides were an unsolvable enigma. Perhaps it was just how he was created, as a personification of intellect and reasoning.

His glasses pushed up as he rubbed at his eyes, feeling worn out from all the celebrating. Even from his room, he was still minutely aware of Roman's passionate self duet of Love is an Open Door. Maybe if he just ignored it, he could get some sleep before his presence was needed again the next morning.

Bang.

Or not.

Logan sat up and glared at his now open door, where a very wobbly Anxiety was leaning against the frame barely holding himself up.

"Anxiety, what are you doing in my room?" His irritation faded to confusion when the darker facet's absent gaze fell on him. With unsteady steps, Anxiety stumbled forward and held his finger up against Logan's lips. Except he missed and ended up just squishing his nose to the side a little, "Anxiety—"

"Shhhh," His hand fell and he fumbled with his hoodie until it fell away on Logan's floor, who was still too busy reeling to reprimand him for his messiness, "Sorry, but I...I reeeaally had t' wake you."

"I was already awake—I'm sorry, are you quoting the Heathers?" His tired mind was still processing the situation. But the moment Anxiety reached for the button of his jeans, something clicked in his brain and he scrambled backwards, "What on earth are you doing?!"

"You were quoting it too," He grumbled, wiggling out of his jeans before unceremoniously kicking them to the side, "Why s'it so hot in your room? S'like a frickin' sauna in here."

"I get cold easily. Anxiety, put your pants back on," Logan back-pedalled further into his bed until his back hit the headboard. The other facet didn't seem to hear much of what he was saying as he crawled onto the bed and towards Logan. It was then that he noticed the smell of vodka wafting from Anxiety's breath, "...You're drunk."

"And you're a stick in th' mud," He sat himself on Logan's lap with a dazed smirk. One hand idly ran up his chest while the other busied itself tugging on his tie, "Has anyone ever told you you've got a nice face? Have they? B'cos it is."

"We have the s-same face—" Logan didn't get to finish before Anxiety yanked a fistful of his tie and crashed their lips together, their teeth clanking in the process. For a moment, Logan was too alarmed to reciprocate, his mind still reeling from the whole situation. Anxiety caught his bottom lip between his teeth and he used the resulting gasp to deepen the kiss even further.

Pulling away, Anxiety slid his tie out of its knot and threw it over his shoulder, where it hit the ground silently. Logan let out a shaky breath when Anxiety's teeth grazed his neck where it thudded with his racing pulse. His hands went to Anxiety's hips, not quite pushing him away, but just resting, "Whuhh, what are you doing?"

"Uh, kissing your neck? I thought that was obvious," Anxiety popped the buttons on his shirt and left a line of sloppy kisses and nibbles down the newly exposed skin, leaving a trail of pink marks that he knew would bruise in the morning. He bit down on the soft flesh of his shoulder and relished the shiver that it elicited from the normally composed facet, "Why, do you want me to stop?"

Anxiety pushed the hem of his shirt up Logan fought with himself as he tried to return to some semblance of composure. He had mercifully stopped his ministrations, seemingly content with just resting his cold hands against Logan's feverish skin. Did he want him to stop? For once, he wasn't too sure.

"You don't know what you're doing." He said, trying to keep his voice firm even as the cold from Anxiety's hands seeped into his skin, "The alcohol is clouding your judgement and it is unwise for us to continue."

Anxiety frowned. He stared at the trait under him for a few more long moments before sliding his hands away from his stomach and sitting back on his heels to ease his weight from Logan's lap. He sat cross-legged on the mattress and Logan took the time to fix his clothes and smooth down his hair, ignoring how the warmth in his core made his hands tremble slightly. Logan barely had another moment of reprieve before Anxiety spoke up again.

"You really are a clueless moron, you know that?"

He stopped halfway into buttoning his shirt and looked up at Anxiety, brow furrowing, "You may have mentioned it once or twice. I can't say that I appreciate the title."

"You act so smart, like you know everything. But in reality, you don't know anything."

"Knowing things is my function, Anxiety," Logan fumbled with the buttons on his shirt again, "I was made to embody Thomas' knowledge. If I didn't know anything—"

"That's not what I meant! That's not...God, Logan, can't you take a hint?!" His voice cracked and startled Logan with his outburst. Anxiety rubbed the heels of his hands against his eyes, smearing his eyeshadow even more than it already was, "I thought—I wanted to...You were the only one wh-who treated me like a-a person. Princey can't stand me because I'm always in his way. Even Dad, i-it's like I'm some kid he barely tolerates or something, and I hate it! I'm not always at fault but everyone thinks that I am. Then for once, I-I thought I could have the guts to get what I wanted, but then you—"

His breath came out in ragged spurts and his entire body seemed to tremble, like an earthquake was rumbling on inside of him. It sure felt that way to him. Anxiety's words were fragmented, disturbed by bouts of sobbing and hyperventilating to the point where they mixed together in an indecipherable cocktail of speech.

Logan knew what a panic attack was. It wasn't the first time that he had seen Anxiety have one, and it was usually Morality who would try to coax him out of it. But now it was just the two of them. And he didn't know what to do.

"Anxiety..." He tried, his hands hovering uncertainly over the other facet's shaking form. Logan wracked his brain for the memory where he watched Morality do it. Emotions may not be his forte, but he could at least pretend. He gently pressed his fingers into Anxiety's back and rubbed small, hopefully comforting circles into it, "Anxiety, if you can hear me, I need you to breathe for me. Five seconds in through your nose, five seconds out through your mouth. Can you do that for me?"

He was shaking so much that Logan barely caught the small nod. Taking a deep breath of his own, Logan began counting.

"In. One, two, three, four, five. Out. One, two, three, four, five," He murmured, slowly pulling him closer until he was curled up in his lap, "Good. You're doing great."

It wasn't until the tenth cycle when Anxiety finally relaxed, going limp against Logan's chest with the remnants of his panicked sobs fading into semi-steady breathing. Logan sighed in relief and continued to rub circles into his back, looking down at his barely conscious counterpart. His eyeshadow had been smeared by both his tears and his rubbing, making him look like somewhat of an exhausted raccoon. Logan shook that mental image out of his head.

"I'm sorry," Came a murmur from the facet in his lap, "I didn't—I shouldn't have come here. I didn't want you to know."

"...It's fine, Anxiety. But maybe you should lay off on the alcohol for the time being." Logan paused, "All those things you said about Dad and Roman...that's not true. It may not seem like it, but they all care about you. No matter how extra you are sometimes, you still keep us and Thomas safe. And that is something we all appreciate."
Anxiety shifted in his lap with a soft hum, his eyes fluttering to keep open, "What about you, then?"

Logan bit his lip. For a long time, he didn't answer. How on earth was he supposed to?

"You know I can't feel those things. I'm not meant to be able to." He said softly. And it made sense. He was Logic. He was facts, information, seeing the world in monochrome the way it truly is. He wasn't allowed to feel. That was his purpose. His function.

"That's not true and you know it," Anxiety buried his face into Logan's shirt and sighed, "You're just too much of a clueless moron to notice."

And with that, Anxiety drifted into sleep.

Logan waited for his breathing to even out before lifting the darker facet from his lap and setting him down on the comforter. As an afterthought, he grabbed a facial wipe from his dresser and wiped the smudged eyeshadow from Anxiety's face. He never understood why he would even need to put any on; the bags under his eyes were dark enough as it is.

As Logan threw the wipe away, he got a chance to really look at Anxiety. Even in his sleep, he still looked so high-strung with his brow scrunched ever so slightly and the corners of his mouth pulled down in a frown. He found himself wondering what it was like to feel so many things at once all the time. Perhaps that was why Anxiety couldn't sleep too often. In a way, Logan knew how that felt. Emotions and thoughts were two sides of the same coin, after all. He was sure Anxiety's mind was just as loud as his.

Logan grabbed his tie from the floor and secured it to his collar and again, he was back to his usual self. Yet, something felt different. He couldn't pinpoint what it was. Perhaps it was Anxiety's words that kept swirling around in his mind, the ones said through hiccups of laboured breaths and muffled by his own shirt as the fatigue finally claimed him. Or maybe it was the odd, thrumming warmth that settled in his chest, both terrifying yet not at all unpleasant.

He looked back at the sleeping facet on his bed and sighed. It looks like he won't be able to sleep tonight.