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Logan leaned back in his highbacked chesterfield-style chair, the leather upholstery squeaking slightly. It made his teeth grind against each other; he was on edge as it was, and didn’t need the added unpleasantness of noisy chairs to add to his woes.
Well… he wouldn’t call them woes, per se, more like… worries. Little sharp worries with teeth and claws digging into his cerebellum.
If he was being honest with himself, he was growing rather worn around the edges. Similar to a carpet’s edges fraying, he, too, felt ragged. But people couldn’t be worn down, at least, not in that way… his head spun with smilies to figure out how he was truly feeling, but none of them were completely accurate. He kneaded his knuckles into his brow, but the incoming headache refused to leave.
Thomas had been working quite a lot… which was excellent! Productivity is the most important aspect of life, in Logan’s view. But lately, it felt that working was all Thomas was doing. For Logan, this naturally left a lot of information to be archived, many lists and plans to be created, and mapping ways from point a to point b. And he was fine.
He was fine.
Reaching for his mug of coffee-- his sweet, sweet productivity juice, as he privately referred to it as-- proved a disappointment. He was all out and would have to venture out of his room to obtain more.
His headache poked insidious fingers behind his eyes, reminding him that caffeine withdrawal would not be pretty, and he’d better go and get that cup right now if he wanted any peace tonight. Acquiescing wasn’t as difficult as it should be; he was on a bit of a bender, and he knew it. Things simply had to be done, done as soon as possible and done effectively as possible. There was no other option.
He dragged himself up out of his chair, dusting off his knees. It was simply going out and into the kitchen. He checked the clock: 2:13 am. There was little to no chance of running into the other sides. Still, he felt oddly uneasy as he made his way down.
Sinking up, Logan resembled a skittish prairie dog. He peered left, then right, then deemed it safe to come all the way up. He was just starting the coffee pot going when he heard a voice behind him.
“Hey, nerd.”
Much to his embarrassment, Logan gasped loudly, wheeling around and clutching at his heart. He coughed to clear his throat and adjusted his necktie. “H-hello, Virgil,” he said with a weak smile. “Why are you up this late, pray tell?”
Virgil looked him up and down, a small frown on his face. “...Couldn't sleep,” he said finally. “But that’s normal. What isn’t normal is how freaking exhausted you look.”
Logan couldn't help but flinch at that. He was working on obscuring his body language from others-- or, at the very least, obfuscating it to the point that he wasn’t a dead giveaway to his emotions. But because he hadn't been around anyone else for any prolonged period of time, he was out of practice. Virgil was quick to notice his wince.
“I mean it, Logan. When’s the last time you’ve been out of your room?” Virgil asked, coming closer to peer at the circles squatting beneath Logan’s eyes.
“U-um, it’s…” he pulled up short. How long had it been?
Virgil’s eyes narrowed. “If you don’t know, then it’s definitely been too long. C’mere.”
And then there were arms around him, curling him in close. He gasped a little, breath hitching and mind analyzing everything about this new data.
Virgil smelled of lavender and apple-scented candles, of Halloween. His hoodie was soft, almost excessively so, proving how well-loved it was. His hands were warm against Logan’s back, radiating through his black dress shirt.
He felt like comfort, and calm, and the expectation of coming home.
Logan buried his face in Virgil’s shoulder while breathing in all this information. Much to his mortification, his breathing became erratic as silent sobs overtook him, shaking his shoulders. Virgil held him closer.
“God, you really are a wreck,” he sighed. Logan offered no argument.
All too soon, Virgil let go, stroking Logan’s hair when he went to lean back in. “Here’s the plan. I know you like plans, yeah? No, shh, don’t cry… listen. I’m gonna go get you a cup of cocoa, because clearly coffee isn’t helping you at all. Then, we’re gonna watch a movie, and you’re gonna stay put with me until you fall asleep.”
Logan opened his mouth. He wanted to protest, to debate, to argue that no, he was fine, he needed t keep working.. but nothing came out. He cursed inwardly at himself; going nonverbal was the last thing he needed.
But Virgil simply nodded as if he’d answered. “It’s okay, Lo. You don’t have to keep on like this. You’re not the only one of us for a reason, we’re supposed to work together or whatever. We can help you, but only if you let us.”
Logan’s eyes filled. Of course, he was correct. He’d overworked himself needlessly.
He felt a hand cup his cheek. “No, that’s not… urgh, I’m terrible at this. It’s not your fault, just know that you’re not alone,” Virgil said softly.
He leaned in, allowing Virgil to support him.
“That cup of hot chocolate sounds pretty good right now,” he signed to Virgil, and Virgil’s lips quirked up into a smile.
“Sure thing. Now c’mon.”