Work Text:
“Hey, L? ...You know I can’t help you with anything if you don’t speak.”
“...Apologies, Virgil.” Logan adjusted his glasses, finally turning to face the side whose room he had entered nearly ten minutes ago now. “I was... lost in thought.”
“That’s okay." Virgil said, his voice quiet and almost concerned.
There was a lapse of silence as Logan’s eyes drifted away again to continue to stare at the Nightmare Before Christmas posters hanging on Virgil’s wall. Virgil was just about to get up and shake some sense into the logical side when the other spoke up, startling Virgil.
“How did you do it?" Logan’s voice was smooth and calm, aloof as it always was. Almost as if he had not just spent the past ten minutes Blair-Witching in Anxiety’s room.
“You’re gonna have to be more specific, L. I do a lot of things.” Virgil twisted his fingers in the hem of Patton’s light blue logo t-shirt, which he had borrowed weeks ago, and hadn’t happened to give back yet. His voice was deceptively light, hiding how much he was trying not to get anxious. His room only really affected the others when he was already in a heightened state of anxiety.
Logan blinked out of his reverie and turned back towards his friend. His eyes flicked downwards towards Virgil’s exposed wrist before returning to Virgil’s own gaze. “Confess. To Patton.”
Instantly, Virgil’s fingers moved to run over the messily made bracelet that Logan had been looking at. Patton had given it to him on their one month anniversary. It was a little lopsided, and the little storm cloud charm was not at all centered, but Virgil had not taken it off once since he had gotten it. He bit his lower lip. “You- You know the story. I know Pat has told it like a hundred times by now. With the bracelets…" Virgil trailed off self consciously.
Logan shook his head, his hands folded in his lap, twitching ever so slightly. “Not that. I mean, yes, of course I know the story, as Patton tells it, but how-" He paused, seemingly having trouble with his words. “How did you know? When you could, that is.”
Virgil tilted his head, utterly baffled by Logan’s questioning. Frankly, it was making him a bit anxious. “I don’t know what you mean? It’s been weeks. Why are you just asking this now?”
Surprisingly, Logan’s cheeks began to tint a blotchy shade of pink. “Consider it curiosity.”
Virgil’s eyebrows rose practically to his hairline. Logan stared just to the right of his head, resolutely ignoring the color on his cheeks. Part of Virgil wanted to tease the teacher, but he knew that he couldn’t do that right now, not when Logan had come to him for advice.
God knows why, though.
“Alright... Well, I don’t know. I just- I knew that I had to do something.”
“How?”
Virgil shrugged. “Honestly? Roman told me.”
Logan’s shoulders stiffened infinitesimally. “Right. And if I were to... need help identifying such a time, and Roman were not available, how would I know?" After a moment, he tagged on, “Hypothetically.”
Virgil’s brow creased in confusion. “Logan, I’m sure Roman would always be available to help you work out your feelings for-” Virgil’s expression cleared as it dawned on him. Across from him, Logan tensed even further, his hands coming up to fiddle with the end of his tie. He was stalwartly refusing to meet Virgil’s gaze now. “Oh, L…” Virgil breathed, sympathetically.
Logan’s back straightened, his expression melting into something almost impenetrable. “There is no need for that tone. If you do not have any advice for me, I will be going now.” The logical side stood, a facade of calmness surrounding him that could have fooled anyone, were it not his best friend standing across from him.
Virgil immediately jumped to his feet. “Wait, no, Logan, it’s okay! I just… I didn’t expect it.”
Logan’s eyes were no longer meeting Virgil’s, instead glancing between the door, the ceiling, anything but the anxious side. “You did not expect what, exactly?”
Virgil shrugged, suddenly feeling guilty. Logan had trusted him and somehow, it felt as if he had betrayed that trust. “Just… You and Roman? It’s not exactly something… expected?”
Logan arched a single eyebrow. “And what would be expected?”
Virgil hunched in on himself, lamely. “I dunno. I guess me and Pat isn’t really expected either, so I can’t judge or anything.”
Logan seemed to relax slightly at those words. “I suppose that you are correct.”
There was a lapse in the conversation after that concession. Virgil and Logan let the silence envelop them, both of them coming down from their defenses in a way that they only really did around each other.
After a minute, Virgil cleared his throat, focusing his gaze on the soft fabric of Patton’s shirt and the comforting presence of the bracelet on his wrist. “I think you should follow your heart.”
Instantly, there was a scoff from the other side in the room.
Virgil looked up. “No, really, Logan. I know it sounds cheesy as hell, or like something that Patton would say, but he would be right. You gotta do what feels right for you and Roman. For... “ Virgil paused. Such an emotional conversation was obviously difficult for him, and Logan’s heart went out to his fellow left-brained side. “For me and Pat, it was the bracelets. It was sort of a natural progression. You need to know your feelings,” Logan grimaced, but Virgil didn’t slow, “and you need to do what feels right when it feels right.”
Logan thought that that advice was wholly unhelpful. However, just as he looked up to tell Virgil so, the other side continued.
“You’ll know, L. I know that you will.”
And for once, Logan closed his mouth, swallowed his retort, and took the advice.
----
Yet another crumpled ball of paper flew across the room, smacking into the pristine white wall before rolling to the ground. Logan sighed in a way that was most definitely not grumpy, no matter what Roman would have said.
Yet another failed idea, and yet another stupid time that Logan had gotten his hopes up.
If only Roman weren’t so horribly, obscenely dense. If only he weren’t so hopelessly gay.
----
The day after Logan left Virgil in his room, taking his advice metaphorically to heart, the logical side had woken up with a plan. He had dressed himself in his best attire--a long sleeved black button up, slacks and Roman’s favorite maroon tie--conjured a bouquet of exactly twelve red roses, sans thorns, and headed straight for Roman’s room.
It had taken nearly five minutes for the prince to answer is door, which was enough in and of itself to set Logan on edge, despite his repeated use of the 4-7-8 breathing technique, and his own silent affirmations that this would go impeccably.
When he did answer Logan’s knocks, Roman pulled open the door with a rather loud yawn, only his hand covering his mouth saving Logan from a horrible case of morning breath. Roman’s hair was sticking up every which way, his silk pajamas wrinkled and crumpled in a way that made Logan’s cheeks warm at the sight.
All at once, Logan remembered why he did not usually visit any of the other sides right after waking up. A single glance at his watch confirmed his fears.
6:12 A.M.
“Specs?” Roman’s usually grand tone was groggy, his eyelids drooping. “Is something the matter?”
Logan fidgeted uncomfortably. It was clear that Roman had either not noticed or not registered the flowers in his hands, so the teacher let the hand holding them drop to his side, out of the royal side’s view. It was becoming very clear to him that this was not as opportune a time as he had previously thought.
“Ah, yes.” Logan managed, clearing his throat and tugging at the suddenly uncomfortable tie. “I merely came to inquire what you would like to have for breakfast.”
Roman’s brow furrowed. Logan wanted nothing more than to reach forward and smooth the soft wrinkle with the pad of his thumb. He squashed that thought without mercy. “I guess… poppyseed muffins?”
Logan nodded, though his mind was racing miles beyond this conversation. “Of course. Thank you, Roman.”
Roman nodded sleepily. Logan was just about to turn and book it for his room--or rather, the kitchen, now, it seemed, as he suddenly had muffins to make, when the prince reached out and reverently ran his fingers over the silk of Logan’s necktie. “Red looks good on you.”
Logan was positive that he forgot how to breathe.
He did that far too often around Roman, really.
He nodded again, numbly, before turning on his heel and heading for the kitchen. He didn’t even bother trying to hide the roses, hearing Roman’s door close behind him as soon as he turned.
----
Logan paced the length of his room, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, tiny half moon crescents appearing on his palm from where his fingernails had dug into his skin.
Really, this was all Roman’s fault. If he could just pay attention for once in his silly, overdramatic lifetime…
----
The second time that Logan attempted his confession was only a couple of hours after the first.
He had deposited the forgotten roses in a vase as soon as he had reached the kitchen, setting them gently at the center of the dining table before setting about to make lemon poppyseed muffins.
As he went through the familiar ritual of making breakfast, Logan had another idea. Yes, confessing to his… crush… at such an early time was not ideal, but possibly, telling him during breakfast would be a better idea. Not verbally of course, as Logan did not believe in the slightest that he could manage such a feelings based discussion with Virgil and Patton watching, but a note would not at all be a bad idea.
Suddenly reinvigorated, Logan pushed the tin of muffins into the oven, set a timer, and practically ran upstairs in search of his stationary. He found it quickly (as it was, obviously, always in the same place, he was not a heathen) and brought a single card downstairs and set about writing a letter.
As Logan was writing, he noticed Patton come down the stairs and into the kitchen, taking up the duty of making coffee. Were he less focused, Logan would have thanked the fatherly side, but as it was, he was attempting to come up with a perfect rhyme for his poem.
Logan barely finished before the timer that he set for the muffins rang loudly, jolting him into action. Carefully, he folded the card in half. He was about to write Roman’s name on the front when he heard the tell-tale sounds of the prince’s boots on the floorboards above him.
Abandoning that final touch, Logan rushed towards the table, where Patton had graciously already set their plates, and carefully balanced the card atop Roman’s empty plate. The sounds of Roman’s steps grew closer, at the top of the stairs, if he was correct, and suddenly, Logan felt extremely unprepared for this confrontation. He turned and made his way back towards the kitchen, telling himself that he just needed to make his cup of coffee.
He just so happened to also need to make his cup of coffee in the one spot in the kitchen that had a perfect view of the dining table, and Roman’s place at it.
Roman came down the stairs looking much more put together than previously. Not a single hair was out of place, his sash and shirt ironed perfectly. Logan felt his heart lurch in his chest in a way that was not at all anatomically possible.
He watched with wide eyes, stirring the creamer into his coffee without even looking at it, as Roman stepped up to the table, those beautiful brown eyes widening at the sight of the card at his place. Roman stared at the paper for a moment, not even opening it, before he looked up and into the kitchen, nearly giving Logan a heart attack.
But Roman’s eyes did not linger on Logan. Not even for a second. Instead, they moved past him, locking onto something behind the teacher. Logan turned, only to see Patton standing just behind him, whistling to himself as he mixed sugar into Virgil’s coffee mug.
As Logan turned back to the table, he was shocked to see Roman moving one spot to the left and sitting in Virgil’s usual spot.
No, no, no, no, no.
Logan bit his lower lip, unsure of what to do. This was not the plan. Roman was supposed to read the note before breakfast. Why would Roman, the romantic side, ignore such an obvious love letter? Logan could taste blood, likely from how harshly he was biting his lip.
He couldn’t just say something. That went against the entire purpose of writing the letter.
After a few moments, Logan gathered his coffee into his hands and slowly made his way to the table, sitting numbly in his spot. Roman smiled brightly from the spot across from him, not a care in the world.
“Morning, my astute friend! Did you sleep well?”
As if nothing were out of the ordinary. The nerve. Logan’s grip on his mug tightened. He nodded silently.
Roman seemed to notice nothing out of the ordinary with the exchange and turned to the muffins resting in front of him. Just in front of those damned roses. Logan’s eye twitched.
Thankfully, another set of footsteps started down the stairs, and Logan used the distraction to his advantage. It would not be ideal to throw hot coffee at one’s love interest.
As Virgil made his way downstairs, Patton swooped in from the kitchen, two mugs in hand and a bright smile on his face. “Good morning, ravenpuff!”
Virgil blushed at the nickname, a small smile taking over his face. “Mornin’, Pat.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Patton’s cheek, taking the mug from his hand.
Logan wanted to scream.
Virgil turned towards the table and did a double take at the sight of the royal side in his spot. He hesitated before making his way to sit in Roman’s spot and Logan’s eyes widened as he realized what was about to happen.
“Virgil-”
Logan cut himself off, only able to watch in horror as Virgil pulled back Roman’s chair and sat in his spot. He smiled gently in Patton’s direction again before picking up the letter. Logan could feel his cheeks heating, the rush of blood roaring in his ears as he watched the disaster unfold before him.
Virgil scanned the letter, two pairs of eyes on him, while Patton focused on doling out the muffins, completely unaware of what was going on. Virgil’s brows furrowed as he read the letter, his confusion growing at the signature at the bottom. He glanced up at Logan, eyes questioning.
Quickly, Logan shook his head, being careful not to make the movement too noticeable, in fear that Roman would figure it out.
Taking the hint, Virgil offered a weak smile towards his friend and closed the letter, slipping it back to Logan under the table. “Thanks, Pat. Love you.”
Patton looked up, mildly surprised but grinning widely. “Love you too, honeybun!” Logan nearly sighed in relief. Patton probably assumed that Virgil meant for the coffee. Thankfully.
The rest of breakfast passed without incidence. Logan sat through the entire meal, clutching his useless letter under the table, and trying to ignore the squirming sensation growing in his stomach. Roman spoke animatedly, his eyes bright as he told the others about his and Thomas’s dreams from the night before. Patton would interject from time to time with a funny quip or pun, or support for Roman’s story. Virgil managed to smile about halfway through the story, but still sent worried looks in Logan’s direction once in a while.
After breakfast, Patton stood up, and as if finally freed from something gluing him to his chair, Virgil shot up and offered to help with the dishes. As he walked away, Virgil sent Logan a shaky thumbs up from behind Roman’s back. Logan pretended not to notice.
As soon as the two were out of the room, Roman turned to Logan, his brows raised. “Did you see that?”
Logan cleared his throat. His grip on the letter was so tight that he could feel it giving him paper cuts. “See what, Roman?”
Roman smiled, seemingly unaware of the tightness in Logan’s voice. “Patton leaving that cute letter for Virgil! And those roses! Gosh, it’s all so romantic, don’t you think?”
Logan bit the inside of his cheek. “Yep.” He responded, popping the ‘p’ at the end of the word before pushing himself to his feet, hiding the letter behind his back. “I have work to do. I will most likely see you later.” And with that, Logan walked very calmly up to his room to scream into his pillow.
----
Distantly, Logan wondered if he should just… give up.
He paused his pacing, standing stock still in the center of his room, the blank white walls screaming at him in deafening silence.
A small, anxious part of him wondered if this was some sort of sign. If Roman being so inexplicably thick was actually the creative side trying to communicate something with him. To tell him that he just… wasn’t interested.
Logan shook his head quickly, dispelling the thoughts. No. There was no way that this… feeling... was completely one-sided. Not with the passionate light that sparked in Roman’s eyes when they discussed Thomas’s future. Not with the way that Roman laughed, loud and deep and completely unhindered, at Logan’s subpar attempts at jokes. Not with the way Roman smiled, soft and heart-achingly sweet, as if Logan couldn’t decipher the emotions in his eyes as he watched him explain the accurate stories of Hercules. Not with the way that Logan’s heart fluttered helplessly when Roman came back from the Imagination, his hair plastered to his brow and chest heaving, but still somehow managing to find energy to poke fun at Logan for being worried.
No. Logan could not give up. No matter how frustrating this got.
----
The next time that Logan tried to confess was a few days after the first two disappointing attempts.
This time, Logan had decided to take a closer look at how Virgil had managed to confess to Patton and successfully win a romantic partner. To follow the anxious side’s confession route a bit more literally.
As Logan stared down at the golden bracelet resting in the palm of his hand, he felt as if this would be the one.
Roman didn’t strike Logan as one to wear homemade jewelry like Patton. Besides, Logan was not sure how exactly Virgil went about making those things, and after the previous breakfast debacle, he was not about to face Virgil again anytime soon. Logan didn’t think that the homemade quality of the bracelet was really what caused Virgil to be successful in his method of confessing, anyway.
So, instead of spending the time making a bracelet that Logan wasn’t even sure that Roman would like, Logan set about summoning and fashioning a silver charm bracelet that fit the creative side’s style much better.
Each little charm hanging from the bracelet resembled something that Logan felt symbolized his and Roman’s relationship. A pen and book for their long nights spent writing and editing scripts for Thomas. A jar of jam for their shared love of Crofter’s. A lion and eagle rested on either end, symbolizing their respective Hogwarts Houses, that they had spent hours defending to one another. A microphone for the times when Roman would sing softly while he worked, or boisterously urge Logan to make up a rap on the spot for any number of circumstances. A frog for their shared favorite Disney movie, The Princess and the Frog.
All in all, Logan felt as though it were a pretty perfect way to confess to the prince.
This time, Logan decided not to approach Roman in the morning. The creative side wasn’t much of a morning person, and Logan was honestly stumped at how he had overlooked that detail when planning his first confession.
Instead, Logan waited until after dinner to walk down the hallway, the charm bracelet hidden securely in the pocket of his jeans.
Logan knocked for the second time in that week on Roman’s door, this time feeling somehow both much more and much less prepared for what was about to happen.
That is, he felt that way until Roman answered the door, his usual princely uniform crumpled and covered in dirt, a deep, oozing cut on his left cheekbone, and, most alarmingly of all, his eyes puffy and red rimmed.
Logan’s heart rate skyrocketed at the sight, his feet already pushing him through the door and into the room before he was even speaking. “Roman? What on earth happened to you?”
Roman tried to chuckle, but ended up bent over in a harsh coughing fit, tears appearing in the corners of his eyes. “I’m… fine…” He lied, weakly.
Logan forgot all about the charm bracelet in his pocket and his planned confession as he helped Roman backwards and onto his bed. In no time, he had conjured a first aid kit and was cleaning the cut on Roman’s cheek with one hand and prodding gently at the prince’s ribs with the other.
Were it any other time, Logan would have been a complete mess over the fact that Roman was letting him get this close, and that he was essentially feeling up the creative side’s abs, but Logan found that all gay thoughts flew out of the window when Roman was in any sort of pain.
“What happened, Roman?” Logan repeated, his voice now much softer as he determined that the other did not have any broken ribs.
Roman winced ever so slightly. Whether at Logan’s questioning or the pad of rubbing alcohol that he was pressing to his cheek, Logan didn’t know. “Got into a bit of a fight in the Imagination. You should see the other guy.”
Logan’s heart fluttered in his chest at the charming smile that accompanied those words. Damn Roman and his ability to always be attractive, he was trying to focus.
Averting his eyes to the cut that he was addressing, Logan didn’t comment for a little while. As he pulled the cotton pad back, Logan wavered a moment before deciding that Roman really didn’t need a bandage. As he sat the pad down on the table beside Roman’s rather large bed, Logan worried his lower lip between his teeth.
“You should be more careful.” His voice was quiet. Quieter than Logan had ever heard himself speak, really.
Roman’s gaze softened. Logan couldn’t really decipher what that look meant, but there was a note of fondness there that he was not at all adverse to. Roman’s voice was equally as soft when he spoke. “Hey, teach, look at me?”
Logan hesitated, just long enough for Roman to reach out and tilt his chin in his direction with two gentle fingers. Logan’s breath stuttered.
“I’m fine, specs.” Roman’s eyes were open, caring, and it did things to Logan that he didn’t even want to think about. So many feelings flew around the logical side’s mind, making him dizzy. “I promise.”
Logan’s mouth was dry, as though it were filled with the same sort of cotton pads that he had just used on Roman. “Are you sure?” His voice cracked pitifully, but Roman either did not notice or did not care.
“I’m positive.” A tiny smile pulled on the corners of Roman’s lips. “It’s good to see that you care so much, calculator watch.”
Normally, Logan would have rolled his eyes, but he found himself unable to look away from Roman. Suddenly, he remembered all too clearly the reason for his visit.
This would be a perfect time, would it not?
Roman was obviously feeling amicable towards him. They were having what Patton would describe as a moment. Logan’s hand slid slowly towards the pocket that contained the charm bracelet. It felt like the time. Virgil had said that he would know, and he was relatively sure that this was what knowing felt like.
Just as he had slipped his hand into his pocket and closed his fingers around the bracelet, Roman spoke up again, this time his voice a bit louder and more secure.
“You’re a good friend, Logan.”
Friend.
One word that he usually cherished dearly now made a lump form in his throat, as though he were now attempting to swallow the aforementioned cotton. Something ached behind his eyes, his stomach now squirming in a much more bitter way. His hand went limp in his pocket as he forced a weak smile.
Silver wasn’t really Roman’s color, anyway.
----
Logan sighed, dropping into the chair at his desk and burying his face in his hands.
Three failed attempts, and Roman still didn’t notice.
It had been only a few days since the charm bracelet attempt, but it was frankly disheartening that Roman hadn’t even acted the slightest bit different since that day. He still smiled and joked with a less responsive Logan like nothing was wrong. He still called Logan those infuriatingly creative nicknames that only he could get away with. He still walked down the hallway shirtless at the end of the day, like he didn’t know how speechless it made Logan. He still commented on every little interaction that Patton and Virgil had like it was the most romantic thing in the entire world.
It was frankly infuriating.
It was amazingly, wonderfully Roman.
Part of Logan pushed him to try again. So what if the first three tries had turned out to be less than optimal? No scientist worth a grain of salt would give up after three trials.
Another part of Logan was desperately aware of the fact that this wasn’t a science experiment. This was the very real, dangerously passionate, excitingly wondrous, heart crushingly brilliant, very nearly perfect Roman Sanders. And Logan wouldn't jeopardize what they had. He couldn’t. Obviously he was not as good at telling the right time as Virgil seemed to believe he was. So, all in all, maybe it really was best to just… slow down and let it play out.
Not give up. No, he had thought about that, but no.
Taking a break, though… It seemed like the most logical course of action.
Logan sighed again, opening his eyes and running his fingers over the list of possible confession ideas written before him. He was just about to crumple up the piece of paper and throw it out when there was an urgent knock at his door.
Startled, Logan pushed himself back from his desk and to his feet. No one ever usually came to his room. It wasn’t that he didn’t allow the others into his room, it was just that no one was much interested in his room, unless it were an emergency. When Logan wanted to meet with one of the other sides, it would be in their room, or in the common area.
Confused, Logan padded across his room in his sock feet. As soon as Logan turned the door knob, the door was forced open, and Roman was pushing his way into Logan’s room, his face red in a way that surprised Logan more than anything else.
“Roman-”
“Why can’t I write anything?” Roman moaned, collapsing back onto Logan’s bed dramatically.
“Of course, Roman, please do come in.” Logan rolled his eyes, quickly recovering from his surprise.
Roman huffed, his cheek squished into Logan’s comforter. “Have some sympathy, Velma Dorkley, I’m doing my best.”
Logan strolled across the room and sat calmly on the bed a few inches from the top of Roman’s head. “I am sure. What exactly is wrong this time?”
Roman pouted, looking up at Logan through his lashes. “I’m trying to write a script for a new video.”
Logan froze, the words causing a roaring in his ears, his eyes no longer focusing on the prince in front of him. The new video. The one that he was supposed to have already made a schedule for. How could he have forgotten? Logan made an aborted movement to get up, but stopped himself. Roman couldn’t know that he had forgotten. Then he would figure out that something was going on. Logan never forgot something as important to him as Thomas’s schedule. Thomas was going to start procrastinating, and then not get his video out. And then Roman would definitely figure out about his stupid little crush and then-
“Uh… Logan? Are you alright?” Roman’s voice broke through the haze, his brows furrowed in concern.
Logan cleared his throat, smoothing his suddenly sweaty palms over his jeans. “I… yes. I am quite alright, Roman. You were saying?”
“I was asking if you could help me brainstorm?”
Before Logan could even think about what he was getting into, he was nodding. He most likely was not in the right mind for a brainstorming session at the moment, but he couldn’t just decline. Roman would surely catch on to something so out of character.
Plus, he could handle it. Especially when Roman returned his agreement with that charmingly bright smile of his.
Grabbing Logan’s hand, Roman sunk the both of them out of Logan’s room and into his own. This wasn’t unusual, as the two regularly held their brainstorming sessions in Roman’s room, but Logan’s stomach turned as soon as he appeared in Roman’s too-bright, emotionally charged room.
The next hour or so passed in a blur for Logan. Roman would propose ideas that would stick in the logical side’s head for less than a minute. His mind was far too focused on his royal screw up, and the charm bracelet still sitting on the desk in his room, and the way that Roman’s voice lilted like poetry, and the way that his eyes flashed with growing frustration as Logan turned down idea after idea, barely taking them in. Logan could tell, distantly, that tensions were rising. He should do something. Tell Roman that he wasn’t in the best of spirits at the moment or something. Instead, Logan stubbornly continued on, his own irritation at himself for letting his responsibilities fall to the side festering underneath his skin.
“Are you even listening to me?” Roman’s voice was hot. Quick tempered. Too snipey for Logan to handle at the moment.
If only Roman could just have gotten it the first time, none of this would have happened.
“Of course I am listening, Roman. It is hard not to when you yell every word that comes out of your mouth.” Logan crossed his arms, his back still as straight as ever, despite the fact that he had been standing in place for over an hour now.
Roman’s cheeks heated to a lovely--no, that’s a distraction, Logan stay focused, do this right--shade of red. “Excuse me, but what exactly is your problem today, Nutty Professor?”
Logan’s nails dug into his upper arms. He refused to flinch. “My problem is that you, Creativity, cannot seem to come up with an adequate idea by yourself.”
No, he didn’t mean that. He didn’t mean that at all, Roman was insanely talented, he just wanted to please Thomas-
Logan shoved those thoughts aside as Roman leapt to his feet, slamming his quil back down onto his desk.
“Maybe we would have an idea already if you didn’t shoot down every single one that I offered! But no! You just have to have everything be Logan’s way, huh?”
Logan could feel his shoulders rising up to his ears. His toes curling in his shoes. His face growing red. His heart beating faster. His nails still digging into his arm, drawing blood-
“That is not my intention. I am simply trying to do what is best for Thomas. You can’t keep latching onto unattainable ideas that you know you will never finish. You will just end up disappointing Virgil, Patton, yourself, and Thomas.”
Roman took a step forward, but thankfully stopped there. Logan knew that he would not have been able to think were the prince any closer. “Who are you to say what’s unattainable?”
“I am someone with common sense, looking at things objectively.”
“Oh, objectively.”
Logan’s skin crawled at the way Roman drew out the word.
“Yes. Objectively.”
“You’re just so objective, aren’t you, Logan? You have absolutely no emotional stake in this at all, huh?” Roman’s hands were clenched at his sides. Logan wanted to leave.
“I do not-”
“You don’t have emotions? Is that what you were going to say? Because it seems to me like you do! You just don’t know how to deal with them, so you’re taking it out on me. You don’t want to be hurt, you don’t want to be helped, you just want to sit on your high horse and direct everyone else, and not let them touch you. Why don’t you offer an idea for once, if you want something so perfect.”
Logan faltered. “I.. That is not my job, Roman, that is yours.”
Something ugly flashed in Roman’s eyes, and Logan knew that whatever was about to happen next was his fault. “Of course it isn’t. What exactly have you been doing for the past week then, Logan? What have you been doing, stuffed up in your room, that has left you so uptight?” Roman was moving forward again with every word, finally stopping right before Logan. Logan couldn’t breathe. “Well? What is it? Why are you so goddamn pushy with me today?”
“I’ve been trying to tell you I love you!” Logan blurted out, unable to stop himself, unable to even think-
Without missing a beat, Roman was yelling right back. “Well how was I supposed to know that?! You have the romantic prowess of a robot!”
Logan felt as though the breath had been punched out of him. The backs of his eyes burned, but his fingers finally released their death-grip on his arm. Before another word could be said, Logan sunk out.
----
Logan didn’t leave his room for days after that.
He did what needed to be done for Thomas from the comfort of his bed. Anything else, he ignored.
He ignored the ache in his chest that didn’t lessen even a little bit over the hours. He allowed himself to cry, the tears burning their way down his cheeks, his chest heaving and his whole body shaking, until his eyes were too tired to do even that anymore.
Roman didn’t come knocking. Logan knew because he had left his room unlocked to the other sides in vain hope that he would.
Virgil appeared once or twice. He brought Crofter’s and questions in his eyes, but he never voiced anything more than light concern and overwhelming support.
Logan couldn’t even bring himself to thank Virgil.
Because all that he could think about was the side that he would really rather have there comforting him. The side who would bring wild, outlandish stories with wide gestures and expressions to match. The side who would not only bring him jam, but somehow goad him into a debate over which flavor was the best. The side who would ooh and ahh over his collection of Shakespeare’s works, as though he hadn’t seen it a million times before. The side with a brilliant smile that probably hated him now, and just as well should.
On the third day, Logan considered getting up and pretending that it never happened. Avoiding Roman when he could, and otherwise treating the situation as though it did not exist.
Then his eyes caught on that stupid silver bracelet resting on his desk.
It wasn’t like he was that good of an actor anyway.
On the fourth day, a knock did sound on Logan’s door. Assuming that it was Virgil coming to offer comfort once again, Logan didn’t bother snapping himself into something more presentable than the old t-shirt that he had been sporting for the past half of a week.
Apparently, the person on the other side of the door understood that Logan was not going to verbally answer, because in less than fifteen seconds, Roman had risen up in Logan’s room.
Instantly, Logan shot up, his heart beating wildly. “Roman?”
Roman shuffled awkwardly at the foot of Logan’s bed. Since he had risen in rather than entering through the door, he had no need to walk into the room, and seemed to not know what to do with his feet or hands, which were knotted together before him.
“Hi, Logan.” Roman’s voice lacked its usual grandeur, and instead was soft and almost broken. Some part of Logan wanted to reach out and ask Roman if he were okay.
The other part remembered what had happened just a few days ago and urged him to keep his distance.
“What are you doing here?” Logan tried to keep his voice level, despite his growing awareness that he probably looked like a pathetic mess compared to the prince.
Though, the closer that Logan looked, the more flaws he saw in Roman’s appearance. The prince’s eyes were puffy and red around the edges, as they had been that day when Logan had visited him to give the bracelet. His hair was much more disheveled than usual, with chocolate locks curling up every which way, as though he had been sleeping on it or running his hands through it incessantly. His uniform was wrinkled, like he hadn’t changed it recently.
Logan wondered what all of that could mean for him.
“I… needed to talk to you.”
Nerves squirmed in Logan’s stomach. He really hated this. All of these emotions that came from being in the same room as Roman had only seemed to worsen during their brief time apart. “No you don’t.” Logan managed, his voice coming out a bit snappy.
Roman blinked, but his determination didn’t sway for even a second. “Yes, Logan, I do. I… I need to apologize-”
“No.” Logan said, more forcefully this time. “There is no need.” He didn’t know why he was saying this. Shouldn’t he want an apology from Roman? It meant that the creative side cared about him. Even if it wasn’t in the way that he so desperately craved.
“Logan-” Roman started again, his voice desperate.
“No, Roman. It’s f- There is no need, truly. Just- Just leave.” Somehow, Logan’s arms had moved of their own accord, hugging his waist, like they were the only things holding him upright. He squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to see Roman leave him again.
A weight shifted on the end of Logan’s bed, dipping him to the side slightly. Logan cracked one eye open to see Roman sitting at the foot of his bed, staring down at his own hands.
After a moment of excruciating silence, Roman spoke. “You aren’t getting rid of me, Lo. I am sorry. Seriously. What I said was uncalled for… I wasn’t thinking and… I would have come sooner, but I thought that you had needed some space, and I didn’t realize what a stupid idea that was until Virgil was knocking down my door and tearing me a new one for what I said to you.”
Logan grimaced in embarrassment. He would really have to talk to Virgil about boundaries. He opened his mouth to respond but Roman held up a hand.
“Let me finish, Lo.” Logan’s mouth snapped shut and Roman took a deep breath. “So I’m here to say that I am sorry. Very sorry. And I hope that you will find a way to forgive me. Because if you don’t this is going to be miserable for the both of us.”
Logan tilted his head. “What is?”
“Everything.” Roman looked up, meeting Logan’s eyes. “Because I am not letting you push me away, Logan. Not after all of this. Not ever again. I love you means that you are never ever ever getting rid of me.”
Maybe it was the musical reference. Or possibly the overwhelming joy that Logan felt bubbling up inside of him at the knowledge that Roman didn’t hate him for his sloppy confession. Whatever it was, Logan found himself bursting out into giggles. High pitched, never before seen in public giggles that soon enough had Roman laughing along too, his perfect chiming chuckle melding with Logan’s sad, inexperienced laugh perfectly.
The two laughed for a few moments, all of the previous tension leaking from them in seconds. Roman scooted closer, slipping his hand over Logan’s and squeezing lightly. The motion caused Logan’s laugh to taper off a bit.
“Are you… What exactly does that mean, Roman?” Logan tried to keep his voice light, even though he was serious about the question.
“It means what I said. You aren’t getting rid of me now, specs.” The return of the nickname was accompanied by something loosening in Logan’s chest. Roman’s deep sparkling eyes met his own, and there was a note of unmistakable earnesty there. “Never. You can try, but…” Roman took a deep breath. Logan held his. “I love you too.”
And before he could think, Logan was leaning forward and finally covering that charming smile with his own.
Roman’s lips tasted like watermelon and it was beyond anything that Logan had ever dared to ponder before. As the prince’s second hand came up to tangle in the hairs at the base of his neck, Logan melted into the kiss, forgetting all about their fight, or his failed confessions, how Patton and Virgil were very likely listening in from right outside of the door, or the fact that he was in a four day old t-shirt.
All he could think of was Roman, and how this finally felt right.