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Logan, generally, enjoyed information. He loved statistics, he loved straight facts, he loved anything that could give him clear and straightforward knowledge. That sort of logical information was the one he thrived on; he observed, he analyzed, he drew from what he already knew, he made conclusions.
It helped, of course, that unlike Thomas, he didn’t forget the information he had learned. He could recite the things Thomas had learned in fifth grade history word to word, and he kept count of every single special occasion that Thomas had ever had. He was just made that way, being the logical side, and he quite enjoyed it. He felt emotions, of course. Thomas as a whole was such an emotional person that some emotions couldn’t be helped, and truth to be told, Logan didn’t really dislike them as much as he led the others to believe. Emotions were important, after all, and the base of human behavior and all of Logan’s knowledge would be useless if there were no emotions. Emotions were what led to the use of the knowledge, emotions allowed him to learn more and choose the information he absorbed based on what it meant to Thomas, emotionally. Really, emotions were most likely the reason some human had collected that information in the first place. The need to know more was, after all, a feeling.
However, unlike Patton, Roman or even Virgil, Logan wasn’t an emotion-based side. He didn’t always have great control of his feelings, nor did he know what to do with them. He could handle information a lot better than emotions, but everything had its limits. Logan had learned to appreciate the emotions within him, because when they were lost, he became cold and he became calculating. He gained perfect control of his body and information stored inside and lost all control of his emotional thoughts. It was not fun, and Logan would have preferred it to never happen.
It still did, from time to time. This was one of those times. Information was coming in, swirling around his head, and he could not sort meaningful from unimportant. His mind got stuck on the details while simultaneously going on with full speed, and Logan could not keep up. From the slouch of Virgil’s shoulders his brain calculated that there was statistically a 73,2% possibility of Patton forcing at least one smile today, from the color of Roman’s socks he could tell that the possibility of rain was at least 16%, depending on whether or not he put his fork on the left side of his plate. Logan’s brain was moving fast, too fast, and he was still processing all the information, and this was really starting to give him a headache.
It also brought forward a whole lot of new things. Like ‘there’s a 48,5% possibility that you are the least useful side’ and ‘looking at statistics, it’s very possible that one day Roman will stab you’ and ‘if asked, there is a 70% probability that the other sides would tell you to duck out’ and ‘you are hurting Thomas’. That was certainly not enjoyable, and his brain was already analyzing and categorizing these thoughts: They had happened frequently over the last two years, November, December and March seemed to be the months that they were the most powerful in, the most common thought was some sort of variation of ‘I am useless’.
Logan never doubted this information. For one thing, he was not made to doubt his own logic. His logic just had to be true, because his brain was working with the speed and efficiency of a computer right now and if he couldn’t trust himself, who could he trust?
(Logan didn’t yet know that some of his information was based on conclusions made with emotions, and emotions were one of the most unreliable sources of information.)
Logan’s headache was worsening, and Patton was looking at him in worry, now. They were sitting at the breakfast table, and Logan had been mechanically shoveling pancakes into his mouth as fast as he could with a minimal risk of choking. He hadn’t bothered with any toppings; they didn’t really offer any nutrition and he couldn’t quite taste the food. But now Patton was worried and that was never a positive thing, because Patton affected Thomas and a worried Thomas pushed Virgil into overdrive, which in turn made them all more nervous and most likely worsened the cycle. Usually Logan was the one to calm down both Thomas and Virgil, but now that would be unlikely as Logan couldn’t really concentrate on calming anyone down.
There was a fleeting thought of ‘Patton is worried and it’s at least 92% your fault’. It seemed like Logan’s earlier calculation had been correct (of course it had); that was a forced smile from Patton already. Virgil noticed, of course he did, as there was statistically quite a small chance for anything to go past him, although he did seem to be less observant in the mornings.
“Everything okay, Logan?” he asked (three words, a bit less than his average of words in one sentence, and Logan’s name, because Virgil said their names in conversation more than any other side) and Logan found himself nodding before those thoughts had finished running through his mind.
“Fine. Perfectly,” he answered (two words, a lot less than his average, because he was known for long speeches, although he usually had a bit shorter dialogue in situations where additional information was not needed) and stood up. He was done with his breakfast, he had a headache, he had to get out of the kitchen and start working on the numerous things he knew he still had to do before Christmas.
“Thank you for the breakfast, Patton, it was quite delicious,” he said while rushing by (even when the breakfast had been very similar to the three previous breakfasts and didn’t contain enough nutrition to last comfortably through more than three and half hours, and Logan was planning on working for a lot longer than that). Before Patton could answer he was already out of the kitchen and hurrying down the hall to his room.
It was not a long walk, but during it his brain had, if possible, worked even harder to map out all the possible situation that could come next and all the possible outcomes to those situations. Yet, when he opened his door and stepped into his room, the sight that greeted him was something he hadn’t predicted.
“Well, well, well, look who it is,” Deceit purred, lounging on his bed (Logan had neatly made that bed in the morning, as he did every day, and even if the covers seemed to be exactly as they were before, Logan couldn’t shake the thought that Deceit had still somehow messed them up), “someone was lying.”
“Seeing as this is my room, you cannot truly be surprised that I am here,” Logan answered and closed the door. Why was Deceit in his room? He had shown up only seven times, and all of those had been either with Thomas (three times) or in the presence of all the sides that commonly occupied the living room (four times). Deceit did seem to have some reason of coming to Logan, but Logan couldn’t figure out what that might be. Or, more accurately, he could think of many reasons but none of them seemed plausible.
Deceit had said “someone was lying”. Logan hadn’t been aware of any power of Deceit’s that would leave him aware of lies spoken by others, even if that kind of ability was certainly something Deceit could believably have (and that was definitely something that needed more analyzing and preparing for future situations). However, even if Deceit did have that ability, Logan had not lied. He had said exactly two things this morning, “Fine. Perfectly” to a question of whether or not he was okay and “Thank you for the breakfast, Patton, it was quite delicious” when he had been leaving. He was fine, seeing as he could not really fall ill, and even with his headache his mind was running razor sharp. The breakfast had truly been delicious, as was everything that Patton cooked. Therefore, the question of whether or not Deceit had the ability to sense lies was useless in this situation.
“I have not lied,” Logan answered, still standing in front of the door he had closed moments ago. He took a few steps past Deceit and to his desk where he kept some aspirin. The headache was getting annoying and could affect his working. “Why are you here? If you came by just to chat, you can take your leave now. I have more important matters to tend to.”
That was true as well. Thomas was going through a lot in the months surrounding Christmas, and Logan had to keep track of everything, from the costs of the gifts to the important things happening right now before the holidays, when everyone was hastily trying to pull the end of the year together. He still hadn’t done any decisions about the Christmas cards, and that was a matter that needed hasty tending-to.
Deceit tilted his head and straightened up a bit from where he was sitting, if you could call it sitting. The way he did it brought forward a lot of images of different kind of snakes and the way they moved, Logan’s brain analyzing all the past behaviors and crosschecking them against this new information and all the snake-related knowledge that he had. It seemed like Deceit’s reptilian traits were not limited to the scales on the side of his face and the slit pupil of his left eye.
Logan waved away the fleeting thought of ‘Deceit’s animalistic traits are at least 43% responsible of the hostile behavior of the other sides and without them he could, with time, be accepted and listened to a lot more than you are now’. Those kinds of thoughts were becoming more common (at least one a month after the time Deceit was revealed to Thomas and started to interact with them more). Logan pushed that thought to the back of his mind and resumed to the search of his aspirin, although still keeping an eye on Deceit.
Did the lights seem brighter? The room, as any side’s room, could respond to Logan’s emotions, but seeing as his feelings seemed to be very faint and unavailable at the moment, that seemed rather unlikely. The room could, possibly, be reacting to brain activity, in which case the lights brightening was an understandable reaction. It meant that Logan was using his brain more than usually, which would most likely help with working.
Deceit sighed dramatically, looking very satisfied in himself. Logan could think of at least 32 different, at least somewhat plausible explanations of why he could be satisfied. There wasn’t any that stood out against the others. He needed more information to prove any of the hypothesis’ correct or, likewise, rule them out.
The lights blinked, and so did Logan. His analytical thought process was becoming clearer and clearer, all the while his personal thoughts and feelings were becoming murkier and harder to reach. That was preferable, as he could concentrate on the situation and all the work he had to do a lot better when there were no feelings distracting him. Computers were, after all, much more efficient at dealing with data than humans or sides, and Logan could feel his emotional mind shutting down bit by bit, leaving only the constantly whirring thoughts.
“Lie again? My, my,” Deceit exclaimed (what had Logan said last? “I have not lied”? “I have more important matters to tend to”?), rising up from the bed and sauntering towards Logan. Logan, who just now acknowledged that he had found the aspirin, put it on his table and turned around so that he was facing Deceit. “Fear not, I- are you okay?”
The quick change of tone was surprising. Deceit wasn’t known for such spontaneous changes, and the question was even more unlike him. Deceit had never expressed concern for any of the sides before. His speeches were always thought out beforehand, because manipulation worked best when the speaker seemed sure and confident. Logan blinked, and again, so did the lights.
“Of course,” he answered mechanically, running a quick check of his physical form. He had no noticeable illness nor pain, if his headache was excluded; his body temperature was normal, and his thoughts were clear. Everything was exactly as it was supposed to be.
Deceit looked somewhat unsure, which was also a surprise. Deceit had never looked unsure before, because looking unsure was a vital flaw for anyone who wanted to convince others to listen to him and to trust him. Confidence was a lifeline for a liar.
“Your eyes were grey for a moment,” he muttered, gesturing to Logan’s face with a gloved hand. Logan frowned. He had not felt anything, and grey eyes were not something he had ever seen with any other side. If Deceit’s comment was true (which was debatable, since Deceit was well known for his unwillingness and even inability to be truthful), that kind of symptom had to be taken into closer study.
Deceit noticeably shook himself out of whatever nervousness he had fallen into. That was another abnormality. Deceit was never this noticeable or clear, because his whole charisma and manipulative persona was based on the mystery. Deceit was not acting like himself at all right now, and that could be a sign of some big problem. There was also the possibility that he was acting, going along to a bigger plot, but his expressions seemed genuine and the signs of lying were missing. Then again, Logan reminded himself, it had to be taken into account that Deceit was, well, deceitful. He was the master of lies, and therefore could easily be fooling Logan. He needed to think about this more, to analyze the reactions and body language of the snake-faced side in front of him better.
He was, however, interrupted from that train of thought as a gloved hand snapped in front of his face.
“Hey!” Deceit snarled, snapping his fingers again. He seemed annoyed, his whole body tense, but Logan could also see the worry. Once again something that stuck out to Logan. Was it possible for this to be someone disguised as Deceit? That was rather worrisome thought, because it implied a larger threat.
“Are you even listening to me?” Deceit snapped. Logan had not been listening to him. He had no time to answer, however, because the next thing he knew was that Deceit was grabbing his arm. Rather suddenly Logan’s face was inches away from Deceit’s, and the other was staring at him quite intently.
“Your eyes are grey again,” Deceit hissed, “stop bottling it all up!”
Logan blacked out.
When he came to, a few seconds later, he was on his knees on the floor. The lights were going crazy, blinking and brightening and going dim again. Deceit’s hands were under his arms, holding him up, and there was a frantic tone in the other’s voice, but Logan couldn’t hear the words. There was a moment of blissful silence in his head, a break from all the thoughts and feelings and everything. The lights stilled and settled into their normal brightness.
Then all the emotions he had stored away came crashing down. They flooded in, relentlessly washing over Logan again and again and again. Logan could do nothing else but reach out and cling to Deceit’s shirt with both hands. He stared at the floor, eyes wide and lips parted, under the onslaught of the feelings coming back. Deceit’s hands and voice both stilled abruptly.
“Uh,” he said eloquently, and then: “Logan?”
There was a very unsure note in his voice, a tremor, like he had not been expecting this at all. Logan couldn’t blame him, because he hadn’t expected it either. He just clung on, and, to his horror, felt something wet on his cheeks. He couldn’t be crying. He just didn’t cry. That was one of the constants in life. Virgil was anxious, Roman always had his sword, Patton made puns and Logan didn’t cry. Logan never cried. Except now, it seemed.
Deceit, if possible, grew even more rigid. He didn’t say anything, and it was quiet, and that was even more horrible because now Logan sobs could be heard clearly in the silence. He was crying and he couldn’t stop, even though he tried, and he could not hide the tears and he was still clinging to Deceit and Logan was never going to live this down, except that didn’t matter because he was still feeling so much and he just wanted it all out-
A pair of hands hesitantly wrapping around him was enough to break Logan from that train of thought. Deceit was pulling him closer, now (and really, that was more than a single pair of hands, but Logan didn’t really mind), and Logan was getting pulled closer, and then he was in a proper, if a bit awkward, embrace.
He stilled for a moment, unsure of how to react, but then Deceit brushed his back like he had no idea what he was doing, and Logan was strongly reminded of the fact that he was still in the middle of a breakdown and the bottled-up feelings still wanted out very, very much. He pressed closer and tried to hide his face, not letting go of Deceit’s shirt, and the touch got more comforting, more sure. “It’s okay,” Deceit said quietly, and Logan was strongly reminded of the fact that Deceit was a liar, “just let it all out.”
Logan wanted to protest, wanted to demand truthfulness, wanted to know if Deceit was lying (he always was, except sometimes he wasn’t), but at the same time he desperately needed that comfort and safety. So he didn’t ask, just pressed closer and sobbed and let Deceit whisper all those (false?) reassurances into his ear.
“I’m sorry”, he said at some point, in the middle of a sob, “I’m sorry.”
Deceit didn’t answer, just held him a bit tighter, and really, this was not a situation Logan had ever imagined. He didn’t mind, though.
After a while Deceit pulled back and Logan did the same, disappointed but understanding of the fact that Deceit would never really want to comfort him any more than he absolutely had to. He hastily lifted his glasses and tried to scrub away the remains of the tears, avoiding eye contact. He opened his mouth to say something, but then Deceit was back with Logan’s favorite blanket, snatched off his bed, and Logan was once again wrapped in warmth. Deceit had his hands around Logan again, and he had taken his hat off, and he pulled the blanket tighter.
“Sleep,” Deceit whispered (the lights in the room dimmed, and they shouldn’t have done that, but Logan found himself too tired to care), “I’ll be there.”
It was a terrible idea, really, but at the same time it was the best idea Logan had ever thought about. He took off his glasses and wrapped the blanket better around himself and leaned against Deceit and closed his eyes.
His mind was quiet, and he slept.