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Logan sits cross-legged in the grass, his face a careful mask and lips pressed firmly together to keep from making a sound. It’s not so much that he wants to do these things; it’s an old habit, picked up in his youth, one that helped him survive in a household that would lash out at him for speaking before he was spoken to and would destroy everything he loved if he let his true feelings slip. It’s not healthy, he knows, but it does serve its purposes, especially after having such a terrible day and immediately running into the woods without properly addressing it.
Usually, such a habit it isn’t an issue; overlooked by most as “Logan just being Logan.” But—
“You’re quiet, my dear,” a voice murmurs in front of him, and Logan looks up, snapped from his train of thought. He meets the eyes of the golden man in front of him, skin covered in scales and six arms sprouted from his sides, a curious expression covering up the mild concern stretched tight at the other’s lips. “What seems to be troubling you?”
Logan’s frown deepens, the man glancing at his lap.
But of course, he should have known that his behavior would be noticed by a god, let alone one he’s been talking to for months.
“My apologies,” he says, forcing his voice to remain steady even as his hands begin to shake. “I merely had an…unfortunate encounter earlier. It is nothing you need to worry about.”
The other quirks an eyebrow. Slowly, making sure not to startle the human with any sudden movements, he settles next to Logan’s side, heat sinking into his skin despite neither of them touching. “You know it’s unwise to lie to a deity, my little prophet,” he scolds, though Logan notices the warmth in his smile and realizes there’s no real threat behind his words, “especially when they ask something of you.”
“I’m not lying,” Logan tells him. He swallows thickly, feeling the ghosting of fingers wrapped around his throat and a knife against his stomach. He shudders but pushes forward, “I…some people are cruel, when met with viewpoints that differ from their own. The most they did was threaten, but I am otherwise unharmed. I’m just being ridiculous.”
The deity hums. He leans closer, and Logan bites the inside of his cheek, trying his best not to shrink away from the other’s heat. Not that the warmth is uncomfortable, but…well. Spending most of his life without much physical interaction left him wary whenever he did receive it. “And why do you think you’re being ridiculous?”
“I just…do. I know, logically, that they cannot harm me; your charm has made sure of it.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” the deity says, like as though they weren’t discussing a charm that could turn a man inside-out and rearrange their organs at the drop of a hat.
Logan decides not to point this out. “Right. So…it’s illogical to be upset over something that didn’t happen. Words—it was just words. Nothing more. Nothing to worry about—”
“That is a lie, and you know it.”
Logan blinks at him, “Pardon?”
“It is a lie,” he continues, looking up at the stars in the sky, “saying that you have nothing to worry about. Speaking as though you aren’t allowed to worry. Speaking as though I have no reason to worry. You experienced something distressing; it would make sense, I think, to be upset afterwards.”
“But nothing happened—”
The deity places his hand over Logan’s, and Logan tenses, flooded with visions he can’t fully comprehend, that he probably won’t understand until much later. Alternative futures flash before his eyes—some good, some bad, but most nothing out of the ordinary—blend into alternative pasts—some good, but mostly bad—blend into alternative presents, and before he knows it there’s tears streaming down his face, the human shaking despite being immersed in the god’s heat.
He startles when the visions stop, watching as the deity pulls his hand away, fiddling instead with his coat. Logan bites his tongue, trying to find his voice. “Wh—why did you show me that?”
His god pauses. Thinks it over. Then, he says, his voice softer than usual, “I want you to understand that there are an uncountable amount of ways in which this world will hurt you. Some will be obvious, coming swiftly and without warning; others will be insidious, so small and slow in their development that you may not even realize what is happening until it is too late.” He looks into Logan’s eyes, and his gaze is cold, weighed down by the words he speaks. “And when the world hurts you, you need to allow yourself to feel. It is the only way you will be able to move on from what’s happened to you.”
Logan processes this information, unmoving, before he sighs, looking away. “I—I don’t know if I can.”
“Of course you can,” the god murmurs. “The problem is that you are preventing yourself from doing so.”
The human pauses. Hands shaking, gaze still drawn to his lap, he says, “I didn’t realize I was…I’m sorry.”
“Apologies do not change behavior, little prophet,” the deity muses, a smile tugging at his lips, “They are just words. If you truly feel like you must make up for something, then at the very least, you should make it up to yourself by not being so strict. You deserve to be listened to—and to do so without fear of being harmed.”
“I…I know. I’ll—I’ll try.”
“That is all I can ask for.”
Logan relaxes, giving the other a tense smile through his tears. “Thank you, Janus. For…being there, I suppose is the phrasing I’m looking for.”
Janus glows at the mention of his name, ruffling the other’s hair and grinning when the other scowls at him. “You’re welcome,” he says. “Now, let’s go back to your lessons…”
Janus resumes his lecture—but, before Logan leaves, he makes sure to give the prophet another charm.
Perhaps nobody will threaten his prophet if doing so costs them their voice…