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Prompts: hi there! may i request some loceit angst for the soul? - anon
oh my goodness all your writing is so good!!!! i was wondering if you could write some loceit hurt comfort? preferably with Logan hurting? -anon
Hey I’m back with another print cause the last time I did that I sobbed for 30 minutes and I loved it. Anygay...Can you write a fic where Roman or Logan somehow end up thinking their worth is hinged on their ability to produce good work and what they are able to just take? Then Janus hears them saying they are okay and then tries to help? - anon
There aren’t enough lies in the world to drown out the words that strike into Janus’s head.
I’m okay.
Janus frowns, setting his book down and glaring at the ceiling. As if he can glare the words away from the mouth of who just spoke them. But nothing changes. The curl at the back of his throat doesn’t vanish. The hiss still slides out of his mouth. He sighs and stands, sinking out to go find today’s pretty little liar.
He isn’t surprised when he strides out of the shadows next to a desk brimming with overstuffed notebooks and a box of tissues. He suppresses a sigh as he sees the door and folds his hands patiently. A few moments later, the door opens and Logan steps through, stopping when he sees Janus. Janus raises an eyebrow.
“Janus?” Logan glances over his shoulder. “How can I help you?”
Janus just hisses.
“I don’t know what that means,” Logan sighs, coming in the close the door, “just tell me what you want.”
He hisses again, drawing it out this time.
“Janus, I don’t know why you’re here.”
He sighs. The next hiss has his tongue flicking out through his teeth. Logan winces.
“Come here,” Janus murmurs, holding his hand out, “and I won’t let Patton see me.”
Logan winces again. “Did you hear both of us?”
“Just you,” Janus smirks. “Gotcha.”
“Well played,” Logan mutters, even as he walks across the room. “Now what do you want?”
He raises his eyebrows. “It’s certainly not that I’m concerned that you’re lying about being okay.”
“Janus,” he sighs, “how many times a day do you say the words ‘I’m fine?’ It’s not something to worry about.”
He narrows his eyes. “One of us is called ‘Deceit,’ my dear Logan, and one of us is not.”
“But—“
“Logan,” Janus calls softly, “don’t lie.”
For a moment, he thinks it might work. Then Logan presses his lips together and folds his hands.
“Not saying anything counts as a lie of omission here,” Janus sighs, “work with me.”
Logan says nothing. His gaze drops to a spot on the floor.
“…don’t make me do this,” Janus whispers.
Still nothing.
Oh, Logan, why so stubborn?
“You just came from baking with Patton,” Janus says softly, “there’s still flour on your tie.”
Logan’s face twitches once.
“You promised that you would stay the whole night this time,” he continues, tilting his head slightly, “but you didn’t. You only leave when you’ve given a proper explanation, because you think it’s rude otherwise.”
He starts walking in a slow circle.
“But you didn’t—Patton followed you up here.” He casts a glance at the door. “Which means that you just…left.”
He stops, right behind him, watching the line of his back tense.
“Now, what would send our dear, darling nerd running for cover?”
He doesn’t miss the way Logan tries not to flinch.
“Was it something wrong with the baking? No, no, you’ve left your sleeves rolled a little—“ he reaches out to tap the fabric— “so you left in a hurry.”
“Enough,” comes the very quiet whisper.
“Your collar is still crooked,” Janus continues as he walks, “so you must’ve frozen in the middle of adjusting your tie.”
“Stop.” Still a whisper.
“And you’ve still got ink stains on your hands—“ he points— “which means you’ve not been paying attention for a while. Your focus is elsewhere.”
“Stop it.” Not quite a whisper.
“You were good enough to fool Patton,” Janus says, finishing the circle, “but sloppy. Too sloppy. The quality of your—“
“Stop!”
Logan moves in the blink of an eye, reaching out to shove himself away from Janus but he’s too slow. Janus has him by the forearms before he can react. He trembles in Janus’s hold as two more hands come up to fix the glasses on his nose.
“And,” Janus murmurs, his voice as soft as he can make it as he tilts Logan’s chin up to make sure the glasses are in place, “you’ve let me rile you up like this.”
He takes Logan’s face firmly in his hands.
“What’s the matter, sweetie?”
Logan’s mouth trembles. “It’s nothing.”
“Sweetie…”
“It is,” Logan protests stubbornly, “and that’s the problem.”
Janus frowns, gentling his grip on Logan’s arms and looping them around his neck. “What’s the problem, what’s made you so upset?”
“It’s nothing,” Logan says again, closing his eyes, “and I can’t—they—the problem is not something, it is the absence of something that is causing the issue.”
Janus makes a noise of understanding, letting Logan pull back enough to clean his glasses and straighten his tie. “And what is it that you wanted there to be?”
Logan huffs, still not making eye contact. “Something. Anything. I…it…my work.”
“What about your work?” Janus tips his head up. “Logan, you can talk to me. You don’t have to put all of this on.”
“I know,” he mumbles, “but that’s what I have to do for everyone else.”
“That’s not…” Janus trails off. “Who told you that?”
“What?”
“Who told you that,” he repeats, thing a step closer, “who told you that you have to sit there and take it? To put up the front of nothing hurting you?”
Logan just looks at him. Janus bites back a snarl and tugs Logan in for a proper hug.
“You’re not just Logic, sweetie,” he whispers, rubbing his back, “you’re Logan. And you’re allowed to have feelings.”
Logan’s head bows into Janus’s shoulder and for a moment, he thinks Logan’s going to choke out a sob or at least relax.
Instead, Logan tenses. “No, I can’t.”
And pulls away.
“I have to work,” he insists, already putting the facade back together, piece by piece, “and as such, I must focus. You are correct in pointing out that I have allowed my focus to drift, thus I must get it back. Thank you for correcting my error.”
He motions to the desk.
“Now, if you will excuse me, I’d better get back to work.”
He frowns when Janus is silent.
“Janus? Are you alright?”
Yes. Absolutely. Undeniably. He’s fine.
Because every single word that just came out of Logan’s mouth is fine. It makes complete sense. It implies a perfectly healthy relationship between Logan and his work. It ensures that Logan takes care of himself and that he knows he is supported.
“Logan,” Janus says softly, “I’m going to ask you a question.”
Logan blinks. “Alright.”
“Please don’t lie to me.”
“I believe we have established that we are unable to lie successfully to you.”
That’s never stopped you from trying before.
Janus takes a deep breath. “Do you believe that your value and importance to us is based on the work that you are able to produce?”
Logan frowns. “Isn’t it?”
Janus’s heart breaks.
“Do you think,” he says instead, reaching out to take one of Logan’s hands, “Patton would’ve followed you up here if he were just concerned about your work?”
Logan frowns. “No, but that’s different.”
“Do you think Virgil would make a point of asking you whether or not you’re comfortable at scheduled times throughout movie nights if he were primarily focused on the work you produce?”
“No, but—“
“Do you think Remus,” Janus continues, raising his voice a little, “would sink into your room as often as he does because he wants to make sure you take breaks if he were only thinking about what work you were doing instead of taking a break?”
“N-no.”
“Do you think Roman purposefully takes you on walks in the Imagination, to drag you away from your work, do you think he would do that if he only wanted to spend time with you because of what work you do?”
Logan shakes his head wordlessly, looking away. Janus lets out a soft noise before he reaches out. This time he doesn’t even have to touch Logan’s chin before he looks back.
“Do you think that I would be here with you right now,” he murmurs, “if I didn’t care about you?”
There’s the sob he’s been expecting, choked out behind a hand quickly clapped to his mouth as Janus pulls him back in for a hug. He takes off Logan’s glasses and sets them on the table, crooning softly as he wraps the poor thing up in his arms and takes them to the bed.
“We care about you, sweetie,” he whispers, running his fingers through Logan’s hair, “not your work, you. We care about your work because it’s yours. Don’t forget that.”
Logan tries to pull back and say something only for his tie to get caught between them. Janus shushes him gently and snaps his fingers, changing them both into something softer. He tucks a hand around the back of Logan’s neck and coaxes him to breathe, come on sweetie, it’s alright.
“I don’t know if I can do that,” Logan manages after a moment, wiping his face, “if I can—can believe that. J-just like that.”
“That’s okay, sweetie,” Janus murmurs, “but you try for me, okay?”
Logan still looks unconvinced. Janus raises an eyebrow.
“Would it be easier to hear from everyone else?”
“They wouldn’t say it.”
“…oh, sweetie, let me call them in here and prove you wrong.”
Logan just huffs. “You can try, I guess.”
Janus raises his voice and calls out: “Logan’s upset!”
They barely have time to blink before Remus has sunk right on top of them.
“Hey, Lolo,” he murmurs, voice soft enough to make Logan whimper and Janus chuckle, “you okay? When’s the last time you had a break?”
Virgil appears before Logan can answer, tucking himself behind Remus and tugging slightly at his collar. “Get off, Remus, we don’t know if he’s okay with physical contact right now.”
Remus grumbles but listens, shuffling back to give Logan breathing room. Virgil’s face softens when he sees Logan’s face.
“Hey, L, what’s up? You okay? Bad patch?”
Before Logan can answer, there’s a knock on the door.
“Hello? Can we come in, kiddo?”
“It’s open,” Janus calls, only for Patton and Roman to bustle in, Patton cooing and rushing to take Logan into his arms at the evidence of tears.
“Oh, sweetheart, what’s the matter? I’m right here, it’s okay now, you’ll be alright.”
He hears Virgil mutter something about asking first before his attention turns to Roman. Roman raises an eyebrow at Janus, making his way over and bending down to ask, concerned: “what’s wrong? Did he tell you? Were you here when it started?”
Janus glances back at Logan, only for Logan’s gaze to land on Roman and his eyes widen.
“Hey, hey, Specs,” Roman hushes, raising his hands and doing his best to look non-threatening, “what’s that look for? Are you alright?”
“I’m—I’m sorry,” Logan stammers, “I—I’m not done yet, I can’t—we—I—“
“Oh, Logan, I don’t care about the work—“ yes, Roman— “I’m worried about you. Tell us what’s wrong, let us help.”
Logan hasn’t processed anything past ‘I don’t care about the work,’ it seems, judging by the way his breathing almost stops.
“Y-you…you what?”
As Roman’s head tilts in confusion, Janus speaks up.
“Our dear darling nerd is under the impression that we base his value on the work that he is able to produce,” he says softly, “and not that we care about him.”
Logan’s eyes well up with tears as cries of shock and immediate reassurances fill the room. Patton and Remus, it seems, can’t be held back anymore and all but launch themselves at the poor thing, cuddling him between them like some great teddy bear. Virgil carefully takes Logan’s glasses and passes them to Roman before snuggling in beside Logan’s head. Roman carefully tidies Logan’s desk—and oh, the prince knows exactly how Logan likes his desk organized, does he, how interesting—before nudging Janus’s arm so they both sit on the bed proper.
“Oh,” Logan mumbles, lost underneath the Patton-Remus-Virgil at the other end of the bed, “oh.”
“Yes, sweetie, oh.” Janus chuckles as Logan’s arms come up to shyly hug the others.
“There really are so many self-worth issues around here,” Roman mutters, “aren’t there?”
Janus hums, obliging as Logan reaches out for both of them. “We can help with those, won’t we?”
“Of course.”
Only later, when they’re all about to doze off, still in a pile, does Janus realize that he may not have been able to glare them away, but the lie is completely gone from Logan’s mouth.