Work Text:
So, basically, Logan has been falling into a not-so-good place mentally for a while. With being unintentionally ignored and anything he finds important being pushed to the back burner for someone else's agenda [like in WTIT aka clean apartment vs. date] he begins to feel more isolated and alone [been thinking about this because of the plushy ep. with Logan's little "plushies are good for loneliness" quip]. Eventually he falls into a sort of depressive episode where he can't even get himself to work [which doesn't help with those sweet mental issues]. After a few hours or days or however long gives the best hurt/comfort, all the others notice he's staying closed off in his room and we get some nice comfort and reassurance. Again, no pressure, just a prompt if you have no other ideas! I'll read any Sanders Sides content you write! <3 – cry-to-sleep
Third time should be the charm, and yet perhaps this is yet another indicator that Logan is no longer as adept at being Logic as he would like to assume.
First, it was the courtroom. Putting aside the fact that they had initiated a courtroom scenario without him—how could they? Even putting aside his role as Logic, they knew he loved— er, had a passion for such things—they decided to bench him and stick him far away in the back of the room where he had to shout to even have a chance at being heard.
Then, it was the asides. Perhaps by making his contributions directly to the audience as opposed to through conversation with the others, he stood a greater chance of one, being heard, and two, not being interrupted. And what were his consequences? Slashed by Roman, skipped by Patton, and snatched by Janus.
The… date, really, now, this should have been his greatest indicator. He and the others and especially Thomas had all agreed it was far overdue to clean his apartment, they'd set aside the whole day for it, and he'd drawn up schedules, made allowances and backup plans, and thwarted Remus's attempts to throw the whole thing off…only for Thomas to go on a date with Nico.
Should that not have been the clearest sign that he must adjust trajectories? The whole day, the whole day, he'd been given, and it had been pre-agreed upon, and yet at the last moment, none of that had mattered. No, Logan's day had been pushed aside in favor of a date with Nico.
If he had been a different Side, he might've scoffed at Roman's function being prioritized over his, when clearly that had only backfired in the past.
But that would be petty and horrible and done an absolute disservice to how hard Roman had been working to just get along with him recently. He'd come to him almost as soon as that episode had been over and said I'm sorry, not just for the date, for the courtroom, for the slashing, but for making you feel as though I didn't value you, that I don't care about what you have to say.
But if you cared, Logan wanted to say but lacked the strength to, why are you only saying this to me, where no one else can hear you?
And yet, after all of that, after all of that, he'd tried one more time.
With the plushies.
If he'd been in a better place, he would've adored what that episode came out to be. Everyone, participating in a good-faith debate? Taking turns, providing evidence, supporting each other's ideas in the aim of actual discussion? It was everything he'd been advocating for; learning new information and letting it help you shape your perspective. And collaborating to make your thoughts heard and ensure the others did the same.
No, if he had been in a better place, he would have…
Well.
No use discussing what might have been.
What did happen is everyone, regardless of current disagreements and rifts, had come together against Logan. Against his perspective, against his ideas, and…well. They'd been…right. There were benefits to having plushies, in the ways they had said, and even if there weren't , who was he to tell people how they could and could not spend their money? Who was he to tell them how to form their own emotional bonds and manage them accordingly? Who was he to decide what forms of comfort were acceptable and which were not?
They had all been against him, and they had all been right.
…if Logic wasn't able to…to be right, or at the very least was selfishly emotional enough to be spiteful about being wrong, and couldn't even appreciate the way the others had approached the conversation, then…
…could Logan even be Logic anymore?
Fourth time, it seemed, was the charm.
He looks over at his whiteboard, upon which he'd spent numerous hours meticulously documenting his schedule. The pen holder, magnetized to the board where it always was, with all the colors he could ever need. And, of course, his notebook.
Logan gets up from his desk, walking over and picking it up. He flips through the pages, hoping that something, anything would give him an idea of how to deal with this, where to go next, what course of action would work—
Only, what was the point?
All of his other plans, no matter how much time he spent thinking of contingencies, no matter how careful he was to accommodate everyone's needs and desires, no matter if they were agreed upon by everyone or not, they were just as susceptible to being brushed aside at a moment's notice.
The words tumble across the pages.
Even if he'd taken it up with each of them separately, what was stopping another event like the date from barging in? He couldn't count on them to advocate for him, not when they'd never done so in the past. He couldn't assert himself with all of them like he did with Remus—shouting really was the only way to get his attention sometimes—and at that rate…
He probably had as much chance of success with that as Roman did after insulting Janus's name.
He winces as soon as the thought crosses his mind. There is no such thing as thoughtcrime, he reminds himself sternly, it is my reaction to the thoughts that matters. That was not something that was fair to me or to Roman, I will not act upon that thought, Roman is very dear to me and he understands what happened that day too.
See, if he could only behave so rationally when it came to all of the issues in his life, he wouldn't be in such a mess.
The notebook falls from his hands.
Perhaps…perhaps the solution is easier than he previously thought. Maybe he should give them some time…to work out what they're doing. Right? That made sense; it was hard to accommodate someone when they themselves didn't know what they needed, so…so maybe giving them some time would help?
But then how would he know when he'd given them enough time? Would they come and tell him? No, no, that would be stupid, they wouldn't do that, they wouldn't even know that's what he was doing—and what, could he tell them? After they had made it clear they weren't listening to him?
No, no, that wouldn't work either.
He stifles a mirthless laugh. He really isn't good at this after all.
"Hey, Princey!"
"Yeah?"
"You seen Logan?"
Roman frowns, closing his notebook. "No, not since…oh, no, when was the last time I saw Logan?"
"I can't find him anywhere," Virgil says, glancing over his shoulder as though Logan might magically appear, "and, uh…that's not good."
"Wait, did he come down for coffee this morning?"
"Uh—" he goes to the kitchen, squinting at the pot— "no, I don't think so. Wait, has this even been turned on?"
"Ooh, what are we talking about?"
"Go back to horny jail." Roman swats Remus's head with a paper towel roll. "And as part of your penance, tell us the last time you saw Logan."
Remus catches the roll effortlessly and chews off one end. "Lolo? Not for a while."
"Shit," Virgil mutters under his breath, only to turn around and face one disappointed dad-figure, "holy—Pat, don't do that!"
"Language, mister," Patton says, wagging his finger, "and you know how Logan gets when people mess with the coffee maker. You're not planning another prank, are you?"
"What? No, I wasn't—he didn't turn it on, Pat. He's not been—well, I don't think he's been down here all day."
Patton frowns, tapping Virgil's shoulder to get him to move aside. "Maybe he's just washed the pot?"
"No, pot wash is on Thursday. It's Sunday."
"I love that you know that."
"Hey, as another resident coffee drinker—"
"Oh, is there fresh coffee?" Janus raises an eyebrow as Virgil glares at him from his precarious perch on the staircase railing. "Something amiss?"
"Don't fu—don't do that, J."
Janus just chuckles and ruffles Virgil's hair. "You just make it so easy."
"No," Roman declares before Remus can open his mouth again, "none of that. Knock it off."
"Party pooper."
"Janus," Roman calls as Remus starts to gnaw on his shoulder, "when's the last time you've seen Logan?"
Janus frowns, idly grabbing Remus by the scruff of the neck and hauling him off of Roman. "Not for a while. Why, is he missing? Have you checked his room?"
"I knocked earlier," Virgil says, "but I didn't get a response. I checked the door to the Imagination, but it's still locked, so—"
"I haven't let him in. Re?"
"Nope! We're waiting for Ollie's brood."
"Oh, how's that coming?"
"Not now," Patton says as the two start talking about Kraken offspring, "we need to find Logan."
"Right, right." Roman stands up. "I'll—whoa!"
For the Mindscape had shuddered, something rumbling under the floor and sending them all staggering. Roman just barely manages to collapse back into the chair as the others hang on to bits of furniture and whatever walls they can scrabble against.
"Everyone okay?"
"Yeah, I'm all good!"
"What the hell was that?"
"Remus?"
"I'm good, Janny." Remus shakes his head. "Was that Lolo?"
Roman frowns. "Didn't feel like him…"
"What, hold on, no, I'm not moving past that—" Virgil holds up a hand— "what do you mean, 'didn't feel like him?'"
"You know when you all have crises it affects the Mindscape, right? Oh, calm down, it's not that bad," Remus says quickly when poor Virgil looks like he is very much not going to be calm about this, "it just makes it feel a bit different."
"And you two can…feel it?"
He shrugs. "Part of the Creativity gig. We're kinda how it's made up, remember? Thomas? All that?"
"…okay, so…?"
"So," Roman continues, standing up warily, "whatever that was didn't really feel like Logan. It felt—more like…"
"Like—" Remus's eyes widen. "Oh, fuck."
"Language—wait, where are you going?"
The twins had sprinted for the staircase, leaving everyone else following frantically behind them.
"What did it feel like," Virgil barks, "Remus!"
"Like Logic!"
"You just said it didn't feel like Logan!"
"Yeah, 'cause it felt like Logic!"
"Logan is Logic!"
"No, he isn't," Roman calls as they dash around the corner, "he's—he's Logan. His function is Logic, but he's—did this hallway get longer?"
"Less talk, more explain!"
"That's not— fine, Logan's trying to separate himself from his function!"
"He's—oh, for the love of— stop!"
The sound of the Tempest Tongue shocks the twins enough for Janus to dart forward and grab them, shushing their frenzied protests and turning them to face an increasingly frustrated Virgil and an increasingly out of breath Patton.
"You kiddos are fast," he wheezes, "when—when'd you get so fast?"
They exchange a slightly guilty look before Virgil glares at them.
"Explain."
"Remember when you ducked out?"
"Re," Roman mutters as everyone winces, " delicate."
"…sorry."
Virgil waves him off. "When I ducked out?"
"You removed Anxiety. No more. Ka-put. Bye-bye." Remus twiddles his fingers to mimic an explosion. "But you, you, Virgil, purple emo, you still existed. 'Cause you're not just your function."
"Is Logan ducking out?"
"No, no," Roman says quickly, trying to calm Patton, "he's—he's just having a crisis. I think our dear darling nerd is having some…insecurities and they're manifesting in a way that's trying to separate him from Logic."
"Like—he thinks he can't be Logic anymore?"
As if on cue, or perhaps to reward Patton's correct guess, the Mindscape shudders again.
"Here's an idea," Remus growls, thrashing against Janus's grip, "why don't we ask him?"
It's cold.
It's dark.
How long has it been?
Does it matter?
Something is making noise.
Does it matter?
"—gan! Logan!"
"Oh, you poor thing—no, don't turn on the light, you'll startle him."
"How long has he been like this?"
Does it matter?
"Shit—we should've come way earlier— "
"No use doing that now. We need to help him."
"Right. Patton, Janus—you two go downstairs and make sure we've got his safe food. Virgil—"
"Coffee, I know."
"Re?"
"On deck."
Does it matter?
"Logan," someone says, right next to him, "Logan, can you hear me?"
Yes, he can, but does it matter?
"Please, Logan, I need you to open your eyes."
His eyes are closed?
"Logan, please. "
Oh. They said please. He should listen when people say please. It's the polite thing to do.
Something incredibly blurry swims into view overhead. It's…red? And white? And gold?
"There you are," the voice murmurs, "hello, little star."
Little star, that's…that's what Roman calls him. Is Roman here?
"Yes, little star, it's me, I'm right here. Can you look at me?"
He blinks. Why is Roman here?
"We got worried, little star, we haven't seen you in a while."
Is he talking out loud?
"Yeah, Logan, you are. Shh, shh, shh," Roman says quickly, warm hands landing on his shoulders, "it's alright, I don't mind. You're alright, little star, it's alright."
"Wha…what happened?"
Roman's expression morphs into something much sadder. "You…went away, Logan. We…we should've have come sooner. I'm sorry we didn't. Are you—no. You've been lying down for a long—a long time, can we get you up and moving around?"
Moving is good, a small voice in his head says, it will help.
"I…"
"I'll help," Roman says immediately, "you can come hold onto me if you want."
His arms groan in protest as he drags them along the blanket, lifting to paw clumsily at Roman's chest. "I can't."
"You can," Roman promises, helping to sling his arms over his shoulders, "there, see? You did it, good job, little star, good job."
"I did?"
"You did." He leans down and carefully scoops Logan into his arms. "We're going to try to sit up now, alright? We'll go very slowly and if it becomes too much, tell me and I'll lie you back down."
Logan clutches Roman's shoulders and slowly, slowly, they start to sit up. He's panting by the time they make it, his nose mashed into Roman's collar. Roman doesn't seem to mind in the slightest, rubbing his back and whispering you did it, good job, you did it, little star, we're done now.
" R-Remus?"
"Hey, Lolo," Remus says, coming closer, "you're not doing so great, huh?"
Logan shakes his head.
"That's okay. We're gonna help." He ruffles Logan's greasy hair. "Can we get you in the bath or the shower?"
"I don't…I don't know if I can stand."
"You can lie down, that's okay. Ro can carry you."
Despite himself, he lets out a noise of disbelief and Roman chuckles.
"Doubting me, little star," he teases gently, "can I prove you wrong?"
Logan nods carefully and promptly lets out a yelp as Roman shifts him effortlessly into a princess carry, making for the bathroom. "Roman!"
"Mm?"
"I—how?"
"You're not that heavy, little star," Roman murmurs, "it's alright. Shower, or bath?"
"B-bath?"
"Bath it is. Remus, can you—"
"On it."
The time between being in Roman's arms and being in the bath with Remus carefully nudging him back to wet his hair is a warm blur, filled with soft touches and softer words, culminating in a quiet noise as Remus patiently works shampoo through his hair.
"Hey, Lolo," he says gently, "you will me? That feel okay?"
"Mm. You're…good at that."
He chuckles. "I gotta be. You see the stuff I deal with every day?"
And it says something that he can't even summon up the courage to be snarky back, just letting out a loopy giggle as the bath laps gently against his skin. The warm water soothes his aching muscles, and they must have added something because the faint smell of lavender and bergamot wafts through the steam as his eyes droop closed again.
"Don't fall asleep just yet," Remus reminds, "we gotta wash this out first."
"Right."
"Ro, can you—"
"Yeah, it's all warm."
Wait, what? There was still shampoo in his hair a moment ago, why is Remus telling him it's time to get out?
"Come on, Lolo, the towel's all warm."
And oh, yes, it is—they must've put it in the dryer—Roman wraps the warmth around him and grabs another for his hair, gently rubbing it over his head until he chuckles.
"Fuzzy little Logan burrito," he murmurs, "let's get you into something soft."
"But I'm in something soft," Logan protests, only for Roman to laugh, "can I just stay in this?"
"No, I'm sorry, little star. Come on, I promise these are warm too."
The soft things— pajamas, his tired brain supplies—are warm enough and he lets them help him into them, mumbling his thanks.
"No need," Remus says, "do you think you can make it downstairs to eat something?"
"Maybe?"
"Here, lean on us," he says, "Ro, get—"
"Right here, little star," Roman murmurs as they start helping him downstairs, "right here."
Perhaps, that should have been his first indicator, that they care. That the two of them took the time to make sure he was comfortable, that he was clean, that he was warm.
Perhaps his second indicator is that Virgil's made him coffee. Just the way he likes, he hasn't messed up any of the settings on the pot, it's even in his favorite mug. Virgil ruffles his still-damp hair gently and says something about go sit on the couch, bud, it's gonna be okay.
Perhaps his third indicator is that Janus and Patton have little bowls of his favorite snacks on the coffee table, and his favorite documentary on the TV. They make sure he has blankets and pillows and each whispers something like it's okay, sweetheart, we're here now, you're going to be alright, sweetie.
But perhaps his fourth indicator is that they all fall asleep like that, curled around him on a big mattress on the floor, each promising to do better in the future.
They didn't need to do that.
There was no Logic to doing that.
It was just for Logan.
Just because he was Logan.
Well, you know what they say, fourth time's the charm.