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Breathe.
Logan took a long breath in, and a long breath out, pacing his room, the usually meticulously organized shelves of books and awards and papers strewn every which way. Prized posters on the walls now ripped to the floor. Crisply hung polos dumped in a haphazard pile. Polaroid photos he convinced Patton went “missing”, usually hung up on a small corkboard, now torn into scraps and shreds.
A decaying forest of insanity.
His chained anger clawed at his throat, and he pushed it down again, pressing his fingers to his temples hard.
Whatever this was, his “explosions,” were becoming more and more of an intrusion. Someone would say something that annoyed him, or speak over him while he was already speaking, and he’d feel… something. An emotion he could not yet identify. Not that he’d ever been good at identifying what he felt.
He scoffed, burrowing his hands in his hair.
Felt. What a foolish thought.
After all, the embodiment of logic certainly wasn’t meant to feel emotions. He spoke the words to himself every day, like a mantra. And yet his stomach churned with poison vines, spilling venom from his mouth every time he spoke, rotting away his sense of self, bit by treacherous bit.
Why did nobody ever listen to him?
“There can be no doubt about the answer. You must not date Nico.”
“Explain what you have against Nico!!”
“What?!”
“This is some misery business, dude.”
“But I want something more.”
After Logan’s clearly superior suggestion for Thomas to cease dating, everyone seemed to have lost all sense at the idea, which he didn’t understand. Everyone was always telling him to think through his actions more. To listen. But when he did listen, and even solved the problem in its entirety for his acquaintances, they’d all looked at him as if he’d figuratively grown a second head.
So when the relationship with Nico and Thomas inevitably didn’t work out, and everyone turned to blame him for it not working, the rage he felt was like nothing else. He’d tried to fix their problem. He’d presented a perfectly well thought out and tested conclusion and solution. And yet they still didn’t listen, and they still reached to him for blame.
The metaphorical scapegoat.
His fists curled up at his sides at the memory, and he took another breath, trying not to redestroy his room as he had earlier. Maybe he just needed to reorganize his books. That would make him feel better, surely.
He was halfway through alphabatizing his copies of Doctor Who when a small knock sounded from his door. Metal against wood. A sound that usually brought him comfort.
“I would rather not speak with anyone at this moment, thank you.” Logan called, only a slight waver in his voice.
“Logan.” A familiar voice said, trying the knob, only to be met with a lock. He heard the voice sigh, before Janus rose up into his room. They brushed their cape and tapped the floor with their metal crook.
“This place is a mess, Lo. What happened?” Janus asked, feigning ignorance. He may have everyone else fooled, but Roman had put it quite accurately once. Janus was indeed, the lord of the lies. And they knew when someone was lying, lies of omission included.
And from what Remus had told them, Janus had plenty of reason for concern.
“Janus.” Logan gritted, hiding his displeasure. He did not dislike Janus. Quite the opposite. He had a fascination with them. They were intellectually his equal, which he couldn’t say for most of the others, and they had quite good taste in wine and gossip. Plus, they really were quite kind when no one was watching, although Janus would kill him for telling anyone. It was what Patton called “a friendship”, much to his displeasure. But right now, he did not want to see much of anyone.
“I did request for you to leave my room, if you do not mind.”
“I do mind, actually,” They hissed, placing their hat on Logan’s distraught bookshelf, its usual spot, making themselves at home. They stared at the room with concern. “Is something.. Wrong?”
“No, no, of course not. Just distraught about an experiment gone wrong. No cause for concern.” He lied smoothly, straightening his glasses.
“You’re lying to me?” Janus asked, somewhat hurt, feeling the small buzz in the back of their mind that indicated someone in the mindspace was lying. How in the world did Logan of all people learn how to lie? And why was he lying to them?
Logan folded his hands behind his back so they couldn’t see the way they trembled.“What brought you to this conclusion?” He inquired.
“I can sense when people are lying, you know that.” They started, stepping closer, but cautious. If they were right about what was happening, they were making a very poor, dangerous choice by being here.
“I am not deceiving anybody, Janus. And I suggest you dismiss yourself of the notion.”
“There’s no reason for me to lie about this, Lo. Listen, please, I think you’re in danger-”
“You should consider getting your intuition checked then.” He said, pseudo-calmly, brushing past them to walk out the door. “I am not someone who intentionally tells false information with the intent of deception. ”
Janus stepped forward, grabbing Logan by the wrist and trying to keep him here. They weren’t done with him yet. “Logan, please-”
“Don’t fucking touch me, yellow!” He shouted, the room exploding. The lightbulbs fizzed and popped in showers of sparks. His skin went fiery hot, making Janus recoil with a hiss, their eyes widening in fear and shock.
Yellow.
Only one person in the world had ever known that name. One person who was always too riled up to bother with true names. One person who had taught them everything they ever knew.
One person who was meant to be repressed very, very long ago.
This was the most dangerous person in the mindscape, and they knew it. And now they were the only one who knew. The only one who could save everyone.
Janus ran a hand through their hair, leaning against their crook like they had all the time in the world. Watching as the entity in front of him took shape. The smell of smoke entered the room. A mind with glasses took the form of a phoenix. Dark blue changed to fiery orange, the kind that burned down long dead forests and set libraries ablaze. Logan’s glasses cracked, no longer gray eyes staring through fractured lenses.
“Orange. How nice of you to make an appearance.”