Work Text:
When Logan returned to his room he was fuming, literally. Orange steam filled the indigo room, it was overwhelming, there was no oxygen left for him, he was being suffocated. There was never anything left for him.
The Logical side threw his glasses against the wall, shatterong them immediatly. Yet that didn't bring enough comfort.
He switched his tie into the old one, it was somewhat of a comfort item, and stepped through the other door in Logan's room. It lead to a corridor with a mahogany floor and blue walls with stars on them. There were three doors, one to the library and one to the labratory.
Logan however walked through the third door leading to a barren concret room with a singular drumset in the middle. Logan has never been that musical, that was Romans thing, there was just something cathardic about beating a drum over and over until his hand.
He picked up the sticks and started a slow controlled rhythm. Tak, tak, tak, tak. The rhythm went faster and faster until there was nothing controlled about it anymore.
Bang, bang, bang, bang, over and over again.
The wooden sticks scraped against his hands violently, blood dripped on the drums, yet the orange steam stopped. Logan could finally breath again.
He looked at his bleeding hands, he would need to clean this up so he moved to the kitchen where they usually stored their medical supplies. Despite them being a figment of Thomas' imagination they were quite accident prone. From small cuts to the occational cut of limb from Remus.
Logan washed his hands and was about to start disinfecting when he heard a sultry voice. "Let me help you", a certain snake uttered from behind him. The indigo side said nothing and just let Janus do his thing, always caring for the other sides.
I guess thats something we have in common.
With suprising skill Self Preservation wrapped up Logic's hand. Neither of them spoke, the silence was more comforting than any word could ever be.