#logan centric

People always think Logan likes to fight. 

But that’s just not true.

He doesn’t enjoy it. Never has. Not the way they think. Logan knows what people see when they look at him. The Wolverine. A beast, an animal, a force of nature that exists solely to fight, to destroy, to tear through whatever gets in his way. And sometimes… sometimes, yeah, it feels good to let it out. When the rage inside him builds up so high he thinks he’ll drown in it, when his knuckles ache from clenching his fists so tight, when the world starts spinning too fast and all he can think about is letting those claws out, letting them slice through something just to remind himself he’s still in control—yeah, sometimes it feels necessary.

But enjoying it?

No. Never.

Logan has never liked hurting people. It’s just... it happens. And he doesn’t know why.

Sometimes, he loses his temper. The red haze comes over him, and before he knows it, someone’s on the floor, bleeding or worse, and his heart is hammering in his chest. His fists are throbbing. His head’s spinning, and there’s this sick feeling crawling up his throat, this knot of shame and regret twisting in his gut.

He wishes he could blame it all on the Wolverine—the beast that lurks inside him, the thing with claws and teeth that takes over when the world gets too loud, when the pain gets too real. He’s always been quick to say it’s not him, it’s the Wolverine. That’s the easy answer. The part of him that’s more animal than man, the part that acts on instinct, on rage, on the primal need to survive at any cost. But deep down, Logan knows the truth. He’s not just a mindless creature. He’s not some wild animal that’s out of control.

It’s him. It’s always been him.

Logan doesn’t know why he bites, why he lashes out, why everyone he cares about—everyone he loves—he ends up hurting. He’s tried to figure it out for years. It’s the same pattern, over and over. He lets someone in, lets them get too close, and then… he snaps. He gets scared, maybe, or angry, or maybe he’s just so tired of trying to hold it all together that he lets it all go. And they end up paying the price.

He can’t stand the way they look at him after. The confusion. The hurt. That moment when they realize that Logan—the person they trusted—is the same one who cut them down. He can’t explain it, can’t tell them why it happens. All he knows is that something inside him breaks, and before he knows it, he’s tearing through everything good in his life. Like he’s cursed.

He tries so damn hard not to. He tries to keep that part of himself buried, to keep the claws in check, to keep the rage bottled up. But no matter how hard he fights it, it always finds a way out.

Logan wants to believe it’s the animal in him, the Wolverine’s animalistic urges. He wants to tell himself that it’s something he can’t control, that it’s just a part of what he is. But he knows better. He’s not some mindless beast. He’s got enough years behind him to know the difference between a fight and a choice.

And that’s what scares him the most.

It’s not about fighting to survive anymore. It hasn’t been for a long time. Most of the fights he gets into, the ones that matter, aren’t about life or death—they’re about something else. Something deep. He doesn’t know if it’s the anger, or the pain, or the guilt that he’s been carrying around for more years than he can count. He just knows that something inside him is broken, and no matter how much he fights, no matter how much he tries to stay away from the people he cares about, they always end up getting hurt.

He doesn’t understand it. Doesn’t know why the people he loves seem to be the ones who catch the worst of it. They come into his life, and they see something good in him, something worth saving. And for a while, maybe he believes them. Maybe he starts to think that they’re right, that he’s not just a weapon, not just a killer. Maybe he even starts to think that he could deserve something like peace, like happiness.

But it never lasts.

Because sooner or later, he bites. He always bites. And they always bleed.

That’s what keeps him up at night. Not the faces of the people he’s fought. Not the countless lives he’s taken in the heat of battle. Not the bodies he’s left behind, the scars he’s left on the world. No, it’s the faces of the ones he loved—the ones he tried so hard to protect, only to hurt them worse than anyone else could.

He doesn’t want to be like this. He’s spent his whole life trying not to be like this. But it doesn’t matter how hard he tries to outrun it, how much distance he puts between himself and the people who care about him—it always catches up to him.

Maybe it’s in his nature. Maybe it’s just who he is.

Logan doesn’t want to be violent. He doesn’t want to hurt people. He doesn’t know why he does it, why he loses his temper, why his fists always find their way to the things that matter most. All he knows is that there’s something inside him that’s angry, something that’s been angry for as long as he can remember. And no matter how hard he fights it, no matter how many times he tells himself that he’s better than this, that he’s more than just claws and violence, it always finds a way to tear him apart.

And every time, it takes someone else down with him.

That’s the worst part.

Not the blood, not the rage, not the fighting. It’s the aftermath. It’s the quiet moments after the storm, when the dust has settled, and all that’s left is the wreckage of whatever he’s just destroyed. And there, in the middle of it all, is the person he loves—broken, bleeding, and looking at him like they don’t recognize him anymore.

Logan doesn’t know why he bites. He just knows that he does. And he hates himself for it.

He’d give anything to stop. To finally be the man they think he is, the one they believe in, the one they see when they look past the claws and the scars. But every time he tries, every time he lets himself believe that he’s more than just the Wolverine, that maybe he’s not doomed to repeat the same mistakes over and over again—he ends up right back where he started.

Hurting the people he loves.

And he’s scared—terrified—that one day, Wade is going to see it, too. Wade, with his big, dumb heart, his never-ending jokes, his reckless love. One day, Wade is going to look at him and realize that Logan isn’t the man he thinks he is. He’s not the hero Wade keeps saying he is. He’s not even close.

Logan knows what he is. He’s not some violent version of Wolverine, driven by animal instinct. 

It’s always there, bubbling beneath the surface—the need to lash out, to hurt before he can be hurt, to bite before someone bites him.

Like tonight. Wade’s terrified face, the way he pleaded, how he sobbed in Logan’s arms... it broke something inside him. Shattered him. He had caused that. His anger, his inability to stop himself. He thought Wade could take it. Hell, he thought Wade would crack a joke, maybe laugh it off, because that’s what Wade does.

But Wade hadn’t laughed. Wade had begged.

It always finds a way out. Like he’s hardwired to destroy the people he cares about. It’s not the claws or the healing factor that make him dangerous. It’s him.

And he doesn’t know how to fix it.

Wade sees him as something better. Someone better.Wade’s always looking at him like he’s some sort of hero, like he’s more than just the violence and the blood and the pain. Wade loves him for reasons Logan can’t even begin to understand. But how long can that last? How long until Wade realizes what Logan really is?

An animal. A killer. A man who hurts to hurt.

Logan is terrified that one day, Wade’s going to wake up and see him for what he is—the man who bites because he doesn’t know how to do anything else. The man who destroys everything good that comes into his life because he’s too damn broken to keep it together. And when that day comes, when Wade finally realizes that Logan isn’t the hero he’s been pretending to be, he’ll leave.

Logan knows it. He’s seen it happen before. Everyone he loves, everyone who gets too close, ends up broken. Logan bites, and they bleed. They always bleed.

He’ll hurt Wade. It's not a matter of if, but when.Despite everything, despite his best intentions, he’ll push too hard, too far, and Wade will see him for what he is—what he’s always been—and walk away.

The truth is, Logan doesn’t want to fight. He doesn’t want to hurt anyone. He doesn’t want to lose Wade.

But maybe that’s who he is. Maybe he’s just built that way, doomed to destroy everything good in his life. And maybe one day, Wade will understand that. Maybe one day, Wade will look at him with fear, the same way everyone else does, and Logan will have to face the fact that he’s lost the one good thing he’s had in years.

“Hey, Virge, I need to go, Thomas is getting tired and I’m on dream duty tonight.” Roman informs Virgil of his situation. “Can… can you stay here and make sure our Perfect Professor is okay?”

“Nice alliteration… and yeah. Don’t worry, I’ll stay.” Virgil mumbles that last sentence more to himself than to Roman, but the prince gets the message regardless, and appears grateful as he pecks Virgil’s lips, causing the latter’s eyeshadow to quickly turn a sparkly purple color before he pulls away, lightheartedly slapping Roman’s arm. “You dork!”

“Haha! You know you love me, Virgil!” Roman playfully winks at him and Virgil’s face flushes when he finds that he can’t refute that claim. So he responds with a simple roll of his eyes. “I- oh, crap, I gotta go. You’ll be okay here?” Roman asks quickly, and when he gets a nod in response, he kisses Virgil’s cheek. “Bye V, tell Logan I said bye, I love both of you!” Roman takes a bow and sinks out.

Drama prince.

Virgil sits outside of Logan’s room for about 2 minutes before Logan finally opens the door, just a crack. Virgil jumps in surprise, looking at the door to find that Logan had in fact opened it… but Logan isn’t in the position that he had hoped. He still looked sad but on top of that, his eyes were a bright orange color, a sign that Virgil knew the significance of. “Logan…?” Virgil slowly speaks, trying not to provoke him.

Upon hearing Virgil say his name, Logan bursts into tears and falls down to his knees, babbling incoherent apologies to Virgil’s surprise. “I’m so- sorry- sor-” Logan practically chokes on his own sobs, prompting Virgil to kneel beside him and place his hands on Logan’s shoulders, observing the dark eyeshadow under Logan’s eyes. “L-Logan, hey, hey. Shhhh… look at me.” Virgil is unable to keep his own voice from shaking as he tries to get Logan’s attention, but Logan miraculously looks up at Virgil, breaking his heart with his terrified expression. “Do something for me. I want you to name five things you can see.” Virgil instructs, surprising Logan with the exercise that Logan had guided Virgil through before.

Shaking somewhat violently, Logan’s eyes shoot around the room, trying to decide what to say. “I-I can see… my- my bookshelf, I see… I s-see your s-sweatshirt… and your shirt… and I also see the lights in my room… and my blanket… was that five…?” Logan asks, gently fidgeting with the strings of Virgil’s hoodie, causing a warm smile to appear on Virgil’s face.

“Well done, Logan, that was five, very good.” Virgil praises Logan, keeping his hands steady on Logan’s shoulders, his own anxiety dying down with Logan’s success, which seems to also help Logan feel better. “Four things you can touch?”

As Logan continues through the exercise with Virgil’s guidance, Logan slowly finds himself being more and more grounded, and at the exercise’s conclusion, his newly orange eyes gaze into Virgil’s purple ones with hesitance, yet still with admiration. “You… you remembered.” Logan observes.

“Of course I did.” Virgil assures. “I still use that exercise a lot when I start feeling overwhelmed by my anxiety. It’s nice to have different options, know what I mean?” Logan nods wordlessly. Virgil looks at Logan’s eyes, then down at his hands as he takes them in his own, finally observing the elephant in the room. “So… he’s been bothering you.”

Logan averts his gaze, tears threatening to fall again as he nods. “He has… but not just him.” Logan starts, trying to find the courage to tell Virgil what had happened. Virgil, seeming to understand Logan’s feelings, squeezes his hands in order to give Logan the reassurance he needs. It proves successful as Logan continues talking. “When… when Thomas was cleaning, Remus showed up and started doing… doing his thing. I gave Thomas different methods to make himself feel better about how Remus was bothering him, but then he… he…” Logan clears his throat in an attempt to continue speaking. Nothing happens when he tries again. He clears his throat and tries to speak again. Nothing happens.

“What did Remus do, Logan?” Virgil asks, being as gentle with his question as possible, and struggling to hide his surprise when Logan yells. “HE MADE ME MAD! I- … I felt… so angry. He was ignoring me when I was trying to talk some sense and it felt like my blood was burning. And then he was right! The second that Nico called Thomas, Thomas started completely ignoring my efforts to tell him that implementing this damn schedule!” Logan rises, pulls out the schedule he had worked so hard to create with Thomas, a relic of how valuable he is, and rips it apart.

Upon seeing Virgil tense up at Logan’s outburst, Logan sighs and sits back down. “I’m sorry, Virgil… I just… I feel…” Logan begins, but trails off. Virgil holds his hand, wanting him to finish speaking. “I f-feel… sad. And mad.” Logan admits, lacking the appropriate emotional vocabulary to put a precise name to his feelings. “And I… something about Roman… he kept making me think about Remus. Like, I would see Roman but also see Remus. And I know that’s terrible! He’s nothing like Remus, I know that! Roman is bright, and intelligent, and funny, and… clean.” Logan looks down, avoiding meeting Virgil’s tense gaze.

“… I get it. When I first came to the light side, Roman did usually, well… remind me of Remus.” Virgil admits. “Granted, I barely knew Roman and I grew up with Remus, but still… We both know how amazing Roman is now, and we know that while he is similar to his brother, he’s different in all the ways that matter. He’s kind, he respects the space of others, he is able to reflect on his actions and take accountability and feel guilt when he makes mistakes, and well… when he makes us angry, there are good intentions behind it, right?” Virgil asks, prompting Logan to nod.

“I had a feeling that my brother was behind this somehow.”

Virgil and Logan both jump in terror realizing that Roman had returned, apparently done with his duties in creating a dream for Thomas. Virgil waves hello, but Logan is frozen as he desperately tries to explain himself to the prince, who was standing in the doorway with his arms crossed and a neutral expression on his face. “Oh my god…” Logan tears up. “Oh god, Roman, I’m so sorry… I swear, I didn’t mean to compare you to Remus, I promise, I… you… you aren’t mad, are you?”

“Mad? Oh I am absolutely furious, but not at you, mi amor.” Roman takes one of Logan’s hands in both of his own. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“I… I haven’t? But… I thought I hated when-” Logan starts.

“I hate when people imply that the only thing keeping me from being the evil twin is a mustache.” Roman clarifies with a small jab at Janus. “My brother and I are very similar, Logan, I know that. And I understand that if there are two Creativities, then they will naturally be connected. But you weren’t even comparing us, Logan, you looked at me and you were reminded of an event that really hurt you less than an hour prior.”

Listening to Roman’s voice was enough to completely soothe Logan’s tense body, his shoulders relaxing and his breathing slowing to a relaxed pattern. “May I hold you, Logan?” Virgil smiles, to which Logan snuggles up to him, letting himself be vulnerable in his partner’s arms as Roman maintains his hold on Logan’s hand. “Is there anything I can do to help you?” Roman asks. Logan looks at him, then down at the ripped piece of paper he had left at his feet. He pauses.

    Jaxon ignored him, took his plate, and went back upstairs. Logan relaxed. 

    “Just let me know when you want me to kill him for you,” Janus sneered, then ducked into his and Remus’ room. 

    Roman left for work next, singing on his way out, followed by Patton, who kissed Logan’s cheek and told him to stay safe. Virgil worked nights and didn’t wake until well after 3pm. Janus used noise-cancelling headphones while he worked. As much as Logan tried, he couldn’t get a shift today. He was essentially alone with Jaxon. 

    His stomach churned. 

    He went to his computer. 

    It didn’t take long for Jaxon to come back downstairs. He wrapped his arms around Logan’s shoulders and nuzzled into his neck. 

    “What’s going on?” Jaxon asked. “You’re tense.” 

    Logan’s shoulders relaxed. “I just have a lot of work to do.” 

    “So? Take a break. Come hang out with me.” 

    “Jaxon…” Logan frowned at the screen. “I have a deadline.” 

    Jaxon yanked his arms back. “Are you mad at me or something?” 

    Logan looked over his shoulder. “What? No. Why would I be mad?” 

    He crossed his arms over his chest and scowled, brown eyes hard. “Because you haven’t hung out with me all week. I never see you anymore.” 

    “I work right here in the living room because you wanted to see me more,” Logan insisted. “And we watched three movies last night. We can watch three more tonight.” 

    “Well I don’t wanna force you.”

    Janus’ door creaked open. “That’s exactly what you want to do. Can you two quiet down?” 

    “Come with me,” Jaxon growled under his breath and grabbed Logan’s wrist. 

    Logan stumbled after him. 

    “HEY!” Janus stormed forward and grabbed Logan’s other wrist. “He has a deadline. He needs to work. Have you no manners?” 

    “Sorry, princess, I wasn’t raised in a castle.” Jaxon yanked Logan hard enough for his shoulder to ache. 

    “You’re hurting me,” he said desperately. 

    “Let go of him.” Janus’ eyes were deadly slits. His teeth were fangs, his grip of a Boa. 

    Logan pulled—he’d get punished for that later—until Jaxon let go and he stumbled back into Janus’ arms. Janus quickly righted him then took his hands away. Logan shivered. 

    “We’ll talk about this later,” Jaxon mumbled, “when the snake isn’t around.” 

    He turned and stomped up the stairs. The door slammed, and Logan flinched. 

    “I’m sorry,” he spouted as he turned to Janus. “I’m so sorry about that. I didn’t mean to interrupt your work.” 

    “Don’t worry about it.” 

    “And what he said—” 

    “I am a snake. It’s great. Is your wrist okay?” 

    Logan held it up. The skin was clear, but a bruise would surely show. “It’s fine. He almost…” He forced a laugh, “almost dislocated my shoulder, though.” 

    “Let me take a look at it. Sit down.” 

    Logan sat and Janus tugged his loose neckline down enough to expose his shoulder. Janus hummed. 

    “Is it hurting?” 

    “Just a little. I’m okay.” 

    “Let me get some ice.” 

    Janus came back a moment later and settled the icepack on Logan’s shoulder. 

    “Why haven’t you kicked us out?” Logan asked quietly. 

    “Because if he left, you’d go with him. And we like you a lot.” Janus ran his fingers through Logan’s hair, who leaned into the touch. “Besides, we have better plans for him. We’re killing him, remember?” 

    Logan laughed, and prayed to God Jaxon didn’t hear. 

    xxx 

    Logan didn’t see Jaxon again until dinner. Roman and Remus were play-fighting in the kitchen, yelling over the boiling of a stew. Patton and Virgil were watching a horror movie on the couch, Janus sat at their feet. Virgil kept kicking him. 

    Jaxon came down the stairs as Logan asked to help with dinner. Remus quickly took Logan under his arm. 

    “Yeah! Stir this for me. Hey, Jaxon. I’ve got Logan helping me here.” 

    “I missed you at lunch today,” Logan said over his shoulder. “Are you okay? Feeling sick?” 

    “A little,” he mumbled. “Will you eat with me?” 

    Logan melted. “Of course. Remus, is this safe for him?” 

    Remus grabbed Logan’s shoulder. Logan furrowed his eyebrows as they locked eyes. 

    “Yes.” Remus tapped something on the counter. “Janus and Roman helped me.” 

    Logan glanced down. 

    Peanut powder. 

    He swallowed. 

    “It’s perfectly safe for Jaxon.” 

    Blood rushed through Logan’s ears. 

    “No, actually.” Logan sucked in a shuddering breath. “No, I want to make him something myself.” 

    Remus’ shoulders slumped. “I understand. I guess.” 

    “But…” Logan grabbed his hand. “You can make it again if I ask?” 

    Roman set a hand on Logan’s lightly purpled shoulder. “We absolutely can.” 

    Logan got to work making Jaxon grilled cheese sandwiches, and they ate in the living room with everyone else. Jaxon kept wrinkling his nose and pursing his lips like he was rubbing his tongue against the roof of his mouth. 

    “Everything okay, Jax?” Patton asked sweetly. 

    “There’s no peanuts in that, right? Something about the smell is setting me off.” 

    “Nope.” Janus laid his head in Remus’ lap. “We know about your allergy, Jaxon. We’re careful.” 

    xxx 

    That night, Logan stayed up late with Jaxon watching movies. Logan fell asleep cuddled against Jaxon’s chest and woke up the next morning snuggled with him in bed. 

    He hauled himself out of bed, heavy with exhaustion, as the smoke alarm screamed. Janus kissed Remus on the cheek before leaving for their coffees. Remus cracked another egg in the pan. Roman sang Disney at the top of his lungs as he got ready in the bathroom, Virgil pounding on the door demanding that he needed to piss. Patton snapped that there’s another bathroom upstairs and that if those two didn’t stop fighting he’d lose his mind. 

    Logan found a path in the kitchen to grab the stuff for French toast. He pushed aside Remus’ used dishes and ingredients to set his own down. 

    “How are you feeling?” Remus asked as Logan whisked. “You know, about the decision you made.” 

    “Good,” he admitted. “I think it was the right call.” 

    Remus set the spatula down hard. “So how else do you wanna proceed?” 

    Logan’s whisks slowed. “I… I don’t know. Last time I talked about maybe taking a break, he—” 

    “Hey, Jaxon!” Patton greeted cheerfully. 

    Logan snapped his mouth shut. 

    “Morning, handsome.” Jaxon kissed the back of Logan’s neck. 

    He smiled as Jaxon poured them both juice. “It was the right decision.”

    xxx 

    “Logan!” Jaxon bounded down the stairs. “When are you stopping for lunch?” 

    “Um…” Logan shifted in his seat. “I had lunch.” 

    Jaxon stopped. “What?” 

    “It was quick.” Logan pushed back in the chair to face Jaxon. “Just a snack, really. Then I got right back to work.” 

    “Why would you eat without me? I knew it, you are mad at me. We always have lunch together.” 

    “I know, I’m sorry—”

    “If you know, why did you eat without me? What did I even do?”

    “You didn’t do anything!” 

    “But you’re mad at me.” 

    “I’m not mad at you!”

    “THEN WHY WOULD YOU EAT WITHOUT ME?”

    Logan flinched. 

    Jaxon grabbed his wrist and hauled him to his feet. “Don’t be a baby! Just tell me!” 

    He slammed Logan into the wall just as Janus’ door opened. Logan’s head bounced off the paint, his eye erupting in pain. 

    “Get off,” Janus snapped. 

    “This is none of your business! Go back to work!” 

    Janus pulled his phone out of his pocket. He dialed three numbers. 

    “Put the phone down!” 

    “I need someone here right away, my roommate—”

    Jaxon leapt ten steps back. Logan crumpled in on himself, pressed against the wall where Jaxon left him. 

    “I think he’s calming down now,” Janus said into the phone. He raised an eyebrow. “Yes, I would like you to remain on the line.” 

    Jaxon grabbed his wallet and keys, and stormed out. The door slammed and Logan flinched. 

    “He’s gone now. Thank you for your help. Let me ask.” He pressed the phone to his shirt. “Do you want to press charges? Do you want the police to come?” 

    Logan shook his head, eyes watering. “I want to make dinner.” 

    xxx 

    “That again?” Jaxon asked, peering over Logan’s shoulder. 

    Logan stirred the thick broth. “You didn’t get to try it. It’s good.” 

    Jaxon shrugged. “Is your eye okay?”

    “It’ll heal.” 

    He left. Logan grabbed the peanut powder and dumped in a generous amount, then left it to boil and cook down. 

    Everyone stared at Jaxon as they ate. Logan finished his bowl and grabbed seconds. Pale blotches appeared on Jaxon’s face. His lips swelled. 

    “Are you sure this doesn’t have peanuts?” He asked nervously. “I don’t feel great.” 

    “My eye hurts,” Logan announced. 

    “I have some medicine for it.” Remus kissed Logan’s cheek. “I’ll be right back.” 

    Jaxon glared. “Kiss your own boyfriend!” 

    By the time Remus came back, Jaxon’s throat was swelling shut. “Drive me to a hospital,” he demanded in a hoarse voice. 

    Patton knelt between Logan’s legs and applied the cream Remus bought to Logan’s browbone and the top of his cheekbone. 

    “Dinner was good,” Virgil said. “Are you gonna finish yours, Jax?” 

    He glared and stumbled for the door. “What the hell is this?” 

    Virgil shrugged and grabbed Jaxon’s bowl, downing the rest. Roman leaned against the door with his arms crossed. Jaxon threw a punch, but Roman easily ducked against Jaxon’s weak, wobbling frame. 

    “Oh, God, are you okay?” Patton gasped. “Call an ambulance!” 

    Jaxon collapsed to his knees as his body convulsed. His hands dug into the carpet. He vomited, elbows and knees locking. 

    “Shit, did we add peanut?” Roman asked. “Old habits.” 

    “What’s the number again?” Remus stared at his phone in confusion. 

    “What’s… wrong… with you… all…” Jaxon gasped through his throw up. 

    “911, I think,” Logan mumbled. “Are you okay, love?” 

    “I need someone here right away. My roommate is having an allergic reaction. He was eating alone, we didn’t catch it very fast— yes. Okay, I understand. Mhm.” He gave them the address then hung up. 

    Janus, Remus, and Roman turned on the T.V. Logan and Patton got to work cleaning up after dinner. Virgil stared Jaxon down. 

    He was dead before the paramedics arrived. 

    xxx 

    The smoke alarm blared. Logan hauled himself out of the warm bed and came out of Janus and Remus’ room. 

    “Slept long enough,” Janus said, wrapping his arms around Logan’s waist. 

    Logan leaned his head on Janus’ shoulder. “Coffee?” 

    “Yeah. Let’s go.” 

    “Breakfast is almost ready!” Remus called. “Hurry up!” 

    “I HAVE TO PISS, ROMAN!” 

    “THERE ARE TWO BATHROOMS!” 

    Logan got into the car with Janus. Janus pulled out of the driveway and headed towards the nearest coffee shop. 

    “How are you feeling?” Janus asked, reaching over and taking his hand. 

Honing in on the gold door knob, he knew he should have no trouble jumping up to it with the cats average jumping height without running being 5 feet, but the matter of actually opening the door would provide to be difficult without hands. He could just meow loudly at the door until someone came up, but he’d prefer to save that for a, ‘last resort’.

Logan lowered himself to the ground, calculating the general trajectory he could need so he wouldn't just throw himself against the wood. He leaned forward and down on his paws and wiggled in anticipation; He lunged. Logan was air borne, he swatted the doorknob hitting it with his paw, bound off the door with his back paws and he was back on the floor. He regathered himself from the sudden burst of energy. First attempts are often not the successful try. Logan backed up a bit further from his original trajectory point, and began to try again.

--

A time and multiple tries later, Logan stood proudly in the now open and somewhat scratched up doorway. It had admittedly taken longer than he had anticipated, having gotten distracted more with actually trying to catch the doorknob rather than open it having not been accounted for, but he was now free from his own room. And free to go in search of Roman.

Padding down the hallways past the various doors of bedrooms, he could hear everything much louder. Along with conversation, the hum of the refrigerator and tv was also more noticeable than on average. Slinking to the edge of the stairway, Logan could tell the tones of the voices were Patton and Roman, as well as a movie playing. He tail flicked to the side. Having both of them together would provide to be quite the obstacle if he was to get to Roman, and the living-room was a very open to anyone who happened to walk through, which was inconvenient for not bringing attention to himself too. He could wait for them to finish the program they were watching and hide out by the stairs up in the hall, hearing the music number, people laughing, and a door opening on the show he couldn't tell what it was to estimate how long was left but-

Logan froze in the air as he was suddenly lifted up from the floor. Chattering indignantly he found himself suddenly face to face with a confused Virgil. Virgil held Logan in his arms, pulling him to his chest facing him so he was no longer suspended in air. He seemed to ask a question as he lifted a hand gentle up to Logan’s face. It seemed, despite the sudden rude attack of picking Logan up unprompted, Virgil did intend to bond with the random cat he found in the hall, in this case. He wiggled and bonked Virgil’s hand with his head, intending to get him to withdraw it, as there was no need to extend an offer for trust, as Logan already trusted Virgil.

However given the chuckle he suddenly felt rumble from Virgil’s chest he quickly realized his own mistake in cat behavior and went to do anything else, but he was suddenly overtaken by a warm contentment as a hand was placed on his head, beginning to pet him. Logan closed his eyes leaning into it and purred. Very loudly, even to his own ears. Virgil seemed to make some sort of surprised delighted noise and momentarily withdrew his hand with it; Before Logan could think better of himself, he was quickly swatting and pulling Virgil’s hand back to him, rubbing against his shirt.

Virgil said something but he didn't really take note as his ears were stroked, he couldn't understand his words at the moment anyway. Logan briefly had a fleeting thought that this cat transformation was influencing him stronger than he had initially realized, but it was long forgotten with his own figurative motor going and the warmth of Virgil’s hold.

--

Logan had completely melted in a grinning Virgil’s grip by the time he was carried down stairs.

Roman and Patton laid in a partially destroyed blanket fort, now just sitting on the piles of pillows and blankets on the couch, singing along as Moana played on screen.

“Yo guys, since when do we have a cat?”

Patton’s head immediately swung around, nearly launching himself off the couch, his foot getting caught on a light blue comforter, his face lighting up. “Cat?! Oh my gosh we have a cat?  I love him can I hold them?!”

Roman blinked in surprise at the new arrival, the slower of the two to respond verbally. He swiveled in his sitting position to look on as Patton stood up making grabby hands to the cat in Virgil’s arms. “I… have no idea where that cat came from, where on earth did you find-”

“Him I think?” Patton now had the cat in his arms, holding him almost like you would hold a baby; The cat just purred.

Roman nodded. “-him.”  

Virgil shrugged as he shifted the cat to a better suited grip in Patton’s arms. “He was just standing staring down from the top of the stairs when I came out of my room, I’m not sure where he was before that.”

Roman hummed as he got up from the couch and approached the other two, taking a moment to give the black cat some brief loving pets as well. The cat merped when the sides finally stopped, blinking up at them with deep bright blue eyes that seemed to come out of a daze.

“Well that's certainly odd! Do ya think he came from the imagination maybe?” Patton gaze turned to roman.

Roman ran a hand through his hair. “I mean, I’m usually pretty good at keeping the door shut Pat,” He stated, before wincing. “But it wouldn't be the first time I accidentally left it open however, I will admit.”

Patton gave Roman a reassuring pat on the shoulder with his non cat holding arm. “Don't worry about it kiddo! It happens!”

“Yeah and when it happens it usually cause a mess that takes like a week to clean up.” Virgil countered before putting his hands up. “No offense.”

“None taken.” Roman waved him off sheepishly.

“Uhh, anyway do you think maybe hes one of those, what are they called, those things of your that just kind of, pop up?” He grimaced slightly. “Bad explanation.”

“Oh oh!” Patton interjected. “Like those glowy flowers we had for while growing in the storage closet?”

“Drifting daydreams?” Roman gazed over the cat with a skeptical eye. “Perhaps? Though he doesn't seem particularly sparkly, or dream like. And I haven't really been think of any cats more than usual.”

Virgil hummed in consideration.

Roman just stared down the cat, the cat stared disgruntled back, having been watching the three.

Patton cut through the pause. “Soo, can we keep him?” He held up the cat carefully, a bursting smile on his face. The cat looked displeased.

His expression dimmed as Roman and Virgil shared a look. Roman grimacing and Virgil’s face a mix of sympathy and ‘i don't think this is a good idea, we care barely take care of ourselves, we cant take care of a cat’

“I don't think this is a good idea, we can barely take care of ourselves, we cant take care of a cat.” Virgil said.

“But!! He’s only gonna be here for a little while probably, and we cant just leave him to fend on his own in the mindpalace!”

“Pat you are literally allergic to cats, you could inhale his fur and die.” With that Virgil looked uncomfortably aware that Patton was the one holding the cat.

“Well, more likely sneeze like you’ve had pixie dust thrown in your face, but I agree with nightmare before christmas over here. That doesn't seem like a grand idea as far as keeping him. But! I also don't think we should just let him roam.”

Patton tilted his head. The cat shifted slightly in his hold so it was much looser. “Well what can we do with him then?”

“We could put him in the imagination with-”

“Woah!”

“Ah!’

“Great beard of Zeus!”

And with a hiss the cat darted out of Patton’s arms, skid across the floor passed Virgil’s shoes, and bolted down the hallway of the mindscape.

–

Logan ran, the shouts of the others behind him as he zoomed down one of the many connecting hallways as fast as his paws could carry him. The only thought going through his mind saying run, the sudden restless energy seemingly coming out of nowhere, and hearing at least one of the others following after him only spurred him on. He skittered past the bedroom doorway, sliding on the laminate and knocking his own bedroom door back closed as he ran straight into Roman’s open door.

Entering the large room Logan flew by the papers covering the floor on hopped up onto the desk, almost sliding off the ledge as sheets went flying off instead. He could still hear the others calling out for him but not anywhere close, presumable having lost track of him. The moment seemed to subside as the tension started to ebb from Logan. He reflected, dumbfound, at his behavior and sat down on the desk corner, absentmindedly fixing his fur with his paw. This momentary lapse in logical thinking, in human logical thinking, flustered him at his lack of self impulse control as a cat.

The others had seemed to be debating something about him while he was in Patton’s hold, and he could almost feel the conflict in the room when instinct of some sort, he could only guess, encouraged him to bolt. An odd thing to warrant running at full speed from a non-threatening situation, but his cat body supposedly disagreed with his rational brain.

His ear twitched as he heard the voices seeking him, now getting further way. Going down a different hallway it seemed. Patton cooing for him and Roman calling out fading away, Virgil likely with them as well, just less vocal. Now presented with an unaccounted for minor difficulty in being turned back, the best course of action would be to stay as far away from from the others to avoid physical contact with the other to reduce the amount of stimuli that could induce a reaction, while also somehow alerting them to his unfortunate transformation.

Perhaps he could write some sort of message, that would be the most straight to point way to inform them, without being physically direct. Looking around Roman’s desk, the cherry wood stained with paint and markers, it was only covered in one or two papers that were left on its top and a pair of scissors. Looking around the room it seemed he had knocked the pen holder off as well in his earlier haste. Logan realized while he had been in Roman’s room many times prior, he had very seen it from this angle. Being a cat sitting on his desk, obviously not. Though the room itself had not changed at all.

It was still the same large room, white cream walls and intricate swirling wall trim. The desk he was sat upon, the vanity adjacent to it, and the bookcase all appeared as they usually did, and dull white glow from the fairytale-like door to the imagination cast over them. The fairy lights on the walls cast as a main light source however, tacked on the walls next to Roman’s ‘prince’ bed, a canopy bed with tall cream and gold drapery, hanging down in twisting towers of fabric, soft and delicate, easily ripped. A thing that could easily offer him the highest vantage point in the room.

Logan involuntarily found himself lowering slightly. The fine sparkly drapery was perfectly climbable, he could just make his way up and see the room much better. Surely, he could find a pen much easier that way. Logan wiggled and a resounding ‘no!’ echoing from behind him as he pounced and launched himself up onto the curtains, claws digging in as he quickly began pulling himself up them.

He panicked as one of his claws got caught up in the fabric. Logan wiggled wildly and flailed his paw in all directions trying to untangle himself. He could feel hands attempt to pluck him from his mess and began to wiggle more. he was caught and something was grabbing him and he did not like this. He was lifted upwards and his claw came out from the drape, frenzied he did what felt natural and now latched onto the hand holding him so he wouldn't fall. He was dropped to the floor while at a loud exclamation came from the side who had been muttering as he tried to release him. Logan, now on the floor, meet Roman frazzled eyes with his own and fluffed up as large as he could.

Roman glared down at him for a moment, saying a word Logan could only guess was a swear before his shoulders slumped and he sighed, holding his slightly scratched hand. Logan stood his ground as he slowly held his hands up and conjured a water bottle and a band-aid. Roman didn't seem to be trying to hold him now and Logan felt a pang of regret as his heart rate came down and he watched Roman tend the wound. Before he knew it Logan padded over to the wary creative side and rubbed against his leg. Roman huffed but gave him a quick gentle pat.

His ears perked up, turning his head as Virgil entered the room, quickly followed by Patton. He skittered back a bit as Pat rushed pasted him to Roman who just laughed and waved him off, showing the small scratches. Virgil said something, the only one still standing in the doorway.

Logan suddenly remembered his search for a pen now that everyone was in the room. Running over to the scattered pens and papers, he heard Roman groan, as he had apparently just noticed that specific mess he had caused, as Logan picked a pen up in his mouth. Not the most ideal thing but it would do. However, it was quickly pulled out of his mouth by Virgil. Logan hissed up at him in annoyance, Virgil hissed back. As Virgil reached down to pick him up and presumably move him away from the pens, Logan decided he was not getting picked up again.

The cat bolted once more, a frustrated yell from one of them as he narrowly dodged Virgil’s grip, practically using him as a spring board in the process. Virgil probably would have been successful in grabbing again if he hadn't slipped on the pens scattered on the floor. There was a concerned call from a conflicted Patton but Logan was off once again.

No one had followed him this time it seemed, Logan noted. He had concluded he likely couldn't get any pens with the other sides around. Bur looking around the kitchen all pens seemed to be put away, not that there logically should be pens in the kitchen anyway, but there usually was. Any and all of his personal pens were stored in is room, which the door was now closed to, thanks to himself.

Claws tapping on the tile Logan leapt up on the marble counter-top. There wasn't anything up there either, aside from a few unwashed dishes. The room still smelled like microwaved thai noodle leftovers too. His ears flattened as the smell was much stronger as a cat. He could try doing things to indicate who he was, but that would require going right back up the others again, and he wasn't sure about trying that direct of a method after those other stunts he had pulled.

Logan's eyes drifted to the far hallway, this one a little darker. He could hear loud cackling laughing coming from down that way, and it wasn't a movie playing either.

Perhaps the others had some spare pens lying about.

--

Logan strode down the hallway, which usually seemed much darker than it actually was now that he was in it, likely dew to his current senses. The sound of Remus cackling somewhere down the way getting louder. The hard wood floors transitioned to light grey carpeting and Logan entered the other half of the mindscape. It seemed Remus was somewhere to his left from what he could tell, so Logan took a right and found himself in the living area.

Scanning the floor from next to the coffee table, he couldn't see anything that would indicate any writing utensils laying about. He quickly scaled up the side of the dark grey couch poising himself on the arm of it to get a better view. It was immaculately clean in here, much more organized than their current mess.

Searching around the room once more from his perch there still didn't appear to be any stray items he could write with that were visible. Going across the cushions he hoped down from the other side of the couch. While perhaps not the option with the best success rate, his next option he planned to take, was searching the next most likely place he would be able to find something to communicate with, where most of the sides personal stuff was stored. The bedrooms.

Logan was usually someone who respected the other sides privacy in his own option. But he found as a foot tall ball of fur and claws he didn't find himself caring much. Walking into the corridor he could still hear Remus, who was clearly doing, something, in his room, and he didn't intend to tread into it with him still there. So Logan now stood in-front of the door on the other wall, a pale yellow door that was thankfully cracked open slightly, Deceit’s room.

Slipping through the small opening Logan immediately froze. Staring into the lush room, he found himself making direct eye-contact with a startled Deceit who kept his gaze as his office chair slowly stopped spinning. Logan's ears flattened but he took a cautious step forward. Deceit tilted his head to the right before slowly holding his hand down and out to Logan.

He didn't seem particularly bothered by the sudden addition to his room surprisingly, one would think deceit would be more bothered by an intrusion of privacy. Regardless of how unbothered he seemed, Logan wasn't going to take any chances of getting to close, lest he get pet again. He padded past him and hopped up on the desk. Deceit made some sort of remark but otherwise did nothing about him invading his space. There was a tank with a snake right in-front of the desk inlayed in the wall that he hadn't noticed from the floor: Logan sniffed the glass but he couldn't see the snake inside at the moment. Looking around the other edge of the glass he searched to see if he could see the snake. The door suddenly banged open and Logan fluffed up.  Pushing himself to the corner of the desk, Logan watched Deceit turn around with Remus now in the room.

–

“Hey double dee!” Remus exclaimed slamming open the door easily with a wide grin. “Guess what I just-”

He blinked in surprise as his ivy eyes locked in on an un-amused deceit and some sort of small grey puff on the corner of Deceits desk. Hissing, not at deceit, but at him.

“Congratulations Remus, you've now startled the cat.”

“The cat?” Remus parroted bewildered.

“No, the dog that is clearly here.” Deceit drawled. “Yes the cat Remus” He said as he rolled back a bit to give some space to the cat pressed against the wall. “He made him self at home a minute ago after slinking through my door.”

“But that can’t, that doesn't,-” Remus looked genuinely stumped, somewhere between recognition and conflict on his face. “-but Roman’s still in the light sides commons?”

Deceit’s eyes narrowed as he quirked a brow, leaning forward in his chain, now intrigued. “Oh? What does this have to do with Roman?”

“I was gonna turn him into a cat! I made a potion and everything yesterday!” He gestured to the door behind him. “I used some dragon bones and swap slug water and magic powder and a piece of his hair and everything!” He lamented dramatically.  “But I was just down there and hes still the same boring him! I was gonna watch emo and debbie downer freak out about it but everyone was down stairs except for logic!”

Deceit froze for a minute, what had just clicked in his head clearly clicking in Remus’s head too as his face lit up with realization.

“Remus,”

“Dee dee.” He grinned guilty.

“Where did you get the piece of hair you used for your potion?”

“Off their kitchen table...”

“And who exactly was last at the table?”

“Roman, i thought, but there was a jar of crofters sitting out too...”

They both turned to the cat, who still couldn't understand them.

Deceit leaned back to face the somewhat calm cat, staring back at them with curious eyes.

“Logan?”

He certainly reacted to that.

---

Logan jolted as Deceit very clearly said his name to his face.

Remus cackled loudly practically wheezing while Deceit gave him an un-amused glance. Logan looked rapidly between the two for some insight. Deceit tried to say something to Logan as he usually would.  

He tilted his head as he spoke, still not understand what was being said beyond a single word. Deceit turned to Remus and asked him something before looking back to him. Logan watched them both with calculating eyes, this was certainly not who he expected would be the ones to realize his situation. Though connecting context clue’s he had a guess of who changed him in the first place. Remus nodded to something Deceit said and ran off down the hall. Logan just sat patiently, as the wasn't much he could do for now, though he could run once more if need be.

Deceit suddenly smirked and gave Logan an, albeit very clearly patronizing pat, it was sympathetic in nature. Logan couldn't help the sudden loud rumble that came from him, despite his best efforts, slightly leaning against the gloves hand. His ears flatted in embarrassment as Deceit pulled back looked stunned, but quickly put himself back together. Thankfully doing nothing more, if only for Logan’s own self-respect.

Remus returned skidding around the corner holding a sloshing bottle filled with a saturated pink liquid, it almost glistening in the light.

Logan was suddenly picked up by Remus and he dug his claws into the puffy sleeves as he was transported to the dark living-room. Deceit briefly scolded Remus lightly but the latter just shrugged with a teasing smirk. Logan fluffed up again when he was set down on the floor, the others much taller than him standing up, but before he could do anything the cold liquid suddenly splattered onto his head. His thoughts briefly became fuzzy as he felt his senses dull and felt a similar flip of when they changed from as suddenly, opening his eyes once more after getting a grip on reality, Logan, the human Logan, stared up at the ceiling.

–

Logan blinked a few times at the sudden change in lighting and sound feeling a bit disoriented, a dull throb behind hid eyes, but not painful.

“Whoo! It worked! Aaand you didn't turn into a glob of mutated human flesh!”

Logan tilted his head back glaring slightly at the delighted Remus looming above him with a grin.  He adjusted his glasses slowly sitting up and regathering his bearing.

“Thank you for the lovely visual Remus.” Deceit quipped. “And I’m sure this totally was what Logan expecting for this morning, so my apologies.”

“Always here to please! In more ways than one.” Remus shimmed next to deceit who rolled his eyes with a slight smirk.

Logan stood up, fixing his hair which seemed to have residual fluff from the transition and re-adjusted his tie. “It is quite alright Deceit. And I would also like to apologize for invading your space, and will soon be leaving your metaphorical hair. However, to be clear i take it Remus is the one responsible for my sudden feline attributes?”

“Yep!”

“Unfortunately.”

“Ah. I shall have to take that into consideration then.” Logan nodded to himself.

Remus stared blankly with a smile tilting his head. “What?”

He reassured him. “Nothing of concern or malicious intent, merely an event to take into consideration when future events may take place. As they say, ‘keeping receipts’.”

Deceit raised an amused eyebrow.

“But I believe I shall be leaving now. And hopefully reconciling any mishaps that may have taken place by some cat in the past hour and 32 minutes I was away. Goodbye Remus, Deceit.”

“Don’t look froward to seeing you again Logan.”

“Bye Nerd!”

And Logan sunk out.

–

“What d’ya you think he meant by mishaps?” Remus looked to Deceit while picking his ear.

Deceit hummed. “Gossip seems to find its way around when you live in one persons mind, I suppose I could find out later and let you know.” He drawled with a smirk. “Secrets are my thing after all.”

Logan Xīng was an astronaut. He’d signed up for it. Large sums of space had never really bothered him. Never registered. He was usually too busy surviving day-to-day when he was living with his parents, and once he was old enough to move, he did. Cut connections with them. Started living on his own, barely scraping by with a day job in construction and going to night school. He’d somehow scored an internship with NASA, and quickly escalated to a position where he would work on the International Space Station for a two year shift.

These were the events that led him here, approximately 254 miles away from Earth. It looked… small. Insignificant. Maybe it was. No, it definitely was. Humanity was simply a blip in the existence of the universe- one singular spark. And gosh, was the universe vast. It was almost comforting in a way- Logan was barely a quark on a cosmic scale. Not important enough to change the world. The grandness of it was safe, homey, to him. He wasn’t big enough to destroy anything cosmically.

But a part of Logan didn’t register anything as real. His surroundings, the people aboard that he’d known for 7 months or more now, the stars, the station. His past, his life: none of it was actually happening to him. He wasn’t the person interacting. He was an observer. Like a camera. People can interact with it, and sometimes it’s even programmed to respond in a way that mimics a sentient entity, but did it really happen? The camera didn't do that on its own volition. It learned to.

And it ran deeper than that- it felt like Logan was encased in glass, unable to break out without being hit with a tidal wave of repressed emotions. It affected his interactions- he didn’t really talk to that person. Was he sure that this was his body? How could he know what was happening was real?

The short answer? He couldn’t.

It wasn’t a new feeling, to say the least. Half of Logan’s life was buried away, no memory of it to be found. He walked around in a dreamscape. He’d read something about trauma affecting how people perceive reality, but for the life of him he couldn’t remember any trauma. When he was a child he’d constantly doubted what aspects of his life were real- Were the people around him really thinking, being? Did his room look like that yesterday? Did he remember that correctly, or did his brain make that memory up?

...He was trailing off. The stars. He was supposed to be thinking about the stars. He had to focus on this- the radiation was much clearer from here than on Earth and it could provide a valuable perspective on stars that were farther off. Farther than any human would ever realistically get. How could they ever know it wasn’t just an elaborate illusion? Space was incredulous, and there were a fair amount of conspiracy theories, were there not? Reality is entirely based on perception-- Schrodinger’s Cat, and all, or was Logan getting that wrong?

People like to imagine that they’re right in between the size of the universe and the size of an atom. They have an almost instinctual need to put ourselves in the center of things. But they aren’t. Honestly, they may be about the size of an atom in the universe’s consideration. It was ridiculo-

Okay. This- this wasn’t working. Logan needed a change of scenery. A break. Maybe he’d take a spacewalk.

Logan moved away from the computer he’d been working at, pulling himself through the halls and greeting his crewmates. Roman smiled at him, patting him on the shoulder as he passed, and Patton reminded him to get a bite to eat. He promised vaem that he would. He reached the airlock and donned one of the suits, fifteen minutes passing surprisingly fast. He wasn’t technically supposed to do a spacewalk unprompted, but a small breach of protocol wouldn’t hurt anyone, would it? It was really only a matter of personal safety. And no one cared enough about Logan for him to worry about that.

Logan opened the first door and shut it tight behind him, ensuring the safety of the rest of the crew, before proceeding to unlock the second door and float out into the vast, endless expanse of nothing.

It was fine at first- Logan just floated about a bit, even shutting his eyes and allowing himself to drift for a moment or two. Then the black in between the stars started getting to him. He felt his chest tighten, feeling behind him to make sure he was still attached to the station. He was. Right?

Logan turned around and almost didn’t register the station when he saw it. It didn’t really calm him down. He could fly towards it and it could vanish, like a mirage. He was alone- god, why did he come out here alone? Why did he come out here at all? He was on the verge of- well, something, for god’s sake!

He started trying to get back to the station, but his grip was failing on him and his hands slipped and he spiraled even further away from it, making desperate grabs for some sort of bar or grip or really anything that would stop him from flying away, but there was nothing. His vision started blurring and he realized a little bit too late that he was crying. God. He needed to cut it out or he’d drown from the water clumping around his face from the lack of gravity, which itself was such a strange concept, was it not?

Or, maybe he wouldn’t be able to navigate back, and- and he would end up stuck out here, until someone saw him, and… who knows how long that would take? Logan could run out of oxygen, or die of fright, or really anything horrible could happen. Oxygen- oh, god, he had his oxygen tank on, right? It was still there, as far as he could tell, but he wasn’t exactly inclined to trust his senses right now. And was it full? Maybe it wasn’t- had he checked? He did feel rather short of breath, after all.

Now that he thought about it, Logan was rather sure that the tank he had grabbed was near empty. If he recalled properly? He only had thirty minutes at most. He’d suffocate before he could even get back, he thought. Was it getting darker? Was he getting further away? He could’ve sworn there were more stars, and- and they were definitely brighter, right? Right?

Logan choked out a bitter laugh, rather convinced he was to die alone in space, of all places. Space. Was there a better place to die? Oh, probably… Though nothing came to mind. Maybe he’d be the first human to die in space, that’d be an achievement. Maybe someone would be proud of it for him. Maybe it’d be an embarrassment to the people who’d supported him. Maybe-

And everything went black.

“Logan? Logan! Shoot, you- you don’t think he’s hurt, do you? God, I don’t think mission control’s going to be happy with us if he is-”

“Virgil, calm down, he had a panic attack. He’s not hurt. Just rattled.” Janus’s voice came out clearly. He’d always been rather good at enunciation. Maybe he didn’t care- was that why he sounded so unconcerned?

“Well I hope he isn’t hurt, I need his help with an idea I had!”

“Remus, is this a realistic idea, or is it another laser eyes situation?”

“Jeez, Jan, you don’t need to be so meaaaan!” “Shut up,” Logan grumbled, covering his eyes with his hand and sitting up.

“Logan!!” Patton lunged at him, knocking him over and hugging him tightly.

“Patton- I can’t- breathe-” “Oh!! Whoops,” Patton giggled. “I’m glad you’re ok.” “You really had us scared there, star-spangled Bruce Banner,” Roman sighed.

“That was awful,” Virgil snickered.

“I’d like to see you come up with better, then!”

“Nah.” “What happened? Is everyone ok- what time is it?”

“You- you had a panic attack, we think. I only noticed you floating out there looking dead as a corpse when I was trying to gauge where the moon was. Roman did the rescuing- he went out there and plucked you out of the sky. You were outside for about 30 minutes. And it’s been an hour or so since we got you inside.” Janus looked at him pointedly. “And before you say you have work to get to, you have to take some time to recuperate. You wanna talk about what happened out there?”

Logan was glad that the others were happy, he really was. Thomas had been waiting to hear back from Nico all day, and while he had promised Logan that he’d spend the day being productive with him, it still makes sense that upon receiving an invitation to spend time with Nico, Thomas would jump at the opportunity. That wasn’t what bothered Logan.

What bothered Logan was what happened during his encounter with that Duke. Logan expected it to go poorly, it was Remus after all, but this was just… cruel. How Logan had been provoked. How Remus went out of his way to remind Logan of just how little Thomas cared about his advice.

How nauseous Logan felt when he saw the color orange…

Logan forced himself to snap back into reality when Nico would ask Thomas a question, though he wasn’t really paying attention. Roman and Patton seemed to have the situation under control, fairly well too since Virgil was just sitting off to the side, minding his own business. Logan smiled at his fellow sides before making eye contact with Roman, when his smile suddenly breaks, feeling like a liar for ever having smiled in the first place. As little as anyone wanted to admit it, Roman and Remus had many similarities… too many similarities. And thanks to Remus, the concept of creativity made Logan sick to his stomach, a feeling that Logan felt terrible for having in the first place.

“Lo?”

Roman was better than Remus! Roman had been his friend since the logical side had first formed, and had been one of his two boyfriends for, what, 3 years now? Logically, Logan knew that Roman was harmless, especially compared to his brother.

“Logan.”

But the knowledge that if Roman could do something similar to Remus if he so chose made Logan want to vomit. Was his love for Roman fake? No, it couldn’t have been, could it? But Roman hated Janus for comparing him to Remus, will Roman hate him too? He’s not trying to compare him to Remus, he’s really not! It was like a reflex to look at Roman and imagine a mustache where one didn’t exist, as little as Logan wanted to think about it. It was almost… intrusive…

“Logan!” Logan’s spiraling is interrupted by Virgil’s soft hand being placed on his cheek. Despite his trait, Virgil was exceptionally good at calming Logan down when he needed it, not that Logan was the type to ever admit he needs it to begin with.

“Oh, um… yes, Virgil?” Logan asks, trying to act like he wasn’t just picturing Roman as Remus for… how long had he been staring at Roman in horror?

“Are you okay?” Virgil’s quiet voice sounded so damn comforting, despite the fact that Logan hadn’t even planned to tell him anything. It makes him feel like a traitor. He claims to be in love with Virgil and Roman and yet he can’t be honest with them even though he knows how much they hate lies? And even worse, he had betrayed Roman by subconsciously comparing him to the one side he hates being compared to the most? “L-Logan?? Why are you crying, L?”

Logan tightly wraps his arms around Virgil before he can stop himself, which prompts Roman and Patton to also look over with concern before rushing to Logan’s side to comfort him. “My dear, what’s the matter? Did Thomas say something wrong or something?” Roman tries to make eye contact with Logan, who avoids looking up from where he’s buried his face in Virgil’s jacket, desperately avoiding Roman’s gaze. Don’t look at me, Roman, I’m so sorry… I’m the worst boyfriend ever, how could I do that to you? And not even have the courage to tell you about it??

Virgil shoots Patton a pleading look, and Patton gets the message, gently instructing Thomas that it’s time to leave. Thomas, despite his initial disappointment, agrees after a bit of prodding, wishing Nico a good day before leaving to go home. Virgil carries Logan on his back, not wanting to force him to walk when he’s so miserable. Roman tries repeatedly to get Logan to look at him, to no avail, which worries both Virgil and Roman.

    The sun streaming through his curtainless blinds woke him. He propped himself up on one hand, the other rubbing his eye as he yawned. 

    He stared down at the blanket. 

    Must’ve done it in his sleep. It got freezing at night. 

    After waking up a moment, he trudged back outside to bring in some boxes. He had four boxes total, most of them clothes. It didn’t take long to bring everything inside. 

    He decided to fold his clothes and line them along the living room wall. He didn’t have any furniture, and he sure as hell didn’t have the money for any, so he planned on staying in the living room until things got settled. Until he was safe. 

    He dumped his box of clothes on the ground. The doorbell rang. 

    His heart hammered, drowning out any other noise. His palms sweat. The room spun. 

    “Hello? You up yet?” A sweet voice called. “I brought breakfast!” 

    Logan blinked. That didn’t sound like them. 

    He shakily rose to his feet and crept over to the door. He peeked through the peep hole. 

    A short, freckly boy with brown skin and curly hair stood on his doorstep, arms piled with tupperware. 

    He cracked the door open. “Hello?” 

    “Hi! You’re Logan?” 

    “Yes. Do I know you…?”

    He shook his head. “Nope! I’m Patton. Talyn told me you were coming and I know the house pretty well, so I’ve been taking care of it. Just wanted to drop in and make sure it’s treating you well!” 

    Logan hesitated, then pulled the door open while clearing his throat. “Uh, yeah, sure. What’s…?” 

    “Breakfast!” He strided through the foyer, the living room, into the kitchen, where he lined the containers up on the counter. “I wasn’t sure what you liked. I made toast, eggs, bacon… I think I have some waffles here somewhere…” 

    “That’s…” Logan swallowed. His chest was tight. “That’s really sweet, but I couldn’t—”

    “Have you eaten today?” 

    Logan paused. 

    “Come on, I made too much! Please, take as much as you want.” 

    Patton poked his head in the living room, looking around. “Still as neat as I left it. I can tell you’re pretty neat, too.”

    Logan blushed. “I’m sorry about that, I was about to—”

    He stopped at Patton’s side. 

    His clothes were folded. 

    Neatly, colour coordinated. 

    “Uh…” 

    Patton smiled and urged him towards the kitchen. Logan nibbled on a piece of toast, ignoring his growling stomach. “So how are you liking it so far? It’s treating you well?” 

    “It’s… yeah? It’s been okay. I got in late last night. It gets cold.” 

    “Yeah, that turns a lot of people off. But it’s got a lot of good qualities! Just a little cold sometimes.” Patton hopped up on a bar stool and swung his legs. “This is a really good house, Logan. A lot of people have wanted to live here, but couldn’t.” 

    He frowned deeply. “What does that mean?” 

    “They couldn’t stomach it. Not that I can blame them, but they were squeamish. Are you squeamish?” 

    Logan stared. 

    “I’m getting carried away,” he said softly. “I’ll leave you to it. Uh, just return those tupperwares whenever! And if you need help finding a job, let me know, too! I’ve got a home bakery next door, I could use an assistant.” 

    Logan nodded slowly. He followed to make sure Patton left, and locked the door behind him. 

    He checked the food before he continued eating. He wasn’t sure if he’d actually be able to notice if it were drugged, but he had to try. He also couldn’t turn the food down. His stomach clawed itself to shreds, screaming for something. Logan ate himself sick. 

    He spent the first two hours after unpacking, then headed into town to look for work. It wasn’t easy without a phone or laptop. He eventually found his way to the library, and spent all day sending out resumes and filling in applications. After exhausting every opportunity, he found a quiet cafe and waited out the rest of the day, eyes alert. 

    He got home around eleven. A mattress laid in the centre of his room, and he could have cried if he wasn’t so confused. 

    He plucked the note off the pillow. 

     Noticed you didn’t have a good place to sleep, and that simply wouldn’t do! Hope you don’t mind me coming in, I wanted to surprise you. And don’t you dare think about repaying me— just get me that tupperware back and maybe send over one of your resumes. 

    —Patton

     Logan wiped his face and tossed the note on the ground. He plopped onto the mattress.

    Something rustled underneath him. He flip-flopped around for a moment before finally pulling out the rose he’d landed on. It was crumpled now, blood red and otherwise immaculate. There were no thorns. 

    Logan blushed. 

    No. Patton wasn’t flirting. There would be no reason for him to… 

    Was there? 

    Logan buried his face in the pillow. He was too tired to pick through his parents’ lies. He fell asleep. 

    Voices drifted into his dream. 

    “That was dangerous and you know it.” 

    “I couldn’t help it! I looove him!” 

    “Remus. You’re going to scare him off. That’s not what you want, is it?” 

    “No… It’s not.” 

    “No more roses. Got it?” 

    “Yeah, Jan, I got it.” 

    Logan forced his eyes open, and could’ve sworn he saw two figures on the staircase— one draped in flowing black fabric, the other sat on their haunches, eyes glowing green. 

    Then sleep dragged him back down.