Chapter Text
Thomas sat across from Nico at their favorite café, where the gentle hum of conversations and the clinking of coffee cups provided a familiar backdrop. He should have been enjoying Nico's company, reveling in the warmth of their connection. But instead, Thomas felt a strange emptiness, a lack of interest that left him unsettled. It wasn't that Nico had changed—he was still as charming and kind as ever. It was Thomas. Something was wrong.
“Uh, bye Nico! It was fun tonight… thanks,” Thomas wavered, a small smile forced onto his face.
“Yeah, glad I could try out this place, it was real nice. Thanks for coming,” Nico replied with a grin, seemingly unaware of Thomas’ inner turmoil.
Thomas waved goodbye, the debate of whether to apologize for his disinterest lost to the turn of his own back heading toward his apartment.
Thomas sighed heavily, resisting the urge to slump onto the couch and lie there until the sun rose again. He and Nico had felt… different after their last date in the park about a month ago.
Eventually, he dragged his body over to the center of his living room, rubbing his eyes before deciding to call out hollowly.
"Guys, I need you," Thomas croaked, his voice tinged with frustration and confusion.
In an instant, Roman, Patton, and Virgil materialized around him. Patton was the first to speak, his eyes wide with concern.
"What's wrong, kiddo?"
"It's Nico," Thomas said, running a hand through his hair. "I went on a date with him tonight, and... I felt nothing. No interest, no excitement, nothing. It was like…,” he hesitated, sighing again,” like my emotions were… turned off."
"Princey usually goes overboard with the lovey-dovey stuff. Something’s wrong," Virgil remarked, concern etched on his face.
Roman, feeling attacked, stepped forward, placing a dramatic hand on his chest. "How dare you, you love cynic! If anything, you must have blocked my signs of love! Or… could it be that the magic of love is waning? Say it ain't so!"
“Nobody here listens to Weezer but you, Roman. And yes, everybody knows that song. So don't be proud of yourself,” Virgil pinned, looking from Thomas to Roman. "Also, Nico is just as important to me as he is to you!”
Logan, who had been observing quietly, adjusted his glasses and rose into the conversation. "I believe this situation may be beyond our influence," he said, trying to keep his voice steady as he pushed himself into the conversation, "It's not about love fading, Roman. It could be a temporary deficiency in what would normally cause those feelings.”
It felt odd, the way his mouth clamped shut despite the rest of his sentence clogging his throat.
Patton hummed cartoonishly, tilting his head. "Maybe Logan…But I mean, what if it is something happening from within Thomas?"
"Then it will probably just lead to more conflict between us," Logan replied, guilt coiling inside. The reality is that it probably was his fault---attraction is usually founded by hormones triggering in the brain, after all. But he has used up Estrogen and Testosterone as usual---which he found was thankfully sparse. Unless these sex hormones require something different? What was he missing?
Or maybe it isn't his fault at all.
Logan hesitated, then turned to Roman. "I mean… I can't speak for all of us," he started, hesitant about admitting this in case the attention was poised on him instead,” but I certainly am not the most familiar with… feelings . Especially romantic ones, as I am the embodiment of rational thought and also not a human being.”
Logan was bluffing. He knew next to nothing about emotions and just hoped no one would call him out. Hell- what if he was the odd one out? What if everyone else did feel romantic feelings?
Who would they feel them for, though?
Ah, a good point, inner monologue, Logan thought.
Roman scoffed, crossing his arms. "Logan? I mean don't get me wrong I'm glad you're admitting that this isn't your place-,” he snickered a bit, Logan getting the point that Roman wasn't serious,” But baiting out the shippers like this? Tsk, tsk. “
“W-what?”
“Me either, Patton. Me either,” Virgil solemnly placed a hand on his shoulder.
Logan sighed inwardly, the conversation unmoved. "Be that as it may, the intricacies of hormonal and emotional balance are complex. The disruption might not be directly due to any one side, but rather a combination of factors. Or perhaps more external factors. We might not ever know---but I can assure you that this should pass."
Thomas looked at Logan, a hint of hope in his eyes. "So… it can be fixed?"
Logan nodded firmly. "Of course, Thomas. We'll- I’ll try to look into it. In the meantime, try to relax and not worry-"
The room filled with shocked voices as a familiar yellow-clad side rose next to Patton. Logan had mixed feelings about Janus, but he was moderately competent, which he admired. Though he couldn't figure out why the other sides seemed so shocked and disoriented at his presence---he was another one of them, after all.
Janus laughed heartily and motioned for the sides to stop shouting and commenting at his ‘unorthodox’ appearance.
But they didn't.
Janus spoke up to Thomas, saying something or another and pointing to Roman. Roman looked around frantically, balling his fists and looking, well, in all honesty, hurt.
He had never seen Roman hurt before---not so easily, not like when Janus plays a role. Perhaps he was too quick in his judgment of Janus; he is and has proved himself to be, more cunning than he lets on.
Patton tried to raise a point, or at least attempted de-escalation, but Virgil’s slights at Janus made this all the more difficult.
“Janus?” Logan asked, trying to get his attention while he still had somewhat of a say.
Janus didn't make any motion to acknowledge that he heard Logan.
He couldn't afford any slip-ups, not when Thomas's emotional well-being was at stake. The pressure was immense, and the weight of his responsibilities bore down on him. He needed a solution, and fast, but the more he thought about it, the more overwhelmed he felt.
What can he do?
He stood watch as his breathing picked up, his hand finding comfort against the grain of the wall.
“Please, for the love of god, just listen to me.”
Logan glanced at his desk, cluttered with books and papers detailing various psychological and hormonal studies. He had read them all, searching for answers, but nothing seemed to fit his current situation. Most couldn't anyway, but he kept some novels in a collection for Thomas just in case. This, however, felt as if the Mindscape itself was conspiring against him, throwing obstacles in his path at every turn. Maybe he should pay the ‘subconscious’ some mind one of these days.
He wanted to cry, to release the pent-up frustration and guilt, but the tears wouldn't come. The emotions were there, just out of reach, mocking him with their elusiveness. It was a cruel irony—desiring to feel, yet being unable to truly feel them. To quite literally hold them in the palm of his hand, but never feel the effects himself.
Logan took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He had to remain calm, to think clearly and rationally. Thomas needed him, and he couldn't let his emotional struggles get in the way. He would find a solution, somehow. He had to. For Thomas's sake, and his own.
Sitting at his desk, Logan stared at the neatly arranged jars of colored sand.
Another responsibility, another driving force to his inevitable demise. How ironic, how somebody so dense was forced with the only thing he couldn't comprehend. Not on paper, anyway.
Janus’ mention of imbalance with the sides had struck a nerve. He hadn't even comprehended Janus’ words until now, but the keywords were slipping through his mind. He was tired, and he hated adjusting to these stupid metaphors or references or whatever.
Maybe Janus was right---the sides had been at odds for… well…
Best not to think of those days now.
They very well could be affecting Thomas more than they realized; Thomas influenced them, so why wouldn't it go the other way?
His thoughts circled back to earlier when he had hastily tried to deflect the argument. The excuse had come too easily, a reflex to direct suspicion away from himself.
Yes, perhaps I was too selfish before. Logic is meant for complicated yet unbiased views; so why can't he view the sides as something he values?
His mind continued to nag at him, his inferiority eating away until he was only left with the cold fact that he would blame and hate on instinct rather than sacrifice even a fraction of his ego. Dark sides or not, Logan was meant to be impartial. Balanced. Why couldn’t he have just said something about stress and moved on? Or did you try to listen better to Janus' point? It did seem well thought out.
And what of Remus? Was he too scared to show his opinion now? Had they shamed him enough for his natural demeanor to fall and crumble so badly that he decided it was better if he didn't get involved?
God- what has he done?
Logan’s shoulders slumped into his chair, his head lolling down onto the wood of his desk. A sudden, heavy weight settled onto his shoulders as his face buried into his arms, exhaustion pinning him to the smooth and refreshingly cool table. He buried his face into the crook of his arm, not caring for how his back ached but focusing only on the small stars that pricked the corners of his eyes.
Even a few months into monitoring the jars, he somehow hadn’t even noticed just how much energy they required. Although the sides slept, it was debatable to Logan if they truly relied on it; the same way they didn’t need food, water, and even healthy interpersonal relationships.
Well… he hadn't done too much research into the last one, truthfully. But his suspicion was still there.
Giving Virgil a nice and orderly experiment with results may be more futile than he first thought. But maybe, if he felt so utterly exhausted, sleep was more important than he thought.
He couldn't quite remember the last time he had genuinely valued his sleep over something else, and the thought of just resting for once became more tempting than ever.
He would have to look into it sometime…
sometime later.
“You can't win against someone who has nothing to lose, Alicorn Hair.”
If Logan was expecting a noise to wake him up, by god, it sure wasn't that.
Registering his surroundings, Logan pieced together that he had just woken up, the energy to open his eyes not quite getting enough friction to lift them from paralysis. It didn't take long to realize he should've retorted against Remus’ sinister mockings by now, but he knew the gap between rebuttals would be too long not to be awkward.
So he just lay still, slowly breathing in, waiting for the sleepiness to work its way out of his bones. For some reason, he only now realized that he had fallen asleep on his desk, and was likely not in the most glamorous of positions at the moment. Yet not a fraction of him could get up to care.
“C’mon Logie, this isn't fun if I have to pretend to wake you up from your nap.”
…
Logan didn't move a muscle.
“ BITCH, I CAN SEE YOUR EYELIDS FLUTTERING! ,” Remus exclaimed suddenly, just enough to make Logan jump.
Logan’s arm flinched, losing his unspoken game.
He peeled open his eyes, his mouth curling sourly down as he squinted towards Remus, groaning and pinching his eyes.
Remus sat floating near the doorframe, a coy grin delicately placed on his palm, his eyes boring holes into the logical side.
Logan stared daggers back, his fist disorientedly covering his mouth as he failed to suppress a yawn.
Remus' grin only grew wider.
“Sorry for interrupting your nap, teach,” he started, his voice covering a deeper emotion, “but I'd lose my head without you around!”
A haunting giggle came from his serrated teeth, his head tearing clean off his shoulders with a dissatisfying rip, the dismemberment messy as his tendons struggled to break.
Once more, Logan appeared unimpressed, and very tired.
Remus’ chilling grin fell, his wide eyes slanting downwards at him.
Logan cocked an eyebrow.
“What do you need, Remus.”
His groggy voice came out flat and angry, a kindling embarrassment Logan was unfamiliar with coiling in his stomach.
Remus' eyebrows raised.
“ Shit teach, that's a hot morning voice.”
Remus, though underestimated by most other sides, had spent plenty enough time with Logan to know exactly how to make him tick. Logan's face contorted into the most fed-up glare he could muster, slipping into the usual dynamic they tended to develop.
Remus managed a small smile back, this one less menacing and without much intent other than conveying the strange comfort and recognition that hung in the air. His head rolled back into his shoulders, the wound closing seamlessly.
“Alright, fine, cut to the chase, why don't you? I need a bit of a favor from ya pocket protector.”
Logan, finally having the energy to move, sat up at the request. He wasn't entirely sure what in the world Remus could have in store, but he was certain it was more than he would let on and less than good.
Remus swirled his charcoal black nails, picking at the skin.
“Say, you know me and Roman's mind-”
“Roman and I.”
They made uneasy eye contact. Logan blinked.
“Grammar, Remus.”
Begrudgingly, Remus' eyebrows furrowed lower. “Me and Roman's mindscape, yeah? Well, there's a little something I need your… presence for.”
In the Imagination, as it was named, certain sides could affect the unreality in their ways---though they never had as much control as the twins. The Imagination was one of Logan's least favorite places; it was cluttered and had loose ends, and nothing added up together in the ways he was used to. If Remus needed him, it either meant he wanted Logan alone in a place where he could do little to defend himself or wanted something realistic in a place where he reigned supreme.
Logan did not like the sound of either option.
When Logan stepped foot onto the dry, dead grass of Remus' domain, he had to admit… it wasn't what he was expecting. Spindly willows curled in neon colors, huge shrubs stood with uncanny features, and large teeth, and strange vines littered the ground like petals, bright flora sang in the wind, and mysterious fauna swayed with the shadows.
Unfortunately for Logan, he represented a bit more than Logic.
Who would turn down an opportunity to change things to their will anyway?
“Wow, already changing up the place ain't ya? You're one to make yourself at home…,” Remus muttered, a playful tone betraying his dry words.
“I guess I should read up on bone anatomy, eh?” Remus chuckled humorlessly.
Logan quirked an eyebrow, crouching down as he examined a bright blue plant the likes he'd never seen.
“Yeah, beauty ain't it? Based it off a vagina.”
Logan kept his gaze trained strictly on the flower.
“Hey, what? Are you even gonna say anything?”
Logan finally turned to face him, his expression unreadable.
“I don't have a lot of time to spare, Remus. What was it you needed my influence for?”
Remus rolled his eyes, groaning as he popped his hip out.
“ C’mon , Logie! I'm sure you've got more you’re curious about yeah? I mean, these plants weren't nearly as detailed as before,” Remus jabbed, his eyes prodding at Logan with something hidden just under the surface, the irony of not seeing something he could deduce twisting in his throat.
“It's… colorful.”
“I'm gay, Logan. Everything is colorful! You can't have fun without color, dipshit.”
Logan continued to step forward, a path of purple, dripping mushrooms suddenly sprouting where he stepped with Remus frolicking around them happily.
Logan observed the environment, his attempt to hide his interest failing as Remus quipped small details about his world, pointing out inspiration and warnings to “definitely go near that one for a rash.”
Eventually, Logan made his way through seas, forests, caves, and clearings, until he came upon a large meadow of tall lavender-looking plants that climbed up a rickety, tall tower backlit by flashing green lightning.
“Woah,” Logan gawked in awe at the structural miracle.
“Welcome to my humble abode, slut!”
“I am ignoring that in favor of claiming how surprised I am that you don't live in a swamp.”
“No, that's my cologne! Thanks for noticing!”
As the two entered, Logan was once more stunned at the, albeit strange, beauty of the place. It was small but had dark, romantic era architecture and furniture, the mathematically infeasible interior being starkly open and warm, the windows lack of light giving the only clue to the true appearance of the palace.
When he eventually found his gaze back on Remus, he was met with a sly, lipless smirk with an almost expectant look.
“I… don't know what to say,” Logan began.
Remus looked prideful, the image of his brother looking eerily close as his eyebrows quirked up at the praise to follow. He opened his mouth to brush off his hard work, but--
“I just don't believe for even a second you genuinely spend time here.”
“What?!” Remus screeched, disappointment seeping into his shock.
“It's just not… I don't know, do you? I was expecting the tower, but not this.”
Remus, with shining eyes, looked at Logan pleadingly.
“...I do commend the artistic style though,” he admitted begrudgingly, his regret dissipating as Remus' face lit up once more.
“Oh, goodie!” He exclaimed, running through a tall arch, planting a hand, and running up the stairs that sprouted at his touch. His footsteps rang hollowly in the cylinder, echoing up to a loft high above the main floor.
Logan swore he saw something else behind that smile. He was getting his way, though Logan wasn't sure how.
Logan followed, not nearly as hurried as Remus, his fingers trailing along the grooves in the wall as he examined the architecture.
“I will admit Remus, I'm getting rather impatient. What is it you brought me here for?”
“Sex,” Remus said without skipping a beat.
Logan looked appalled.
Remus glanced back with a grin.
Was- what?
Is that truly what Remus deemed worthy of-
“Relax, teach! Called a joke, learn to take one. Anyways, you've already done what I needed ya to, so don't sweat your balls off!”
There was that smile again. Whatever Remus was planning… it was coming to a head.
After taking a second to register and translate Remus' ungodly sentence, Logan was struck with something he had never felt before; something that felt like his chest was seizing up and his airways were suddenly constricted, a rhythmic beat pounding against his skull as he suddenly felt like the very walls of the room were shrinking in on him.
Oh, he realized with a start.
The walls were shrinking in on him.
“What…?” Logan said, his voice breathy, unfazed by his command to keep steady.
“I said you already did what I needed you to! Follow me here, and change things up a bit. Y’know?” Remus drawled coyly, his back still turned as the walls stretched and shifted, the furniture squeezing into a black, stone box.
“I'm not as dumb as you light side freaks think, four eyes. I know the extent of your powers, and it was just a ticking time bomb till I pulled out my trump card!”
Logan slumped to his knees involuntarily, the reality of his oversight settling into his brain.
“Don't you get it, Logic? You're my trump card. You could've helped me so much, but well…” As he trailed off, he flicked his wrist as lime chains curled from the wall, restraining Logan.
His pause lasted long, Logan feeling a sharp discomfort as he realized that not only was Remus hauntingly planned out, but he was genuinely thinking- taking a moment to decide what to say. Remus was truly unpredictable for once, and that was quite possibly the only thing that he could do to make Logan feel as truly scared as he was.
“Someone's gotta play with me if they can't find you. Janny said you needed a break anyways so…”
Remus turned towards Logan, still sitting on his knees as he glared up at Remus.
“True fantasy can't come along without a touch of realism, no?” Remus bent forward, his half-gloved hand cupping Logan's cheek and sending shivers down his neck. “I mean, what would be my perfect creation if nobody believed it?” Remus stepped closer, nuggying the top of his head.
Logan's face flashed with confusion.
“Wait- you seriously just kidnapped me for your monsters to be more realistic?” He said, the dullness of his words unrealized until they were long out of his mouth.
Remus blanched, his face contorting with anger.
“U-ugh Well- yeah! I guess! What else? Everyone will finally see my creations for what they are! Plus, without you, nobody can stop me from finally reaching Thomas! You and me are a great team! AND WHEN I CAN FINALLY DO WHAT MY JOB IS, LOGAN, I'LL BE HAPPY!,” he balked, the end of his sentence peaking into a screech. It was almost like he was trying to convince himself of his evil plan rather than the man sitting pitifully below him.
His toothy smile haunted Logan's face, the place where his fingers gripped skin leaving dark marks.
At this, Logan surprisingly returned to his collected demeanor. He thought Remus was actually smarter than he let on--- what a joke . For a moment, he feared he had realized his possession of Thomas's entire train of thought, the very things that would make him do, quite literally, anything .
The Imagination was out of Logan's experience for more than a few reasons, one of which was that his “grounding abilities” would make things like pain, injury, and corruption more painful, and more real. Fantastic elements became more rooted in science, and the Imagination became… well, boring, as the twins would put it. He had to admit that being invited back here made him a bit excited, but that didn't stop him from being skeptical.
There was still the issue of him being in cuffs, however an angry Remus glaring daggers at him could arguably be counted as a greater threat.
Maybe that was his real plan, Logan thought. Just keep me here so Thomas won't have anyone to keep him on track. Or maybe the others, but, it did seem Remus was just doing something for attention’s sake, again. Seriously, the twins needed to get a grip on the real world more than this hellscape. Although, the Imagination did have some pretty neat and detailed life that he just saw…
Still, Logan thought, weary; not being near Thomas was a problem. What if Janus has ordered him here, to stir up trouble without his ability to see through it for the others? Remus did say something about Janus wanting him to take a break… maybe that was code for something? Did they know about the hormones? What would they do if they did? Logan was aware that each side was, inevitably, trying to help Thomas in their own way. Janus was surely smart enough to know that without the hormones, Thomas would be done for. Speaking of which, maybe Remus had heard his thoughts from this morning before Janus claimed the opposite, and had done this as a punishment! He should probably apologize, then. He did, truly, feel guilty. Remus and the sides shouldn't be pinned just because anything negative happens to Thomas… if anything, it was very well his own fault about the date…
“Remus,” Logan mustered, his eyes trailing on the ground.
He was met with silence.
“If this is about my comment about the date with Nico, I uh… do… apologize. I understand we shouldn't blame you, especially when it comes to love, but…” Logan debated if he should tell Remus the truth of his opinion. Should he keep digging this metaphorical hole he's trapped himself in, and deflect from the truth more?
Logan was cut out of his thoughts by a realization.
He looked up to find an empty room.
“God damnit,” he muttered under his breath. He really had to stop spacing out in thought; it was a genuine issue.
And the other issue was that he was alone. In the Imagination. Without Thomas.
Oh god.
“Remus? Remus! Remus, I don't do too well in the Imagination, Remus! REMUS! REMUS PLEASE-”
The last memory of a lovely Victorian window slid into a wall, shadow enveloping the square and blank room while his ears only heard the echo of his own breath. Distantly, an iron door slammed closed and Logan was left in a room he had no knowledge of.
He shifted around to sit a bit more comfortably against the wall, preparing for the long haul. Or perhaps he was just tired. Wait, how late had it been when Remus guided him here anyway? Had he checked? (Yes, probably. He always checked.)
Or maybe it was the darkness causing him this raw lackadaisy, his bones feeling weightless and yet pinning at once, the familiar cloudiness of melatonin numbing his senses slowly. Perhaps Roman would end up saving him from this hellhole. Or someone else. Logan deserved a break, and he didn't have the energy or brainpower to think about a way to escape at the moment.
Surely it wouldn't matter anyway.