MILD SPOILERS FOR SVS: REDUX
Summary: When Deceit makes the switch, Logan is sent to Virgil's room. Angst ensues. In other words, #LoganBreakdownRights2020
Content warning: Logan angst, heightened emotions, self-deprecation
"-choosing to be primarily motivated by-"
A startled shout. Purple blankets rustling.
Logan adjusts his glasses and takes in his surroundings, feeling white-hot rage simmer low in his belly. His teeth grit, his fists clench, almost of their own accord. They really had the audacity to-
"Logan?" Virgil says his name hesitantly.
Logan draws his knees up (his shoes are on the bed but he doesn't care, he doesn't care, he doesn't-), buries his face in his lap, and lets the tears stain his jeans (this is fine, he's fine, everything is okay-). There's a thousand words spilling from his lips and Logan isn't really sure what he's saying anymore but doesn't matter, it's not like anyone is listening. All that he knows for sure is that his heartbeat is loud in his ears and his chest hurts and everything is so wrong and he can't breathe-
And there are hands grasping at him. There's a voice, low and thrumming, that seems to be speaking to him through a column of water. There's a face now. Virgil.
Virgil carefully lifts Logan's hands to his chest and Logan scrabbles for purchase on hoodie lapels. Everything is too fast, too blurry, too choppy and he needs something to hold on to, something sturdy and constant-
"Breathe with me," Virgil says, drawing circles with his thumbs on the back of Logan's hands. "In for four-"
Logan tries to match him but the breaths come too quick, chest heaving as he fights the asphyxiating maelstrom of emotion brewing in him. The words he wishes he could say clog his throat and haunt his mind but they die at the tip of his tongue and all he really wants is to stop being treated as a joke, he just wants a seat at the table, doesn't want to be optional, doesn't want to be skipped, really, he just wants them to listen-
His lungs are on fire and the flames travel up his throat, seething and corrosive, burning everything in the way, they're on the side of his face now and he can't breathe, can'tfuckingbreathe-
"Hey, hey, it's okay. You're okay."
Cool hands cup Logan's jaw, thumbing away stray tears on his cheeks. Virgil is a soothing balm against the fire that threatens to consume Logan. His face floats in Logan's vision and he tries to focus on the purple hair and mismatched eyes.
"You're alright, L. Breathe with me. In for four, now."
It takes a few tries but Logan eventually gets the hang of it. Slow, deep breaths. The fire finally dies, leaving behind a dry mouth and a chest full of ashes.
His fists unclench and he releases Virgil's hoodie. Virgil holds Logan's shoulders and he's smiling. Soft, sympathetic.
Logan doesn't need his pity.
Logan doesn't want to be a burden.
Still, he stays where he is. For a moment, they just watch each other.
Logan idly wonders what Virgil sees. Nothing important, he answers himself, refusing to let his mouth twist bitterly.
He notes the disheveled purple hair, the pale skin, the dark circles under Virgil's red-rimmed eyes. It has been a few days since he last saw Virgil and this is… disheartening, to say the least.
Logan is the first to break the silence. "Are you alright?" he blurts.
Virgil chuckles under his breath, almost incredulous.
"Me? Yeah, fine, peachy," he responds distractedly, still scanning Logan's face as Logan frowns. "The more important question is, are you?"
Is he? Logan isn't sure he has an answer he likes, but he knows what needs to be said and done now.
Logan clears his throat and avoids looking at his friend. He pulls away, letting Virgil's hands fall from his shoulders.
"Yes," he says, tightening his tie. "Well, I will be. Thank you. If you'll excuse me, I'll just-"
Logan struggles with the blankets that he has somehow gotten tangled up in, attempting to extricate his legs so he can leave, can go to his room and avoid being even more of a burden-
A hand on his forearm quickly halts his fumbling efforts.
"What happened?" Virgil asks gently.
Virgil's eyes are wide and earnest, his features softened in understanding. He offers a sliver of a smile and scoots closer, taking Logan's hand in both of his.
He sees Logan, he doesn't look straight through. He asks questions, he wants to hear what Logan has to say. He cares.
Logan feels himself break all over again and the tentative walls he had begun rebuilding come crashing down.
Oh, but this is different.
Where there was fire, there's ice. It's bitter, lethal, and so cold it burns all the same. Is it blood or cryogenic fluid that swirls in his veins, numbing him from the inside out at 72 beats per minute?
Logan doesn't know. He doesn't have the answers. Not to this, not to anything, anymore.
The frost reaches his lips, and really, he only begins speaking to warm himself up.
"Patton skipped me," he says dully. Better to begin with the rawest of wounds, he supposes. "Patton asked me for help, then completely ignored me when I disagreed with him. He didn't even- he didn't even let me finish."
Logan hates the tremor in his voice.
Virgil's lips tighten but he only nods. He doesn't seem like he's upset at Logan and he's still holding Logan's hand.
Logan takes that as permission to continue. He speaks quickly, almost stumbling over the words in his haste to finally say everything he'd hidden or ignored for so long.
"They only want me around if I- if I agree with them, only if I can strengthen their argument. They don't want my opinions, only my research."
Logan feels a sharp, shooting pain for a second and raises a hand to rub his temples for relief. Virgil mirrors him.
It can only mean one thing; the others have barely noticed Logan's absence and are now continuing their discussion in the Mind Palace.
With a joyless smile, he barrels on. "I play the figurative second fiddle. I'm the quirky sidekick, the faithful shadow."
"I'm the butler to everyone who has a seat at the table."
The silence that follows is deafening. Virgil looks stricken.
Logan laughs hollowly and turns his face up to the ceiling, refusing to let more tears slip. "You know I'm right, Virge."
Virgil is gritting his teeth, seemingly furious, but his hands remain achingly gentle on Logan's.
"And you know what, I think I would be amenable to being sidelined if Thomas was doing well for himself. He has so many issues and I could help but they don't- nobody listens to me."
Logan meets Virgil's eyes. He whispers, "I just want them to listen."
Virgil only stares at him, eyes strangely glassy.
The moment extends and Logan wonders if he has overstepped the limits of their friendship, wonders if he has said too much. He feels his mouth pull into some resigned sort of smile. "Well, thank you for listening, I-"
Without warning, Virgil springs forward and pulls Logan into a crushing hug. Logan slowly wraps his arms around Virgil in turn, momentarily startled but otherwise accustomed to physical affection from the anxious Side.
"No. You're wrong, about everything," Virgil mutters fiercely into Logan's shoulder. "You are not a sidekick, a shadow, or a second fiddle."
He pulls away, eyes blazing. "And you are not a butler."
Logan laughs again, tiredly, in an empty way that makes him wish that he had something to laugh about. "Right."
"Listen to me," Virgil hisses, his voice layering and echoing in distress. "You, Logan Sanders, are probably the only reason Thomas is even as functional as he is. Without you to 'sift through the nonsense', we would've run him into the ground ages ago."
Logan aches to believe it. If he really is as essential as Virgil would have him believe, why doesn't Thomas listen to him more? Why doesn't Logan get more power in decision-making?
It simply doesn't make sense. The only logical explanation is that Logan is delusional about what he has to offer and Virgil is just being a good friend.
"I wouldn't lie to you, Logan. You know that." Virgil pleads.
Logan nods hesitantly, frowning. He does. That leaves two possibilities - either Virgil sees something that Logan doesn't and what he says is true...
"Please believe me when I say that you are more valuable than you think you are," Virgil says, almost as if he read Logan's mind. "More than you even imagine."
… or Virgil is deluded too.
Logan must have accidentally let his thoughts manifest on his face because Virgil sighs at him.
"Look, I'm not good with words, okay?" Virgil says softly. "Not in the way you are. But I'm still going to try."
"No matter what we do, you always have a part to play, Logan. There is no debate or discussion we could ever have that won't be benefited by your input. You're the anchor that keeps us all grounded and realistic."
Logan scoffs under his breath. One side of Virgil's mouth quirks up into a sympathetic half-smile.
"I meant every word I said but I know, in the end, they don't mean all that much. I wish there was something I could say to make it all go away, to heal what's hurting, but that's not how it works."
No, indeed. Logan knows that now, but can't help but wish that emotions were easier to manage.
Virgil fidgets with the sleeves of his hoodie and presses on. "Thomas is an emotional man. He tends to let his feelings occupy centre stage, maybe more often than he should, so he sometimes… loses sight of you."
"Not when it's convenient for him," Logan murmurs bitterly. Thomas needed him to wrangle Remus but had no qualms about pushing him aside under less taxing circumstances.
"It's not always going to be like this, L," Virgil says comfortingly. "I promise. He'll see your worth soon."
Logan makes an absent noise of acknowledgement. He's grateful to Virgil, really, but he doesn't feel any better than before. He knows he should, but he doesn't, and he's tired of talking about it.
"Thank you, Virgil," he says, words dripping with sincerity. Logan feels more numb than anything now, but the gratitude is genuine.
In some twisted way, he's almost thankful to Deceit for sending him to Virgil's room. He doesn't know how he would've gotten through his emotional crisis alone.
Virgil shrugs self-deprecatingly. "It was the least I could do for you, L."
"No, really," Logan insists, laying a hand on Virgil's upper arm. "Thank you."
Logan removes his smudged glasses and begins cleaning them with the bottom of his shirt. "How have you been holding up?" he asks, pointedly avoiding eye contact to make Virgil more comfortable.
Virgil laughs wryly. "Alright, I guess. I've mostly just been avoiding everyone since I told Thomas so I don't know what to expect."
He leans back, palms flat against the bed, and looks at Logan appraisingly. "But you're here and you're still talking to me, so I guess at least you don't hate me."
Logan puts his glasses back on and looks at Virgil straight in the eyes. "No. Not now, not ever."
Virgil smiles and stammers but before anything more could be said, Logan feels another stab of pain in his head. They've left the Mind Palace.
Logan tightens his tie and swings his legs off the bed. Virgil watches with some bemusement as he stands and tries to fix his disheveled hair.
"Where are you going?" he asks.
"To do my job," Logan responds curtly as he stalks away, feeling the residues of his spent anger. "Whether Thomas listens to me or not is his choice to make."
Logan half-turns at the doorway, waiting.
Logan nods stiffly. He will.
Author's notes: Do I know that canonically, Logan was only gone for less than fifteen minutes? Yes. Do I care? Nope! You can't rush the process, darling.
Also, to anyone who had to scroll past about 2k words, I'm really sorry. My laptop's broken and I heard you can't add read more tags on Tumblr mobile.
