I am a facet of the personality of Thomas Sanders. I am an imaginary entity created for the purpose of being Logical. I am not real. I am not a real person. This is an undeniable fact. I cannot have autonomy separate from Thomas. I cannot have wants, needs, or desires separate from the ones Thomas gives me. Thomas is a real person. I am not a real person. This is undeniable fact. For me to question this fact or deviate from my purpose would be to harm Thomas. I am Thomas’ Logic. I cannot be illogical. I am not a real person. This is undeniable fact. These feelings are not real. Thomas has imagined that I would feel like a real person. Thomas has complete control of my thoughts and actions and it is illogical to assume otherwise. I am not a real person. This is an undeniable fact. I do not have wants or needs that are worthy of consideration by Thomas. His needs are paramount because he is a real person. I am not a real person. This is undeniable fact. No side has any evidence to indicate we are more than imaginary. Thomas has no events in his life to imply that we are more than imaginary. I am not a real person. This is undeniable fact. Thomas is the only one that is real. I am not a real person. This is undeniable fact. We are an imaginary complex coping mechanism for Thomas' spiraling mental health. I am not a real person. This is undeniable fact. I am not real. I am not a real person. This is undeniable fact. I have no wants and needs. I am not a real person. This is undeniable fact. Any wants or needs that I experience are merely illusion. I am not a real person. This is undeniable fact. I am not worthy of wants or needs. I am not a real person. This is undeniable fact. I am not worthy of attention. I am not a real person. This is undeniable fact. I am not worthy of anything. I am not a real person. This is undeniable fact. I am not worthy of Thomas. I am not a real person. This is undeniable fact. I am not worthy of anything. I am not a real person. This is undeniable fact. I am nothing. I am not a real person. This is undeniable fact. I am. I am not a real person. This is undeniable fact. I am not a real person. This is undeniable fact. I am not a real person. This is undeniable fact. I am not a real person. This is undeniable fact.
*Janus sifts through what seems like hundreds of papers on Logan’s desk, all in Logan’s handwriting, though it deteriorates into illegible nonsense as the papers go on, and some of what Janus assumes are later papers have frozen tear stains all over, smearing the ink whenever they were wet and cracking under even gentle handling.*
¥ Jesus Christ... ¥
¥ Logan. Logan this- ¥
¥ When you get out of this. We’re going to have a short chat. ¥
Warnings: Eventual (temporary) Character Death, Angst, Hurt No Comfort (seriously, comfort is just completely absent here), Heavy Angst, Isolation, Suicidal Thoughts, Implied Suicide, Negative Thoughts, Self-Deprecation, Whump
Shout-out to @intrulogical for the amazing idea on Logan wasting away in his room. Much more interesting than it sounds, haha!
AO3 Link
--
Any day now.
It would be any day now.
Logan tried to keep his eyes focused on the screen in front of him, dutifully avoiding a glance at the calendar to check how many days had since passed.
It didn't matter, anyway.
They'd call when he was needed, so it didn't matter.
--
It somehow seemed both far too cold and way too warm in his room, even though he knew it shouldn't be either, as his room was always meant to be at a moderate and maintained temperature.
Also it was imaginary.
Like he was.
Well, his function was real, but the rest was not.
And therefore some imagined temperature fluctuation was innocuous.
It didn't matter.
Imagined sensations, imagined discomforts were of no actual concern. It wasn't something anyone else would worry about, so he certainly wasn't going to start.
It definitely didn't matter.
--
Why was he pacing?
He snapped to attention, standing stock still when he realized he'd been pacing across the floor, back and forth in front of a blank and barren wall in his room.
He hadn't even realized he'd been wasting energy, just walking back and forth, for no discernable reason.
He surely had better tasks to waste his excess energy on, or at least should have been preserving it for when Thomas chose to summon him next.
Which could be any day now.
Absolutely any day now.
He finally turned his gaze to the calendar, letting his mind do the math.
39 days.
Okay, that wasn’t too awful. A longer stretch than usual, but not too far off. Last time was a solid 31, average was 22, so this was hardly an outlier… yet.
Nothing to worry about.
He just needed to stay ready.
And, that, he would do.
--
He'd almost forgotten to flip the calendar to the next month.
How careless, as if it wasn't one of the only things left for him to do in this ever-empty room!
Logan tried not to emotionally react to that thought.
He hoped he succeeded.
--
Wasn't he meant to be useful to them?
He couldn't stop the desperate question plaguing his mind. Wasn't he meant to be of use?
Even if he only played a small part, even if they often disagreed with everything he had to say outright, they usually still had something for him to do, some way he was needed.
When had that changed?
He knew he shouldn't be thinking about the past, but it was far too easy, especially now in the mundane quiet that never seemed to end.
Clearly, he knew better than to dwell; it wasn't productive, it wasn't helpful - he just needed to get a handle on himself.
So what if Thomas hadn't found use for him in a long, long while?
So what if he wasn't useful?
That was …
It was probably…
…He realized there was no positive comeback to such a thought.
--
Sitting at his desk again, he made a decision.
He had to stop wasting so much energy.
The few tasks he had remaining as Thomas’ logic wouldn't take much effort on his part, and since Thomas or the others might absolutely need him any day now, it made more sense to preserve his energy instead of expelling it needlessly, right?
Right.
So he'd decided he would stay mostly stationary from now on. He didn't need to do much else but an occasional update on his computer anyway, so it'd be fine if he remained ready at his desk instead of moving around anymore.
He reached out to the keyboard, quickly updated his digital calendar to reflect his metaphysical one.
65 days, huh? Well, he'd certainly hit a new record.
Really, it was an achievement.
Someone should probably be proud.
Probably.
--
Maybe this was a good thing. Once the spiral of worry had finally faded and it was clear Thomas and the others were functioning perfectly well enough without Logan's input, he purposely - intentionally - felt ...relief?
Or, well, he Tried to, that is.
Feelings never came easily to him, though, and the effort would be wasted anyway, right? He couldn't identify the damn things most of the time…
But the concept of relief was definitely there, somewhere.
It meant Thomas was okay without him. And that had to be a good thing.
He glanced down at the calendar, still open on the screen, as he’d had nothing else to do.
91 days.
Honestly, why did he check it on a prime number of days? He couldn't have waited an extra day for something even?
Truly a waste.
Logan stared down at his hands still resting on the keyboard. They had started to grow spots of mold. A fungus. Well, that was certainly interesting.
How could such a thing happen in a place like this? Had someone imagined it?
Fascinating.
Had he any energy to display, he'd perhaps consider inspecting it, identifying the species, even cataloguing some samples.
But that would be a waste, unfortunately.
The thought of it was good enough for now.
No reason to move and ruin all this progress, after all.
--
Alright, the message had been well received by now. His input? Not important. His presence? Not wanted.
They didn't need him.
It was understandable, but it was perhaps a little rude not to at least bother telling him formally.
Surely, they could have predicted he wouldn't have had some explosive emotional reaction, right?
He would have understood, acquiesced, and just stepped aside right then and there. He was completely agreeable when it came to matters like these.
They could have just told him, instead of letting him waste so much time and energy, thinking there was still some chance that he'd… be of use to them.
Not even a goodbye? Perhaps a letter?
But maybe he hadn't earned such a favor.
Maybe there was a reason they didn't want to see him or speak with him at all. Maybe a letter really was asking too much.
Since when had he earned such a thing?
--
It wasn't just that he'd stopped moving, he'd also made sure to conserve energy in other ways - namely minimized reactions to his own thoughts. The thoughts themselves hadn't stopped on their own, but he was still…working on that.
Just another failure to add to the pile, of course.
Maybe that's why no one had bothered anymore.
No point wasting time on a failure, after all.
It was understandable.
He really needed to stop thinking so much.
--
At some point, the realization of the fungus' spread all being due to his lack of movement finally broke through his cloud-covered mind.
He wasn't sure why it hadn't occurred to him until that moment, but it did make sense.
He was now but a surface to cover, after all.
The moss-like substance had claimed domain over his hands, stretched out across his laptop as though to tie them together in some way, and had been making its wary way up his forearms, one side having sprouted a few sparse leaves just shy of his shoulder.
At this rate, he wasn't sure if it would cover his eyes or his glasses first, but he knew he'd have an answer soon.
At least that meant he had something to look forward to, finally.
He should be welcoming it.
It meant something needed him.
He was still useful after all.
What else could he possibly want?
--
Crofters. He missed the flavor.
He didn't realize that after enough time, he'd actually miss something other than his function and use to Thomas.
It was probably selfish, but the thought came and went fairly quickly. No need to waste energy on such wistful thoughts.
No need to keep thinking at all, really.
--
Would he be missed?
The time that had already slowly passed by was enough of an answer to such an insane question.
He'd probably be lucky to even be remembered.
--
The moss had developed into a thick layer, but he had somehow lost the sensation that alerted him to the temperature - the imaginary temperature.
Its spread seemed to be making its way to the floor, from what little sounds and movements he could still pick up on.
It was how he's come to realize he'd lost count of the actual days passing a while ago.
It's not like he could even look to verify the date anymore, anyway, but he sensed a miniscule amount of shame for having lost count in the first place.
It really didn't matter, though, did it?
It's not as though the number mattered, not to him nor anyone else. It didn't change anything. It's not as though more failures made any difference, either.
The message had already been made clear.
He wasn't needed.
He wasn't wanted.
He shouldn't even exist.
--
Did he exist?
--
Sound, sight, touch - his senses had all left some time ago.
What was left?
Nothing of value, clearly.
He shouldn't still be here.
When would this finally end?
If no one was coming, maybe the only one who could end this…was him?
Something in him lit up, like a distant spark within his own mind…
It jarred to life with ideas at that mere notion… No matter if it was even possible, there were known to be many ways in which someone could fashion a way out.
Well, not so much ‘out’ but… off, in his case.
They were all processes, at their cores, after all.
All he needed was some sort of stoppage… something more than this stagnation, lack of use… something to cut him off entirely, separated permanently…
His mind spurred to life at the prospect of change, of action.
He had been nothing more than a dusty, leaky, and unused sink faucet. Not worth fixing, but in need of removal to stop the waste, the annoyance.
But something more permanent would have to do the job, right?
No more duct tape solutions, no, what was needed was more like a complete water main shut down - dig up the whole system and remove it entirely.
That would be messy, wouldn't it?
Analogy or not, that would take… a lot of energy.
Energy he hadn't been using all this time.
But he'd been storing it, hadn't he?
It would have been needed eventually, that was what he'd reasoned. He kept it all this time, just in case.
Well, guess he was right.
Maybe he had stored up just enough…to use it for something that would benefit all of them, especially Thomas.
Warnings: Logan gaslighting himself for some reason?
--
It wasn't about him.
That's the part he understood most.
Just like the others, Logan's top priority was Thomas, above all else. They all thought like this, it was the only thing that always made sense.
That was the whole job, after all, taking care of Thomas' needs and wants, maybe in different ways...vastly different ways, but the main goal was the same at its core.
Their job was the same.
And their priority was always Thomas first.
Meaning, it was understandable when they didn't listen, or rather, didn't want to listen to Logan...
It wasn't a priority, and it never would be.
And with Thomas' mental health being on such a tumultuous journey lately, it made perfect sense - it was just part of the job.
Sure, Logan had found that listening to the other sides in addition to Thomas has slowly begun to aid him in understanding their opinions on important matters, even outside of discussions or episodes. And sure, he'd consider most of that input to be beneficial to his role to Thomas.
But that didn't mean the others had any obligation to do the same, of course.
Logan's choice was his to make in that regard, whatever consequences or benefits came of it were his to bear, and it would have no effect on the others, and especially not on Thomas.
They had their reasons; that's what he was trying to say.
They did not have any reason to listen to him, and he knew that. It would likely seem completely impractical to them, probably, with the way their roles worked.
His attempts in listening to their input and trying to change his usual thought process to match their reasoning of a situation was all just... extra credit, you could say.
Not required by any means, but ultimately, it would lead to a deeper understanding of the material at hand.
This wasn't a classroom, though, so it wasn't like it was worth anything of merit in the end, but there was nothing wrong with educating one's self further!
...through listening.
...which only seemed to be something he would do.
But that was fine!
As stated, it was not required, and it's not as though someone achieved a bad grade for refusing to do extra credit...usually.
Not that there were grades for something like this, because this wasn't a classroom.
It never was.
Maybe that was the issue.
Logan was so stuck on seeing everything through a lens no one else was using - this wasn't a classroom, where participation and completed learning material and test scores all amounted to a score.
This was Thomas' life, where social activity was a necessity with its own individualized grading system, where relationships could still result in a failing score even if all required steps were taken, where success was up to the whims of nonexistent factors such as luck or fate.
Where nothing made much sense at all...
But Thomas' mind made...some sense. No, it made plenty of sense.
Thomas had organized his brain in a way to make it easier for him to understand, to question, to learn.
Thomas loved to learn! ...or, well, he used to. He probably still did.
Right?
Regardless, his brain functioned properly; he had worked to set things up in such a way to make it easier for himself to navigate, even if that meant imagining different processes as fictional characters that all shared the same face as him, and making those characters fill roles they were hardly suited for, and creating ridiculous expectations from all of them to act human as though they would somehow know how to do that when that's not what they were nor would ever be and didn't share experiences as a human would, the way that Thomas would...
But they accomplished what Thomas needed, and that's what mattered.
That was the priority, after all.
As always.
You know, he'd argue listening to Thomas is probably the easiest task in the world. Even the inane nonsense, or the abstract thoughts and concepts he'd come up with - it was easy to just listen, and for the times when it wasn't something he could completely discern, that just made for another learning opportunity.
It was a good thing.
He assumed the other sides saw it the same way, that it was easy to listen to Thomas.
If they could at least do that much, then that meant they were capable.
Not that he'd ever think they weren't capable of such a thing, though they sure made it hard to believe most of the time...
They were all quite exceptional in their roles, despite how difficult the tasks were that Thomas expected them to do.
Every single one of them accomplished so much, no matter what hardships they may have been facing - be it their own difficulties or Thomas'.
They were very, very capable.
He hoped he could be, too.
Did effort count for anything? Was there any credit for active participation, even if it led to a lack of results?
There he went, thinking about this through the wrong lens again.
He knew this wasn't a classroom, this wasn't college, this wasn't about grades.
But he still felt like he was failing, letting everyone else down.
Somehow solely bringing down everyone else's average by just being in the class at all.
Not that he would want to leave.
Thomas was great. It's not as though he'd exist without Thomas, anyway, so a thought like that was ridiculous.
He belonged here, just as much as anyone else.
He prioritized Thomas, just as much as anyone else.
They all had the same underlying goal, no matter how differently they went about getting to it.
It was fine that their methods didn't make sense, because the end goal made sense.
Right?
Right, of course.
It would be asinine to think otherwise.
Why his mind kept coming up with bizarre ideas like the other sides hating him or purposefully ignoring him because they didn't find anything he contributed to be of value or even going out of their way to anger him repeatedly - that was completely impractical nonsense!
Clearly, they all just had a very different way of going about the same goal, that's all it was. Not anything intentionally cruel or negligent. Definitely not.
Clashing happens among peers all the time, and it's not as though it was making things worse… well, not much worse.
Hopefully.
So it was fine.
Things didn't seem fine, but that wasn't his exact area of expertise….nothing was, these days. But since they all had Thomas' needs and desires as their absolute highest priority, then there should be nothing to worry about.
Definitely.
And the others not listening to him, including Thomas himself, was certainly not a symptom of some greater issue that hadn't yet fully crested into the nightmare scenario it would surely be.
Nope.
Everything was fine.
Everyone was doing their jobs, including Logan, even if it continued to feel more and more irrelevant by the day since no one would bother to listen… but it was fine, because everyone was doing their jobs.
That had to be true because it wouldn't make sense otherwise.
As bizarre as some of what Thomas’ brain conjured up, there was no reason to believe the imaginary little busybodies in his head could possibly cause any real harm.
Because why would they?
And even if that was the case, they still wouldn't let that happen because Thomas' needs were the top priority.
Meaning that could never happen.
And definitely wasn't happening right now.
Because everything was fine.
There was absolutely nothing to worry about.
It would be very unnecessary to bring up his concerns for this exact reason. Mentioning how a lot of these symptoms might be occurring due to some of the sides not focusing directly on addressing Thomas' needs and instead pandering to only his wants to keep him placated instead of in a healthy mindset… well, no one would listen anyway, now would they?
So, no, best to just keep doing his part, just as everyone else was, because everything was fine, and if it wasn't, they'd all be working together to handle it.
This wasn't about him, after all, so why should he expect as much?
Warnings: the title is misleading, just your typical angst
--
He'd been here before.
Just as soon as he realized, the clarity became stifling.
He didn't want to think about it again, he didn't want his own mind to play weird tricks like this...
He hated dreams.
Everyone was there. The sides stood around, looking uncomfortable, looking... at him.
Thomas stood, too, but existed within his own world, the one place Logan couldn't touch.
Logan, somehow, impossibly, was simultaneously next to them all while also in a dark and distant void. They were all right there, yet the furthest away they could possibly be.
It seemed accurate, as nonsensical as it was.
He'd been here before.
"I do apologize."
He could hear his own voice, quiet, a bit of an echo, like he was speaking to them from across the room instead, but he couldn't feel his own face muscles moving.
He was frozen there, unable to look any of them in the eye, barely able to make out the others' expressions, assuming they had any other than pure disappointment.
"Bit late for that, don't you think?" Virgil, of everyone, remarked.
That always shocked him, for some reason, that this started off with Virgil's dismissal.
Why wouldn't he, though? Why was that so surprising? It should have made sense, should have been expected. Right?
"Better get on with it then," Janus spoke up.
He knew he was right. Logan always stalled, argued useless points, delayed the inevitable.
Why?
He somehow couldn't will himself to just skip to the end, get it over with. Why was he so intent on sticking around when he wasn't wanted?
Even when he knew what would happen, the worry sank in, as it always did.
"But what if I lose my usefulness?"
What a selfish question. This wasn't meant to be about him, after all. That was the whole point.
"Who said you were useful in the first place?" Roman laughed. "News to me."
Of course. At least that one was never a surprise.
The needless excuses kept coming anyway.
"But I..." Logan hated the burn in his chest, "I've always tried to help."
"Keyword: tried," Roman sneered.
He wasn't wrong.
"Logan, it's fine," Patton chimed in. "You'll be good at something someday!"
How was Patton always so cheerful when saying something so cruel? Logan decided he couldn't blame him, he was a master at finding the silver lining, after all.
Must be nice, being good at something.
"But... I didn't..." Logan's voice trembled, already losing composure. "I didn't realize I was burdening you so greatly."
He did realize, he just didn't want to admit to it. That was the problem.
"Eh, we're used to it."
He should thank Remus for being so upfront and honest. It was reassuring, in a way.
"I'm ...I'm so sorry," he told them instead.
"If you're so sorry, maybe figure out how to do something right already so you'll stop wasting our time," Roman got straight to the point.
He should appreciate that, too, shouldn't he?
"Right," Logan responded. "I'll... I can do that."
That wasn't believable. It never was.
"Can you?" Roman challenged.
"I can," he replied quickly. "I will. I'll do whatever it takes, I swear."
It's never going to be believable. Logan didn't believe it, why would any of them think he was capable of something clearly shown to be improbable by now?
Why did he keep trying? It was nothing but lying by this point, wasn't it?
"You've said that before, you know," Thomas finally spoke up. "And yet, here we are."
And yet... It's always 'and yet'.
Nothing would ever be enough. Why did he keep trying like this? What was the point?
"I..." Logan had nothing to say. He knew he had nothing to say. Nothing but lies, nothing but more burdens, nothing - just nothing.
"Please hurry, Logan." Thomas said, impatient. "You can't expect us to wait on you forever."
He wished he could look up, look him in the eye. Mean it when he told them how he completely understood. He couldn't do what they wanted but he understood. He knew.
"Of course," he responded, everything still numb and monotone despite how much he wanted them to hear how serious and honest he was. "I wouldn't expect you to..."
"Good," Thomas told him. "I always hoped you could be useful someday."
He hoped Thomas had smiled while saying that. He wanted Thomas to have some hope in him, after everything.
He didn't deserve it, of course.
But he still selfishly wanted it.
He wanted to be useful for Thomas, it's why he was here... And yet.
And yet he never had been, never would be.
They knew that, he knew that.
But maybe, maybe he could do something, change something, do anything for the better.
Maybe he could at least give them hope, that he could change.
Unlikely, but he couldn't seem to stop trying anyway.
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