#i SUPPOSE you can go in quackerz's tag

[tatsuminui]

puquackerz..

[ambersky0319]

Remus ducks out because of how everyone else makes him feel, and by the time they notice, it's because Deceit is panicking. Patton tries to say it's fine that he's gone, that he was only bad for Thomas, untill Roman grows sick and looses his color. Deceit tries to leave to find Remus but Patton tries to put it off thinking Roman will suddenly get better.while that happens Logan leaves and journeys into the falling apart imagination, to find a young Remus crying, yelling out for Roman -Rayne

Warnings: Unsympathetic Patton, Minor blood(it’s literally brought up once in very very little detail), lmk if there’s anything I should add!

Masterpost 

———————————–

It had been a happy day.

The sun was shining through their windows from Roman’s part of the Imagination, Patton was making lunch for everyone, Logan and Virgil were having a light debate about something that really didn’t matter while Roman doodled in his sketchbook.

Roman barely even noticed himself that he was starting to feel a bit off. It could have been the fact he didn’t eat breakfast, so he just pushed aside his inability to come up with anything interesting as just his brain saying he needed food. No one noticed Roman’s occasional shift and grimace or the way he looked slightly too pale.

They ate their lunch and continued with their activities, except Roman only felt worse after he had eaten. He doesn’t say anything as he moves on from drawing in his sketchbook to working on the script for their next video. But his hand trembles over the notebook and he feels chills roll down his back despite the house being fairly warm. Roman bites his lip, trying to force his hands to steady, though he only fails. The living room is fairly empty now though, Logan had escaped to his room to work on schedules, Patton was cleaning the kitchen, and Virgil was napping on the opposite side of the couch. So no one noticed Roman only growing worse and worse. And Roman just assumed it was one of his off days.

No one noticed, at least, until late afternoon.

Deceit had rushed into the light commons, looking behind every piece of furniture and swearing profusely when he didn’t find what he was looking for. Deceit didn’t acknowledge that he startled Virgil or that Patton had scolded him for cursing.

“Deceit, what’s got your snakes all tangled?” Roman asked when Deceit had checked behind their TV. Deceit’s eyes snapped to him and somehow grew even wider.

“Roman? What’s wrong with you?” Roman frowned when Deceit didn’t answer, so he turned his head a bit too quickly and huffed. The action, however, made Roman feel a bit nauseous, and he refrained from reaching up to cover his mouth. He was fine!

“Nothing, just an off-”

“Oh my God, Roman you’re turning gray-” Virgil was the first to point it out, scrambling over on the couch to get to the princely side. Patton was suddenly in the living room upon hearing this.

“What’s all the ruckus kiddos?”

Deceit just shook his head. “I need to find Remus- this isn’t- fuck this isn’t good,” Deceit made a beeline for the stairs, but Patton blocked his way.

“Deceit, what’s going on?” Patton kept getting in Deceit’s path any time Deceit attempted to pass him, and the dishonest side let out a frustrated growl.

“Patton there’s no time!”

“If you just told us-”

“Remus is fucking missing, and Roman is suffering because of it! What’s not clear to you?”

“So your solution is to go invade the Imagination? Roman’s fine! And I’m sure Remus is just planning to come and attack one of us again, there’s no need to worry.” Patton had rolled his eyes as he spoke, crossing his arms.

“Um, Pat?”

“Not now, Virge.”

“But-”

“I said not now!” Virgil flinched as Patton raised his voice, his grip on Roman accidentally tightening and Roman whimpered ever so softly. Patton took a deep breath. “Roman will get better, today’s just a bad day for him! He said so himself!”

Deceit looked past Patton, to the top of the stairs. He made brief eye contact with Logan before the logical side disappeared around the corner, and Deceit huffed loudly.

“Fine! But I’m not leaving until Remus comes back, alright?” Deceit’s voice was just slightly too loud, loud enough to cover the sound of a door closing upstairs. Deceit trudged over to the couch, settling on Roman’s other side.

Roman was looking far worse. He felt as though he could get sick at any moment, and Virgil had been right, he was turning gray. His sash was already a dark and unsaturated red, and his skin was growing paler by the minute. But Patton just waved it off with the explanation maybe Thomas was just losing some motivation, it wasn’t something new, and he went back to cleaning.

-

In the Imagination, things were falling apart just as quickly as Roman was getting sick. Logan hated the Imagination, it was no place for him. But Deceit would know if Remus was just pulling a prank on them, and Logan knew Remus wouldn’t go as far as to make Roman sick. Patton maybe, but not Roman.

The ground shakes softly under Logan’s feet as he walks briskly through what was once a forest. Roman’s forest. The trees are almost regressing, some turning into saplings while others disappear below the ground in front of his own eyes. He passes a lake that turns smaller and smaller, first going dry before refilling with dirt. And then the color. Everything was void of it, and Logan knew that wasn’t right. Roman’s land was vibrant and loud and alive. Nothing was supposed to be dying in his part of the Imagination.

It’s when Logan gets closer to the border, everything now looking like an empty field, that he hears it. A wail that could shatter glass in an instant, and Logan’s running towards it, calling out for Remus.

As he gets closer, he realizes the wails aren’t just cries for help. They’re cries for Roman.

Logan nearly trips over the curled figure, but he stops before he can hurt them. And the cries momentarily quiet into soft sobs as they look up at Logan.

“You’re not- you’re not Roman-” he hiccups and the young figure finally registers in Logan’s mind as Remus. Except… he wasn’t Remus anymore, not the one Logan had been expecting to find. Still, Logan crouches down so he’s at eye level with the child.

Logan tries to keep his voice as even as possible. “No, but I know where he is.”

Remus’s eyes darken slightly, and he looks down, sniffling as he tries and fails to wipe away his tears. “So he did leave me? The bright man made him leave?” He asked softly, looking back up to Logan with tears still streaming down his cheeks. Logan tilted his head.

“The bright man?”

“Yeah, in the- the light blue shirt! He wanted to take Roman- I haven’t- where is he? He left me, didn’t he?”

Logan had thought he had felt rage before, but that was nothing compared to this. “You mean Patton took Roman?” Remus seemed to think for a moment, and then he nodded, and it took all of Logan’s energy to not curse up a storm right then and there. He tried to keep a neutral expression. “I don’t think he wanted to leave you, Remus, in fact, I think Roman would be very happy to see you.”

“But what about the bright man?”

Logan reached out to brush away Remus’s tears and push his hair from his face. “Don’t worry about him.”

“But what if he hurts me- he took Roman away because he didn’t like me- I was bad! What if he does it again?!”

Logan offered a small smile, hoping it looked reassuring. “As I said, do not worry about him. I’ll deal with him if he tries, okay?” Remus bit his lip, a bit too hard as a small bit of blood seeped out from under his teeth. Logan sighed softly. “Remus, do you want to see Roman?”

Slowly, Remus nodded, and Logan scooped him up off the ground just as the area around them was turning white. “Hold on tight, okay?” Logan mumbled as Remus buried his face in Logan’s shoulder, nodding, and Logan sunk out, holding the child tightly in his arms.

It had been a happy day.

———————————–

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[candied-peach]

ao3: “good night sweet prince” rating: T warnings: self deprecation, logince genre: fluff description: Roman’s overworking himself, until Logan comes in.

The flamboyantly inked words on the page blur in front of Roman's tired eyes, but he refuses to stop. Thomas has called a meeting tomorrow- today, he corrects himself, after sneaking a peak at the clock- and he needs to have more ideas than the few pitiful concepts scribbled in red ink. What will the others think, if this is all he has to show for himself? They'll think he's not even tried. Will any of them understand how desperately he has?

He thinks what he needs is a good jaunt in the Imagination. But time can pass differently there- what if he missed the meeting? Not showing up at all would be far, far worse!

Roman groans, dropping his head to his notepad and taking a few deep breaths through his nose. This is impossible. He'll never have enough to satisfy the others at this rate, and he deserves their censure. Thomas needs him, and he can't even be properly be there for him.

Lost in his own self-deprecating thoughts, he doesn't hear the door snick open, or the quiet pad of footfalls across the fluffy white expanse of carpet.

"You are working too hard," come Logan's quiet words and Roman's hand jerks, leaving a glaring red streak of ink across the page.

"Logan!" Roman exclaims, hastily tossing down his notepad, incriminating side down. "What are you doing here?"

"It is nearly two in the morning and you are still awake," Logan answers. "You were supposed to go to bed at midnight, at the latest."

"Right," Roman says, his cheeks flushed. "I just erm- I got caught up in my work." To his relief, Logan absently nods, apparently accepting the excuse for what it is.

"You know that everyone's positive feelings toward you aren't based on your productivity, right?" Logan asks casually. Roman stiffens, his mouth sagging open a little. A gentle, slightly sad smile crosses Logan's face.

"Our care for you is not tied up in your work," he continues. "It does not matter how many ideas you bring to the table later today. Thomas will appreciate them, and so will the rest of us."

"How did you-" Roman starts to say, then clamps his lips shut, his face burning all the hotter.

"Your face is easy to read, my beloved prince," Logan says. "At least by this point."

"Right," Roman mumbles. Logan summons a chair and pulls it up to Roman's side, sitting and clasping Roman's hands in his own.

"I love you," Logan says sincerely. "Do you understand that?" Roman nods.

"Of course I do," he says. "I love you, too. You're incredible."

"Then believe me when I say that you are loved by everyone else, too," Logan says softly. "Believe me when I say that Thomas loves and values you."

"Thank you," Roman whispers. "I don't deserve you, you know." Logan smiles lightly.

"Of course you do," he says, tugging Roman up. "Now to bed with you. It's far past time for you to be asleep."

"Only if you come to bed with me," Roman counters. Logan hesitates. "Practice what you preach, Teach," Roman mock admonishes. "If I need sleep, then so do you."

"Oh, all right," Logan grumbles, toeing off his shoes and settling into his preferred side of Roman's bed. "But only for you."

Roman smiles.

"I'd expect nothing less," he says.

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[candied-peach]

ao3: “skip all” rating: T warnings: mild injuries, sympathetic deceit, loceit genre: hurt/comfort description: Janus helps his boyfriend out. (for @psodtqueer ‘s prompt: “ could you do some loceit about when janus ‘kidnaps’ logan with his cane in svs2?”)

It's supposed to be a last resort.

That's how Janus spins it anyway. A last resort 'skip all' button, that will let Logan tap out and Janus tap in. He doesn't think it would come to that, of course. Especially not with this new format! The others can't protest this, can he? He's not even there in person this time. He knows that emotions aren't his forte, but his contribution can still be valuable. He brings the philosophy (that he so enjoys sharing with Janus, talking into the wee hours of the morning about this philosopher or that, despite the creeping guilt of not following his carefully crafted schedule), the logical and factual underpinnings to what Patton, Roman, and Thomas are trying to discuss.

That's how it's supposed to go. Instead, they mute him, skip him, cut his contributions literally in half- His head is spinning by the time it's through, and his voice is thick with tears he'll never shed. Thankfully, the method of interaction means that the others can't hear just how close to tears he actually is. He just doesn't get it! Surely this is better. He's trying to be helpful. But if this is-

What if he still is too much? Too annoying, too overbearing- He didn't mean to pop up like that in front of Patton, after all, he misjudged. Is it any wonder Roman freed Patton from him like that?

Lost in self-blame and doubt, he almost misses the shiny 'skip all' button that has appeared above his head.

He doesn't miss just how quickly Patton hits it.

The curve of Janus's cane comes out of nowhere, neatly hooking him and yanking him back into the real world, staggering against his bed. Judging by the lack of hue and cry from Thomas's living room, no one even notices what's happened. Typical.

"That's enough of that," Janus says, eyeing him up and down and wincing with concern when he sees the bruise forming on Logan's neck. "Sorry, darling," he murmurs in contrition, gloved fingers smoothing over Logan's skin. "I was aiming for your waist, not your neck. I missed."

"It's all right," Logan says. It's hard not to let bitterness creep into his tone, but he suppresses it through sheer willpower. It is not Janus's fault. He doesn't ever want Janus to feel like it is. "I wish you luck," he continues, and now the bitterness does trickle in. "They have no desire to listen to me, so I can't imagine that it will be any easier for you." The smile that crosses Janus's face sends a shiver down Logan's spine.

"Oh, I'll make them listen," Janus says silkily. "Like they should have been doing all along with you." Logan swallows, the lump in his throat like an insurmountable boulder.

"Perhaps they are right not to," Logan admits, reluctant. "They are right, I have no idea what to do with emotions-"

"That doesn't mean that they're allowed to treat you worse than dog shit," Janus says bluntly. Logan's eyes widen at the profanity. "You aren't experienced in matters of the heart, but that doesn't mean that you bring nothing to the table, Logan." His eyes dart upward, and he frowns. "It's time for me to make an appearance," he says. "But first-" He asks permission with one glance, and Logan nods. Janus cups his face in ungloved hands and presses a single, sweet kiss to his lips.

"This conversation isn't over," Janus adds. "I will make you believe in your own self worth if I have to drag you." Logan smiles faintly at that, even as Janus leans his cane against the wall and lets his appearance fade into Logan's.

"Good luck," Logan whispers. Janus inclines his head in acknowledgement, before disappearing.

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[candied-peach]

ao3: “a morning to remember” rating: T warnings: food mention, sympathetic remus, sympathetic deceit, roceit, creativitwins genre: fluff description: Happy birthday, Roman!

"Oh, broooooother!"

Roman groans, burying his face in his pillow when the sound of his brother's dulcet tones shatter his dreams like a vase splattering on a concrete floor.

"What?" He mumbles, wincing as a spear of sunlight shafts past his eyelids.

"Wake up!" Remus says, enthusiastic, as he bounces on the end of Roman's bed. "Patton wanted me to wake you up!"

"He wanted me to wake up Roman," Janus's amused voice corrects. A sappy smile spreads across Roman's face involuntarily when he hears his boyfriend at the door.

"You, me, close enough," Remus dismisses. "Besides, how could I miss my brother waking up on his birthday? It would be like missing out on the juiciest piece of roadkill!" Roman makes a sick face at the thought, listening to Remus cackle.

"Come on," Janus says, approaching the bed. Roman squints sleepily at him. "Up you get. Patton's making heart-shaped waffles for you. They're so adorable, it's sickening."

"Fine," Roman says, dragging himself into a seated position. "Is Remus going to eat them?" He asks, a sudden thought striking him.

"Patton promised me a deodorant and cologne milkshake tomorrow with an extra spritz of shaving cream," Remus answers. "So yes. I suppose I can choke them down. For you."

"Thanks," Roman says dryly. "Can I get dressed now?"

"Of course you can," Janus says, dragging Remus out of the room. "We'll be right outside," he calls back over one shoulder. Roman gets dressed in haste, settling the red sash over his chest with trembling fingers.

When he opens the door, Janus is right there, arms sweeping around Roman's back to dip him down in what would be the most romantic kiss of his life, if it wasn't for his brother's snickering in the background.

"Ignore him," Janus murmurs against his lips. Mismatched eyes glitter warm brown and soft gold, mesmerizing Roman.

"Already done," he says breathlessly. Janus laughs and pulls him back up, settling him on his feet.

"Come on," Janus says, lacing his ungloved fingers with Roman's. "Breakfast is waiting. And presents, of course. You should always get presents on your birthday." Roman's eyes stray between the manic grin on Remus's face and the soft look on Janus's. His relationship with his brother is still awkward at times, but healing, and his relationship with Janus-

He wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

"I think I'm already good on that front," he says, leaning down and pressing a tiny kiss to the corner of Janus's mouth. "But lead on, my beloved bananaconda!"

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[candied-peach]

ao3: “the dead of night” rating: T warnings: kissing, sympathetic deceit, anaroceit genre: fluff description: Roman loves Virgil and Janus but how could he ever be so lucky? (for anon prompt: "ok so uhm for prompts,, virgil n janus asking roman to join their relationship? maybe roman's a bit insecure abt it but you do what you want :3 (I'm starting to like this ship lmao I crave content,,)")

"Roman, may we talk to you?"

Roman startles, nearly spilling his coffee all over his notes. It's later than he thought it was- the darkness outside the living room window proves that. Janus and Virgil stand by his elbow, patiently waiting for his answer as he coughs, setting his pen down with a harder-than-strictly-necessary thump.

"Of- of course," he blusters, though he can feel his heartbeat treble in his chest. Anxiety pools in his stomach, making it churn. "I apologize if I have kept either of you awake, I can move to my room-"

"No, that's not it," Janus says, dismissing the thought with a slight wave of one gloved hand. "We were already awake, and saw that you were, as well. It's nothing bad," he reassures.

Roman doesn't feel very reassured.

Still, he gets up, leaving his notebook on the coffee table, and follows the other two down the hallway. He thinks they're going to Janus's bedroom. Probably so they won't be disturbed, or disturb the others. His stomach still does a funny little flip at the thought of being in Janus's room. He's so rarely invited, after all.

Do they know? His throat tightens at the thought. He can't bear it if they know. Is this supposed to be some kind of- of pity intervention? Terribly sorry, Roman, but we'd rather court a dead rat than come near your presence like that. He can't actually see Virgil or Janus saying that, but what if that's what they mean? What if they've seen the yearning glances he can't seem to suppress, the way he lingers in the kitchen after meals and the living room after movie nights, dry-mouthed at the thought of the tiniest scrap of affection, be it a sideways hug or a hair tousle? God, he must look so pathetic, and worse, some kind of homewrecker. They're together and he's shut out in the cold, like he should be.

"Sit down, Roman," Janus says in alarm. Roman realizes his vision has gone all foggy and it is with great difficulty that he thumps down on the edge of Janus's bed, his head swimming. "Are you all right?"

"Fine," he croaks, but the arched eyebrow tells him that Janus knows it's a lie. Virgil has no compunction on calling him out on it.

"Bullshit," Virgil says, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his hoodie and his shoulders awkwardly hunched. "What's wrong, dude?"

"Nothing," Roman creaks out. "What- what did you want to talk about?"

"It seems unbefitting when you are unwell," Janus says with a frown. "But-"

"Just tell me," Roman blurts out, trying to conceal his desperation. Just get it over with. Please. Janus sits to one side of him, while Virgil takes the other. Janus lifts one limp hand, covering it with both of his.

"Please tell us if we've misread the signals, but- well- would you like to join our relationship?" Janus asks. Roman's mouth sags open in shock. Ringing buzzes in both ears, filling the world with static.

"What?" He asks, and it sounds very far away.

"Do you wanna join us?" Virgil asks. One of his arms has gone round Roman's shoulders, supporting him. He thinks without it, he might fall over. He still might. "It's just that we're both in love with you."

"It's perfectly all right if you don't," Janus starts to assure him, but Roman blurts his answer, spilling out the words in a great rush.

"I- yes, yes, I would, I-"

"Then it's a yes?" Janus asks, his mismatched eyes sparkling, and his face close, so close, to Roman's face as he strokes some of Roman's hair back from his forehead.

"Oh yes," Roman breathes. Janus leans in closer, his breath stirring Roman's fringe.

"May I kiss you?" Janus asks softly. Roman nods, eager, and Janus's lips brush his, a sweet, soft taste that leaves Roman aching for more. Then it's Virgil's turn, more tentative, though Virgil's fingers tangle in his hair, angling his head. Roman's head swims as the others sit back, a dazed smile spreading across his face.

"I take it you liked that then," Virgil says. Roman nods rapidly.

"Very much," he admits.

"Well, the others are asleep," Janus points out. "If you would like some more...practice, I won't tell if you don't." Roman grins, reckless.

"Bring it on," he says.

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[candied-peach]

ao3: “what’s the point” rating: T warnings: school, swearing, self harm?, sympathetic remus, platonic dukexiety genre: hurt/comfort description: Remus hates online school. (anon prompt: "May I PLEASE have a little drabble of Remus getting so frustrated with online school that he has the feeling that he needs to destroy or hurt something? And would I also ask that one of the others help him out? Because I may be projecting minus the comforting part-")

The words on the screen blur in front of his tired eyes and Remus lets his head thump down on folded arms, letting out a muffled scream of frustration. Three articles he's supposed to read and summarize. Three articles and they're all shittily photocopied so he has to squint and tilt his head to have a chance in hell of reading them, and by now, his head hurts so much he's ready to find a way to wrench the damn thing straight off.

"Remus?" Virgil pokes his head around the corner, peering into Remus's room. "You gucci in there?"

"No," Remus says petulantly, lifting his head. "Fuck this class. Fuck this teacher. Fuck this assignment. I should have given up and told my parents I'd be a ditch digger."

"You would make a terrible ditch digger," Virgil says, coming in and sitting on the edge of Remus's bed. "What's up?"

"These stupid articles," Remus says, pointing an accusing finger at the blurs on his computer screen. "I'd try and print them out but oh wait! The printer's broken! Again."

"What's wrong with it?" Virgil asks. "Does it need new ink or-"

"Who knows," Remus says, with a gusty sigh. "Needs to be tossed out the window is what it needs. Defenestrated. Did you know there's a word for that? How cool is that?"

"Only you would know that," Virgil says.

"I wanna defenestrate myself right about now," Remus says. The itch to do something- anything- burns, just under his skin, like he's wearing a prickly blanket. His hands clench into fists, fingernails digging shallow divots into his palms.

"How about no?" Virgil suggests mildly. "I know we live on the second floor, but that sounds like a one way ticket to the hospital."

"Okay, then how about I take a hammer to my laptop and I never have to worry about this stupid shit again?" Remus retorts. Tears of frustration burn the corners of his eyes. Virgil sighs softly and scoots closer.

"How can I help you?" He asks quietly. "I can try to fix the printer, I can try to read the articles out loud for you, we can take a break and play something fun-"

"I don't know," Remus says, his voice cracking on the last word. He hates it. "I'm just- Why is this so hard for me?" He asks, plaintive. "It's not just this assignment, it's everything. I'm always late because I forget, I forget to watch the lectures for days, I miss everything-"

"Online school is really hard for some people," Virgil says. "It's okay if you happen to be one of them."

"But it's not," Remus protests. "My grades are shit-"

"I'll help you as much as I can," Virgil promises. "And we can find a tutor or something, if you need one. It's okay to need help, Remus. It's okay to ask for help. You help me when I have panic attacks, don't you?"

"Well, yeah," Remus says, scrubbing at faintly tear-stained cheeks. Virgil smiles and squeezes his hand.

"I'll help you with school," Virgil says. "Even if all you need is a shoulder to cry on."

"I don't cry," Remus denies, giving a loud sniff immediately afterward.

"It's okay to cry, too," Virgil says.

"Can we- can we snuggle? Under a weighted blanket?" Remus asks hesitantly. Virgil nods, reaching behind him and unfolding Remus's favorite weighted blanket, patterned with squid.

"Of course," Virgil says. Remus closes the lid of his laptop before he can succumb to the still slightly painful urge to slam dunk it into the floor, and climbs into bed, curling up around Virgil and settling under the blanket, his jangled nerves finally starting to soothe.

"I slept like shit last night, I might fall asleep on you," he warns, drowsiness already beginning to creep up on him.

"Go to sleep," he can hear Virgil say, as sleep drags him down. "I'll be here."

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[candied-peach]

ao3: “in the garden of eden” rating: T warnings: post creativity split, kid sides, sympathetic remus, sympathetic deceit, platonic dukeceit genre: hurt/comfort description: Deceit finds the green Creativity in a garden. 

Janus storms into the garden he knows by heart, angry tears threatening his vision, though he refuses to let them fall. Stupid Morality. Stupid Logic. They're both so stupid. They don't understand that Thomas needs him! He's important!

If the teacher knew who stole their neighbor's pencil because his last one had ended up in the hands of a second grader (because Thomas is also too soft-hearted for his own good), then Thomas would get in trouble! He might have detention for a week! Did they want that? It isn't like his neighbor didn't have more than one pencil! He had four or five extras, and they all looked the same. Was Thomas supposed to go without? He huffs an angry breath, stomping along the rock path.

"Who are you?"

The lisping question out of nowhere catches Janus off guard, making him nearly jump out of his skin. He glances around wildly before his mismatched eyes fall on a gap-toothed boy in a silver paper crown and an acid green shirt, kneeling in the grass that borders the path.

"Deceit, of course," Janus declares, trying to swish his capelet. It whacks him in the arm instead and he stops, his cheeks furiously red. "Who are you?"

"I'm Creativity!" The boy declares, green eyes bright.

"No, you're not," he says in surprise, before he can stop himself. The other side's bottom lip starts to wobble. There's a shockingly grey streak of hair that keeps flopping in his eyes.

"Yes, I am," the other side insists, stubborn.

"But you-" Janus cuts himself off. The boy tilts his head to one side.

"I'm the bits no one wanted anymore!" He singsongs. He lets his voice drop, ominous, as he whispers, "Long live the king."

"This isn't The Lion King," Janus says on autopilot.

"I think I'm 'posed to be Scar," the other boy confesses. "He's the fun one. Until he gets eaten by hyenas and set on fire."

"Yes, that would put a damper on things," Janus says dryly. "Do- do you have a name?"

"Remus," the boy offers up cheerfully. "My brother's Roman. He's Creativity, too. But Morality likes him. Morality told me to go stay out here. Do you think he's gonna come back? It's awfully boring with no one to play with. And I miss my brother."

"I don't think he's going to come back, no," Janus says slowly. "But that's okay." Remus blinks at him like an owl.

"It is?" He asks. Janus nods, encouraging Remus to stand up.

"You can stay with me instead," Janus says. "Would you like that?"

"Would I!" Remus says, enthusiastic. "That sounds great! Do you like to play games? Do you like hide and seek? I love hide and seek. What if you hid too well and no one ever found your body? Wouldn't that be awful? Ooh, or tag, I like tag. Tackle tag is fun, but Morality said it's playing too rough."

"It can be," Janus admits. "I like hide and seek, too, though. I wouldn't mind playing it with you." Remus grins.

"Cool," he says.

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[candied-peach]

ao3: “the mirror is a lie” rating: T warnings: food, eating disorders, self harm, self hatred, sympathetic deceit, analoceit genre: hurt/comfort description: Logan has an eating disorder. (for anon prompt:  "Okay so: analoceit with V or Lo (you pick which) who struggles with an ed(specifically ana). problem is no one knows because they've never "followed though" with it because they fight it all the time(bonus if fighting it is 'easier' bc they fight s/h / suididal thoughts anyway) so they have to barely keep together everytime someone mentions their weight bc they're 'chubby' (no unsymp anyone please) and they get soft affection and comfort from the boyfs sorry if this doesn't make sense") (song lyrics are from “empty” by boyinaband and jaiden)

Mirror mirror on the wall, yeah Tunnel vision on the flaws In the scale of things it's unimportant So no talking, but it's still an intrusive thought

It isn't logical. He knows that. He knows his routine isn't very logical, either. It's fine when he wakes up and brushes his teeth (for precisely two minutes, and he always uses the same amount of spearmint-flavored toothpaste on the medium-firm bristles). Dressing doesn't take long- it isn't like he's some kind of fashion icon. The most complicated step is fixing his tie, and at this point, he could probably do it in his sleep. The next step the others know about is breakfast and he will get there, but before that step, Logan has a secret one.

And it's one he knows isn't very rational at all.

He stands in front of the mirror in his attached bathroom. It's a full-sized mirror, lingering on all his flaws in painful detail. He lifts up his shirt, exploring the contours of his pudgy stomach with ruthless fingers, squeezing and pinching until he frowns at the sting. He welcomes it, too, though, because if he were better at this, he would have nothing to grab. Don't eat thumps in tune with his heartbeat as he tucks his shirt back in and runs a comb through his hair. That thought's not logical, either. He needs to eat. Well, he doesn't technically need to- none of the sides need to eat, they aren't real that way- but they perform better if they do. It helps Thomas when they eat and how can Logan deny that?

"Chocolate chip waffles!" Patton chirps in response to Roman's inquiry as Logan makes his way downstairs, heading straight for the coffee pot. He has to get there first, or Patton will serve him sugar and cream just the way he likes it and he knows he only deserves it black.

Staring down at a plate filled with three waffles, Logan feels sick. He doesn't want to eat any of it. Even breathing the aromatic air above it feels laden with empty calories. He takes a deep breath in through his nose, pretending he doesn't see Virgil's and Janus's concerned looks, to either side of him. He cuts off a piece of waffle with his fork and raises it to his lips, chewing automatically. It feels like he's eating chocolate-scented couch stuffing.

"Are you all right?" Janus asks him, softly, under the clamor of the others. Logan tightly nods, but he knows that it's not reassuring. He wouldn't believe it either. Today was supposed to be a good day.

Been getting even worse All the days begin to merge, yeah Just a blurry haze and now it's Almost second nature to ignore the urges

It gets worse that night. Dinner is shrimp alfredo pasta, heavy and cloying. Logan feels his throat narrow to a pinhole as he attempts to shovel it down. He wishes he could blame the sensation on a shellfish allergy. He knows it's not.

The others choose a movie to watch. He isn't sure what it is. Some Disney movie, naturally. With Roman around, it's hard to choose anything else, although technically, they all get an opportunity to pick a movie throughout the week. Logan's choices are rarely approved of by more than Janus and Virgil (and occasionally Remus, oddly enough).

"Can I sit by you, Lo?" Patton asks. "You make the best pillow!" He doesn't mean anything by it, Logan tries to convince himself, static roaring in his ears. Don't be irrational. It's a simple question, Logan, it only requires a simple answer.

"Of course, Pat," he croaks out, through dry lips. "I'll be right back." He walks up the stairs- walks, but doesn't run- and he doesn't notice the glance his boyfriends exchange, nor the similar string of excuses made as they trail behind him.

When he reaches his room and the door is safely tucked shut, he collapses by the foot of his bed, doubling in on himself and cursing every inch of his disturbing fat, squishy body. He doesn't have to be this way. He shouldn't be this way. He wouldn't be this way if he wasn't such a coward. He drives his fists into the tops of his thighs as hard as he can, relishing the pain. He doesn't hear the door behind him open, or the twin intakes of breath seeing him disheveled on the floor, muttering self-hatred into his lap.

I can reach out To someone not like me I can help my mind learn to trust my body

"Lo-" and Virgil is there, softly coaxing him back into purple-clad arms, and Janus is facing him, concern bright in mismatched eyes, and then it all blurs in a wash of kaleidoscope colors, and Logan realizes he's crying.

"I just-" He stops, hiccuping and hating himself for it.

"Take your time," Janus quietly encourages. "No one here is judging you, Logan. No one is pressuring you. Take as long as you need."

"I hate myself," Logan blurts out. "I'm sorry, I know it's not logical, but I-" He stops again. Virgil rubs slow, soothing circles on the tops of his hands, steadying him. He can feel Virgil's breath stirring his hair.

"I hate myself," he repeats, starting anew. "I hate my body. It's disgusting. It's too fat. It's wrong. I should look more like Thomas and I don't. I- I like Crofters too much and I hate it and I wish that Thomas had never found that jam brand in the first place because maybe that was the start of my downward spiral and maybe I wouldn't be this way if it wasn't for Crofters." He shakes his head, staring at the floor.

"We love you," Janus says. "No matter what you look like, Lo. We love you. I could stay here a thousand years and never run out of things to say about how much I admire you and your body. But I know that self-hatred and body dysmorphia aren't so easily shaken." He looks down at ungloved hands and Logan can see the spattering of scales there.

"I love you and I love your body," Virgil chimes in. "And whatever we can do to help, we want to."

"You- you do?" Logan stammers in surprise. Janus scoots closer, taking one of Logan's hands.

"Of course we do," Janus says. "You're our boyfriend. We might not have taken wedding vows but I, for one, still apply that whole 'sickness and in health' thing."

"Even if it takes months? Or- or years?" Logan asks.

"Even if it takes eternity," Virgil says. "You're worth it, Logan."

The world goes out of focus again, thanks to another steady wash of tears, but Logan can't bring himself to care.

"Do you want to go back to the movie?" Janus asks, a long while later. Logan nestles himself deeper in Virgil's arms.

"If it's with you two, I'll go anywhere," he says. "Thank you."

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