Living a Well-Reasoned Life

by SoCloseToLove

Summary:

Logan opened his bedroom door and saw himself standing there.

(An orange-ish side story with a very unreliable narrator).

Notes:

It finally happened: A brief hyperfixation occurring when I actually have time to write. Behold the efforts of spring break.

Logan opened his bedroom door and saw himself standing there.

“Sorry,” he went to shut the door like he’d walked in on somebody, before he quickly realized that it was his bedroom, and he couldn’t possibly be standing inside if he was also standing outside. And yet, as he opened the door again, slowly, that appeared to be the case.

Schrodinger's Logan Sanders.

The other Logan, who had just sat down on his bed, looked up at him, surprised to see that someone else had walked in.

Logan wasn’t sure what to say to the stranger, but ‘hello’ sounded like a safe option.

“Hello.”

The stranger simply looked at him. If he noticed their physical similarities, he didn’t comment on them.

Logan didn’t mind the silence. It gave him a chance to figure out what was going on. He closed the door and ran though a list of the most logical possibilities.

Concussion. Coma. Drugs. Clone. Secret twin. Psychotic break.

“Hello,” the stranger spoke in a soft, gentle voice.

Logan tried to determine if their voices sounded the same, but it was like hearing a recording of his own voice. He couldn’t recognize it.

The stranger wore rumpled clothes, like he’d been caught in a windstorm. He wore something that Logan would wear, a polo shirt and tie, but his tie had come undone.

“What’s your name?” Logan asked. He needed more data to come to a proper conclusion.

“I’m not sure,” the stranger murmured in the same soft voice. “I don’t think I have one.”

He did not seem particularly bothered by this fact. The stranger was looking around the room, lingering on various objects.

Logan noticed two things.

First, Logan spotted their only physical difference. The stranger had orange eyes, as opposed to Logan’s blue eyes.

Second, the stranger was squinting. Hard.

“Can you see?” Logan asked.

“Yes.” The stranger turned to look at Logan. “This is seeing, right?” He seemed unsure.

Maybe the stranger was some sort of alien.

“I thought you might wear glasses.”

The stranger put his hand to his eyes, as if to check if he was wearing said glasses, but he only made contact with the soft flesh of temples.

“I don’t think I do.”

“So you don’t have a name, and you don’t wear glasses,” Logan listed the information he had learned. “Why do we look the same?”

The stranger looked puzzled.

“Do we?”

“Yes,” Logan wondered if the stranger was messing with him. “Exactly the same, except the eyes.”

“Oh,” the stranger nodded.

“You didn’t notice that?”

“I don’t know what I look like.”

“Well,” Logan sensed that asking questions wouldn’t get him anywhere. “Here, I’ll show you.”

Logan walked over to the full-length mirror in the corner of his bedroom.

“Come stand next to me.”

Slowly, the stranger swung each leg over the edge of Logan’s bed and stood up. He carefully walked over to the mirror, like he might stumble at any moment.

The two of them stood next to each other. Logan took off his glasses.

“See?” Logan demonstrated. “We look identical.”

The stranger raised one arm out in front of him, like he thought about touching his own reflection, then quickly dropped it to the side.

“So we do.”

“What are you, exactly?” Logan could not think of a polite way to phrase the question.

The stranger frowned, possibly offended.

“I think,” the stranger almost whispered. If Logan hadn’t been standing right next to him, he would have strained to hear the strangers’ words. “I come from…” he turned to face Logan. The stranger raised a hand and gently touched Logan’s right temple. “Here.”

Logan felt relief. Finally, some sort of explanation.

“Oh, I’m hallucinating.” Logan mulled this over. “You’re an image projected by my sub-conscious. That’s why we look the same.”

“Logan!” Someone yelled from outside the bedroom door. “Logan!” They knocked several times on the door.

Logan froze. How would he explain the stranger’s presence?

Roman swung the door open.

“Before you get upset at me for opening your bedroom door, I knocked a bunch of times,” he was almost out of breath. “We’re starting the movie, and yes, since it’s my turn to pick, it will be a Disney marathon.”

“So it’s more than one-”

“No complaints!” Roman cut him off. “I sat through Inception, so now you have to do the same!” He was giddy with excitement. “Come downstairs, we’re making popcorn!” Roman took off towards the staircase.

He made no mention of the stranger.

“That makes sense,” Logan pieced it together. “Nobody else can see you, since you’re in my head.”

“Oh,” the stranger looked back at the mirror. “Movie night?”

“We all sit downstairs and watch a movie.” Logan wasn’t sure whether to invite the stranger. “You could join, if you want. We just can’t talk.”

“That would be nice,” the stranger spoke so quietly that Logan could barely hear him.

“You have to speak up a bit,” Logan instructed. “I won’t be able to hear you otherwise. The others can be a bit…loud.”

“I’ve never seen a movie, I don’t think. Maybe once.” He spoke louder.

Logan wondered if the stranger shared his memories, having been a part of his psyche, but it appeared he did not.

“Alright, this can be a first,” Logan started to walk out of the bedroom. “Just stay with me.”

“Okay.”

By the time Logan and the stranger made it to the living room, the other sides had gathered around the TV.

“Sorry kiddo,” Patton smiled. “You’re getting the floor.”

Roman and Remus were fighting over a bowl of popcorn. Virgil was already sitting on the floor, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else in the world. Logan could sympathize.

“Hey, are you alright?” Patton asked. “You look a bit…discombobulated.”

Logan appreciated the use of such a large word.

“I knew you’d like that word,” Patton picked up on it.

Logan tried to think of a response. What could he say? He found an imaginary clone in his bedroom? He glanced over at the stranger, who simply shrugged, and Logan felt compelled to do the same.

“Well, let me know if you need anything,” Patton offered.

Logan sat next to Virgil, with the stranger on his other side.

“Long day,” Virgil sighed, mostly to himself.

Logan had to agree.

He didn’t pay much attention to the first movie (Mulan). He had too much to think about. Why had the stranger appeared to him? Why did the stranger have orange eyes? What was Logan supposed to do next?

Out of the corner of his eye, Logan watched the stranger furrow his brow, squinting at the screen. He definitely needed glasses. It was the first movie he’d ever seen, and he couldn’t even watch it properly. Logan sighed, taking off his glasses and slyly passing them to the stranger. It was dark enough and the other sides were distracted enough by the movie that Logan doubted their ability to pick up on anything. The stranger put them on, blinked, took them off, and put them on again. The stranger looked at Logan like he’d accomplished some incredible feat.

Logan found it endearing.

Roman wasn’t joking when he insisted on a movie marathon. The stranger fell asleep halfway through Cinderella, and Logan felt himself start to drift off.

“Are you awake?” Virgil asked.

Both Logan and the stranger woke up.

“Hmm?” The stranger murmured.
“Long day,” Logan explained. “Like you said.”

It was definitely time for bed. Logan thought about announcing his absence, but the others were all distracted by the movie and probably didn’t care either way, so he made a quick exit, the stranger in tow.

“Do you know why you’re here?” Logan asked in the safety of his bedroom, quick and to the point.

“No,” the stranger shook his head. “I’m just…here. This is all a dream to me.”

“A dream?”

“Yes,” the stranger fervently nodded his head. “A dream.”

It was essentially the stranger’s first day on earth. He’d never seen a movie, he didn’t have a name, he’d probably never been outside before.

He was the perfect student.

“Alright,” Logan nodded. “I’ll teach you.”

“Teach me what?” The stranger still spoke softly, but louder than before.

“All kinds of things. Like puzzles, and science,” Logan grew excited just thinking about it. The other sides never listened when he rambled about such topics. “You can read, right?”

“If you can read, I can read.”

“That makes sense,” Logan wondered how much of his own experiences had been imprinted onto the stranger. “We’ll start tomorrow.”

“Okay,” the stranger smiled. “This will be fun.”

The next morning, Logan stood in the kitchen and brewed two mugs of coffee. He assumed the stranger shared his tastes.

Virgil walked by.

“You’re up early,” Logan poured the coffee into one of the mugs.

“Never went to sleep,” Virgil called over his shoulder.

“Your body requires eight hours of rest for optimal functioning.”

Virgil didn’t say anything.

Logan picked up the mugs and slowly ascended the staircase. As he took a step, Janus rounded the corner and started walking down the stairs. The two met in the middle- Logan looking up at Janus, and Janus looking down at Logan.

“Excuse me,” Logan tried to side-step Janus, mindful of the heavy mugs in his hands. Janus blocked his path and narrowed his eyes at Logan.

“What?” Logan was annoyed.

“Did I say anything?” Janus mocked offense, then stepped out of the way.

“Thank you.”

“That’s a lot of coffee,” Janus observed. “It’s all for you?”

“Bye, Janus,” Logan continued up the stairs, though privately, he was disturbed Janus had called him out. Logan would have to keep an eye on him.
Logan reached his bedroom, where he had left the stranger sitting alone at his desk. Logan shut the door with his foot.

“Hello,” the stranger quickly stood up, eager to see Logan. “What’s that?”

“Coffee,” Logan set a mug on his desk, which had been peppered with stains in the shape of rings from past mugs of coffee.

“I’ve never had coffee,” the stranger eyed the mug. “I’ve never had anything.”

“Try it.”

The stranger picked up the mug by the handle. A tendril of steam rose from the dark liquid.

“Careful,” Logan realized, “it’s-”

The stranger took a sip, then grimaced, almost dropping the mug. His eyes flashed a little brighter.

“Ow,” he frowned. “Why does it hurt to drink it?”

“It’s hot,” Logan explained. “I guess you’ve never felt heat before.”

“No,” the stranger shook his head. He was smiling again. “But now I know!” He set the mug down. “I want to know all sorts of things. You’ll teach me, right?”

Logan studied the stranger, cradling his own mug in his hands. The stranger was curious about the world, but Logan still could not determine his actual purpose.

“Of course,” Logan nodded. “Why don’t we go outside today?”

“Outside?” The stranger lit up at the possibility. “I’ve never been.”

“Then we should go,” Logan was curious to see how the stranger would behave. He had a feeling there would be a lot of questions.

He was soon proven correct.

“What’s that?”

“Butterfly.”

“How does it fly?”

“Their wings change the air pressure around their bodies.”

“Why can’t we fly?”

“Too heavy.”

“Oh.”

An airplane passed overhead.

“But how-”

“The engine generates lift.”

“Oh,” the stranger pondered that.

Logan watched the stranger poke at a caterpillar on a leaf.

“Why don’t you know these things?” Logan asked.

“Hmm?” The stranger’s nose was almost touching the caterpillar.

“Don’t you know everything I know?”

“There is knowing in the abstract sense, and knowing by experiencing something in real life, or feeling something.”

“I’m not too good at that.”

“Feelings?” The stranger stepped away from the tree and turned to look at Logan. “Everyone has feelings.”

“I don’t feel, I think,” Logan explained.

“Oh,” the stranger frowned. “Should I stop feeling too?”

“It doesn’t work like that. It’s not something you choose, you simply don’t feel.”

“Then I guess I can’t stop, even if I wanted to.” The stranger returned his focus to the caterpillar, which had made its way to the other side of the leaf. “This caterpillar eats leaves, but it also lives on a leaf. It’s eating its own home. Isn’t that odd?”

“It’s convenient.”

“Will it bite me?”

“You’re not a leaf.”

The stranger examined his own hands as if to confirm he didn’t have green, leafy skin running down his arms, like he’d ooze aloe if he nicked himself.

“Right,” the stranger smiled, relieved to see he was a man and not a plant.

The stranger gently cupped his hands around the leaf holding the caterpillar, who poked his little head upwards and headbutted the stranger’s palm.

“If you want,” Logan watched the stranger smile at the caterpillar. “You could-”

The stranger clapped his hands together, pulverizing the caterpillar into gooey, stringy pieces that dripped between his fingers.

Logan was stunned.

“Sorry,” the stranger flicked his fingers, sending caterpillar guts flying in all directions. Logan felt a piece graze his cheek. He instinctively wiped that patch of skin with the back of his hand.

“I was distracted,” the stranger continued. “Were you going to say something?”

Logan regained his composure.

“Well,” he adjusted his glasses. “I was going to suggest putting him in a jar and taking him home.”

“Oh,” the stranger considered this. “I guess I could do that. Good idea.”

“Wha-” Logan didn’t expect this response. “No, you can’t.”

“Why not?” The stranger seemed puzzled. “I like that idea.”

“It’s dead,” Logan explained simply.

“Dead?” The stranger tested the word like he was unsure he was saying it correctly.

“Yes,” Logan confirmed. “Dead. You killed it.” He frowned. “Surely you understand death.”

Once again, the stranger’s selective knowledge confused him.

“I’ve never been dead before,” the stranger mused, examining the caterpillar chunks stuck to his palm. “What’s it like?”

“You don’t exist anymore,” Logan tried to explain.

“The caterpillar exists.”

“Its body still exists, but…” he searched for words. How could he explain death to someone who didn’t know what it was? How did parents explain this to children? He didn’t want the stranger to have some sort of existential crisis. He wasn’t equipped to handle those emotions.

“When someone dies,” Logan started again, “their body still exists, but it slowly decomposes. And they’re not aware of it. They don’t feel anything.”

“Oh,” the stranger nodded in apparent understanding. “Just like you.”

“What? I’m not dead.”

“But you don’t feel anything, so,” the stranger shrugged, “what’s the difference?” He looked at Logan and patiently waited for an explanation.

Logan had a list of differences. He could still eat, think, speak, walk around, do puzzles, and a variety of other activities a corpse could not manage. And yet, as he looked at the stranger, he had the sense he was getting at something else entirely. Something was going over his head. Logan wasn’t understanding the question.

It irritated him to no end.

“Why don’t we go inside?” Logan managed a tight-lipped smile. “We’ll get you cleaned up.”

“Okay,” the stranger happily dropped the subject.

Logan held no ill-will towards his new second skin. He couldn’t blame someone who had never been taught. That’s why he needed to double-down on his efforts. Whoever the stranger was, wherever he came from, Logan would be damned if he didn’t have an education.

And the stranger was nothing if not eager to learn.

“The number in the top left is the atomic number, which tells us how many protons are in the nucleus of one atom. Hydrogen has an atomic number of one, which means each Hydrogen atom has one proton.”

The stranger nodded, paying close attention.

“Now,” Logan continued, “the atomic number also tells us how many electrons are in one atom of the element, assuming the atom has a neutral charge. That’s really important.”

“Neutral charge,” the stranger repeated.

“Sometimes, the element has a negative charge, which means there’s more electrons than protons.”

“Can an element have a positive charge?” The stranger asked.

Logan was delighted. Not only was the stranger listening to him, but he asked a relevant question, and he cared what Logan had to say about it. Logan practically never encountered this combination of factors.

“Yes!” Logan answered. “That’s called a cation.”

“Do the negatively charged elements-”

A loud ‘thud’ sounded from outside Logan’s bedroom.

“Hey, get back here!” Roman’s voice echoed down the halls. “Remus!”

Maniacal laughter filled Logan’s bedroom. It grew louder as Roman chased Remus down the hallway, and quieter as the two of them passed Logan’s bedroom door. Doppler effect.

“Your friends are rather loud,” the stranger squinted at the periodic table.

“I ask them to be quiet near my room,” Logan looked at the closed bedroom door. “Clearly, they never listen.”

“Oh,” the stranger nodded. “I get it. They’re loud because they don’t respect you.”

For the second time that afternoon, Logan had been caught completely off-guard.

“Sorry?”

“What?” The stranger asked like he hadn’t said anything out of the ordinary.

“What did you just say?”

The stranger paused, like he himself didn’t remember.

“I said your friends are loud,” the stranger answered.

“But you said they didn’t respect me,” Logan pressed.

“Did I?” The stranger was bewildered. “I don’t think so. Are you sure you didn’t mishear me?”

Logan watched the stranger squint at the periodic table.

“Right, you can’t see,” Logan remembered from the night before. “You need glasses.”

“Yeah,” the stranger frowned.

“I have an extra pair,” Logan walked over to the dresser and opened a drawer. It gave him the perfect opportunity to think.

Was the stranger right? Was Logan mishearing things? It made no sense for the strangers to jump to such a conclusion, especially having never spoken to Logan’s friends or watched them interact.

Roman and Remus were loud. Logan was distracted. He misheard the stranger. That was the most reasonable explanation.

Logan smiled. Look at him, getting carried away in a conspiracy. If experience had taught him anything, there was always a logical answer for every question.

He combed through his spare pairs of glasses. Some might say he had too many, but he could never be too prepared.

“November 30th,” the stranger mused aloud. “Is that an important day?”

Logan selected a pair of glasses, almost identical to his own, and softly closed the drawer.

“November 30th,” Logan closed his eyes and thought of every association he could make with that date. “No federal holidays or birthdays spring to mind,” he recounted. “NASA conducted a space shuttle mission in 2000. It was quite fascinating,” he opened his eyes. “Why do you ask?”

“Just saw you had a newspaper,” the stranger nodded to a folded newspaper on Logan’s desk. “It’s old, so I figured it was important.”

“Oh, that.” Logan walked over, handing the stranger a pair of glasses. “Try those on. They might be an old prescription.”

The stranger slid the glasses onto his face and looked around the room, blinking a few times. He broke into a wide grin.

“This is a lot better.”

“The newspaper was a gift from someone.”

“Who got you a newspaper as a gift?” The stranger wrinkled his nose, picking up the newspaper and unfolding it.

Logan felt his hands twitch.

“Just one of my friends,” Logan shrugged. “It was a Secret Santa gift. You’re randomly assigned to give someone a gift,” he explained, sensing the stranger might not be familiar with the game.

“Oh, so someone had to get you something,” the stranger put the newspaper back down. “Makes sense.” He noticed something across the room. “Hey, a constellation poster! Now I can actually see it.” The stranger got up from Logan’s desk chair.

Quickly, Logan refolded the newspaper and put it back in its spot. Then, after another moment had passed, he put the newspaper in a drawer.

“You like stars?” Logan watched as the stranger studied the poster.

“I think they look pretty,” the stranger was beaming. “But I’ve never seen any in real life.”

It seemed the thought of simply going outside at night hadn’t crossed the strangers’ mind.

“Well, I’m sure we can find a way,” Logan offered. “Somehow.”

“That would be so cool,” the stranger murmured to himself, not taking his eyes off the poster. “I don’t even know what I’d do with myself.”

It struck Logan as he watched the stranger that he still had no idea why the stranger had appeared to him. He seemed content to stare at the poster, so Logan took the opportunity to go downstairs. He loved the stranger’s enthusiasm, but truth be told, Logan did his best thinking alone.

He walked into the kitchen, which was thankfully empty. The clock on the wall had fallen a few minutes behind again. Logan sighed, adjusting the hands of the clock. They needed to make the switch to digital. Analog clocks were too liable to fall out of synch.

“Hey, Logan,” a voice sounded from behind him.

“What do you want, Janus?” Logan didn’t even turn around.

“My my, why the hostility? I’m just saying hello.”

Logan sighed. He knew full well Janus wouldn’t leave him alone. He turned to face Janus’ two faces.

“Something I can help you with?” Logan asked.

“Why do you assume I need something from you?” Janus huffed. “I just wanted to ask you how you were doing. As a friend.”

“Right,” Logan was skeptical. “I’m doing well.”

“Really?” Janus dragged the word out.

Logan knew what Janus was getting at, and he had no interest in having that conversation. He was doing perfectly fine. Whatever Janus thought he had seen, whatever he falsely believed Logan was going through, he was mistaken.

“I’m alright, thank you,” he said in a firm voice.

The two of them looked at each other. Janus clearly didn’t believe him.

“Well,” Janus ceded. This wasn’t the time or place for a true confrontation. Such talk wouldn’t be suitable for the kitchen. “I just wanted to ask. You look…tired.”

“It’s been a long day.”

“You had two mugs of coffee.”

“Then I guess I need another one.”

“Oh, Logan,” Janus shook his head and smiled, like he was telling a joke that Logan didn’t understand. “Don’t say that I never tried to help you.” He examined one of his yellow gloves. “I guess you’ll have to learn this lesson yourself.” He picked a piece of lint off the fabric and flicked it towards the ground. “Ironic.”

Janus spun on his heel and slinked away.

“But of course, do let me know if you need anything,” Janus kept walking, his voice growing faint. “Anything at all.”

Logan rolled his eyes. He would never trust the snake with anything.

Logan went back to his bedroom to rejoin the stranger, who was still engrossed in the poster. Logan didn’t mind. At least someone was scientifically curious.

But for all of Logan’s appreciation for the stranger’s curiosity, his thought returned again to why the stranger had appeared to him. He initially suspected the stranger was supposed to be a physical manifestation of something, just as he was the physical manifestation of logic, but the specifics eluded him.

The stranger himself, with his lack of knowledge about essential topics, provided no clues. Logan suspected the stranger was supposed to be a student, but Logan didn’t know what to teach him. Oftentimes, students sought out teachers when they had to study for a test or learn some specific information, but the stranger had no objective. He simply existed, drifting behind Logan and asking him questions.

Logan wondered if he was missing something important. The thought gnawed at the edge of his mind, and worst of all, he had no way of knowing the answer. There was no book he could consult, no website he could read. He would simply have to wait.

The next morning, Logan repeated the previous day’s routine. He went downstairs and fixed two mugs of coffee. The other sides were probably sleeping, but Logan had a tendency to wake up early. By extension, so did the stranger.

Thankfully, Logan didn’t have to speak to anyone in the kitchen, but when he made it back to his bedroom, he quickly realized the situation would be untenable. He didn’t have enough chairs for both him and the stranger, who was sitting at his desk. The stranger had been sleeping on the floor with an extra pillow, insisting he was alright, but it couldn’t have been comfortable. And the extra mug meant that Logan’s collection of dirty coffee mugs grew twice as fast. He would need to clean them later on.

“I have a question,” the stranger spoke as Logan set a mug of coffee next to him. “If that’s alright.”

“Of course,” Logan nodded. “Ask anything you want.”

“Do you feel like you’re missing out?” The stranger asked.

“Missing out on what?”

“Feelings.” The stranger peered into his coffee like it was hiding a secret message.

Logan wasn’t anticipating this line of questioning. Clearly, their conversation about feelings had made an impression on the stranger.

“No,” Logan adjusted his glasses. “I don’t need them.”

“I didn’t ask if you needed them,” the stranger frowned. “I asked if you felt like you were missing out. Aren’t you curious what it would be like to feel something?”

Logan deeply resented the question. If he said he wasn’t curious, he would be instilling poor values. A student should always be curious. But if he said yes, he thought his entire world might crumble around him for reasons he couldn’t quite articulate. It would be the end. A death knell.

He said nothing.

“I know what it’s like,” the stranger continued, failing to describe what exactly ‘it’ was. He set the coffee on the desk and grabbed a stray crossword puzzle that Logan hadn’t finished, tracing the black and white squares with his eyes. “Sometimes I feel like I’ve missed out on some core life experience, like everybody learned an inside joke when I wasn’t there, and now I’ll never catch up,” the stranger skimmed the clues. “I can learn the punchline, but it’s never the same as having actually been there.” He picked up a pen like he was about to fill in a square of the crossword, then thought better of it. He didn’t know the word after all.

Logan had no idea what to do with this sudden display of vulnerability. It was too intimate. The stranger was telling him something he was not meant to hear. His discomfort propelled him to action, telling him to leave the room, but his brain told him to stay put. He was a tightly wound spring.

But for his part, the stranger didn’t show any outward discomfort.

“That’s just what I feel,” the stranger shrugged. “Four letter word for a shabby butterfly.”

“Moth,” Logan latched onto the chance to change the conversation.

“That’ll do it,” the stranger nodded, scratching the letters into the paper. “How’d you know that?”

“Life experience,” Logan explained, stepping into a familiar role.

“I want to know things like that,” the stranger was awestruck by Logan’s correct answer. “How do I get more life experience?”

“By living. And reading,” Logan emphasized. “It’s important to read.”

“Okay,” the stranger nodded obediently. “I can do that. What else should I do?”

“Well,” Logan tried to form an answer to such a broad question, “in general?”

“Yeah! What should I do with my life if I want to learn a lot of stuff?”

Logan hated not having an answer. Ideally, the stranger would go to school, but he arrived a bit too late for that. Logan scanned the room, looking for something.

“Oh!” He spotted a few puzzles on a shelf. “Why don’t you try a puzzle?” He walked over and took one off the shelf. “They improve memory and cognitive-spatial reasoning.”

The stranger accepted the box like it was a precious treasure.

“Alright,” he smiled widely. “I can do that!” He was resolute in his capabilities, like someone had given him a divine task that he’d been preordained to accomplish.

“Great,” Logan wondered just how long the stranger could maintain his enthusiasm.

“But what will you do?” The stranger asked.

Logan glanced at one of the stacks of paper lining his desk. He hadn’t been diligent with his work the past few days due to the stranger’s arrival, but he could no longer ignore the pit in his stomach that he felt whenever he wasn’t being productive.

“I have to look through some things,” Logan took the stack of papers.

“But you don’t have a place to sit,” the stranger looked around the room as if a desk might appear.

“I’ll go downstairs,” Logan offered.

“Okay,” the stranger looked guilty. “If you don’t mind.”

Logan was feeling generous. His instincts screamed at him to send the stranger out of his bedroom so he could focus on his work, but as always, logic took over. Where could he send the stranger? Could he really not handle doing work in the kitchen? It was still quiet enough. Teachers sacrificed for their students.

“You need the quiet more than I do, so you can focus on your puzzle,” Logan reaffirmed.

“Alright,” the stranger accepted his proposal. “I’ll get to it!”

Logan took his stack of papers downstairs. He didn’t know how long he would have until somebody came along and bothered him, so he needed to work efficiently. He sat at the kitchen table and combed through brand deals and video deadlines, scheduling different tasks on a notepad so he could put them into a calendar later on.

Logan was so engrossed in his work that he barely heard a soft voice coming from the doorway.

“Having fun?”

Logan suddenly looked up. Virgil stood a few feet away from the table. He was wearing an oversized hoodie and baggy jeans. He twirled a pair of wired earbuds around his fingers.

“Hey, Virgil,” Logan returned to his work.

Virgil sat down at the table, keeping his distance from Logan without looking at or speaking to him.

“Sleep alright?” Logan asked without looking up.

Virgil ignored him.

“Alright,” Logan didn’t bother. “Got it.”

The two of them sat in silence while Logan worked on his tasks. Logan told himself it was a good thing that Virgil was pretending he didn’t exist. It let him get more work done, and that was most important.

He managed to get through another solid hour of work before someone showed up to interrupt him.

“Heya, kiddos!” Patton stepped into the kitchen, a big smile on his face.

Logan frowned. He wasn’t getting any more work done in the kitchen today.

“Hey, Patton,” Virgil mumbled.

Logan frowned even more. At least Virgil greeted Patton back. Logan only had silence.

“What are we doing in the kitchen?” Patton wouldn’t be dissuaded by Virgil’s clipped response and Logan’s silence. “I see we got some paperwork!” He spotted the small stack of paper in front of Logan.

“Precisely,” Logan took the opportunity, “which is why I need to get through it all.”

“Well I hope you’re not working too hard!” Patton was full of cheer. “You want to make sure you’re getting enough rest.”

It was condescending.

“Well,” Logan was deeply irritated. “Someone has to do some work around here, or we won’t get anything done.”

“Ah, I knew you’d say that!” Any trace of annoyance went right over Patton’s head. “Why don’t I make pancakes?”

“No thanks,” Virgil rested his head on his elbows.

“Now Virgil, don’t be such a debbie downer!”

Virgil huffed.

“Fine.”

Logan started to gather his papers. He needed to get through them, and it was clear Patton would be a distraction.

“Hey, where ya goin?” Patton asked.

“I have deadlines,” Logan quickly explained. “I have to figure out this brand deal.”

“Oh, well, I’ll make you breakfast anyways! It’s the most important meal of the day, after all. I’ll leave the pancakes in the fridge.”

“Yeah, great,” Logan was already getting out of his seat. “Thanks.”

“You got it!”

With his bedroom occupied by the stranger, and the kitchen taken over by a pancake situation, Logan sought out another place to work.

His options were limited. Remus had a tendency of appearing out of nowhere to bother Logan whenever he tried to work in public, and he kept a running list of all of Logan’s favorite spots for the sole purpose of annoying him. And if it wasn’t Remus, then some sort of fight would inevitably break out nearby (which actually did tend to involve Remus). Nobody cared about Logan being able to work in peace.

The dining room was too much of a risk. Patton might move his pancake operations there on a whim. The laundry room wouldn’t work. The sight of an overflowing hamper of dirty clothes would completely distract Logan. He settled on a corner in the living room, sitting criss-crossed on the floor as he balanced papers on his knees.

Logan grimaced as he realized how much he’d fallen behind. At this rate, he could work for hours and never catch up. He had to stay up later. The stranger had distracted him with his arrival, but his vacation was over. He had to get back on schedule, or he knew something terrible would happen, some sort of unimaginable consequence too horrible to imagine. Just because nobody else cared didn’t mean he had to let his life fall into disarray.

Fortunately, the others mostly left him alone, save a few muffled voices and a distant ‘thump’ somewhere in the house. It was manageable.

Many hours later, Logan’s vision had blurred. He’d done enough for the day. He’d been so absorbed in his work that he’d forgotten to eat, so he stopped by the kitchen on his way back upstairs.

The clock was running a few minutes behind again, of course. He adjusted the hands. Then, he opened the fridge. It was nice of Patton to make him pancakes, and even though they would be cold, it was better than going without.

Logan scanned the shelves of the fridge, looking for the plate, but he couldn’t find anything. Logan turned around to look at the counter, thinking Patton may have left them out, but there was nothing there.

He sighed. Of course, Patton forgot to make him pancakes. Or someone else had eaten them. Both scenarios were equally possible.

Well, whatever. He didn’t need Patton to make him anything. He wished he didn’t even need food, but unfortunately, he required nutrients to function properly.

He decided on a sandwich, and he made one for the stranger as well.

Shoot. He still had to take the mugs out of his bedroom. He walked up the staircase with a plate in each hand, and lightly kicked his door open.

He was greeted by the stranger sprawled on the bedroom floor surrounded by puzzle pieces scattered in all directions, like someone had taken the full box of pieces, removed the lid, and thrown it into the air.

“Hey, are you alright?” Logan gently set the plates down on his desk. “What happened?”

The stranger didn’t say anything. He just stared up at the ceiling, a distant look in his eyes.

Logan had no idea what he was supposed to do. Could he call an ambulance for a physical manifestation of a concept?

“Hey,” Logan crouched down, gently putting a hand on the stranger’s shoulder. “Hey-”

“Ah!” The stranger quickly sat up, like someone had violently shaken him out of a trance. “Ah! I’m awake, I’m alright,” he was talking quickly and breathing heavily. “Sorry, sorry. I’m alright.”

“What happened?” Logan asked. “Did you pass out?”

“No, I just…had a moment.”

The stranger’s eyes were red, and Logan could detect a slight puffiness to his face.

“You appear distressed,” Logan observed. “Were you crying?”

“I was just having a moment,” the stranger struggled to his feet. “There was a situation with the puzzle, you see. I hit a bit of a crossroads.” He rubbed his eyes.

“And you cried?” Logan still couldn’t grasp it.

“I was sad,” the stranger explained succinctly. “So I cried.”

“Oh,” Logan mulled this over. “I suppose feelings of frustration can lead to physical expressions of emotion.”

“Yeah,” the stranger sniffled.

“Well,” Logan looked at the scattered pieces, “I can help you finish the puzzle.”

“Okay,” the stranger nodded. “We might have to start over.”

“It would appear that way.”

Logan crouched down and started to gather the pieces. The stranger did the same.

“What did you do today?” The stranger asked in a soft voice.

“Went downstairs and did some work. Budgeting, brand deals, video schedules,” he listed his tasks. “It took quite a while.”

“Oh. I heard people downstairs,” the stranger grabbed a stray piece that had been kicked under Logan’s bed.

“Well, they weren’t talking to me.” Logan gathered a small pile of pieces on his desk.

“No?”

“They tend to ignore me,” he sorted a few pieces by color.

“Oh,” the stranger frowned. “They shouldn’t do that.”

“It’s alright. Not a big deal.”

“But you have a lot of important things to say,” the stranger insisted.

“Apparently not everyone sees it that way.” Logan found it easier to talk when he wasn’t looking at the stranger. “Virgil just sits there and doesn’t even answer when I say hello.” He fidgeted with a puzzle piece. “He does that a lot.” Logan never had the opportunity to voice his grievances about the other sides. Since all of them knew each other, any complaint was bound to make its way through the gossip web to the victim. It was freeing to speak without any consequences.

“Why do you think he does that?” The stranger asked.

“I think he just-”

Newspaper with handmade puzzles. Ignoring Logan at breakfast. Showing up randomly at Logan’s bedroom door. Never listening to what Logan had to say. Too many contradictions for him to untangle.

“-I don’t know,” Logan decided on an answer. “It’s like he doesn’t even hear me.”

“Well, I like listening to you.”

“You don’t have to say that.”

“But I mean it,” the stranger added another piece to the pile. “Hey, maybe that’s why I’m here. To listen to you. That could be my purpose.”

Logan considered the possibility.

“My mind could have created you as a projection of my need to be heard,” he theorized.

“Sure!” The stranger didn’t quite follow what Logan said. “Why not. And maybe I can help other people listen to you!” He beamed at the prospect. “You deserve it, after all.”

Logan wasn’t sure how the stranger could accomplish such a task since nobody else could see or hear him, but he wisely kept it to himself. The stranger seemed so excited, and nobody else ever seemed happy to see him. He would savor the moment.

“Alright, sure!” Logan agreed for the sake of agreeing. “I would appreciate your efforts.”

“I won’t let you down,” the stranger affirmed, then his tone changed. The weight of the moment pressed heavily upon him, and he became incredibly serious. With the solemnity of a soldier running into war, he grabbed onto Logans’ hands and looked him in the eye. “I promise I’ll make them listen to you. I won’t let you down.”

Logan swore he could still feel caterpillar particles on the strangers’ palms.

“Okay,” he nodded, a little less enthusiastic, and gently pulled his hands away. He didn’t like to be touched.

“We’ll start tomorrow,” the stranger announced.

Logan didn’t know what exactly they would be starting, but the stranger had already moved on to the puzzle.

“I got stuck in the middle.”

“And you had all the pieces?”

“Definitely.”

Logan picked up the empty puzzle box and lightly shook it. A stray piece fell out. He looked over at the stranger, who seemed rather embarrassed by this mistake.

“Ah.” He grimaced. “Well, that’s more proof why I should listen to you.”

“It’s alright.” Logan set the box back down. “This is just a good reminder to always count the pieces before you start.” Logan rolled his desk chair out of the way and spread the pieces across his desk. “We’ll start with the edges.”

The next day, Logan remained curious to see how the stranger would carry out his plan. He couldn’t exactly tell the other sides to listen to Logan, so he’d have to employ some other methodology to achieve his aim.

“You know I won’t be able to speak to you, right?” Logan asked as the stranger followed him out of his bedroom and down the stairs. He spoke in a soft tone so as not to raise suspicions.

“I know,” the stranger affirmed. “Don’t worry, I’ll be quiet.”

“You don’t have to be quiet, I have to be quiet.”

“But I want to match you.”

The two of them reached the bottom of the stairs.

Logan saw the clock on the wall, checked his phone, and sighed.

“This thing is always running behind. I don’t know why we don’t get a new one,” he adjusted the hands. “I’m sure I’m the only one who even looks at it.”

He heard footsteps coming down the hallway. He glanced at the stranger as if to warn him to be quiet.

Whoever was walking down the hallway started to loudly hum to himself.

Roman.

“Hey, Logan!” Roman stepped into view. “Just the man I wanted to see.”

“Really?” Logan was surprised to hear this. He wasn’t exactly close with Roman. Honestly, he suspected (knew for a fact) that Roman didn’t like him.

“Yep!” Roman walked past Logan and into the kitchen, causing Logan to follow him.

“Well, what can I help you with?”

Roman opened the fridge and pulled out a carton of orange juice. Logan tried not to think about the missing pancakes. It hollowed him out.

Which is not the same thing as being upset. Not having feelings is not, in itself, a feeling. Hollow was not a feeling, but a lack thereof. It was logically consistent.

“I have a video that I just have to run by you,” Roman opened the cabinet and pulled out a glass, then looked over at Logan. “Do you want one?”

Logan had the immediate sense that Roman was about to ask him for a favor. He wouldn’t have offered otherwise.

“I’m alright, Roman.”

Logan took a paper filter and loaded it with a spoonful of coffee grounds.

“Alright, suit yourself,” Roman poured himself a glass of orange juice. “So, here’s my idea.” He spoke quickly, full of energy. “We should go to to all of the different Disneylands and rank them- like the one in California, and Paris, and Shanghai, and Tokyo, and Hongkong, of course we have to go to Orlando, for research purposes, and we can go to all the restaurants-”

Logan let him ramble. There was no way they could make that video, mostly because they didn’t have the budget to fly several people across Europe and Asia, buy tickets to the parks, book the hotel rooms-

“-and go on all the rides, of course, and we can do a ranking system-”

“Roman,” Logan had to cut him off. “I appreciate your…enthusiasm…for the video. But we can’t do it.”

“Awe, what?” Roman pouted. “Why not?”

“Just think about it,” Logan tried to reason with him. “Logistically, how would we fly a camera crew, all of the equipment, find the hotels, edit weeks of footage into a video- the whole thing would take months, and most importantly, we don’t have the money for it.”

“Well, I think it’s a good idea.”

“What’s a good idea?” Patton walked into the kitchen.

“Going to every Disney theme park,” Roman explained. “In every country.”

“Ooh! Even California?”

“That’s…not the most exciting one, but sure! Even the one in California.”

“Let’s do it!” Patton was delighted.

“No, wait,” Logan could feel himself forced into the position of being the bad guy. “We can’t.”

“Why not?” Patton asked.

“Logan doesn’t want to plan it all,” Roman explained. “Even though I could easily do it.”

“You should let Roman plan it,” Patton agreed.

“Plan what?” Virgil joined.

Logan was losing control of the situation.

“Going to every Disney theme park,” Patton explained. “All over the entire world.”

“Ugh. Hard pass.”

“What? It’s Disney!”

“It’s a lot of travelling…” Virgil shuddered. “A lot could go wrong.”

“Logan doesn’t want to do it,” Roman ignored Virgil’s concerns, “but I think it would be fun!”

“It’s not that I don’t want to do it,” Logan was getting frustrated. “That’s not what I said.”

“Get the budget,” the stranger spoke up from the edge of the room. “Show them the numbers. Then, they’ll understand.”

“Right,” Logan momentarily forgot he wasn’t supposed to answer. “I need evidence. Hard data.”

He started to walk out of the kitchen.

“Where ya goin’, kiddo?” Patton called after him.

“I’ll be right back.”

Quickly darting up the stairs, Logan opened his bedroom door, took a moment to admire the puzzle he completed with the stranger last night, and pulled a sheet of paper from the stack. Then, he ran back downstairs.

“Roman, here,” Logan gave him the paper.

“What’s this?”

“You’re right, you should plan this video.”

Roman’s face lit up.

“Really?”

“Really,” Logan agreed. “So, I figure you’d need the budget. It’s circled at the bottom.”

“I can work with this,” Roman nodded, having no life experience of what things cost.

“Why don’t you look up how much it costs to fly from Florida to Tokyo?” Logan suggested. “That’s a great way to get started.”

“That sounds good to me!” Roman put down the paper and took out his phone, typing a few things into Google. “We should- oh, wow,” he stumbled. “Is it really that much?” He narrowed his eyes at the screen like he was reading it incorrectly. “How is that even possible?”

“What?” Logan asked, completely innocent. “Is it a lot?”

“Yeah, it’s- hmm,” Roman nodded slowly. “You know what? I’m going to take my video idea and…”

“Reconfigure it?” Logan supplied.

“Maybe we just drive to Orlando.”

“That sounds like a great idea,” Logan collected the paper. “Much more achievable.”

“Wow, the economy is not good.”

“Don’t remind me,” Virgil pulled his hoodie tighter around his body.

Logan was amazed. The stranger had known exactly what to do, and he’d insisted on the perfect strategy: fact-based reasoning. Numbers don’t lie. Finally, Logan knew why the stranger had appeared. He could get through to the others in a way that Logan couldn’t.

He told the stranger as much later that night.

“I’m thoroughly impressed,” Logan complimented the stranger. “Your ability to convince the others to listen to reason is quite astounding.”

“Thank you!” The stranger basked in the praise. “I really tried my best, but it’s like you always say. The best argument is sound logic.”

“Exactly,” Logan sat on the edge of his bed. He took off his glasses and rested them on his nightstand. “I’m glad you see it my way.”

“I promised I would be useful to you,” the stranger sat on the ground next to his pillow.

Logan looked at his bedroom floor, where the stranger had been sleeping for the past several nights. Initially, Logan thought it was a good idea. He didn’t want to leave the stranger alone on the couch downstairs, and the thought of letting the stranger into his bed…he valued his personal space. But after the stranger’s performance today, it didn’t seem right to make him sleep on the hardwood floor with a blanket.

Logan stood up.

“Take my bed.”

“What?” The stranger’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“I don’t mind sleeping on the floor.”

“Share the bed with me,” the stranger insisted. “It’s your bedroom, after all. I wouldn’t want to put you out.”

Logan wavered. He really didn’t want to sleep on the floor. He would lack adequate rest, forget about any REM sleep.

“Alright,” he agreed, climbing into bed. “Just…I like having space.”

“So do I,” the stranger reassured him. “I am a part of you, after all.”

That made sense to Logan.

“Right, of course.”

The stranger was quickly proving his worth. Not only did he manage to convince Roman his Disney idea would never work, but he also suggested distracting Remus with a particularly gory medical textbook when he tried to bother Logan the next day.

“You know, Remus,” Logan cut him off from saying something particularly vulgar. “I actually was reading something the other day, and it made me think of you.”

“Really?” Remus seemed genuinely surprised. “Ooh, you were thinking of me-”

“Here,” Logan handed him the book, which was titled ‘An Introduction to Fungal Gum Diseases.’

“Hmm,” Remus looked at the cover. “This looks delicious!”

“Alright,” Logan wasn’t expecting that choice of adjective. “You’re meant to read it-”

“What I do with this book is for me to know and for you to find out. Byeee!”

Strange, but effective.

The stranger even had a solution for the Virgil problem.

“Have you tried ignoring him back?” the stranger suggested early one morning before going downstairs. It was the kind of morning where Logan might expect Virgil to join him in the kitchen.

“I haven’t,” Logan admitted. “I always at least say hello.”

“Ah,” the stranger wisely remarked. “There’s your problem. You should mirror his behavior.”

“Mirror his behavior,” Logan mulled it over. “The Chameleon Effect. Imitating someone else's actions to achieve a desired outcome.”

“Exactly. The next time he sits down with you, ignore him just like he ignores you. That’s what he wants you to do. Why else would he not speak to you?”

“Of course,” Logan agreed. “He must be waiting for me to take the hint.”

When Logan went downstairs to make coffee, only one mug to evade suspicion, he sat at the kitchen table and waited to test his theory. He pretended to read a book. The stranger sat with him, reading the book upside down.

Sure enough, Virgil came downstairs.

Logan didn’t say a word. He didn’t even look up. He just listened as Virgil took a seat at the table, and the two (three) of them sat in complete silence until the other sides finally entered the kitchen and broke the quiet atmosphere.

Logan reflected upon his findings with the stranger.

“It’s not exactly a fix,” Logan pondered. “But it is an explanation. He just wants to sit there quietly, and I happen to be there. He’s probably bothered when I speak to him.”

“Probably,” the stranger agreed. “That makes sense. Because otherwise, he would say something back.”

“I’m glad we’ve come to a logical explanation,” Logan concluded. “At least we have an answer.”

“And now you can spare your hurt-” the stranger realized his mistake, cutting himself off before using the word ‘feelings.’ “I mean to say, you can stop having negative thoughts about the situation. Your time is better spent on other things.”

“I have to agree with you there.”

The only thing the stranger didn’t have a quick solution for was the Nico situation. Logan had held off on even mentioning it. Clearly, he had been outvoted during their last group discussion, and there was nothing much to even say. He left it alone until he could come up with a better way to explain the situation-

“Do you dream?” The stranger whispered into the night.

It was late. After midnight. Logan had been sitting at his desk with his lamp turned on, looking over a few papers. He thought the stranger was asleep in his bed, but apparently not.

“Yes,” Logan wondered why the stranger would ask such a question.

“That’s rather interesting,” the stranger’s voice was a bit muffled. “How can a physical manifestation of a concept dream?”

Admittedly, Logan didn’t know the answer, but he had a theory.

“The science behind dreaming is unclear,” he explained. “Perhaps they help us remember things, or process situations we experienced during the day. But dreams aren’t limited to humans. Most mammals dream, and some birds and reptiles. So perhaps anything with a conscience can dream.”

“Does everyone dream?”

“Many people fail to recall their dreams,” Logan explained. “But I’m not sure if anyone has truly never dreamed before.”

“I haven’t.” The stranger spoke softly, looking up at the ceiling. “How do you do it?”

Logan paused, setting his pen down on his desk.

“It just happens by itself.”

“Oh.”

The stranger shifted in his sheets.

“I’m a little bit sad.”

“Why?” Logan asked, hoping it was something he could fix. He couldn’t deal with an emotional display.

“I don’t think I’ll ever dream,” his voice had the heavy quality that came along with holding back tears.

What a random thing to be upset over. Logan couldn’t understand it.

“Well, it’s not a big deal,” he tried to reassure the stranger. Logan hated it when people cried. He would normally leave the room, but seeing as it was his bedroom, he didn’t have anywhere else to go. “Dreaming isn’t all that exciting. It’s not even real.”

Somebody gently knocked at his bedroom door, saving him from further conversation.

Virgil.

“Who’s that?” The stranger asked Logan, his voice catching a bit.

Logan spoke very quietly, almost mouthing his words. He hoped the light from his desklamp would be enough for the stranger to understand him.

“Virgil.”

“What’s he doing here?” The stranger sat up, wiping at his eyes.

“He shows up here sometimes at night,” Logan wheeled his desk chair closer to the stranger so Virgil wouldn’t hear him speaking.

“To do what?” The stranger wasn’t constrained by the same worries about being too loud. Nobody would ever hear him.

“He just sits here.”

“Why?” The stranger was confused.

Logan could see a light shade of red peppering the whites of his eyes. In combination with his orange iris, the stranger's eyes looked like sunsets, a swirl of orange, red, and white.

The stranger must have been truly disturbed by his lack of dreams to react in this way.

“I’ll tell him to leave,” Logan decided. He didn’t want Virgil around when the stranger was already upset. It would be too distracting.

“I think that’s a good idea,” the stranger approved. “He can’t just ignore you and then use your room whenever he wants. There has to be consistency.”

Logan liked consistency.

He stood up from his desk chair and walked over to his bedroom door. He opened it and saw Virgil standing there, just as he expected. It had actually seemed like Virgil was about to turn around and leave, but Logan had interrupted him by opening the door.

“Hey,” Virgil looked down at the floor.

“How can I help you, Virgil?” Logan kept it formal.

Virgil looked at him quizzically, like he wasn’t expecting that reaction.

“Just…” he trailed off.

Logan didn’t say anything. Virgil picked at his hoodie sleeves.

This wasn’t their routine. Logan was supposed to wordlessly open the door, let Virgil inside, then close it behind him. Then, Virgil would sit on the floor, his back against Logan’s bed, and Logan would do work at his desk until one or both of them fell asleep. But now, Logan had deviated and thrown the entire thing into disarray.

Someone had to speak.

“Yes?” Logan asked, waiting for Virgil to answer.

“Just,” Virgil hesitated, “what are you up to?”

“Work.”

“Ah,” Virgil nodded, looking like he severely regretted knocking on Logan’s door, like it was a fatal misstep and he had no idea why he’d done it. “Well,” he cleared his throat, “I’ll leave you to that.”

“Alright.” Logan thought about saying something else, but he had to cut himself off somewhere. He stepped back inside his bedroom and shut his door behind him.

“Good job,” the stranger was still sitting on the edge of Logan’s bed.

Logan just nodded. For all he knew, Virgil was still in earshot.

“Had to be done,” the stranger added.

Logan didn’t want to talk about the matter. Not because it made him upset, which was impossible, but because it wouldn’t be productive, and therefore, there was simply no point.

He looked at the stranger. He had seemed to calm himself down from his prior emotional state, but he was breathing a little more heavily than normal, indicating a heightened level of emotional distress.

Logan glanced over at the constellation poster on the wall. The stranger had positioned himself in bed so that he could look at it while laying down.

He really needed to take the stranger stargazing one of these days. He’d earned it.

Logan took off his glasses and set them on his bedside table, where the stranger had left his own pair. He turned off his desk lamp.

The day was over. The night was over.

The next morning, Logan remembered to take all of his cups and mugs downstairs to wash. He balanced them as he descended the stairs, the stranger close behind him.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to carry any?” The stranger offered.

“That might look odd, if the others saw a pile of cups floating down the stairs.”

Logan reached the kitchen. Patton was already there.

“Hey, that’s what happened to all our cups!” He smiled good-naturedly.

Logan gently set them all down on the kitchen table so they wouldn’t shatter.

“I’ll clean them.”

“I’m sure you will,” Patton smiled, then paused, like he had something else to say, but wasn’t sure how to say it.

“Yes, Patton?” Logan asked.

“Well, kiddo,” Patton faltered. “As you may-”

“Today’s the day!” Roman practically leapt into the room. “Everybody, it’s happening.”

“What’s happening?” Virgil popped up, suspicious of this unknown event.

Virgil did not look at Logan, which was fine by him.

“We have…” Roman drummed his hands against the kitchen table, “a date!”

There it was.

“A date?” Janus appeared as well.

“Ugh,” Roman frowned at Janus’ arrival. “No- I’m not letting you bring me down. We have…a date. With Nico!”

“Yes, I assumed it would be with Nico,” Janus rolled his eyes.

“Who’s Nico?” The stranger asked aloud.

This was not how Logan wanted the stranger to find out about the situation.

“So,” Janus smiled, “what’s the big plan for your date?” He put a bit of emphasis on the last word.

Roman opened the fridge, pulling out the orange juice.

“We are going…” he paused for effect, “on a…picnic!”

“Yay!” Patton clapped his hands.

“Oh, great idea Roman,” Janus was sarcastic. “Very creative. Not at all juvenile.”

“I kind of like it,” Virgil admitted, which didn’t bother Logan in the slightest. “We’re not locked into an activity. Easy escape plan if things go wrong.”

“And nothing’s going to go wrong,” Roman dismissed Virgil’s concerns. “It’s perfect!”

“Who’s Nico?” The stranger asked again.

Logan had no idea how to catch him up on all of the background information without anybody noticing.

“What was Patton saying before?” The stranger asked, walking up to Logan so he could be heard over the noise of Roman and Patton gushing about the date. “Is that connected to Nico? Who is Nico?”

Roman and Patton toasted with glasses of orange juice.

“Logan, I have to say, I’m curious to hear your thoughts about this,” Janus couldn’t resist the opportunity to stir the pot.

“I’ve already shared my opinion on the topic. I don’t think it would be beneficial to say anything further.”

“Come on, kiddo,” Patton encouraged Logan. “This will be good for Thomas.”

“Oh, don’t bother trying to change his mind, Patton,” Janus spoke in his smooth voice. “Let him stew.”

“Hey, I’m trying,” Logan couldn’t physically stop himself from snapping. It was mortifying. So inherently irrational. “I didn’t say anything about the date, so don’t ask me about it. I won’t give the answer you want to hear.”

“I’m sure he’ll come around,” Janus told Patton like Logan wasn’t standing right there. “I did. Or at least, I’m not so bothered by it anymore, as long as Thomas doesn’t say something he’s not supposed to.”

“I think it’ll be fun,” Virgil spoke up.

“Then we finally agree on something,” Janus smiled, showing all of his teeth.

Logan wondered if Virgil truly thought the date would be fun, or if he was getting at something else that Logan wasn’t socially cognizant enough to understand.

“They’re all against you,” the stranger noticed.

“I have nothing else to add,” Logan decided. “I hope it is…fun.”

“Sorry, Logan,” Roman smiled. “You’re outnumbered.”

“They’re not listening to you,” the stranger observed. “Why aren’t they listening to you?”

“Well, as I’ve stated before,” Logan whiteknuckled the kitchen counter. “Romance isn’t my specialty.” He sounded incredibly calm, the opposite of how he was feel- how he was thinking.

“This is going to be great,” Roman ignored Logan. “The weather is perfect, and I even made chocolate-covered strawberries!”

Janus wrinkled his nose at the gesture.

“Do we even own a picnic basket?”

“I went out and bought one, just for the occasion!” Roman announced. “But we still have to pick an outfit.” He squinted a little bit, like he was visualizing his options in front of him. “I’m just not sure.”

“I can help pick it out!” Patton offered. “How much time do we have?”

“We’re leaving in ten minutes.”

Logan shuddered. It was the kind of procrastination he couldn’t stand for.

“Oh jeez, we better get moving!” Patton followed Roman out of the kitchen, both of them leaving their glasses of orange juice behind.

That left Logan, Janus, and Virgil, a very unfortunate combination of people who all had issues with each other. Not to mention the stranger, who was still lurking next to Logan.

“Well,” Virgil immediately decided to leave. “I guess I’ll go with them.”

“Have fun,” Janus smiled.

Virgil glared at him, then left without a look in Logan’s direction.

“So,” Janus watched Virgil leave. “That was-”

Crash!

Both Janus and Logan turned to watch as the stranger picked up Roman’s glass of orange juice and flung it against the wall. Tiny shards of glass flew in all directions. He had already disposed of Patton’s glass, which had been smashed directly against the floor.

The stranger took deep, shaky breaths. Logan went to say something, then stopped himself. Janus couldn’t see the stranger. As far as he knew, two glasses of orange juice had just randomly exploded.

Janus’ face reflected that belief. His eyes widened for a moment, like he wasn’t sure what he had seen. Then, he steeled himself.

“Well, Logan, you seem to have an answer for everything. Care to explain what just happened?”

Logan was completely taken aback.

“I…don’t know,” he answered honestly.

The stranger picked up a glass that Logan had brought downstairs and threw it, hard, against the fridge. He looked like he was in a trance.

“Hmm.” Janus was either unbothered, or freaked out and doing an impressive job at hiding it. “You know, Logan, I always thought you would make an excellent dark side, but destruction of property? I didn’t see that coming.”

“It’s not me, I’m not doing this.”

The stranger broke another glass.

“Anger is a powerful feeling,” Janus observed.

“I don’t have feelings.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” Janus looked at the kitchen floor, which had become covered in glass. “Need help cleaning that up?”

He wasn’t really offering.

“I’ll take care of it.”

“Careful. Looks sharp. Oh! Do you want my gloves?”

“I’ll be fine, Janus.”

“Alright, if you insist! Bye, Logan.” Janus went to leave the kitchen, then stopped. “By the way, are those different glasses? Looks good.” Then, he left the kitchen before Logan could say anything back.

Logan took off his glasses and examined the frames. Sure enough, he grabbed the strangers by mistake. How had he not noticed that?

He sighed. The floor was a sticky mixture of juice and glass. He looked at the stranger, who had partially collapsed on the kitchen table, half-leaning on a chair and gasping for breath.

Logan truly didn’t know what to say. Yet again, he was confronted with the stranger’s emotions. He could only be grateful he didn’t have any of those to deal with.

“Are you alright?” Logan asked. He was acutely aware that the others could enter the kitchen at any moment.

“Yeah,” the stranger was obviously about to cry. He took a shaking, heaving breath.

“Why-” Logan tried to formulate the question. “Why did-”

“They weren’t listening to you, and that made me upset.” His breath caught again.

There was Logan’s answer. The stranger was upset, and he reacted. Was this how people operated?

“I’ll clean this up,” Logan surveyed the room, unsure of where to start.

“Sorry,” the stranger said in a small, timid voice.

“It’s alright.” Logan had no idea how to process what had just happened, so he did the only thing that was familiar to him and threw himself into work.

And when he picked up a particularly large shard of glass that dripped in orange juice, he imagined that when the stranger smashed the glass against the granite counter top, it felt really, really good.

“I’m sorry,” the stranger apologized for the millionth time. (Not literally the millionth time, because that would take up days, but millionth in the hyperbolic sense).

“Sit down. I have to disinfect it.”

They were back in Logan’s bedroom. He had spent a better part of an hour cleaning up the kitchen. After calming himself down, the stranger joined him, and the two of them picked pieces of glass out of the floor in silence.

“Be careful,” Logan warned him.

“Why-” The stranger grabbed a piece of glass, then gasped out loud. “Ah!”

A few drops of blood slid down the strangers’ palm onto the ground, adding a red tinge to the orange juice.

Another goddamn thing to deal with.

“How about you let me clean the rest?” Logan offered. “Please.” He passed a few paper towels to the stranger. “Apply pressure.”

“Okay,” the stranger sat back down, sullen.

In Logan’s room, he had a box of bandaids and a tube of neosporin. The stranger was sitting in his desk chair. Logan crouched down to face him.

“I didn’t think it would hurt,” the stranger frowned. “I’m not used to it. Nothing ever hurt…before.”

The stranger removed the paper towel. The cut wasn’t too deep, and there didn’t seem to be any stray crumbs of glass trapped beneath the skin.

“Before you existed?” Logan asked, straight to the point. He put on a pair of latex gloves. It was best practice to prevent infection.

Logan unwrapped a bandaid and smeared Neosporin on the cloth.

“Exactly.”

“Is that normal?” The stranger asked, watching as Logan gently placed a bandaid on his skin. “To not remember anything from before?”

“You can’t remember what you’ve never experienced,” Logan softly but firmly pressed the bandaid onto the stranger’s skin. “Some people think death is comparable to the time before you existed. No awareness of anything.”

“That makes me uncomfortable,” the stranger squirmed.

“It makes a lot of people uncomfortable.”

“How can I avoid pain?” The stranger asked.

Logan stood back up and took off his gloves while he thought about it.

“Some amount of pain is unavoidable,” Logan concluded. “But you can mitigate physical pain by not taking part in risky activities. For example, driving with a seatbelt on, and refraining from illicit drug use.”

“No, not that kind of pain,” the stranger stood up. “I mean like…” he struggled with how to describe it, then slowly extended his right arm and lightly touched his fingers to his temple. “Here.”

Logan paused for a moment, unsure of what the stranger meant. Their eyes matched through the lens of their respective glasses.

“You mean,” Logan figured it out. “Headaches?” He turned away from the stranger, throwing the wrapper from the bandaid and the latex gloves into the trash. “There are several remedies for headaches, like Advil and Excedrin, but prevention is key. That’s why it’s important to sleep eight hours and limit screentime when possible.”

“Oh,” the stranger sounded a bit disappointed. “Right. Sure. Thanks.”

“Anyways,” Logan changed the subject now that the stranger had been bandaged up. “You can’t break things whenever you feel like it. It’s not an effective means of getting what you want.”

“I know,” the stranger collapsed in Logan’s chair, rolling backwards a few feet. “I’m sorry.”

“And Janus was right there watching,” Logan frowned disapprovingly. “Who knows what he thinks now?”

“He already suspects something anyways,” the stranger grumbled. “And he always lies, so nobody trusts him. It’s not like he can tell anyone what he saw. They wouldn’t believe him.”

Logan considered that point.

“That is true,” he conceded. “But you need to be more careful. What if someone else had seen?”

“Like Virgil? He wouldn’t have acknowledged you, if history tells us anything.”

It stung, but it was a true fact based on evidence, so Logan had to embrace it with open arms.

“The point still stands,” he finished. “Don’t break things when other people are nearby.”

“Okay,” the stranger sulked. “I won’t. Sorry. I was just upset.”

Logan couldn’t judge. He didn’t have feelings, so he couldn’t determine whether or not the stranger's response had been truly out of proportion.

Instead, he let it go.

“Just try not to do it again.”

“Alright,” the stranger nodded. “I promise.”

The stranger removed his glasses to rub his eyes.

“Hey,” Logan went to ask for his glasses back.

“Yeah?” The stranger asked.

“You have my glasses,” Logan stated simply.

The stranger took them off to look at the frames, holding them like a precious gem.

“Oh. Sorry,” he apologized again.

“Keep them,” Logan decided for reasons he couldn’t quite identify. He just felt weird seeing the stranger upset. He wanted it to stop.

“Are you sure?”

“I have a bunch of extras. They look better on you, anyways.”

The stranger still had questions. He gleaned that Logan had left out all mention of Nico for some specific reason, and he was correct. However, the stranger held his tongue, waiting until the right moment to ask for specifics.

Logan expected Janus to mention the incident the next day, but he refrained. The stranger had a valid point. Nobody trusted Janus, and Janus had nothing to gain from revealing what he’d seen.

“So he must have something to gain from not saying anything,” Logan pondered after an uneventful morning. “He’s very strategic.”

Logan waited for the other shoe to drop, but it didn’t happen. Instead, it was business as usual.

There was one close call. Logan had gone downstairs in the middle of the night to brew more coffee. He’d fallen behind on deadlines again. He couldn’t get Thomas to focus, so he was staying up extra late to catch up on everything.

He heard voices from the kitchen. Two people were arguing in hushed whispers.

Logan stepped into the kitchen to see Janus and Virgil deep in conversation about something. When they heard him, they both turned to look at him.

Logan wanted no part of it. They could argue about whatever they wanted, but he wasn’t getting involved. Instead, he wordlessly brewed his coffee, barely looking in his direction. On his way out, he fixed the clock on the wall. Mercifully, neither of them acknowledged him.

Not like he expected them-

He woke up.

Logan sat up in bed and looked around wildly.

“What is it?” The stranger asked, having already woken up.

“I’m a bit disoriented,” Logan shook his head. “Sorry. I think I was dreaming I was in the kitchen brewing coffee.”

“Like last night?” The stranger asked.

“Oh, then I guess it wasn’t a dream.” Logan frowned. “I really need to get more sleep.”

Logan reached to grab his glasses, which used to be the strangers glasses.

“Wait,” the stranger grabbed his arm. “Don’t get upset.”

“About what?”

The stranger didn’t answer, just looked away.

Logan put on his glasses and looked around the room to see what the stranger might be referencing.

Everything was destroyed.

The posters had been ripped off the walls, leaving behind holes in the paint. His desk chair had been overturned. All of his books were scattered across the floor, many of them had pages torn out. His clothes were strewn about, the mirror had been smashed, and the drawers had been pulled out of his desk and thrown on the floor.

Logan had no gut reaction.

“Hmm.”

“Yeah,” the stranger grimaced. “So, it’s a bit of a rough scene.”

Immediately, Logan knew that whatever happened completely defied logic. It was so far out of his understanding that he could barely grapple with the situation. Did someone break in? How had he slept through it? Why had it happened at all?

“Well,” Logan nodded, trying to formulate words. “You know I have to ask.”

“Yes.”

“Are you…cognizant, of who did this or why?”

“That is certainly a fair question,” the stranger rubbed his hands together, completely avoiding giving an answer. He looked at the fragmented alarm clock, which showed it was seven in the morning.

By rubbing his hands together, the stranger called attention to them. Logan noticed they were covered in bruises and scratches, making the cut from the orange juice glasses a few nights before look like nothing in comparison.

“Alright,” Logan laid back down in bed, closing his eyes. “I need a minute.”

A few moments passed in silence. Logan had so many questions that it made him uncomfortable. Normally, other people asked him the questions. He didn’t like the role reversal.

“Why did you do it?” Logan asked, eyes still closed.

“I don’t know.”

“How did I sleep through it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you know anything?” Logan snapped, sitting up to look at the stranger.

The stranger looked deeply hurt.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped at you,” Logan immediately apologized.

“It’s okay,” the stranger answered in a tiny voice.

Logan sighed, then got out of bed. He surveyed his room once more, taking stock of his ruined belongings. He stepped on a pile of torn pages from a book of crossword puzzles.

Something dawned on him. Eyes widening, he looked for a particular desk drawer that had been carelessly thrown on the ground. Spotting it, he crouched down to sift through the contents.

He exhaled. The newspaper had survived. He placed it on top of his desk, which had been too heavy to flip over. Then, he faced the stranger.

“Could you tell me what you were thinking when this happened?” Logan asked. “I’m just trying to understand.”

“I really don’t know,” the stranger answered. “Honest. It just happened. I wasn’t thinking at all. You came back with your coffee and you went to bed and I just felt like I had to do it.”

It wasn’t a satisfying answer. There was no logic, no internal consistency. The stranger had acted on impulse.

“I’ll help you clean it up,” the stranger begged, desperate for Logan not to be upset at him. “I’ll clean the whole thing, you won’t have to help at all.”

“Is there a point in cleaning it?” Logan asked. “Just so you can do it again?”

“I won’t do it again.”

“I struggle to believe that,” Logan shook his head. “I’m sorry, I just do.”

The stranger was crushed. He sat down on the edge of Logan’s bed, one of the few places in the room that hadn’t been completely dismantled.

“I know,” the stranger buried his head in his hands. “It’s really hard to feel so much.”

Logan wouldn’t know.

“I wish I could be more like you,” the stranger continued. “I wish I didn’t feel anything.” His voice was muffled, and he started to quietly cry into his bruised hands.

Logan didn’t know what to say to that. He just kept looking around his bedroom, trying to plan his next move.

He had several options. He could clean up the room, but it could easily be destroyed again. He could sleep somewhere else, which might arouse suspicions. Or he could just…deal with it. All he really needed was his desk and his bed, and he could fix his desk chair.

By this point, the stranger had become a sobbing mess.

“Alright, just,” Logan wanted the stranger to stop crying, but didn’t know how to make him calm down. He tried asking nicely.

“Please, stop crying.”

Of course, that didn’t work. If anything, the stranger cried harder.

Logan grew increasingly restless.

“Okay, really, you can stop now.”

It was like the stranger didn’t even hear him.

“Alright,” Logan searched for anything to make the stranger stop crying, “hey, let’s do something. Tonight. Let’s…” he looked around the room and found the constellation poster, which had been ripped into pieces. “Let’s go stargazing. Tonight.”

That got the stranger to momentarily stop.

“Really?”

“Really,” Logan affirmed. “I have a telescope somewhere, " he looked around for it.

“You had a telescope,” the stranger sniffled.

Logan spotted the broken parts. Sure enough, the stranger had smashed it to pieces.

“Sorry-”

“It’s alright,” Logan didn’t want him to cry again. “Hey, they didn’t have telescopes hundreds of years ago- well, thousands of years ago. And people made do just fine. We’ll go tonight, it should be clear outside, and warm, and…” he abandoned the appeal to reason. “Please just stop crying.”

The stranger took a few more shuddering breaths, calming himself down.

“Alright?” Logan asked. “Sounds good?”

“Okay,” the stranger wiped his eyes with the back of his hands.

“Now, help me clear a path to the door.”

In the end, Logan didn’t put much effort into cleaning his room. He would have to throw most things out, and he worried someone might catch on if he started lugging broken furniture downstairs.

But more prominently, he had a sneaking suspicion the stranger might do it again, and any new furniture would be destroyed in the next few days.

Which brought him to his next quandary. If the stranger had appeared to help Logan in some way, why would he destroy his bedroom? He didn’t think the stranger was acting maliciously. He seemed to show genuine remorse, not that Logan was the best at recognizing emotions. It appeared the stranger truly could not stop himself from lashing out, and Logan wasn’t sure how to fix that problem. Logan had never lashed out before. He didn’t feel the urge, nor understand it.

Still, Logan kept his promise. Immediately after clearing a path in his room, he brought the stranger outside, carrying two blankets.

“There’s a hill around here,” Logan explained. “Away from the trees. We can get a clear view.”

Happily, the stranger trailed behind him. He seemed to like being outside.

When they reached a suitable place, Logan laid out the two blankets, one for each of them.

“Take a seat,” he gestured to one blanket. “I recommend laying down for the best view.”

Logan sat down on his own blanket and leaned back, looking up at the sky. The stranger did the same thing.

It was a clear night, a few hours after sunset. Logan worried it might rain, as was typical for Florida, but the weather held off.

“We won’t be able to see everything, because of the light pollution,” Logan explained. “But we should still see something interesting.”

“Light pollution?” The stranger echoed.

“The use of artificial light in cities makes it more difficult to see stars,” Logan explained. “We’d have to drive pretty far for a perfect view, down to the Everglades.”

“I wish everyone would shut off the lights.”

“That’s not happening anytime soon. Urbanization.”

The two of them lay down side by side, looking up at the stars.

“I think this is what dreaming must be like,” the stranger decided.

Logan watched the sky, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. He hadn’t been stargazing in a while.

They lapsed into silence. He thought about pointing out various celestial objects, but it felt nice to just sit there quietly.

His thoughts wandered to the stranger.

Was Logan being unreasonable? Yes, the stranger had destroyed his bedroom, but this was his first time on earth. He had no gauge for what’s rational behavior, no frame of reference. He had strong emotions, and the only person who he had to guide him was Logan, a man who had no emotions of his own. This wasn’t something he could handle. He loathed to admit it, but Logan was failing the stranger.

“I have a question,” the stranger asked in his soft, gentle voice.

“Yes?”

“What is a ‘dark side?’” The stranger hesitated, like he feared Logan would be upset by the question. “Janus said you would be a good ‘dark side.’ What is that?”

Logan had done a lot of thinking about the topic in recent months. He tried to determine what made a light side and what made a dark side, and he’d come to the most obvious and logical conclusion.

“It is a completely arbitrary term that doesn’t mean anything,” Logan explained.

“Oh. But doesn’t ‘dark side’ necessarily mean there is also a ‘light side’?”

Logan closed his eyes, feeling the cool breeze of a warm night across his skin.

“Everyone thinks we’ve been divided into good and evil. Janus and Remus are dark sides. The rest of us are light sides.” He combed his fingers through the grass. “But it’s all relative. Too much of anything is bad. Like deceit, for example. You have to tell little lies every now and then. It doesn’t make you evil. It makes you smart. You do it to survive.”

“Then why did Janus say you would make a good dark side?”

“Knowledge is a tricky thing,” Logan folded his arms underneath the back of his head. “There are a lot of people who don’t want to know certain things. It’s easier to live in ignorance.”

“Ignorance is bliss,” the stranger echoed something he had read.

“Many believe there are some things we’re better off not knowing. That’s why Janus thinks I would make a good dark side, because you can use knowledge to hurt people.”

“What do you think you are?” The stranger asked.

“What do I think? Light side or dark side? I don’t think those categories even exist. It’s just an easier framework for people to understand.” Logan stared up at the mass of stars. “You call something a dark side when you don’t understand its usefulness. You call something a light side when you don’t understand its danger. Knowledge is whatever you choose to do with it. It’s both light and dark. Therefore, it’s neither.”

“I guess that makes sense.”

They lapsed back into silence.

Privately, Logan wished the light side dark side line was more clearcut. It would make his life much easier. He had been stuck in the gray for a long time, and nobody wanted to acknowledge it. The light sides pretended like everything was fine. The dark sides pretended like he was one step away from homicide.

He hadn’t been right for a while now. He knew that. He wasn’t stupid. At least Janus picked up on it. It was preferable to tiptoeing around the issue.

“Look,” the stranger pointed up at the sky, his knuckles completely wrapped in bandages. “Orion! I remember that one from the poster.”

The poster which was currently torn to shreds on Logan’s bedroom floor.

“You found it,” Logan encouraged him.

The stranger reached out his bandaged hands like he could touch Orion, tracing the stars across-

“Wait,” Logan sat up. “Who wrapped your hands like that?”

“What?” The stranger looked down at his hands, both of them wrapped in bandages.

“Your hands.”

“What about them?” The stranger eyes his own hands with suspicion. “I bandaged them this morning.”

“No…” Logan trailed off. “When? I didn’t see you do it.”

“After we cleaned your room.”

“We cleaned my room and then came right outside.”

Something else occurred to Logan.

“Wait,” he shook his head. “That’s not possible. What time is it?” He checked his phone, ruining his eyes' adjustment to the dark sky. “It’s past midnight.”

“So?”

“So, I woke up at seven, we cleaned my room, and we came right outside. That’s over fifteen hours. What did I do today?”

“You just said,” the stranger looked uncertain. “You woke up, and we cleaned your room, and then we came outside.”

Logan started to panic, but he forced himself to think logically. “We spent thirty minutes in my room, if that. We just cleared a path to the door. That’s at least fourteen hours unaccounted for.” He stood up and started to pace. “What did I do today? What else happened?”

The stranger sat up on his blanket and watched Logan pace.

“I’m losing time,” Logan muttered. “Concussion? Did Thomas suffer a head injury? I would know if that happened.”

The stranger tracked Logan with his eyes as he walked back and forth.

“Let’s go inside,” Logan decided. “Something is wrong.”

“Can I help?” The stranger asked, voice full of concern.

“I don’t know,” Logan grabbed his blanket. “This has never happened before.”

The stranger stood up and grabbed his own blanket, following Logan back towards the house.

“It’s alright,” the stranger reassured him. “We’ll figure this out together.”

Logan ran the faucet in the bathroom and splashed his face with cold water, patting it dry with a towel. In the privacy of the bathroom, having left the stranger in his bedroom, he let himself think about the possibility that he was losing his mind.

It was unfortunate, especially because he was supposed to embody logic, but he struggled to come up with an answer for why he forgot an entire day. Was he just tired? Too much caffeine? Did he drink too much and black out? He didn’t feel hungover.

He considered all of these possibilities as he walked back to his bedroom, checking to make sure the hallway was clear before proceeding. He didn’t feel like dealing with questions.

The stranger had already passed out in his bed. He flailed his limbs in every direction, covering the entire mattress. Logan would have to wake him up to move him.

The stranger flung one arm over the edge of the bed. Logan observed the carefully-wrapped bandages tight around his knuckles. He looked exhausted.

Fine. Just this once.

Logan took a pillow, a spare blanket he’d taken outside, and slept on the floor.

It wasn’t a good night’s sleep.

The next morning, Logan was a zombie. The combination of being exhausted and unable to sleep left him a husk of himself.

The stranger was still asleep in his bed.

Coffee. Logan got up, every part of his body aching from sleeping on the ground. Carefully, he stepped over the ruined fragments of his room. He quietly closed the door behind him and went downstairs.

To his luck, the kitchen had visitors.

“You need to try and sleep,” Patton encouraged Virgil. Both of them were sitting at the kitchen table.

“I know, I know. It’s that stupid book.” Virgil was half-passed out leaning against the kitchen table.

“Hey, Logan,” Patton acknowledged but didn’t look at Logan as he walked into the kitchen.

Logan didn’t say anything. He just walked right to the coffee machine.

“What’s the book?” Patton asked Virgil.

“Remus found some book on gum disease, and he’s managed to convince Thomas he’s caught some rare fungal infection.” Virgil groaned. “He was up all night worrying about it, and he can’t get a dentist appointment until next week. I’ll never fall asleep.”

Logan couldn’t help but smile to himself. It was an unintended consequence, and not particularly funny, but he appreciated irony.

“What do you usually do when you can’t sleep?” Patton asked Virgil.

“Nothing, anymore. I just don’t sleep.”

Logan put a mug under the coffee dispenser. Behind him, he could hear someone else step into the kitchen.

“Remus,” Virgil snarled at him.

“Hello!” Remus was delighted to be there.

Logan could hear Virgil stand up and push back his chair.

“What’s your deal?” He hissed. “Would you just leave Thomas alone with that disgusting book?”

“What?” Remus pretended to be offended. “It’s educational. It’s important he knows the consequences of not brushing his teeth. Now, he’ll do it every night.”

Logan hated to approve of Remus’ plans, but that did sound like a good thing

“It’s not educational, it’s disgusting.”

“What? Mr. Education over there gave it to me.”

Ah.

“Seriously?” Virgil was now talking to Logan, who had to turn around and deal with the situation.

He looked haggard and he knew it.

“Jeez kiddo, are you okay?” Patton asked. “What happened?”

Virgil was taken aback when he saw Logan’s disheveled appearance, but pushed forward.

“Why would you give Remus that book? Didn’t you think about how that would come back to bite me in the ass?”

“Hot!” Remus interjected.

The aftermath of giving Remus the book was so far from Logan’s mind that it was slightly humorous.

“No, Virgil, I didn’t think about how it would affect you.”

“And?” Virgil was expecting more.

“And what?” Logan sipped his coffee. He had no idea what else to say. He had more pressing matters. He was on the precipice of his entire life falling apart. Maybe he had some sort of brain disease. He could be dying. He felt like he was.

“I haven’t slept in days.”

That made two of them, but you didn’t see Logan complaining.

“Take an ambien.”

“Hey now,” Patton interrupted. “Let's not encourage illicit drug use.”

“Sorry. Get a prescription for ambien before you take it. Is that better?”

Logan’s patience had completely disappeared. He had other shit to deal with. He started to walk out of the kitchen.

“Hey- we’re not done here,” Virgil blocked his path.

It was the last straw.

“You’re right, Virgil. I am so sorry that I gave Remus a book. It was so obviously part of my grand plan to hurt you. And since everything in the world seems to be my fault, I’m sorry for all of that too.”

He side-stepped Virgil and kept walking. He went back up the stairs and into his room and set the mug of coffee down on his desk and shut the door and turned on the lights. The stranger groggily woke up.

Logan picked up the mug and took a sip. It was cold. He looked outside and it was pitch black. Another day gone.

Damnit!

Logan almost smashed the mug against the floor, but there was so much debris scattered around his bedroom that the mug wouldn’t even reach the wooden panels. Instead, he set it down on his desk.

“What is it?” The stranger was standing on the other side of the room. He was trying to organize various objects that had been scattered. He moved a pair of safety scissors from the floor to the desk so nobody would step on them.

“It happened again,” Logan shut his eyes. “Another day- maybe two days, I don’t even know anymore. When did we go stargazing?”

“You mean last night?”

“Then just one day.”

He grabbed his desk chair and took a seat. Even though no time had seemed to pass, he felt substantially weaker.

Well, he didn’t have his coffee.

“I don’t understand why this is happening.” He was so tired he could barely function. “Please, help me figure it out.”

“Alright,” the stranger was eager to be of use. “Let’s think of something- hey, you’re falling asleep.”

Logan had started to doze at his desk.

“Sorry,” he shook his head. “Let’s see. Theories.”

The stranger scooped up a pen and paper from the floor.

“Theories,” the stranger echoed. “You’re falling asleep again.”

Logan could barely keep his eyes open.

“Sorry,” he shook his head again. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

“Let’s do this tomorrow,” the stranger decided.

“What if I lose more time?” Logan was almost slurring his words.

“You won’t, I promise,” the stranger reassured him. “First thing tomorrow, we’ll figure this out. You need to sleep.”

Logan passed out like that, slumped against his desk. He didn’t even make it to his bed. The stranger occupied it for him.

The next morning, a loud noise woke up Logan, who was still asleep at his desk. He was still tired, but it was better than the night before.

He took his glasses and put them on. Even though they weren’t his normal glasses, he started to think of them as an extension of himself. They had seamlessly replaced his old pair, which the stranger still wore.

“What was that noise?” Logan mumbled.

“Huh?” The stranger had been woken up as well.

A look at his alarm clock showed it was past nine in the morning, far later than he usually woke up.

“Logan!” Someone yelled from downstairs. “Get down here!”

Oh great, what now? Logan couldn’t even imagine. It must be some kind of emergency. He ran downstairs, the stranger close behind.

The sides were all gathered in the living room, waiting for Logan at the bottom of the stairs. It created an effect where Logan marched directly into the crowd, giving him a chance to scope out the scene.

Janus had a big smile on his face, which should have been Logan’s first warning. Remus lurked just behind him, intrigued.

Roman glared at Logan, Patton kept looking between Virgil and Logan, looking increasingly nervous, and the man himself, Virgil Sanders, stood at the bottom of the stairs looking genuinely murderous.

“Hey everyone.” Logan greeted the sides once he reached the main floor.

Apparently, that was not the reaction he was supposed to have, as evidenced by Patton’s wince.

“Oh, this will be good,” Janus murmured.

“‘Hey everyone?’ That’s what you have to say?” Virgil lashed out. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Logan had never seen Virgil so upset.

“Was there something else I was supposed to say?” Logan asked.

“Logan, buddy,” Patton shook his head.

“If something’s going on, just tell me,” Logan felt defensive, though he wasn’t sure why just yet.

“You know exactly what’s going on,” Virgil snarled. Roman stepped closer, like he might have to hold one of them back.

“I don’t,” Logan insisted.

“Yeah? You don’t know?” Virgil reached into the depths of his hoodie pocket and pulled out shreds of paper. “Then tell me, what the hell is this?” He threw the pieces at Logan.

“I have no idea,” Logan answered honestly. “Paper? Failed origami project?”

“How dare you,” Roman stepped in.

“Don’t,” Patton whispered. “Don’t get involved.”

“It’s just paper,” Logan didn’t understand what he was missing. “It’s…” he looked closer. “Newspaper?” He grabbed a handful. “Pieces of a newspaper…”

“If you didn’t like the gift,” Virgil sneered, the hurt evident in his eyes. “You could have just told me. You didn’t have to cut it up and leave it at my fucking door!”

At last, the whole horrible scheme came crashing down around Logan. Something so blurry had immediately become clear.

Slowly, he looked over his shoulder at the stranger, who was standing on the bottom step and staring at him.

Logan had never felt so betrayed.

“And take the fucking tie!” Virgil threw scraps of fabric at him.

That had been the final gift, the answer to the last clue.

Logan loved that tie.

“Are you even going to say anything?” Virgil demanded.

Logan had no words. He was tired. He was disoriented. He didn’t know what was happening.

He had truly and completely lost it.

So this was what it felt like, to have no logic at all.

“Did you really do this, Logan?” Patton asked, sounding almost as hurt as Virgil.

The stranger, who stood directly behind Logan and one step above him, took his hand and grabbed Logan’s hair, forcing him to nod up and down. Then, he let go.

“Why would you do something like that?” Patton asked.

Logan took a breath, then answered with complete and full honesty.

“I have no answer.”

“Nothing?” Patton pressed. “You have nothing

“No. I have nothing to say.”

And nobody knew what to say in response.

Roman tried.

“You shouldn’t-”

“It’s fine,” Virgil waved him off.

“No it’s-”

“It was a dumb gift anyways,” Virgil scoffed. “I get it, Logan. It was a stupid idea for a present.”

“No-”

“And I’m sorry I gave it to you. I should’ve gotten you something better. I thought it was a good idea for some reason, but it was dumb.” Virgil was stone-faced. “And I’m sorry I always bother you, and I’m always showing up at your room. And I’m sorry for sitting at the kitchen table when you’re sitting at the kitchen table. And I’m sorry for standing there while you make coffee in the morning. And I’m sorry for watching you do crossword puzzles. I’m sorry for being so annoying all the time. I’ll get off your back. I can take a hint.”

Logan felt like his body was going to break into pieces, and he would turn to little pieces of rubble, and eventually dust, and blow away in the wind. It was the worst moment of his entire life.

And he still didn’t know what to say.

Virgil turned around and walked away, Patton chasing after him.

Roman said something to him, but Logan was a thousand worlds away. The irony of having skipped the past few days but being forced to live through the last five minutes was not lost on him.

After Roman finished with whatever he said, he ran off to join Patton and Virgil.

That left Remus and Janus alone with Logan.

Remus, who’d been standing quietly, finally broke.

“Why was he going to your room-”

“I have to say, Logan,” Janus cut him off. “That’s pretty dark, even for us. You need a better method of controlling your emotions.” Then, he paused. “Really, are you alright?”

The stranger used his higher vantage point to wrap both his arms around Logan’s chest, resting his chin on Logan’s shoulder.

“He’s fine.”

“I’m fine,” Logan echoed.

“I highly doubt that,” Janus wasn’t convinced.

The stranger let go of him.

“Really, I’m alright.”

“How are you this repressed?” Janus rolled his eyes. “It’s actually impressive.”

Logan turned and started walking up the stairs.

“Hey- where are you going?” Janus called after him.

Logan didn’t say anything. Just one step after the other until he reached his bedroom, let himself and the stranger inside, and then shut the door.

The stranger looked at him expectantly, but Logan didn’t say anything. He just walked over and sat down on the edge of his bed, staring at nothing in particular.

Finally, Logan asked,

“How did you know about the tie?”

The stranger wasn’t expecting this question.

“The tie?”

“How did you know the final gift was a tie?” Logan asked. “I understand how you pieced it together that he gave me the newspaper, but how’d you get the final clue? Did you do all of the puzzles?”

“No, Logan,” the stranger was calm. “I just somehow knew it. I’m a part of you, remember?”

Logan didn’t respond.

“You had it right all along,” the stranger explained. “The first time we met, you said your mind had created me. I’m a projection of some part of yourself.” He took off his glasses and set them down on the bedside table. “I am you.”

“You’re different from me.”

“I represent you,” the stranger answered a little more forcefully.

“I would never do what you did.”

“You were the one who did it!” The stranger explained. “I feel too much. Do you know how painful that is? Everything hurts me!” He was ranting excitedly. “I can’t control my emotions because you can’t control your emotions.” The stranger wasn’t angry. In fact, he had a big smile on his face.

“You’re a manifestation of my repressed emotions,” Logan theorized despite the pounding behind his eyes. “Impossible. I don’t have emotions.”

“Logan,” the stranger sighed, grabbing Logan’s desk chair and rolling it towards him. He sat down across from Logan, facing him. “Everyone has emotions. We couldn’t function without them. Emotions are why we get out of bed in the morning. Emotions are why we learn things. They drive everything we do.”

“Is that why you did all of those things?” Logan glared. “Destroying my room? Cutting up the newspaper?”

“All of that came from you.”

“No,” Logan slowly shook his head. “You did those things, not me.”

“I don’t have any free will. You made me.” The stranger was still smiling. He was kind, despite the terrible circumstances. His own nonexistence didn’t seem to bother him. “Like you say, I’m a physical manifestation of a concept. I don’t even have a name.”

He rolled the chair slightly closer.

“Wouldn’t you have named me, if we were two distinct entities? On some level you must have realized I was simply an extension of you.”

For the first time in his life, Logan didn’t want to think.

Could it be true? Had he done those things, and invented the stranger as some sort of projection to shield himself from his own actions? The mind is a strange and powerful thing.

“Look at your hands,” the stranger softly suggested.

Slowly, Logan looked down. His knuckles had been wrapped in bandages, and bruises peppered the sides of his hands. He gasped. He blinked, and his hands returned to normal.

“I see. I’ve completely lost touch with reality. I don’t even know what’s real anymore.”

Logan had precious seconds before the panic truly set in. He took off his glasses and set them next to the stranger’s pair on his bedside table.

“How do I make you go away?” Logan asked.

It was an incredibly harsh thing to hear.

“Oh,” the stranger faltered. “I don’t know.”

Logan narrowed his eyes at the stranger, suspecting he was lying.

“You know your eyes are orange?” The stranger commented. Finally, he sounded nervous.

Logan glanced in his shattered bedroom mirror. His eyes shone orange. It wasn’t the first time.

“There has to be a way to get rid of you,” Logan glared at his own reflection. “I’ll think of something.”

Unfortunately for Logan, two sleepless nights had not been kind to him, and the last hour didn’t help. Neither did sharing a bedroom with someone he intended to kill, and the fact that everyone he lived with hated him, and he had no friends and his life was a mess and his personal belongings had all been smashed into pieces and he couldn’t leave his bedroom because his eyes were the wrong color.

As a result of the foregoing factors, he spent a lot of the next few days lying in bed with the lights off.

It didn’t help that the stranger was so damn nice about everything.

“Do you want me to get you some coffee?” The stranger asked him one morning. “Or some breakfast?”

“Don’t leave this room,” Logan warned. “I can’t trust you.”

“Alright,” the stranger, who was strangely docile, didn’t fight him. Instead, he quietly cleared a corner in the bedroom and sat there.

When Logan had more energy, he would try and strategize how to get out of his predicament, but it mostly led him to more questions.

Could the stranger die? Not in the traditional sense, if he was a projection of Logan’s subconscience. Logan thought back to what the stranger had told him. He was a representation of Logan’s so-called emotions. What was Logan supposed to do with that?

This was embarrassing. Logan was supposed to be the logical side, yet he couldn’t figure out his own problems. His failures drove him back into bed.

Sometimes, he heard voices outside his bedroom door, mostly Patton and Roman, though Remus had tried to bother him once or twice. The conversation usually went the same.

“We should ask if he needs anything,” Patton would tell Roman.

Logan could hear the concern in his voice.

“I can’t believe he did that,” Roman would respond, but there was no bite in it.

And ultimately, Patton would knock. And Logan wouldn’t say a word.

He didn’t deserve their help. This was his problem, and he needed to fix it himself.

Unfortunately, this meant that his only social interaction was with the stranger. They ended up going round in circles.

“You know why you’re here,” Logan would start. “Tell me, how do I get rid of you?”

It was rather pointless asking. The stranger had every incentive in the world not to tell him.

“I don’t know, honest!” The stranger would beg. “Please. I don’t know. You invented me. I’m just here.”

And they would go around and around and around. If the stranger was an extension of himself, then Logan did a great job creating a puzzle he couldn’t solve.

One day, after the sun had risen and set several times since the incident with the newspaper (Logan wasn’t keeping track of time in the traditional sense anymore), Patton knocked at his door like usual.

“Logan? Kiddo?” Patton asked. “Are you alright in there?”

Logan buried his face deeper into his pillow.

“Buddy?” Patton asked again.

“Just open the door,” another voice answered.

It was Janus.

“Janus,” Patton scolded him. “We need to respect his privacy.”

“Oh, come on. He’s probably dead in there.”

“How could you say that!” Patton was horrified.

“What?” Janus brushed him off. “Just saying. I don’t want bugs.”

“Logan!” Patton knocked on his door even harder. “Say something, please!”

Typical Janus, knowing just what to say to make Patton upset. At this rate, Patton would yank the door off the hinges to make sure Logan was alive, and with the way his bedroom had been torn to pieces, it wouldn’t take much to knock down the door.

“I’m fine!” Logan called out.

“Oh, Christ,” Janus opened the door. “I’m coming in.”

“But-” Patton added.

“Sorry, Patton,” Janus shut the door in his face. “Dark sides only.”

“Not a dark side,” Logan mumbled.

“Wow, I’m impressed,” Janus surveyed the room. “It’s worse than I could ever imagine. Do I dare turn on the lights?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. He flicked the lightswitch, illuminating the extent of the damage.

“Hmm,” Janus tried to conceal his surprise. “Maybe we keep this off.” He turned the lightswitch off again. “What happened to your room? Did a tornado come through?”

“No. That’s physically impossible.”

“I was being sarcastic.”

Janus stood in the middle of the room, like he was hesitant to touch anything.

“What do you want, Janus?” Logan asked.

“For you to get your shit together. What have you been doing in here?”

“I’m thinking through a problem.”

“What is it?”

“It’s-”

“Don’t tell him!” The stranger interrupted out of nowhere. “You can’t trust him. You think he’ll give you good advice?”

Logan stopped to consider what the stranger had said.

“How would you even explain this to him?” The stranger stood up from his spot in the corner.

“Logan?” Janus asked, hesitant as to why Logan had stopped mid-sentence.

“It’s-”

“Don’t,” the stranger warned. “Don’t!” He was desperate. “Please, I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“Logan, what is it?” Janus pressed. “You think I would judge you? Well, maybe a little. But what’s a secret between friends?”

Both sides were telling him two different things.

Logan had to listen to reason, and did the only thing he could.

He resorted to a pros and cons list.

Janus. Cons. He couldn’t be trusted.

“I can’t trust you, Janus. Sorry.”

“I have no idea where you got the impression I wasn’t trustworthy,” Janus smiled, but deep down, he was a little hurt. “Well. I suppose I shouldn’t have bothered you.”

“Good,” the stranger approved. “You have no idea what he’ll do.”

Stranger. Cons. He destroyed all of Logan’s interpersonal relationships.

There was a bit of an imbalance.

“Janus.”

“Yes?”

“I am coming to the conclusion that feelings and emotions are difficult. Even though I don’t have either-”

“Oh, good lord. I can’t listen to this again,” Janus pressed his hands to his temples. “Logan, I don’t know how many times I have to say it,” Janus stared down at Logan, who was curled into a ball on his bed. “You. Have. Feelings. And you will be so much happier if you learn how to deal with them.”

“But how?”

“Oh, I don’t know, how about not breaking everything you own?”

“I didn’t.”

“Lying is supposed to be my thing, and I can see your hands covered in bruises.”

Logan unfolded himself and looked at his hands. Sure enough, the bandages had returned.

However, the stranger remained mysteriously quiet.

“Your eyes are orange,” Janus observed.

“I’ve been hearing that.”

“Look,” Janus took a deep breath, like he was running out of patience. “If you talk about your feelings, you will feel better. Everyone knows this. I thought you were supposed to be the smart one?”

“It’s not my strong suit.”

“Talk to Virgil.”

“No way,” Logan answered automatically, sitting up all the way. “He hates me.”

“Listen,” Janus dropped all pretenses. “It’s far worse to let him stew without any explanation for what you did, then to at least give a reason. Don’t you always talk about reasoning and logic and all of that? What you did doesn't make sense. You would go crazy.”

Janus looked around the room.

“If it hasn’t happened already.” He kicked at a stray clothes hanger. “And to be quite frank, he has been making everybody miserable, including Thomas, and I’m sick of both of you. So please, get out of bed, eat something, take a shower, and go talk to him.”

Janus turned to leave, then remembered something.

“By the way, who are you talking to in here? I hear your voice.”

“Myself.”

“Great, you’ve lost it.”

Janus walked out of Logan’s bedroom, leaving the door open.

Patton had been standing there, trying to listen in, and he jumped back, ashamed to have been caught.

He quickly recovered.

“Hey, kiddo!” He smiled, mostly because he couldn’t see Logan’s bedroom in the dark. “Why don’t I make you some lunch?”

Logan looked at the stranger to hear what he would say, but he remained silent.

He hadn’t eaten a proper meal in days. He was hungry.

“Why would you want to cook for me?” Logan asked, getting out of bed and walking towards the doorway. “Don’t you hate me?”

“What?” Patton was taken aback. “No, Logan,” he frowned. “I could never hate you. Why would you think that?”

Logan didn’t answer. He had so many reasons, but when he saw the devastation clear on Patton’s face, he couldn’t muster the energy to explain them.

“I’m going to take a shower.”

“Come downstairs when you’re done. Please,” Patton added like Logan might disappear back into his bedroom. “I’ll make you a sandwich.”

“...with jam?”

“Of course,” Patton smiled. “Whatever you want.”

Logan took a long shower, letting the days wash off him. The shower was where he did his best thinking.

The stranger’s lack of interjection when he spoke with Janus and Patton surprised Logan. There seemed to be some sort of connection between tough conversations and the stranger’s silence.

Especially when Janus stated he needed to control his emotions. If Logan were to accept the premise that he had emotions to begin with, it seemed vocalizing them weakened the stranger’s grasp over him.

Logan toweled off, put on a clean set of clothes and put on his glasses. Then, he went downstairs, the stranger trailing behind him. How could he test this new hypothesis? He needed a controlled experiment.

Downstairs, Patton sat at the kitchen table, a jam sandwich on a plate in front of him. He looked relieved when Logan stepped through the doorway.

“Hey,” Patton smiled a little too wide.

“Patton,” Logan sat down.

He planned on conducting his experiment straightaway, but his physical need for sustenance overtook him. He took a bite of the sandwich.

“Thank you for making this, Patton.”

“Of course, kiddo,” Patton responded.

If he noticed Logan’s eyes looked any different, he didn’t comment.

“You know,” Patton continued. “I just want you to be okay.” His eyes welled with tears.

It took so little to make Patton cry. Logan wondered what that must be like.

He had to test something.

“Patton,” Logan spoke after he swallowed a mouthful of jam. “Sometimes,” he paused. He didn’t think this would be so hard. “Sometimes,” he tried again, “I struggle with feelings. Understanding them, and articulating them.”

He glanced over at the stranger, who remained silent. For a moment, Logan watched him flicker, like he’d been a projection on a wall and someone briefly cut the power.

“Sure, kiddo,” Patton nodded. “I know. It’s hard for you.”

“I want it to be easier,” Logan spoke slowly. “That’s all.”

The two of them sat there quietly, Logan eating his sandwich.

“It will be, one day,” Patton reassured him. “It just takes time.”

Patton was a good listener. Logan was just realizing that.

“Janus thinks I should talk to Virgil.” Logan laid his cards out on the table. “Give him an explanation. I think it’s a bad idea.”

“Well,” Patton considered it. “I think you should be prepared for him to say some choice words to you.”

“I’m prepared for that.”

“Then it seems like you already know what you have to do.”

The walk to Virgil’s bedroom made Logan feel like he was being held at gunpoint. As Logan descended the stairs, the stranger trailed behind him like a spectre. He made no comments and no sounds. He was a shadow.

Logan knocked on the door.

Virgil opened it. He didn’t look too good. Clearly, the side hadn’t slept in several days.

“What do you want?” Virgil snapped at him.

Logan instantly regretted coming here. This was his first day of considering the possibility he may have feelings. He needed more training, more time to sort it out. This wasn’t natural for him. And all he could think to say in his flurry of thoughts was,

“It doesn’t feel good when you ignore me.”

“Fuck you,” Virgil went to shut the door.

“No, wait,” Logan stopped him. “Not right now, I mean normally, when you sit next to me, and you don’t say anything, it doesn’t feel good.”

“So you publicly destroyed the Christmas present I made for you?”

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Logan answered honestly. “I don’t know how to say these things, or what the right words are,” he struggled. “So, I’m wondering if it’s true that you’ve never liked me.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“But what else am I supposed to think, when we sit together and you don’t say anything, and you show up at my room and you don’t say anything, it’s really hard for me because I don’t know how to interpret silence. I never learned. I don’t understand mixed messages, and I get confused when you say one thing and do something else.”

Logan was on a roll.

“You do really nice things for me, but we don’t talk, and I don’t understand what I did to make you ignore me.” He took a moment. “To conclude,” he figured that even emotions require a proper summary. “While I understand that you certainly dislike me now, and our relationship is permanently tarnished, I wanted to express- that- I-”

“You’re crying.”

“I don’t cry.”

Reflexively, Logan rubbed his eyes. His hands were streaked with tears.

“I’ve never seen you cry before.”

“I didn’t think I knew how.”

Virgil reached into the depths of his bedroom and grabbed a box of tissues, passing it to Logan. He looked uncertain, like he’d answered his bedroom door ready for a fight, but the fight had abandoned him.

“Um,” he shifted, clearly uncomfortable. “For what it’s worth, the reason I don’t talk to you is because I didn’t think I had to. Like, I could just sit there quietly with you, and everything was alright. And you would never make me talk.” He was staring down at the ground. “And you know I always have earbuds in, so I sometimes don’t hear you.”

“I see.”

“And,” he cleared his throat. “I go to your room when I can’t sleep. Dunno why, it’s dumb. I just like it more than my room, because you work on your stuff and I can sit there quietly, but I’m not alone. It’s nice.” He forced himself to look at Logan, then looked away again, clearly thrown off by the sight of him crying. “You have a calming presence.” He immediately regretted saying it. “Sorry. That’s stupid. I just like being around you. Whatever. That’s also dumb. Just pretend like I didn’t say anything. This is so embarrassing. Hand me a tissue,” he grabbed one out of the box and dabbed at his own eyes. “Your crying is contagious.”

“Is it?” Logan took a small step back. “Is that how it works?”

“No, I’m kidding. Bad joke. Sorry.” He looked at Logan, who was borderline sobbing. “Wow, you’re really going for it. First time crying, don’t you want to slow down?”

“It’s been a rough couple of weeks,” his voice broke on the last word. His tears stuck to the lens of his glasses, blurring his vision.

“Oh, God,” Virgil rolled his eyes. “Just- come here,” he pulled Logan into a hug. “You’re making me feel bad. I’m the one who should be crying.”

Logan was sobbing into his shoulder. The weight of the last few weeks bore heavily upon him.

“I really liked that tie,” Logan sniffled.

“You’re the one who cut it up.”

“Things got away from me,” Logan admitted. “I had some really…irrational thoughts. And feelings.”

“I’m no stranger to that.” Virgil let go of him, then looked Logan up and down, then looked away.

“Look, I’ll get over it,” Virgil sighed.

Logan dried his glasses on his shirt, then put them back on.

“You shouldn’t. It was horrible.”

“Give me time,” Virgil decided.

“Alright,” Logan accepted that answer.

Virgil peered at him curiously.

“Are those new glasses?”

“They’re old, but I never wear them.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t really like them,” Logan took them off again and examined the frames.

“Me neither,” Virgil agreed. “Sorry.”

“I still have my normal pair.”

Privately, Logan wasn’t sure if that was true. When he left Virgil’s room, he noticed the stranger had disappeared. Would he come back? Did he take Logan’s glasses with him? Logan couldn’t begin to imagine the physics of that scenario.

But when he returned to his bedroom, he found his normal glasses folded neatly on his bedside table. He took off the old pair, held it in both hands, and snapped it in half.

Sometimes, it was useful to break things.

“Sorry, what did you say happened?” Roman asked the next day. Logan had enlisted him to help clean his bedroom. He wasn’t sure why he’d chosen Roman, who famously never helped with the cleaning, of all people. But he was loud enough to be distracting, and Logan didn’t completely trust himself with his own thoughts. If the stranger would reappear, it would probably happen when Logan was alone.

Besides, he told Virgil he would give him time. And space.

“It was a science experiment gone wrong,” Logan made up an explanation for his bedroom.

“Oh, wow,” Roman surveyed the scene. “This looks like a lot of work.” He looked towards the door, considering flaking.

“Don’t you want to tell me about your video ideas?” Logan asked. “You had a really good one about trying all the rides at Disney World, remember?” He paused. “Actually, I have a question for you. If you had to be a Disney cast member, who would you choose?”

“You know, Logan, I’ve actually spent a lot of time thinking about that,” Roman couldn’t resist the opportunity to talk about himself. “Actually- wait, should I redecorate your room?”

“Let’s just focus on clearing things out of here,” Logan got him back on track.

“Right, right, I should answer your question first. I think I have the vocal range to play most Disney princes, however…”

Logan’s room wasn’t perfect by the end, but enough of the rubble had been cleared that he could freely walk around without stepping on anything. He’d have to redecorate, but maybe he needed the change.

Logan knew he would have to face Virgil again. Thomas ended up running with Roman’s video idea, which necessitated an all-hands meeting between the sides to work out logistics.

They would meet in the kitchen. Neutral territory.

Logan showed up early, naturally. He stopped in front of the clock on the wall. Finally, it was running on time.

“I’m so glad that’s working again,” Patton walked in. “Somebody kept adjusting it so it was running hours behind.”

“Ah,” Logan realized that, in his timeless haze, he was definitely responsible. “Remus, I’m sure.”

“Probably.”

Virgil, as usual, was the last to arrive. The other sides had all taken a seat at the table. Even Janus and Remus had been invited, much to Roman’s chagrin. Patton was committed to including everyone, including the so-called dark sides.

The only open seat was directly across from Logan. He wondered if that might have been intentional.

Logan wasn’t sure what to expect when Virgil stepped into the kitchen. He built the moment up like it would signify some grand, cryptic meaning. Would there be another fight? Would Virgil say anything at all?

For a moment, he saw the stranger sitting in the empty chair across from him, looking back at Logan curiously. It was only a second before he disappeared, but Logan very much felt his presence. He took a few deep breaths, something he had read about online. It was called square breathing. Logan wasn’t sure if he believed in it, but it distracted him enough.

By the time Virgil finally entered the room, Logan had thought of every possible scenario. He watched as Virgil took the seat across from him, slouched over the kitchen table, rested his head on his elbows, and said,

“You guys can start without me. I don’t even get the point of these meanings.”

“Virgil,” Patton scolded, “it’s important we make decisions together, as a group.”

“Whatever.”

It was business as usual. Logan couldn’t help but smile.

“Since we’re all here,” he announced. “I’ll start with our budget.”

“That’s the worst part,” Roman complained.

“It won’t take too long,” Logan reassured him. “Then, the floor is yours.”

Eventually, Logan had to learn how to be okay in his bedroom. Admittedly, he spent a night or two on the couch. He spent so long cooped up in his room that he felt if he went back in there, the door might close and lock him in there forever.

This was completely illogical, of course. But Logan had painfully learned that illogical thoughts wielded as much power, if not more, than logical ones. It was a tough lesson for someone who cherished reason.

He needed to redecorate, but most of the time, he found himself doing crossword puzzles. The stranger tore up most of his puzzle books, but a few pages had been salvageable. He needed to stay occupied, but he had to relax. Crossword puzzles were his happy medium.

It was one of those nights he heard a knock on his bedroom door.

For a moment, Logan thought he was hearing things.

He didn’t move. He didn’t want to get his hopes up. Slowly, he put down his pencil and stood up, letting his desk chair roll backwards. Quietly, he took a few steps towards his bedroom door, put his hand on the knob, and twisted.

Virgil was standing in the doorway.

Wordlessly, Logan stepped back to let him enter, then closed the door behind him.

Neither of them said anything. It wasn’t in their routine. Logan sat back down at his desk, and Virgil sat down on his now-cleared bedroom floor, leaning back against Logan’s bed.

Logan picked up his pencil and smiled.

After a few minutes, Logan spoke.

“Hey, Lo?” Virgil asked.

“Yeah?” Logan turned.

“Why is there a plate of moldy pancakes under your bed?”