ts-into-the-coinverse - Tumblr blog

ts-into-the-coinverse · 4 years

Text

Made of Love, Chapter 29

<< Previous|Next >>

Table of Contents

Ship(s): Logicality, (platonic) Prinxiety

All Characters: Thomas, Virgil, Roman, Logan, Patton, Dr. Picani, Joan, Talyn, and Deceit

Synopsis: Humans Roman and Virgil get wrapped up in some serious magic business without meaning to. Their other companions aren’t exactly as they seem, either. Together they all must defeat a great threat for the safety of humanity.

Chapter Desc.: Thomas and Logan get some alone time.

TW: Cursing, body horror

Prefer to read it on Ao3? Click here!

Trying to train Thomas was decidedly… difficult. Roman and Virgil weren’t experts. There was only so much someone with less than a year's experience can teach. Patton would come by every once in a while, but he didn’t feel all that comfortable leaving Logan by himself for too long. Not that anyone could blame him. Ever since the freezing fiasco, he started to look like a real hot mess. Also the glitching happened more frequently, which was in no way a good sign. Specifically the weird arm thing, and not the flickering in and out of existence. The flickering had yet to make a comeback, and Virgil hoped it would stay that way, but with their luck hope is all it would be.

They were running out of time.

Logan was running out of time.

“Oh, I’m going to die when this is over.” Virgil flopped face-first into his bed. He and Roman had to go outside and train Thomas soon. “No matter which way this goes I’m going to just keel over. And then I’ll be dead. Free from this mortal realm and all of its anguish.” It was too much stress for one person to handle. Yet it somehow kept getting worse.

“Calm down. You sound like me.” Roman shut his laptop. “Only one of us is allowed to hold all the theatrics in this relationship.”

Virgil wasn’t even going to question how Roman heard a word of that muffled ramble. He turned his head to see the chair Roman sat in. "What kind of dysfunctional relationship is this, exactly?"

"A symbiotic one."

"Like Venom?"

"With less vore, I hope."

Someone knocked on the door. Virgil rolled over and said they could come in.

“Here.” Logan handed Roman something. “You should probably get Thomas acquainted with this before we lose any more time.”

"Wow, yeah, hi. You have absolutely no sense of social —" Roman froze when he processed what he held in his hands. “This is…”

Virgil shot up in bed. “Why are you giving Thomas your sword?” He didn’t like the implication.

“He’s going to need something to defend himself,” Logan responded simply. “Might as well not let a good sword go to waste.”

The casualness of it might have been the worst part.

Still, they took it. What were they going to do? Argue with a dying man? Because whether they accepted it or not, Logan was dying. It was just a matter of circumstance if he officially kicked the bucket or not.

The two played hot potato with the sword, neither wanting to be the one to give it to Thomas (along with its connotations), but Virgil shoved it into Roman’s hand at the last minute. Before they made it out of the backyard, Roman decided to give it to him. If he didn’t do it now he wouldn’t do it later. Better to get it over with as fast as possible.

“Okay, uh, Thomas,” Roman started. “We sort of have something for you.” He handed the pommel over. “You’re going to have to start getting used to it.”

Thomas looked at it quizzically. “This,” he let out a nervous laugh, “this is Logan’s.” He looked at them like he expected them to admit this was a joke.

Roman could barely even manage a smile. “Yeah.” He continued walking.

Thomas didn’t move. He looked at Virgil, his eyes begging him to say there was some other reason.

Virgil had nothing to say.

Throughout all these days, Thomas hadn’t actually seen Logan glitch out before. He had no idea it even happened. No one thought to explain it; most of the time they tried to pretend it didn’t happen. So he had no idea about the severity of it all. Was it the smartest idea to keep it from him? Probably not. But it just sort of happened. And no one wanted to be the one to correct it. How would they? Not only would they have to admit keeping information from him, but they also had to admit things were worse than they seemed. No one wanted to admit that.

If they were silent on it, then maybe it wasn't that bad. Maybe they had a chance to fix this. Maybe each day they spent with no new leads would be okay. Something would come up. Something good would happen. It was blind, forced hope with a heavy helping of denial.

After they were done, Thomas gave the pommel to Virgil. “It’s still Logan’s,” he said quietly.

Virgil could have sworn it weighed more after that.

“Where’s Logan?” Virgil asked Patton after they came inside. Roman went off to edit some photos. Thomas went to his room to, well, probably to sulk if Virgil was being honest. He had been doing a lot of that. “I have something to give back to him.”

“Out on the deck.” Patton’s eyes were on the TV, though it didn’t seem he was processing what was going on. His thumb ran along his palm in one of his nervous habits.

Virgil didn’t need to see that to know Patton was anxious. He felt it almost as soon as he stepped in. “It’s freezing — why would he be out there?”

“He needs to cool down.”

Last time Virgil checked, Logan needed the exact opposite of that. “What do you mean?”

Patton’s eyes flicked over to him before returning to the TV. “You’ll see when you go out there.”

That was a bit ominous. Still, Virgil went out. He found Logan sitting in one of the chairs dressed as if summer was right around the corner. If the sky was clear and Virgil hadn’t gone outside, he might have believed that to be the case. Logan’s skin was flushed in addition to a gleam of sweat on his face. “Uh, hey. You doing good?” There was an obvious answer, but Virgil thought it polite to ask still.

“I’ve certainly been better.” Thin wisps of steam rolled off his body.

“Yeah, I get that. Uh —” he went to step closer, but stopped — “where are your glasses?”

Logan moved so that the opposite armrest could be seen. His glasses sat neatly on top of it.

“Alright, cool.” He took a seat on the other chair. “I have something of yours.” He fished the pommel out of his hoodie pocket and placed it on the armrest of Logan’s chair.

Logan turned it over in his hand. “He’ll have to get used to it eventually.”

“You don’t seem surprised he gave it back.”

“I assumed that would be the case. I think I know my —” he caught himself, placed the pommel back on the armrest, and adjusted, “Patton and I are fairly acquainted with Thomas considering the whole raising him thing. While it was mainly Picani at the forefront we were still there along the way. It’s easy to predict what someone might do once you’ve known them for so long."

Virgil hummed, decidedly ignoring the abrupt correction. “So when did this happen?” He waved a hand around Logan’s direction.

“A few minutes ago. Patton still has no sway over it so I decided to come out here to attempt to not have a heat stroke.”

“Only you would somehow find a way to die of heatstroke in the middle of winter.”

“While I’m flattered by the endearment, I don’t think it’ll be the heatstroke that kills me.”

Virgil adjusted his hoodie strings. “So do you know what’s causing this?”

“I can’t say for certain, but…”

“You have an idea.”

“A hypothesis, really." Logan sighed. "I can do three different types of magic. Fire, ice, electricity. It didn't cross my mind when I was freezing from the inside out, but now that it feels like my skin is melting off, I'm starting to suspect there's a reason. My body is reacting to my magic being used, but I don't have enough to protect me from the heat or coldness that manifests from those spells. Plus," he extended his left arm to Virgil, "this appears to have gotten worse since its first appearance."

His entire wrist had a solid black band around it. The length of his forearm was littered with what appeared to be dark bruises. Like large storm clouds attempting to block out the sky.

“That seems… bad.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “Very astute.”

“Listen, I don’t know what you want me to say about this, this thing happening to you, alright? It’s fucked up and looks like some sort of bad omen.”

“I suppose you can think of it that way if you believe what Dolos said.”

Virgil grimaced. “Don’t remind me.”

Patton poked his head out. “Hey. Is everything, um, fine?” He tapped his fingers against the doorframe.

“I’m actually starting to cool down a little." Logan shrugged slightly. "So I suppose it’s as fine as it can be.”

“Right. Good. Um… I’ll leave you to it.” He left with a hesitant smile.

Logan stared at the door with a small frown.

Virgil looked at it curiously. “That seemed brief by Patton standards.”

“He just doesn’t like not being able to do anything.” He leaned his head back against the chair and closed his eyes. “I’m sure there’s also some awkwardness between the two of you still.”

Oh boy. Talk about an elephant in the room. “Is it wrong to still be a little mad?” Virgil decided to stare at the railing instead.

“Honestly, I’d be more surprised if you weren’t.” He directed his attention back to Virgil. “I love Patton, but I know he has a tendency to… overreact. Especially where his loved ones are concerned. It’s more than a little reasonable to be upset after getting blamed for everything.”

Virgil frowned. “The thing is, I don’t want to be upset. I understand why he did what he did. He had a shitty way of going about it, but it’s not like I can act like I’ve never had a bad reaction to something.” Yelling at Thomas was a pretty prime example of that. Something he still felt guilty for even after all these weeks.

“I’m not an expert on this, but it would appear you need to have a proper talk with him." He ran his finger over the intricate details of the pommel. "It may take some work to get back to where you used to be, though that doesn’t mean it’s not impossible. As long as you both want to get there.”

“You’re probably right.” Virgil pulled his sleeves over his hands. “Uh, I’ll leave you to it, I guess. I would prefer if you didn’t become a puddle of goop right after I leave.”

“I’ll see how it goes.”

Fair enough. Virgil slid the door open and walked inside. He was hit with anxiety strong enough to rival his own, causing him to pause before heading anywhere. Patton sat on the couch again, but with one of his legs pulled up to rest his head on top of his knee. His eyes were staring, unfocused, in the spot the coffee table used to be. Virgil wondered if this would be a good time to have a talk. Either it would be a good distraction for Patton, or just make things worse.

Before Virgil could properly weigh each option, he felt a vibration in his pocket. Weird. He didn’t get very many texts. He fished his phone out of his pocket as it continued to vibrate from the barrage of messages. They were all from the same contact, one Virgil recently dubbed, ‘That Bar Weirdo’. It seemed a fitting description.

Virgil

Look

Listen to me

I need you to listen to me

I did some snooping

Sort of in a bind

Okay I’m just going to call you

Virgil almost dropped his phone as it started vibrating intensely, the call screen popping up. He hurried to his room to not bother Patton with a one-sided conversation. Roman was sitting at the chair with his laptop. Right, of course. He left it in here. Rather than risk running out of time to go to Roman's room, Virgil answered the phone right there.

"Uh, what —?"

"Oh, thank God you picked up."

Virgil blinked. He noticed Roman lift his head and decided to turn on the speaker. Whatever the Theorist had to say he could say it to them both.

"I know I said I don't do calls but it'll be easier if I do it this way."

"What are you talking about?" Virgil kept an eye on Roman as he stood up to join him.

"Well first things first. The magic world sort of has rules. Unspoken rules that Magi are expected to follow. One of the important ones is to not let humans know magic exists. That's why I'm considered a black market Seer. I let anyone come to me to ask whatever they want and I give them real answers."

"This sounds like you're leading up to something big," Roman mentioned.

"Yeah, kind of." Something fell over. "Because I mean anyone can come and see me. Humans, shifters… one of Altair's men…"

"I'm sorry — what?" Roman jerked Virgil's phone closer to him.

Virgil jerked it back, giving Roman an annoyed look. "Men? What do you mean men?"

"God. Right. You two don't know anything. Okay, so back when Altair first started becoming a nuisance he had a large following. Magi of all kinds joined him for a chance to live without hiding. But over time their numbers dwindled. I personally thought none were left, but I guess a few decided to stick around."

“So what does that mean for you?”

“One of them came to see me earlier. He asked a pretty mundane question, but when I looked into his timeline, I saw who he was. And maybe I sort of did a little bit of a dumb thing and… tried to look for Altair through his timeline.”

“Why was that dumb?” Roman gazed at the phone curiously.

He shifted. “Apparently Altair was three steps ahead of me. He’s locked all recent references towards him.”

“Locked?”

“How do you lock something like that?” Virgil asked.

“If you’re a madman with stolen magic anything is possible. Magic types are a lot easier to manipulate and combine than you realize. As far as I could tell, it was sort of like antivirus software for a computer. Which makes me the virus, I guess. Recent memories on Altair and where he is are behind a protective wall so people like me can't poke in easily. The guy figured out what I was trying to do almost as soon as I started looking. Apparently, that's a big no-no."

"So you're running away?" Roman asked.

"A little bit, yeah. I would appreciate it if you two came to help me out. Maybe bring that Machai with you — Patton, was it? He's good at killing, that could come in handy."

"Woah, hold it. No one's killing anything yet." Virgil scowled at his phone. "Just text me where you are and we'll be there as soon as possible."

"Sounds like a deal."

They hung up.

Virgil rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I hoped today would at least be a little normal."

"You're asking for too much." Roman headed for the door.

"Apparently."

When they entered the living room, they found Patton and Logan talking. Logan didn’t look like he would melt into a pile of flesh anymore, but he was drenched in sweat. Which was gross, obviously, but a hundred times better than being dead. Patton appeared more worried than relieved, however.

"We hate to interrupt," Roman announced. "But there's sort of a pressing issue."

"What kind of pressing issue?" Logan asked.

Virgil frowned at the address. It was two cities over. "The Theorist needs our help and we have to leave right now to get to him before anyone else does. We might need some backup."

"I'll go." Patton looked at Logan. "You should probably stay here. Not that I don't think you can't handle it —"

"I'm not going anywhere." Logan gave him a soft smile. "I don't think I could if I wanted to."

Patton returned it. "So where are we going?"

Thomas laid face first in his pillow for a very, very long time. He felt like garbage. Most of that had to do with still not giving Logan a proper apology. It had already been a few days — he should have done it by now. He should have done it the day it happened. What made him feel worse was that he apparently never learned his lesson. And he hadn’t even made a proper apology then. He knew the longer he waited the less likely it would be that he said anything. He couldn’t go without saying anything this time. Especially if the last thing Logan remembered of him was…

Groaning, Thomas flipped over. From the moment Logan’s sword entered his hand he realized he had to act fast. He wasn’t dumb. He knew bad things were happening that no one wanted to admit to him. He’s been treated like a kid long enough to know when adults are hiding something. (Though it felt a little weird to label Virgil and Roman as adults because while, yes, by human standards they are adults, Thomas was older than them by a few decades.) He couldn’t say for sure what it was they were hiding, but he knew it had to do with Logan and how little time he had left.

“Why am I like this?” He pressed his hands to his eyes. “What’s so difficult about saying sorry? It should be easy, right?” He threw his hands to the side. “I’ve already done it. I just have to make it better.” A lot better. He never apologized last time, which meant this time he had to make sure Logan knew how sorry he was. He wouldn’t allow it to become another regret.

He sat up and swung his legs off the bed. Before he got up, his eyes caught sight of the photograph on his nightstand. The one of Picani and him from the broken picture frame. It was scratched, but not enough to ruin the whole thing. If anything it emphasized the photo's age. Thomas picked it up and turned it over. On the back was Picani's messy writing.

Old Lane Park. July 1993

Thomas remembered that day pretty well. There was a mural in the park that everyone was allowed to contribute to. So of course Thomas had to go. A huge event was made out of it. There were a lot of people and vendors even though it was a blistering summer day. He ended up helping a few younger kids with what they wanted to paint. Picani used to take a lot of pictures back then, so there was more evidence of this day somewhere in the house. Someone offered to take a picture of both of them.

That mural was painted over last year. Those kids were all adults now.

But Picani and Thomas were still the same.

They would always be a constant in an ever-changing world. Things may come and go, but at least they had each other. It only took Thomas half his lifetime to realize that. Even then it could still be hard to remember. It was easy to focus on what he could have had rather than what he did have.

It wasn’t fair to anyone involved.

Thomas put the photo back with a sigh. He couldn’t focus on that right now; he had something to do. He pushed himself off the bed and walked downstairs. The first thing that threw him off was the silence. It wasn’t ever quiet with all of them in the house. Did they leave? They wouldn't leave him alone, would they?

He quelled his rising panic when he spotted Logan sitting on the loveseat. Well — the panic about being left alone was gone. The panic about facing the music hadn't gone anywhere.

On the bright side, it didn't seem Logan noticed him yet. He was curled up in his corner, scribbling in his notebook. He had on the flannel Thomas picked out rather than the sweater he wore earlier. His hair looked somewhat in order which meant he took a shower. That explained the wardrobe change.

Standing around observing every detail instead of saying anything seemed to be enough to catch Logan’s attention. He stopped scribbling to look up. "Did you need something?"

Thomas jumped. "Uh, no. I-I mean —" he fidgeted with his hands — "not right now. I, um, I'm… gonna be over here." He awkwardly shuffled to the kitchen. This wasn't off to a good start. He opened the snack cupboard just to make it seem like he had a purpose for being in here. Nothing in there grabbed his attention, his stomach churning with nervousness, but he took the animal crackers anyway and sat at the breakfast bar. “Where’s everyone else?”

Logan turned back to his notebook. “There was an emergency they needed to take care of.”

“You didn’t go with them?”

“No.”

Thomas wanted to question that further but figured it was best not to. Logan never gave basic answers unless there was a reason. Instead, he tried to figure out a way to go about the real purpose he was down here. It proved to be difficult to bring it up organically.

“I don’t believe you can open a container by trying to crush it like that.” Logan’s eyes were on him again. “At least not without also crushing your animal crackers.”

Thomas loosened his grip. His palms were sweaty.

“Is there something on your mind?” He closed his notebook.

“Um,” Thomas set the animal crackers down, “sort of?”

Logan raised a brow. “What do you mean by ‘sort of’?” He walked over.

“I mean…” It was now or never. “I’m an idiot.”

He blinked. “I’m not entirely sure how you came to that conclusion, but —”

“No.” He ran his hands through his hair. “That’s not the issue. Well, it is, but not the one I’m trying to focus on.” Why was this so hard? “Okay, let me start over.” This should be easy. Why wasn’t it easy? He was being genuine — he wanted so badly to make up for what he did — it shouldn’t have been so difficult. “I’m sorry.”

That didn't appear to clear up any confusion. “Sorry for what?”

“For what I said to you.” His throat started to burn. “I never should have thought it was okay. There’s no excuse for it, and I'm… I’m just so sorry.” He should have done this sooner. He shouldn’t have let it fester between them.

“It’s alright —”

“But it’s not. It’s — it’s so very far from alright. I said something stupid and hurtful and you’re never going to forget that. You didn’t do anything to deserve it. All you’ve ever done is care for me and make sure I’m okay. It seems all I’ve ever done is make you feel bad.” That extended to Picani as well. There were countless times where Thomas prodded where he shouldn’t have. He never meant to, but he was an idiot and it always seemed justified in the heat of the moment.

“I know it doesn’t make up for anything,” he continued, on the verge of tears. “I could say sorry all day but it doesn’t prove that I learned anything. And why would you think I have? We’ve been down this road before — Picani and I.” It was one of his biggest regrets. He never gave an actual, spoken apology then. He just sort of ignored it until the sting went away. “I’m sorry about that. I’m sorry about this. It was wrong and I understand if… if…” He tried not to cry. It wasn’t something he deserved to be upset about. “If you hate me or don’t forgive me or, or —”

"Thomas." Logan put his hands on his shoulders. Thomas shut his mouth immediately. "I don’t want you to think that I would ever hate you. You're my… you're family." He held up his left hand. "Do you remember when I told you about this?" A long, faded scar ran across his palm. Thomas nodded. “This is what hate is — what it does — and I’m never going to do anything like that to you. It’s okay if you make mistakes. You’re a child and you’re learning. As long as you recognize what you did was wrong, you are deserving of forgiveness.”

Thomas didn't hesitate to throw his arms around Logan and squeeze him tight. Fast and messy apologies flew out almost as quickly as his tears. He didn't think he could say sorry enough.

Logan just held him. He murmured calming words and assured Thomas he was forgiven.

Once the round of tears was over, Thomas pulled away. He felt a little less like garbage now. At least he didn't have this specific weight on him anymore.

"I'm always here for you." Logan brushed Thomas's bangs out of his face. "All of us are."

Thomas smiled. "Thanks, Da —" he almost literally bit his tongue — "Logan."

Logan returned the smile and (thankfully) ignored the slip-up. Before he could get out another word, he let out a sharp gasp. His eyes widened in panic as he frantically tugged one of his sleeves over his hand. "I-I hate to cut this short, but I should — I need a minute." He tried to inch his way out of the kitchen.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine," he answered through clenched teeth. "Don't worry." But as soon as the words left his mouth, he collapsed to his knees.

"Logan!" Thomas rushed over to him.

“Don’t. I’m, I’m fine.” He didn’t sound or look fine. He kept his left hand clutched to his chest and out of Thomas’s sight. “J-just give me a —”

A scream got caught in the back of Thomas’s throat. Logan vanished right in front of his eyes. What the hell happened? What did this mean? What should he do? Should he do anything? Should he call Patton? He should call Patton. Patton was normally the one who had the phone, right? What was going on? This didn’t make any sense. He couldn’t lose Logan like this. What was he supposed to do without him? What would he tell Patton? What would —?

Logan returned with a pained hiss. He was now sprawled on his back, grimacing at the ceiling.

“Logan!” He grabbed his hand. “Are you okay? What’s happening to you?”

“That’s a bit difficult to explain.” He groaned. “Look, I’m going to be —”

He disappeared again. Thomas flexed his fingers. There was nothing there at all. Not even a slight feeling. Logan was disappearing — actually disappearing. It wasn’t some sort of illusion or trick. His whole body was vanishing. But where was he going? How was it happening? He can’t just vanish into thin air. That wasn’t possible. This isn’t possible. It can’t be happening. It can’t, it can’t, it can’t, it can’t.

“What am I supposed to do?” Thomas grabbed Logan’s arm when he came back this time. As if maybe holding onto more of him would make him stay. “How can I help you?”

“Don’t, I’m —” He didn't even get to finish a sentence this time.

Thomas clenched his fists. He didn’t like that feeling. It wasn’t like someone was ripping Logan’s arm away from his grasp. It was just… gone. No movement. Like it never existed in the first place. That was probably the scariest part. If Logan vanished for good then it would be like he never existed at all. There would be no trace of him left. Thomas couldn't handle that. The idea of Logan being gone was still a foreign concept. But now it was here and the threat was very real. What if this was it? The last day any of them would ever see Logan?

He shut his eyes tight. He couldn't freak out right now. That wouldn't be helpful. But he didn't even have any idea on what would be helpful. He didn't know what to do. This was wrong. It shouldn't be happening. None of this should be happening. It was like some horrible dream. A nightmare. Logan couldn't just be gone like this. He needed Logan. They all needed Logan. If Logan was gone then there was no more Picani. If there was no more Picani then Thomas lost a guardian. Patton lost the one person who's been with him almost his whole life. What were they supposed to do without him? How could they have let it get to this point?

"Thomas. Breathe. I'm right here."

Thomas opened his eyes. How long had it been?

Logan was sitting up. "I'm okay. I'm not going anywhere." He looked exhausted and in pain, but all his focus was on Thomas. "Come on. Let's get off the floor." He clambered to his feet and held out his hand to help Thomas up.

Thomas took it, not knowing what else to do.

They made their way to the couch where Logan helped to calm Thomas down. It wasn't… it shouldn't have been this way. Logan just went through an excruciating dilemma, he shouldn't have to focus on Thomas. He shouldn’t have to pretend he wasn’t hurt just for Thomas’s sake. It wasn’t fair. But Thomas couldn't voice his thoughts. He was underwater and any attempt to speak filled his lungs.

Once he wasn't overly panicky anymore, Thomas decided to put on Animaniacs to have something that didn’t require a lot of brainpower to process. Not that he watched most of it, anyway. Most of his attention was on Logan. He stayed curled up on his corner of the couch and dismissed Thomas’s suggestions of going to lie down. He needed to make sure Thomas would be okay. Because that was his priority for some reason.

It wasn’t like his body kept disappearing into the void or anything.

He fell asleep by the third episode, though. It didn’t bring Thomas any peace of mind, but at least he was resting. He took out his phone and sent a text to Patton. Hopefully whatever they were doing would end soon. He didn’t like being so helpless and lost. He wanted to be able to do something. He couldn’t wait around any more. This was serious and they needed all the help they could get — that included him.

He was going to fix this.

#its been so long #sanders sides #thomas sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #logicality #platonic prinxiety #body horror tw #made of love

9 notes · View notes