Not The Sickness We Had Thought...

[tom=http://i.imgur.com/uVGY9jP.png, #fc9cff]Logan was very bright and energetic. Despite the sickness, he was doing well, benefitting from the virus instead of ending up drained by it. You could call him dangerously optimistic. Just as he hoped Shay remained infected with The Riddle Effect, he found himself desperate for the same easy fix. Still, he'd made his mind up to go to therapy no matter how the sickness was resolved-- and maybe, in the long run, he could heal naturally. When receiving Mia's text, he worried a little (as he did), but saw it as an opportunity. Once she shared what was on her mind, he could fill her in on his new plans. Right then, only Dorian knew, and he wanted to be as honest as he could. With the bigger secrets he kept, they deserved the transparency elsewhere.

He replied to her text with heart emoji, and told her he'd be back fast from his walk. After returning, he greeted Mia with an affectionate kiss to the cheek, but Dorian wasn't there yet-- so he parted from his girlfriend and settled down to practice piano. Classical songs with gentle tones, to sneakily help soothe sick Mia.

It was never hard to lose himself in the music. When Dorian got home, Logan jumped and glanced at the nearest clock. He hummed and frowned. He'd bet a lot of money that a certain overworked nerd was exhausted, quite worried. Whatever Mia had to say probably wasn't that disastrous, though. Important, she'd worded it as. No negative or positive implied, a neutral promise of relevance. He reassured himself by considering this safe. If they needed to anticipate a problem, there'd be a warning. Right?

Logan was all soft smile and inoffensiveness, as an attempt to avoid adding to any tenseness. That was the last thing he wanted to do. He went to smell the yummy italian food, then join Dorian on the couch. "Hi! Welcome home, love," he chirped. Everyone was present. Logan had the urge to hold his breath, but didn't, staying level headed. He looked at Mia, head tilted curiously. "How're you feeling, Mia? Sicker, better?" That was a decent contender for possible serious matters to discuss.[/tom]

[tom=http://i.imgur.com/uVGY9jP.png, #fc9cff]Logan rubbed Dorian's shoulders a bit. "Long day, huh…" He offered Mia a patient smile, watching as she stood up. "Do go on, darling, it's okay." His eyes slowly grew rounder and rounder as he listened. Somehow, a part of him anticipated what was coming.

Maybe because it seemed to be happening constantly, as of late. They were young and very sexually active, and despite assumed impossibilities, fit into all the right categories. Maybe because whenever Logan's mother had looked at him, she'd seen Billy, expected him to be the same as his father. He'd already killed like him, and now this.

He didn't want a child to experience the home life he had, too unprepared for and unloved in the process, branded as a problem from birth, family arrangements scattered, empty. His smile faltered, and he sucked in a little breath, glancing to Dorian.

Dorian was reacting defensively, and Logan frowned at that, concern stronger. It was hard to think, brain fuzzy, but the unicorn calmed his shaking fingers. He wouldn't allow a child this close to him to be cursed. Mia hadn't yet said what she wanted to do, or who it belonged to-- but even if it was Dorian's, Logan longed to protect his family, and these two were exactly that.

Poor Dorian, though! He was really stressed. Logan bit his lip, looking at Mia apologetically, silently asking for her patience too. Taking it one step at a time. When Dorian shot him that desperate expression, he got a wobbly smile back. "Thinking it through one step at a time. It's not as scary, that way. Mia? We should get testing done to check who the father is, right? As soon as we can. If it isn't mine, I'd still like to help, alright? I promise." He turned to Dorian again. "Remember to breathe, dear, you can let me talk for a bit if you want…"

"What would you prefer to have happen from here?" Logan asked Mia, softly. "That's important to know first, then we can figure the rest out."[/tom]

[tom=http://i.imgur.com/uVGY9jP.png, #fc9cff]Logan sat stiffly, but still refused to let himself start shaking. Mia was pregnant, and Dorian had never expected things to be like this. He knew that, and had to stomp down every urge to cry. He had it best, right then, and shouldn't be the one who cried.

Mia's preference wasn't surprising. He saw the way she'd been looking at the newborns, how she treated Eroshay, and she was hardly subtle even in conversation. At least, he told himself, she wants this, rather than having anyone force it on her. That was a relief beyond words. Something he'd feared had happened, this was real, but Logan and Billy weren't the same person. Key differences changed their situation, left Logan as less of a monster.

He thought about already present disgust from his step-father. If that man heard Logan had knocked his girlfriend up, would he hunt him down? Every time something like this occurred (though other incidents sure didn't take the cake like accidental pregnancy did!) in the past, Logan always grew paranoid, glanced over his shoulder every second, restless eyes seeking out fists, belts, or crosses. Remember to breathe, remember to fucking breathe. Oh, goodness…

Logan peered into Mia's face, focusing on her. Hesitantly, his hands twitched, but he reached out to place his fingers over hers. When she laid her head there, he carefully stroked her cheek. He wasn't sure what to add, head working through it. He'd said one step at a time, but it was proving to be hard to detangle first. Without his mental illness, Logan just wasn't as sharp, soft around the edges before any added traits-- his natural wit aside, feelings took the spotlight, logic and scheming following after and after alone.

Then, he checked on Dorian again. His reaction didn't look good, little flashes on the man's face sending uncomfortable messages. Logan shrank when he left, and was quiet, for a minute more. Just him and Mia now. He looked back to her, and although he wished he could use it now, the previously easy and organic appearing fake smile wasn't in him.

He pat the now empty place on the couch beside him, eyes burning a little, tears threatening to prickle up. No, no. He kept it down. He'd cried too much over his life already. He was scared. Dorian's presence in Manta Carlos had been feeling like a flickering candle since he'd arrived. What guarantee was there that when they woke up tomorrow, Dorian would be here? There'd never been a way to convince him to stay, so a child could be the final nail on the coffin, not what made him see the light. And that was Dorian's choice, but agonizing for Logan, sick with grief over the anticipated loss of his boyfriend, best friend, first love. How could that hole be filled?

Logan hugged Mia like a lifeline. He couldn't bring himself to be angry at her, but the panic about Dorian had to go somewhere, so the unicorn piled it on top of himself. This guilt didn't seem beatable. Every time the virus sank its claws deeper, it swelled, instead, and found him more reasons to want to be thrown to a mob with pitchforks. What if I'd just--? What if I wasn't--? How can I--? was how most of his despair started. He hated being this person. Logan sniffled and worried, but pet Mia's hair. "Give him time," he said, voice low, wavering. "I'm sorry. I love you both." Another sniffle. "I mean what I said. That I'll stick around, I-- we both know what it's like to…" He cleared his throat. "Yeah." He slumped on the couch and squeezed his girlfriend, sighing deeply. "Yeah..."[/tom]