The Melting Pot Complex

Chapter Forty-Three ~ Logan

{Possible trigger warnings: nausea, cursing, dizziness, chest and head pain, hallucinations, throwing up/retching, poison mention, poisoning symptoms

Basically Logan f*cked up, and gets f*cked up

If I miss something, I apologize and please let me know}

Logan blinked a few times. His computer screen looked like it was swimming in front of his eyes and he could barely read anything on it.

He was trying to edit a video to take his mind off the next morning, but he couldn't focus on anything. On top of it, he could feel a headache coming on.

Shaking his head to try and clear it, Logan got to his feet. He felt strangely sluggish, like his body didn't want to move the way he was trying to get it to.

At least Patton wasn't home. If Logan went out to the kitchen looking the way he did while his roommate was around, he'd get bullied into taking a nap or something. Patton was very much the mom friend of the apartment.

Logan cringed when he spotted his reflection in the mirror through the bathroom door. He was paler than usual, and his skin looked sort of mottled.

"It's just the hallway lighting." Logan assured himself.

He shuffled into the kitchen, opening the cabinet with the where they kept painkillers.

"What the hell?"

Logan's hand was shaking aggressively as he reached for the container of ibuprofen. He frowned at it and glanced over at the coffee machine.

Half-full. Maybe that would help.

He set the painkillers on the counter and then stumbled suddenly. The world began to spin and Logan snatched at the counter to try and regain his balance.

"F*ck!" He crashed to the floor, instinctively bringing his arms up to shield his head.

When he rolled onto his back after a few moments and looked up, Logan screamed. 

He heard a faint bang from Virgil's room, and muffled swearing, but he was more concerned with the sight above him.

His great-uncle, a man he admired greatly and had been very close to before his death, was standing above him.

"What the f*ck what the f*ck what's happening-" Logan tried to move, get off the ground, anything. His body wouldn't do what he wanted.

"Holy sh*t- Logan are you okay?"

His great-uncle disappeared into a puff of mist and Virgil's face swam above him. Logan tried to respond to him, but a wave of nausea washed over him and his stomach heaved.

"F*ck, c'mon."

Virgil helped him to his feet, but Logan couldn't even get himself to put one foot in front of the other. His leg muscles felt like they were twitching.

"I can't- OH JESUS-"

Virgil had scooped him up into his arms, starting down the hallway. Logan tried to fight him but his stomach churned again and he had to squeeze his eyes shut and bury his face in Virgil's shoulder to quell it.

He put him down on the bathroom floor, and not a moment too soon. Logan twisted sideways and retched into the toilet.

"Stay here." Virgil darted out of the room.

"Like I'm going anywhere." Logan managed between choking breaths.

By the time Virgil had returned, his stomach was empty. Logan pressed his back against the bathroom wall and took deep breaths, feeling his heart pounding in his chest.

"Here, drink this. Actually, rinse and spit first."

Logan took the water bottle with still shaking hands and lifted it to his lips, doing as Virgil instructed. He shuddered and made a little sound of displeasure. 

"Yeah, I get that feeling after I throw up." Virgil leaned on the counter. "What happened?"

"Nothing, I'm fine-"

"Logan." His roommate interrupted sternly, crossing his arms. "Do not lie to me about this."

Logan sighed and blinked a few times, trying to clear the blurriness creeping into the edges of his vision. "I don't know."

He looked up at Virgil and yelped, scrambling away from him.

"What? Logan?"

"S-sorry. You... you looked like my father for a moment."

Virgil's already pretty strong frown deepened. "Okay...."

Logan groaned as a fresh wave of throbbing pain slammed into his head, this time accompanied by a sharp stabbing feeling in his chest. He barely kept himself in a sitting position.

"F*ck, Lo, this isn't some little thing... have you been sleeping?"

"I can sleep after the court date." Logan shook his head. 

Virgil made a buzzer sound. "Wrong answer. And you've been drinking a ton of coffee too... I think I know the problem. Do you think you can manage a trip downtown?"

"I'm not going to the hospital."

His roommate huffed in annoyance. "Fine. Come here."

He didn't wait for Logan to comply, simply scooped him up again and carried him out into the living room.

"Lie down, close your eyes, tell me if you're going to hurl again." Virgil ordered, pulling out his phone. Logan took another shaky sip of the water bottle and tried to do what he asked. "Patton's gonna kill you when he finds out you were neglecting your health this much."

He didn't fully hear Virgil's first conversation on the phone, but gathered that his roommate had called the local poison control number for help. After a minute of silence at the end of the call, Virgil muttered something under his breath.

Surprisingly, Logan picked it up pretty easily. "F*ckin' mom friend override or whatever the hell Patton called it..."

Virgil shook his head and typed something into his phone before bringing it to his ear again.

"Hi, I'm calling to see if you have anyone on call who can make a house visit? My roommate seems to be suffering caffeine poisoning and some sort of sleep deprivation and I don't want to move him... I called poison control and they told me I should call and see what could be done. Symptoms? Yeah, uh, he's reacted once or twice like he's seeing something that isn't here, he's shaking like a leaf, I'm pretty sure his head is pounding."

Logan peeked an eye open and noticed Virgil watching him. He grimaced and nodded weakly.

"Yeah. And he threw up once. He can't keep his feet underneath him either... okay. No, he's been overworking himself because of something he has coming up tomorrow. Yeah... thanks."

Virgil wandered down the hallway as he began to quietly give their address. Logan tried to take a deep breath, even through the pain in his chest.

If this kept him from the trial, he was going to be so furious with himself.