Sanders Sides Oneshots

(Logicality) touch starved?

Requested by AmyMayKit I hope you like it ≥3≤

Logan lay silently on his bed, staring straight up at his ceiling, his fingers twitched with anticipation, and his body ached. And he didn't know why.

And not knowing what was the cause of his distress scared him, because he was logic and not knowing something defied...well him. Not knowing anything and not being able to fix the broken parts of himself really took a toll on his ego and self-esteem, which then only made sleep harder for him to grasp. He tossed and turned relentlessly and tried different sleeping positions, he recited the periodic table by word, atomic number, and mass.

Nothing seemed to work, and he ached all over, everything ached. He hugged himself and bit down on his lip to keep himself quiet just in case he were to lose it, he glanced over at his digital clock that rested by his bedside and read the time, 3:25, his eyes went wide and his breath hitched in his throat. No, this couldn't be happening, he thought as he turned away from the clock and focused on something else other than the passage of time and loss of precious hours of sleep.

He calmed himself down and pressed a hand against his chest, over his rapidly beating heart. “This isn't happening, the clock is wrong, or perhaps my tired mind has warped what I saw.” Even with all the what if scenarios jumbling around in his head, he didn't dare turn around to prove his points. He stayed with his back facing the clock, his arms still securely wrapped around himself, for that seemed to comfort him a tiny bit but seemed to make the ache within him worse.

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Logan broke from his trance after a long while, he had slipped into it after he tried to distract himself from the passage of time and lost himself in the now broken labyrinth that was his mind. A sliver of light beamed from the curtains across from him, the sun was rising jovially, and the sound of songbirds reached Logan's ears.

He lay there, thinking, processing.

It was the morning.

And he had not gotten even a wink of sleep.

He bolted upright and almost immediately felt lightheaded and nauseous, he groaned and curled in on himself, hugging his aching body.

It hurt, everything hurt. He hated it, he hated feeling—ugh ‘feelings’— he hated feeling pain and fear. When the spinning stopped he leaned against the dashboard of the bed and sighed heavily, he was a mess, both metaphorically and physically. His posture was hunched, dark bags rested under his bloodshot eyes, his skin was a sickly pale, and his hair that he usually took the time to keep tidy was now messy and unkempt.

He wasn't himself.

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Patton whined as he checked the clock once more, his leg bounced endlessly and he chewed nervously on his bottom lip as he sat restlessly at the table, the seat across from him was unusually empty and it was really starting to get to him. “Pat, you being nervous is making me nervous, I'm sure he's doing some weird nerdy stuff like he always does,” Virgil claimed from the end of the table, his cheek pressed against the palm of his hand and his elbow resting on the tabletop.

Roman nodded in agreement and offered an encouraging smile. “We all know that Logan is usually the one that's always busy, this is normal.” He stated and dug into his breakfast, Patton nodded glumly and idly glanced over at the clock every now and again, he sighed and solemnly picked at his food.

Logan never failed to arrive for breakfast, so him being late this time was odd and out of place. Something just didn't feel right. Patton had noticed that the day before Logan looked exhausted, of course, he had shrugged it off and blamed it on the long hard working day he had gone through, but it just didn't sit right with him.