Chapter Text
Logan knocked briskly on the door, and straightened his tie as he waited for the occupant of the room to emerge. He clasped his hands behind his back. Twelve seconds had elapsed.
Logan absentmindedly fidgeted with his tie. Thomas recently learned to tie one all by himself, and Logan had been practicing ever since. Partially to ensure that the skill wasn’t lost, partially because Logan found the repetition satisfying.
Twenty-four seconds. Maybe he wasn’t inside?
Thirty seconds. Logan was considering knocking again, when the door cracked open and a scaled face poked out.
“Ah, Logic. I totally wasssn’t expecting you,” Deceit purred. He slipped through the crack in the doorway and closed the door behind him. “What can’t I do for you?”
Logan cleared his throat. “Greetings, Deceit. There is something I wish to discuss.”
Deceit simply raised an eyebrow, saying nothing. But despite the confidence Deceit projected, Logan noted the bloodshot eyes and the slight slump to his fellow side’s shoulders.
Logan breathed in deeply.
“Deceit, this has to stop.”
“Why, Logic! I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” Deceit smirked.
“You know very well...!”
Logan stopped himself, took another breath, and tried again. “Then I will speak plainly. Thomas cannot continue to pretend that he is attracted to girls. The notion just defies all... well, me.”
“Oh, Logic,” Deceit sighed, glancing up at the ceiling. “Dear, sweet, clueless Logic. Of course Thomas likes girls. He likes them a lot more than, say, being a social outcast.”
“There is no danger of that. From a rational point of view, Thomas’s parents and friends would be just as supportive of him if they knew his true orientation.”
“You’re assuming that Thomas himself wants to know,” Deceit said flatly, picking at one of the sickly yellow bandages which completely covered his hands.
Logan stared. “What do you mean?”
“Simply that liking boys is totally in our best interests. It’s not as if the word ‘gay’ is considered an insult or anything. Think about it,” Deceit said. Logan blinked and suddenly Creativity—sharp and composed in his black uniform with gold trim—was standing in Deceit’s place. “There is no Disney prince like us. ‘True love’s kiss’ isn’t gay.”
“If you continue to hide the truth from him, his dreams will be incomplete,” Logan argued. “What you have identified is a flaw in society as a whole, but with knowledge, he can imagine a better life for himself. With the help of friends, he can construct a better world.”
Deceit-Creativity rolled his eyes, and his form shifted into that of Morality, starched and pressed in his button-up shirt and slacks. “Personally, I disagree with you. In reality, what Thomas really wants is to fit in. To be perceived as ‘good.’” He grimaced. “Or is it really: to blend in, and to not be perceived as ‘bad’?”
Logan frowned, saying, “I don’t understand. Thomas can learn that he’s gay and stay in the metaphorical closet, if he’s truly worried about how others perceive him.”
“You. Are. Lissstening,” Deceit hissed, returning to his usual form. “I won’t— no. I will say this as clearly as I can, Logic. Other people are only part of the picture. ‘Society’ is Disney, and friends, and family, and everyone else, and ‘society’ is Thomas. ‘Society’ is us.” Deceit’s voice cracked. “And Thomas does want to think of himself that way.”
“I... see.” Logan turned over this information in his mind. “If we tell Morality about this—”
“Yes!” shouted Deceit. Logan unconsciously stepped backward. “Yesss, of course Morality doesn’t already know. Of course he’s not suppressing the knowledge at every waking moment. Creativity too! I’m the only one here who can lie to myself. And you,” he added, sneering, “are the only one who didn’t care enough to even realize the truth. Too caught up in cold reasoning to understand what I— what all of ussss aren’t going through.”
Logan bristled. “I am only trying—”
“Oh yesss,” Deceit drawled. “Logic was ‘only trying’ to solve Thomas, as if he was a puzzle or a math problem. If only Logic was capable of just a little emotional intelligence. If only he had any sympathy for me wearing myself to the bone trying to hold Thomas’s self-image together.”
Were those tears in Deceit’s eyes? All Logan’s carefully constructed arguments fled. He had prepared for a measured dialogue, not this barely-constrained fury and misery. Surely there was something he could say...? He wasn’t wrong; the more Thomas understood about himself, the better the decisions he would be able to make for his future and present day life. Logan was sure that knowing would benefit Thomas in the long run.
“Well? Go ahead, Logic. Tell me the solution to all our woes. I’d love to hear it.” The tears spilled over, making Deceit’s scales shine, but he didn’t bother to wipe them away. Instead, his chin rose as he glared defiantly at Logan.
No, Logan wasn’t wrong, but... maybe he wasn’t right either. Logan prided himself on his ability to spot small details and to glimpse the larger picture. And yet, he had missed the simple fact that Thomas had his own deep-set biases about what it meant to be gay. If Logan had missed such a crucial point, what else had he missed? The thought pained him, but he could not let it go. Cold reason. Emotionless robot.
There was only one possible answer. “I’m sorry,” Logan said quietly. Deceit gaped, his brave facade momentarily broken. “I did not consider the... emotional... implications of our current predicament. You have given me much to consider. But—” Logan’s brow furrowed as he looked at Deceit with concern. “Deceit, why do you go through with all this? If you hate it so much?”
“I absolutely want to keep talking about this,” Deceit choked out. He spun around, cracked open the door, and slipped inside. The door clicked shut behind him.
Logan stood pensively a moment. Then he turned and walked back to his room. His mind was still a metaphorical flurry of painful revelations.
Didn’t know. Didn’t even want not to know.
Logan had never before felt so lost, so inadequate. In the future, he resolved, he would need to take great care when sorting through his thoughts and observations. He would need to check and double-check his conclusions for fairness, rather than the objectivity he previously strove for. He could not allow his emotional shortcomings to cause more pain.
Perhaps in time, Thomas and the others could be convinced to be more honest with themselves as well.
Inside his room, Deceit knelt, huddled against the door, shoulders shaking as he sobbed silently.
Another side, dressed in a black hoodie, sat down against the door and leaned his head against Deceit’s back. This side didn’t have a title yet, though his function was clear. He was butterflies in Thomas’s stomach. He was waking up twisted in sweat-soaked sheets, still in the grips of a nightmare. He was a flurry of thoughts that repeated and magnified Thomas’s every inadequacy. He had always been there, and yet he was new.
“You didn’t have to do that,” the new side murmured. He tugged on his hoodie’s drawstrings. “Deceit... are we doing the right thing?”
Logic would have been able to tell them that the answer, when it came, took Deceit a full five minutes and twelve seconds to be able to say.
“Yes,” replied Deceit. “But we’re not protecting Thomas. That’s what really doesn’t matter.”