Denial
It was another one of those days.
Logan laid in bed, his mind in overdrive. His eyes were closed, his breathing unstable.
Sitting up, he wiped a shaky hand down his face. You're here, he reminded himself. You're okay, things are okay.
But were they really?
Since coming into Wade's world, everything's just felt wrong. No matter how many times he's assured himself, saying that this was his best chance of life again, the sick feeling in his stomach never went away. The nagging truth that ate at his being at every hour of each day. The truth he couldn’t deny.
He didn't belong here.
In fact, he didn't belong anywhere. He isn't even supposed to exist right now, let alone live out this fake life. Why did he live, why did he, out of all people, make it out alive? He should've died, like he was meant to from the very..
He was abruptly pulled from his thoughts by a hand on his shoulder, shaking him back to reality.
Logan’s breathing was ragged, his eyes wide as his senses slowly came back to. Looking down, he saw that his claws had torn through his duvet, the material completely shredded apart. He sucked in a breath, retracting his claws and shifting back on the bed, disturbed by his the extent of his own subconscious actions.
He heard a sigh.
"Peanut.."
Looking up, he was met with Wade's concerned expression, a distinct pity in his gaze that felt like a punch to Logan’s gut. The hand on his shoulder tentatively moved to his back, but Logan jerked away from the contact, face hardened.
"Don't touch me."
Wade blinked, his hand hovering in the empty air for the moment. Then, he closed his eyes and slapped himself on the head with a groan, the sound more tired than anything. He put one hand on his hip, while he rubbed his eyes with the other.
"Dammit, peanut. You really are a stubborn bastard, you know that?" he sighed, bringing his hand down to regard the man that was still sitting on the bed. Logan's head dipped, looking at the mess of a cover, his fingers instinctively clenching.
The sight tugged at Wade's heartstrings, most of his initial annoyance dissipating. He took a breath, his voice softer, "Another episode, then?"
The other grunted in response, confirming the statement.
The man sighed again, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. As he settled, his gaze also fell on the torn sheets. He hummed, reaching over to flatten down the shredded flaps of material. "Looks like we're putting in a new order," he muttered.
At that, Logan finally looked up at his roommate, a pang of guilt hitting him. This was the 3rd thing he's destroyed this week, and it was only Tuesday. That's how it usually went. He would accidentally break or shatter something during a stressful episode, and Wade would silently clean up his mess and buy a replacement. No complaints, no anger, just pure, unspoken understanding. It almost irritated him. How could someone be so empathetic? Why didn't he get annoyed, ever? Logan wanted him to yell. To get angry at him, to reprimand him for the inability to control himself, for being a good-for-nothing pathetic shell of a person and most of all, a waste of space. That's the least he deserved.
Before he could stop himself, Logan blurted out hoarsely, "What's wrong with you?"
Wade was bewildered, to say the least. Was this guy for real?
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me."
His hand, previously playing with the fluff that had escaped from the duvet's open tear, had stilled. Wade blinked, almost stunned. Then, a huff left him as he straightened up, his eyes squinting as he pointed an accusatory finger at Logan.
"Listen here, Mr. Grumpy. I let you have your tantrum, I let you do your thing and ruin our furniture. So I don't wanna hear you asking me what my problem is!" Wade scolded, his finger wagging to punctuate his words.
Wade wore an indignant frown, his hands coming to rest on his hips as he stared the other down. Then, his shoulders slacked.
With an exaggerated breath, the back of his hand came to his forehead, letting himself fall dramatically on the bed with a graceful flourish, his eyes fluttering closed. He was draped on the mattress, back on the sheets, his head tilting against a pillow.
"Oh let me tell you! You see, just this morning, Mary Puppins walked right past me... without even a glance! Can you imagine?! The entitlement.." He threw his hands up in frustration, already beginning another ramble.
Logan watched in silence as Wade, sprawled all over his bed, passionately recounted the strong betrayal he felt from the morning's encounter and other emotions he went through when tripping on a branch the other day. He barely registered any of the words, as he was too focused on a horrifying observation.
He picked up on how his hands stopped shaking sometimes after Wade had started talking. He noticed the way his breath felt normal. The way his chest suddenly felt lighter, the painful ache he had dimmed. He realized that his dark thoughts, intense and overwhelming mere moments ago, had somehow dulled and got pushed to the back of his mind.
As he stared at his roommate blabbering on his bed so casual, all of Logan's senses halted. He found that a warm sensation of calm had settled in him.
This wasn't the first time this happened, either. But this time, Logan seemed to notice the abrupt switch this man was able to set off in him. How quickly he calmed him.
Why?