NOTE: Remus angst, Intrulogical, TWs for kissing, blood, referenced gore, suicidal thoughts
DESC: Remus gets much-needed comfort.
Bite your tongue.
He felt the muscle conform to his teeth.
Harder.
Harder.
Bite it off.
Don't.
Do it.
He bit until it bled, but not hard enough.
Please bite it off.
He would just cut. He wouldn't have to think about this anymore. He'd forget. Healthy- healthier distractions.
He knew what he was. He knew he was self-destructive, unhealthy, depressed, even dying if you were to count where his thoughts had been going lately.
Just cut and it'll go away.
What will? There's the chance cutting would make him want to-
Cut your arms off.
No. He wasn't going to do that.
You should.
He would bleed out and die, probably.
Then do that.
Just fucking cut.
That voice was constantly pestering him. Remus didn't mind the intrusive thoughts, sexual jokes, murder, other people's gore... none of it bothered him. But a while ago the thoughts of killing and hurting and dismemberment had begun being directed at himself. He hated it. He hated himself. What a disgusting being he was. The only way to make them stop was to give in. At least a little.
The blood that came was comforting. It felt humanizing, and reminded him his veins were still pumping. He was still alive.
It was grounding, but also saddening to some extent. He felt like this giant piece of shit that hurt anyone he touched. Part of him was so glad to be in this exhilarating whirlwind called life, no matter how hated he was, but the other part wanted it to end. He never knew if it was selfish or not. Sometimes he wanted so badly to fuck up his relationships with all his friends, if they even considered him a friend, and just erase himself from Thomas's mind. Sometimes he felt trapped. Thomas never let his ideas free into the world. What was the point of Remus existing at all if he wasn't going to be used to better Thomas's content?
Was that his problem? Did he think Thomas was the problem and it was really him?
He sighed and set the razor aside for a moment.
Tell someone if you're not going to rip out your internal organs.
Who could he tell?
Remus was still scared that Janus despised him, and he was never good with emotions anyway. He supposed he could talk to Virgil. But he'd left the dark sides. Why would he want to talk to either of them? Especially about sensitive topics. Patton was empathetic and theoretically would be good to talk to, but he'd hurt him. He hated intrusive thoughts, why would he want to talk to the embodiment of it? And there was no way he was going to talk to Roman.
Logan?
Logan, he was pretty sure, didn't hate him. Rather, they'd talked before Remus's first appearance and now could probably consider themselves friends. He knew Logan (even though he did shove teeth up his nose) and Logan talked to him. By choice.
He kind of liked Logan.
A lot.
Maybe too much.
He was the only side that Remus could give something the others thought disgusting, weird or creepy, and care about it. Talk about it. He'd even invited Remus to join in some chemistry once, (it did not go well; that did not happen again) and dissected all the dead animals he found. They talked about things the other sides wouldn't dream of thinking about. And Remus loved science, especially about living things, because there were new, weird things always being discovered. The deep sea is full of wonders like squids and octopi, huge whales, tiny things, so many different species.
Just cut a little more. Then you can see Logan. He'll help.
Will he?
"Logie! Teach me how to feel like a human again!"
He bounced his steps into the hall, Logan seemingly off to do work.
"You're not a human, Remus."
"I felt like one before, though."
"Why not ask Patton for assistance? He's much more well-versed in emotions than I am."
"You're the only one that likes me."
"I doubt that's true. Sure, the other sides may dislike your rather random thoughts, but why would that give them reason to dislike you? You're a wonderful side."
"That's probably not true. No offense to you. I was hoping to find someone to stop me, but you don't have to. I might cut off my arms and bite out my tongue. Ooh! Or blow up my legs! How long would it take for all of that to kill me?" He smiled a twisted, tortured smile, digging his long fingernails deep into his palms.
"Remus, are you alright? Would you like to sit down? I can get you anything you need, you seem like you could use it. Anything, I can help."
"Logan, I haven't been okay for months. Years? Probably my entire life."
"Please, come sit down."
Logan led him, hand on his back, to his room, walls blue and books stacked neatly in rows. He pushed aside his laptop from his bed to sit Remus down.
"Ooh, does the nerd wanna fuck?"
"Remus, I need you to be at least semi-serious right now. Did anything specific happen to make you feel like this? Are there any other notable emotions I should be aware of? And what can I do to help?"
"I've been depressed for," he counted on his fingers, "I don't know how long, but a while!" He said this far too cheerily.
"Okay, that does not sound good. Why did you tell me now?"
"I decided I either give in and destroy myself and wait to die or tell someone. I figured I can do it anyway after I've told someone, so I might as well. Ooh, should I write a note?" He grinned at Logan, beginning to scratch at his hands and arms.
"Remus," he took the creative side's hands in his own to prevent further scratching, "don't write a note, don't kill yourself. It is illogical to take away a part of Thomas's personality, no matter how inessential you may think you are."
"I don't want to, but I have to. Everyone will stop being miserable because of me, I'll stop being miserable because of me, I'm sure as hell not gonna be missed-"
Logan pulled their hands up to his face, making the impulsive decision and kissing the dark side's knuckles lightly.
"I'd miss you."
Remus gazed upwards, surprised. Logan retracted his hands from Remus's.
"I apologize," he still didn't let go of his friend's hands, "that was unnecessarily intimate."
Logan could swear Remus's eyes sparkled.
"No, it was okay. I don't think anyone's... ever done something like that."
"Would more physical affection help with your mental state? If so, I shall provide it."
Both were desperate for it.
Remus nodded and Logan sat next to him, at first giving an awkward hug, but soon the two moved to lean against the wall and grew more comfortable, supporting each other's weight.
"I'm bleeding."
"Remus, did you-"
Before he could even finish his question, Remus's sleeves were pulled up, smearing the blood still oozing out of the fresh wounds.
"I love them. They're so pretty. They're dark and warm and satisfying and I don't have to chop off my limbs-"
He had a visible reaction to thinking about it again, hitting his head with his now bloody hands.
"Why do I remind myself-"
Logan took Remus's hands again, keeping them away from his head, as well as each other, in case he started scratching himself again. It hurt him to see him like this. He waited a moment until he was fairly sure Remus could sit for a bit without hurting himself, left to wet a washcloth from the bathroom and brought in the First Aid kit.
"I wanna see them though."
"Remus, let me. They'll get infected."
"Even more fun!"
"Remus, no."
"Remus yes."
"What?"
"Didn't expect you to understand that."
"Are you going to let me clean those?"
"Can I make more after?"
"No, this is incredibly unhealthy. On quite a few levels. Not only does self-harm directly impair your physical health, but additionally indirectly affects physical health by worsening your mental health, which is probably the worst effect."
"They make me feel better though. And stop me from dying. Even if cutting technically hurts me, it's probably keeping me alive."
"It's not a healthy coping mechanism. At some point it won't be enough."
"It's enough now."
"Like Janus said, don't wait until you're having a mental breakdown- or in your case, once you're about to die- to take care of yourself. It only ends in misery, Remus."
Logan only just realized how close the two of them were. He'd leaned forward, hands on Remus's upper arms, holding the two of them too close for normal comfort. But right now it was oddly okay. He could feel Remus's breathing on his face, irregular and nearing sobs. He should give him room to cry, but he'd grabbed onto Logan as well, so apparently didn't want to.
"I already hurt so bad, why do I want more of it?"
Remus sniffed before burying his face into Logan's shoulder and letting his tears flow into the black polo.
"Please hug me. Or clean them. It doesn't matter. Just touch me. And in a non-sexual way, for once."
Logan took his chance to gently wash the cuts with his rag. Remus continued crying while he applied the antibiotics and wrapped gauze firmly around his arms. Remus cried when he was done, falling on his chest with enough force that he ended up on his back, surprised. He adjusted this position so it was comfortable for the two of them, leaning against pillows he moved next to the wall.
He rubbed Remus's back and upper arms, shoulders, held his hands, squeezed his torso, hoping it was helping. Remus turned his head and opened his eyes, which had at last stopped crying. He stared at Logan, maybe a bit too long.
"Am I doing something wrong?"
"No."
Remus contemplated for a moment, then decided to say it, grinning widely.
"Can I kiss you?"
"W-what?" His cheeks turned red.
"Can I kiss you? I don't have to."
Logan thought for a moment, looking at Remus's face, then slowly nodded.
He held Logan's face with his hands and kissed him softly, causing him to get even redder.
"I did not expect that."
"What?"
"It was remarkably... unlike you."
"Want another more like me, Lo?"
"I hesitate to ask what that would be like."
Remus grinned. Less pronounced than the previous ones of the day, but it was more real and meant so much more than those had. It lifted Logan's heart a little.
"Are you feeling a little better now, Remus?"
"I don't really wanna die anymore, so probably."
It was a massive relief to Logan to hear that. He started smiling, which Remus smiled back to.
Logan, after some silence, kissed him on the forehead. He held him as long as he could.
Remus needed every second.