Ahaha aha haha. I relate a lot to Logan, so you think I'd be good at writing for him. I'm not and I don't have any ideas. So this'll probably be pretty crappy.

But happy birthday Lo! We love you.

Tw: (kind of) Unsympathetic Patton and Janus, angry boi (p.s. this is written based on just how I experience the emotions.)

Logan softly closed the door behind him, and walked to his desk. He leaned into the back of his chair and looked at the papers littering his desk.

He reached down slowly and picked up the one on top. His quick, half-cursive writing littered the page, crammed in margins and scribbled over words. It was almost unreadable to most, including Logan himself, but it had taken hours of research to find everything, and Logan didn't want to forget any of it.

Hours of research that were almost entirely wasted because of another of Deceit's tricks. And Patton fell for it.

Logan spun and threw the paper as hard as he could towards the wall. It was still flat, so it swooped back towards him after only a few feet and landed on the ground by his foot with an entirely unsatisfying rustle.

The pulsing anger that had been slightly satisfied by the quick movement only flared up at the paper's rebellion, and Logan snorted angrily.

Pure angry energy powered his body as he spun back around and swept the papers off his desk, then pounded on the smooth wood.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang. Bang. Bang Bang Bang BANG BANG BANGBANGBANGBANGBANG!

He screamed and lifted his fists behind his head, bending until he almost fell over.

Blocked, heavy, breaths shook his diaphragm, and quickly turned to tears. The salty flavor crept into his pressed-close mouth and he was soon reduced to sobbing, collapsed, on the floor.

He wished he didn't have emotions like the others thought, he wished he didn't care, he wished the pain would just go away!!

Please. Make it stop hurting. Make it stop. Please, it hurts. It hurts. Just let it go back to before. Please.

Before, when the others listened, not just when it was to their advantage, when he was cool. Back to when no one hated him  and none of the dark sides could lay a hand on him.

Now Deceit had basically kidnapped him and no one seemed to care. No one ever would. He only mattered when he was talking in their favor.

Logan fell asleep in his floor five hours later, when the tears had finally stopped flowing and the pain had reduced to a thrumming in his chest.

Many Months Later

Logan finished scribbling down the last word on the already crammed paper and sighed, running his fingers through his hair.

He shuffled the papers together and stuffed them in an overflowing binder pocket. He took a last, long, glance at it and turned around, going over to his door.

A calendar hung off the back of it, and today was circled multiple times in red. Election Day.  And under that, in tiny lettering, was Birthday.

Logan never really cared for birthday's. They were only celebrating getting older, and after 22, that had stopped being a good thing. None of the others remembered or cared anyway. At least, they didn't seem to.

Still, it was a tradition that Logan felt was too important to so many people to ignore entirely. So, with a whispered, "Happy Birthday, Logan," he was heading downstairs to watch the election with the others.

Okay, that was actually a pretty good vent. I know that was kind of out of cannon character, but I thought it was kind of close.

Again, happy birthday, Logan. Hopefully you didn't actually spend it alone and I'm sorry for all the angst. You deserve a break from it, but I cannot provide that.

Anyway, love you guys. I'll write ya later.