Why Logan is Trapped by the Narrative: A Quick Analysis on the Effects of Thomas' Black-and-White Thinking
Why is Logan so caught up on not being seen as a joke?
Why does he care so much about what Thomas and the others think of him?
Can't he just be Logic without having to deny he has feelings, without constantly filling only the roles of exposition in the show and the voice of reason for Thomas?
Well, here's the thing: Logan is trapped by the narrative.
Thomas' perception of the narrative, to be exact.
Think of it this way - you know how so many people argue that we can't have a female president in the US because she would somehow be "too emotional" to handle the position properly?
While complete nonsense (at least in comparison to plenty of emotional decisions men can make, too), the point is that people see the role of a president as someone who is calm, collected, and in control. They know that person will have to make very important decisions, so it's believed they need to be someone who is informed and level-headed.
Similarly, if you were to hire a lawyer, only for that lawyer to constantly get angry and loud and scream at people when someone argued with them, would you trust them to be able to do their job properly?
If you went to the doctor, only for your doctor to cry and sob with empathy for you, only offering up niceties and positive words instead of factual information to improve your situation, would you ever go back to such a doctor or trust them to help anyone?
People perceive certain jobs and roles in very specific ways.
It's not that a lawyer can't get emotional, but they need to understand how to keep their calm when they are doing their job. It's not that a doctor can't have empathy and care about their patients, but they need to not let it interfere with their work.
People tend to see the world as more black and white than it actually is. We perceive people for their roles, not as the multi-faceted folks that they truly are.
Just because you see a coworker who's always quiet and reserved doesn't mean they are like that when they go home. Just because your teacher is strict and quick to find faults doesn't mean they are like that when they're on vacation.
Often, people think someone can only be one or the other, not varying shades of both and more. But even people we know very well can have aspects that we don't know or understand.
Logan exists within shades of gray, removed from those arbitrary constructs society holds but still required to operate within them because of Thomas.
This is why he has to insist on being heard, being taken seriously, not making mistakes.
Because everything relies on Thomas' perception of him.
If Thomas doesn't find Logan reliable? He won't be reliable.
If Thomas doesn't trust him when he tells him the truth? He won't be trustworthy.
If Thomas thinks Logan is wrong about something? Then Logan will be wrong.
It all comes down to how Thomas' mind perceives everything, and Logan is always, always torturously aware of that fact. Thomas is human. He has a lot of black-and-white thinking that he hasn't challenged just yet.
It's because of this that Logan knows he can't mess up, because then Thomas will see those mistakes as him. He will be identified in that way.
We see this with the other sides a lot, too, by the way.
Patton isn't taking seriously even when he has good suggestions because he's always telling jokes and relying on feelings. But Morality is something important that should be listened to and taken seriously at times, as it's meant to guide your actions.
Roman is reprimanded a lot for arguing and yelling at others, but he is constantly fueled by passion. He's built to stand up for what he believes in, even if he's wrong or making an impulsive decision in the moment! Tampering down that passion would prevent him from expressing the Creativity that he embodies!
Virgil's entire role is to scare Thomas into not doing things that could potentially hurt him, so Thomas perceived him as scary and villainous for a very long time. But without it, Thomas could easily get hurt!
The same can be said for Janus and Remus, too. They initially come off as villainous, bad, and evil, despite their actual purpose and intentions, only because Thomas has perceived them and their roles in that way.
Logan cannot make mistakes because then he'll be seen as unreliable or wrong. He can't display emotions because then he'll be seen as emotional, compromised and unable to make unbiased decisions. He can't be seen as a joke or not taken seriously, because then Thomas' perception of him as a voice of reason, as someone with valuable knowledge, as someone he can always trust to tell him the truth...that will all be gone. It will warp Logan into something that he's not, so he has to maintain those rigid guidelines as much as absolutely possible to remain in his position.
Does this mean Logan really can have emotions? Can he enjoy silly activities or a good joke? Yes, of course he can.
But it needs to be kept separate from his role as Thomas' logic.
And this is where the issue arises. Because Thomas wants his sides to constantly act as their own characters, this puts a lot of spotlight on Logan even when he is in private. He can't be perceived at any time as someone Thomas can't trust or rely on, so his role as Logic invades the other part of his existence, too.
If a lawyer was stoic and formal even at home with their family, their family would probably find them odd, and the lawyer would probably feel stressed about being completely unable to ever unwind.
If a doctor could not show empathy even to their own children, relying only on facts, unable to comfort them because their coworkers could see their every move and they couldn't risk being seen as emotional for even a moment, the doctor would likely have a very stilted relationship with their kids, unable to connect with them in the way they want.
For Logan, he has to remain a reliable, unbiased, unfeeling Logic at all times because he is constantly being perceived as such.
Because it's all about who's watching and what's expected to be seen.
Logan wants to be more than his role as Logic, more than what is expected of him. But he knows the consequences of him trying to do so could harm Thomas in the long run, leaving him without a much-needed voice of reason.
So he's not going to let that happen, even if that means he has to hide away all the parts of 'Logan' that don't quite fit what Thomas expects of him.
Because Thomas needs him to be Logic a hell of a lot more than he needs him to be Logan.
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(cw: tics, bullying)
Eddie started shivering in seventh grade.
Even when it was hot, even when he was sweating and desperately wanted a non-rattly fan or a better air conditioner. They weren't normal shivers. He wasn't cold. But his shoulders would jerk or shake, or he would tremble for a second, and he didn't know what else it could have been. Others didn't question it for a while, because it started in October. Everyone was shivering. But by March, it hadn't stopped, and he had to explain himself when people gave him questioning looks or asked if he was okay. (Back when people cared.)
'S just a shiver, I'm fine.
He wasn't fine. It got worse over time. He got used to it, to the weird feeling that took over his body for a few seconds, got used to telling people he was cold, joking that he must be low on vitamins or iron, joking that in the future, someone is walking over his grave. But other people didn't get used to it. They thought he was weird. That was fine with him. Wayne realised something was wrong before Eddie started the tenth grade, because he wasn't just shivering anymore. His whole body was jerking sharply, suddenly, his shoulders drawing up, fists clenching. Eddie didn't question it. Wayne did.
It wasn't normal. But nothing about Eddie was normal. Wayne took him to see a doctor. The doctor make him do things, walk in a line, hold his arms out and push the doctor's hands away as hard as he could, follow a flashlight with his eyes without moving his head. It was all weird. It kind of scared Eddie. The doctor kept writing things in a notebook, and Eddie couldn't tell if he was doing well or not. But Wayne was there, watching and listening intently.
The doctor said he had tics. It sounded funny to Eddie, but then it wasn't funny, because the doctor didn't give him anything for it. He just said there wasn't anything really wrong with him. His brain just worked a little differently. (Which Eddie was already used to hearing.) That his tics could get better or go away as he got older, or they could get worse.
They got worse.
By the end of that summer, his arms were moving, flying over his head suddenly, randomly, and his head was jerking back so sharply it hurt. Wayne was worried about him getting whiplash. Eddie was worried about going to school.
That year, he became the freak.
At first, he tried to explain it to people. The movements were involuntary, he couldn't control them. Wayne contacted all his teachers, who mostly got it, but still preferred to make him sit in the hallway so he didn't distract the class. But the other students thought he was possessed, faking it for attention, and everything in between. They'd throw things at him, and complain to the teachers that he was distracting even when he wasn't moving, just to get him out of the room. They would mimic him, make fun of him, and by September, he learned that the tics get worse when he's upset. He could hear them all snickering and giggling as he shoved his hands under his legs and tucked his chin to his chest or held his shirt over his face, as he held his limbs tense so they wouldn't move, so tense he was exhausted and sore all the time, and then he'd go home and cry because he couldn't control his own body.
He'd have to sit on the sofa so when his head threw itself back, it would hit the back of the sofa instead of the wall, and Wayne would just wait, watching with that fucking sadness in his eyes that made Eddie ache even more. When it finally stopped, sometimes after a few minutes, sometimes after an hour or two, he was so exhausted he'd fall asleep right there on the sofa. He couldn't do his homework. His grades dropped even more, but he managed to keep himself afloat. He did the best he could, doing his homework early in the morning before school or in detention. (Some of his teachers thought he was faking. Mr Peterson was in charge of detention, and he was nice. Considerate. Eddie counted him as one of his few blessings.)
His tics got worse.
In December of his junior year, he started making noises. Short screams, grunts, quiet vocalizations. It scared him. He didn't want to go back to school, but he did. The laughter around him got louder, and he was sent out to the hallways more. He started skipping classes. He knew he'd be forced to leave anyway. So he'd sit in the boys' room, on top of a lidded toiler, his feet up on the stall door, and he'd leave cigarette burns on the walls.
Not everyone was awful. Some kids were just curious about him, asked why he acted the way he did, and he did his best to calmly explain it all. I can't help it, actually. It's just my brain works different. That turned into Eddie's brain's fucked. It's broken. He's a fucking--
So he used it. Eddie the Freak. Attention-seeking, desperate for people to notice him. So he started making devil horns, yelling from tabletops, making himself The Freak so no one could use it against him.
No one, not even Wayne, saw him cry at night, because the attention he got was never the attention he wanted. Because he was tired. So fucking tired. His limbs were sore and his voice was rough, and his neck hurt, and he was sick of being laughed at. But that was all he got.
He kept counting his blessings. Mr Peterson, who never minded Eddie's noises or the way his fists would bang against the table loudly in the silent room, who scolded the other detention-goers when they tried to tease. The Hellfire guys, who got used to his tics fairly quickly, and knew when to pause whatever they were doing if Eddie couldn't hear them over a scream or was distracted by his own body. That nice girl, Chrissy Cunningham, who would slip notes from the classes he missed or skipped into his locker or backpack with sweet smiles. (If Eddie wasn't gay, he would have fallen in love with her.) The other few students that ignored him when his tics acted up, just glancing and moving on. Wayne, bless his soul, who would come to the school to confront Eddie's teachers and complain to the principal about Eddie being mistreated by the staff.
And, oddly enough, Steve Harrington.
Eddie never saw it coming. It was a particularly bad day. He was at his locker, trying to line his books up, but a tic threw his hands up, and some books fell from his locker to the floor. He watched helplessly as papers scattered across the floor, as most students stepped around them, ignoring them, as some jocks trampled over them, over Chrissy's neat handwriting, his fists clenched at his sides. When they passed, he kneeled, picking up the books, and when he looked up, Steve Harrington was kneeling too, gathering the crumpled papers and carefully straightening them out.
He gave them to Eddie with a smile, and Eddie thought he might be dying, in some weird, upside-down dimension where Steve Harrington smiles at Eddie Munson. Eddie took them hesitantly, said thank you, and then he hit him.
He was mortified, almost dropping the papers again, jumping back as his whole body flushed with heat, staring at Steve's shoulder where his hand had just landed heavily, and he burst with a Fuck, I'm so sorry, oh my god--
But Steve had just laughed. Amazingly, it was a kind laugh, with sparkling eyes, and soft cheeks, and he said It's okay.
And then he was gone. Down the hall, after his friends, and Eddie realised his hands were trembling.
Steve kept smiling at him. Even when his friends were making fun of Eddie's Satanic cult, and of the way he couldn't keep still, and of his sad, broken brain. Even when Eddie's brain made him flip Steve off across the cafeteria, Steve saw how Eddie pulled his hand down sharply, and Steve just... laughed. Eddie fell in love with his laugh. It was kind, and it made Eddie feel better, even when he wanted to cry.
Steve graduated the next year. But he didn't leave Eddie alone. Eddie couldn't stop thinking about him, and his kind laugh, and his pretty eyes, and then the sheep Eddie adopted told him all about how cool and brave Steve was, and Eddie fell harder without even seeing him.
The world went to shit. But Eddie got to see Steve again.
Steve was still kind, even though the world was ending, and even during serious discussions, plan-making, how-to-save-the-world conversations, Eddie's tics kept going. His body jerked and shivered, and his head threw back, and his fists hit his own chest and shoulders, and he had to sit down. And Eddie found out that there are more kind people than he thought. When his tics slowed, Nancy wordlessly got him an ice pack to hold to his chest, and when he flung it across the room, Robin caught it with a casual oops, and brought it back to him. No one questioned him, or stared, or laughed, even though he knew how annoying he was.
When he woke up in the hospital, he hurt so badly he couldn't move. He just cried. Steve sat by his bed and held onto his hand. He was crying too. When Eddie stopped crying, Steve carefully slid his rings, clean of blood, onto his fingers.
This one goes here, right?
Yeah.
On the second day, his brain didn't care that he hurt. As Steve was telling him about what was going on with the others (Max was staying with the Sinclairs, Dustin's leg was almost healed), Eddie's hand smacked him across the face sharply, the sting of his rings bringing tears to his eyes before he even processed what happened. Steve wordlessly crawled onto the bed, carefully pulled Eddie against himself, and set a pillow over Eddie's lap for when his fists started hitting his legs. He'd just murmured those words, the first words he'd said to Eddie years ago.
It's okay. It's okay.
And he waited until Eddie's body fell lax against him before he carefully found Eddie's hand, laced their fingers, and pressed a kiss to his forehead.
Eddie was released from the hospital a few weeks later. He stayed in the Wheelers' basement for a few days until Steve's parents left town, for good this time, and then he moved into the Harrington house.
He likes it there. Steve is still kind. Always. He lets Eddie lay his head in his lap when his body hurts or won't stop moving, and he drags his fingers through his hair or holds a joint to his lips for him, and he smiles. (Eddie would go through the end of the world all over again for that smile.) When Eddie's head hits the wall while they're in the waiting room of the hospital for a checkup, Steve just shifts to face him and holds a hand up to the back of his head so his hand hits the wall instead, saying quietly that Eddie isn't allowed to beat his record number of concussions. He drives Eddie to Wayne's even though Eddie doesn't tic when he drives except for a few facial or vocal ones.
When Eddie whistles one night, Steve just smiles at him and says Was that a tic or are you hitting on me? and Eddie freezes, his face burning. Which would you prefer, pretty boy?
Steve kisses him.
And then Steve starts holding his hand even when he isn't having tics, even when they're with the Party. Eddie moves into Steve's room. (They always slept better when they accidentally fell asleep on the sofa together anyway.) Steve holds him when his tics are bad, and Eddie holds him during his migraines, pressing kisses as softly as he can to his forehead and his temples. Steve takes his hand when it moves to hit Eddie's face or chest. Eddie stands steady and holds Steve's hand to himself when he gets dizzy. Steve keeps ready-made ice packs in the freezer to hold to Eddie's chest and legs when they bruise from his fists. Eddie keeps his handwriting as neat as possible when he writes notes in case Steve forgets anything. When they wake up at night, breathless and sweaty and crying, the other is there, arms open, lips waiting.
One night Eddie says very softly, You know, they used to say my brain was broken.
Steve just says, Mine too.
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