Sanders Sides One-shots

Escape (no ship)

Ship: No ship (I didn't want to do 2 no ships in a row, but this kinda needs to be no ship)

TW: Attempted suicide (implied), blood, swearing

I'm like currently sugar high right now so this chapter is literally just gonna be me running off that energy.

I already know this is gonna turn out shit.

Welp.

Note is at the bottom!

He knew the moment the words had left Thomas' mouth that he'd be spending the next few hours in the bathroom.

"Let's trying defying all logic!"

Innocent words to an outsider.

But to him.

God, how his skin tore itself apart in a grotesque, gangly manner was likely what defied all logic.

How the amount of blood dripping torturously out of him wasn't completely soaking his shirt was likely what defied all logic.

How he hadn't already collapsed from the searing and ebbing pain was likely what defied all logic.

How no one noticed the stiffness of his jaw was likely what defied all logic.

How his unnaturally temperamental behaviour wasn't called attention to was likely what defied all logic.

How he wasn't screaming his vocal chords raw, crying to the point of red eyes, writhing like a slug that'd been covered in salt, and begging for the streaks of deep cuts to just heal and stop fucking hurting was what defied all logic.

"If you'll excuse me. I'd rather not waste more energy than necessary on this childish debate." His smile was sickly sweet but his voice was downright venomous. He sank down, acutely ignoring the shared looks of concern.

He almost scoffed.

As if they were actually sincere.

After all, who'd actually care about the stern, textbook trait who didn't know how to loosen up and have fun?

No one. That's who.

~~~~~~~~~~

The shattered mirror stared back at him mockingly.

Even when broken, it still showed a perfect reflection of him.

The first aid kit would need to be restocked for the dozenth time that month, he remarked to himself in dark regale.

He tugged at the thread with his teeth and snapped it in two, absentmindedly comparing it to his sanity. He set down the needle and eyed his handiwork; he'd gotten far too good at stitching himself up to be considered healthy.

That was the price of being Logic in a man who was irrational, moronic, dramatic, and primarily 'right-brained'.

"Ah yes, the phenomenon of the left and right brain." He mused, not needing to roll his eyes when the tone of his voice said it all.

Bullshit.

In this cursed Mindscape, it was simply the classifications of Pathos and Logos.

A Capulet-Montague-esque feud was practically always buzzing between them, and he'd await the day where he'd finally face the fate of Romeo. Or perhaps Juliet.