The Rent Boy (EDITING)

Chapter Twenty: New Clothes?-

    I don't know why or how I found myself walking down Logan's street and up to his front door, nor did it even cross my mind that it was in fact a school day and the bastard would be at school. Or at least, that's what I would've thought, if I'd have even remembered that people usually still go to school at that age. The realisation that it was a school day happened just as Logan opened the door with a very enthusiastic welcome. Note the sarcasm. 

    "Ash, what the hell are you doing here?" His voice was gravelly, sounding just as he looked; tired. His eyes seemed empty, not full of the life they normally entertained. He leaned his weight against the frame of the door, showing that he barely had the strength to keep himself upright without any support. It was when he began to unknowingly rock back and forth and suddenly fall forward, that the warning bells inside my head started ringing, telling me that something wasn't right. 

    I managed to catch Logan in my arms before he face-planted the concrete of his porch. Hauling him inside and straight onto the sofa where he could relax and tell me what the hell was wrong with him. He groaned, rubbing his forehead and muttering something I couldn't make out. I sat myself down beside him. 

    "What's up with you? Caught a virus or something?" He shook his head slowly, almost like his head was a stick of dynamite, and any sudden movements would make it explode without warning. 

    "Nah, it's just a bug or something. I'll be back to normal in a few days, hopefully." He didn't look at me when he spoke, like he usually would. Instead, he kept his eyes closed and his forehead resting against his fingertips, propped up by his elbow on the sofa's arm. 

    "Anything I can get you? Water or something to eat? Have you eaten today? Are you even allowed to eat?" My burst of questions seemed to make Logan smile lightly, but looking as if it took a lot of effort just to do one simple expression. 

    "You sound like my mother." He murmured, still maintaining the warm smile on his unnaturally pale lips. "But don't worry, I'm fine. Honest." 

    "You don't look fine, Logan." The worry I felt definitely wasn't intended to leak out into my tone. Logan kept quiet for a few moments, his smile disappearing as the room fell into uncomfortable silence. 

    "Would you mind helping me upstairs? I don't quite feel like getting personal with the floor." I could see the smile was back in place, which had me smiling too and launching myself straight into action. Maybe a little too eagerly, which had me briefly hoping Logan hadn't seen my enthusiasm. 

    I took one of his arms and wrapped it around my shoulders, holding onto his wrist with one hand and the other I curled around his waist, holding him tightly against me. Maybe...maybe a little too tightly. But, you know, like he said, he doesn't wanna be getting personal with the floor. Better safe than sorry, ey? 

    We took the steps one at a time, slowly and carefully, making sure Logan didn't miss a step and send us both tumbling back down. Cause that wouldn't have been fun. Thankfully, we made it to the top alive and into his room in one piece. Logan didn't lose his head, so I came to find out that it wasn't just like a stick of dynamite, but just a tad dizzy according to him. 

    I arranged his pillows so that he could sit up and lean back against them comfortably. After that, I clambered onto the bottom of his bed and sat cross-legged, facing his direction. None of us spoke though. Logan's head was lolled back against his bed's frame, eyes closed and mouth slightly open to let small breaths of air out as he exhaled. Concern decided to wrap itself around my lungs and constrict my breathing, cause my heart to panic and my head to mutter thoughts of worry. 

    It's not that I'd never dealt with someone ill before - hell, Alex has been sick more times than I could bother to recall, and shit, Tyler's one whiny little bastard whenever he got sick. So it wasn't a problem that Logan was feeling under the weather. I just had this little inkling that it was worse than he was letting on. I mean, the lad barely seemed to have energy just to speak, and all he said it was, was a little bug? Yeah, okay, cause that's believable. But I kept my thoughts to myself and my attention on the symptoms.