Fly High | ✅

47 | Old flame must be extinguished

◈A D R I A N◈

I stood in the small living area and looked down at the broken man before me. Broken and wasted, Logan had finally passed out on the couch after a session of emotional purging and drinking.

It was for the best, I thought.

I supposed the pain was too much to be contained within him like an overblown balloon. He might pop without any release and I happened to be a convenient tree hole for him to vent.

After having barely moved the unconscious man to a more comfortable position on the sofa, I sank down to the floor feeling slightly flustered. The man was a dead weight and my arms were as helpful as limp spaghetti. A couple of minutes of tugging and pulling, I finally had Logan rested somewhat comfortably on his back.

I was able to roll him over so that he laid on his back and not on his side trapping his poor left arm under his heavy body. Thanks to me, his head was propped up against the armrest properly and he wouldn't wake up with a dead arm.

Groaning, I stretched the kinks off my limbs and drew my legs closer to my body. I hugged them and rested my cheeks on my knees, staring at Logan. His brows were still furrowed even in his sleep and his lips were pulled into a stern line.

I felt lower than shit. All I could do was stand there like a mannequin looking at Logan downing cans after cans of alcohol like a lost man in a desert. My arms wouldn't work the way I wanted them to and comforting words evaporated before they could leave my lips.

What could I do? That was completely uncharted territory for me. I've never gotten close to someone enough to offer some comfort. Fuck, nobody had shown a shred of compassion for me. You can't kick someone and ask them to be nice to others. That just isn't how the world spins!

The night wind howled in a distance and came rushing in through the window that was left open earlier to eliminate the stench of booze. Empty cans got caught in the wind and toppled down from the side table, clanking loudly against the hard floor.

Shit!

Logan groaned and turned in his sleep. Alarmed, I leapt from the floor and hurriedly gathered those empty cans in my arms before they could roll away and make more noises. I chanced a glance over my shoulder and let out a huge breath when I saw Logan was still asleep.

Carefully, I got up to my feet and made way to the kitchen to dispose of the cans. As I was carefully putting them down on the countertop, my eyes caught sight of more beer cans that Logan had missed when he aimed for the waste bin earlier. Grumbling under my breath. I trudged back to the TV cabinet and collected the remaining cans littered around the waste bin.

Evening had left the stage, replaced by night with its glittering performance of starlight. I didn't realize it was that late already. The temperature in the room has dropped significantly with the chilly air blowing into the room. I shuddered and my eyes flicked to the sleeping form.

I better get him covered before he caught a cold, I mused absentmindedly. My feet padded lightly on the floorboards as I slowly made my way to his room after I took care of the trash. I couldn't help but feel guilty for barging into someone's room uninvited when the door creaked open.

I'm only getting the blankets, I reasoned with my conscience. The room was exactly like how I remembered except for the higher mound of dirty laundry occupying the timber chair.