trigger warning: brief mention of suicide - also, lots of angst.
Emily
I knew he wasn't okay when I woke up at two in the morning to get some water and found that the light in his bedroom was still on.
I knew he wasn't okay when I saw the dark circles under his eyes this morning, when he didn't engage in our usual morning banter, when he had his earphones plugged during the entire ride to work.
So when I saw him sneaking out to get some fresh air, I tried to cling to my desk, force myself to finish the budget proposal that I was typing, to just freaking ignore him because of the never-ending list of reasons that justify why I should stop getting closer to him.
But goddamn it, I couldn't. I couldn't focus or think about anything else for that matter. He's on my mind, all the freaking time. Because he's Logan. Because he's a bundle of sunshine and rainbows who brings joy wherever he goes. Because he's kind and literally has zero expectations from all of us and is always genuinely surprised when someone does something for him - like getting him a freaking doughnut. Because he makes me laugh until my insides hurt and it's been a rough couple of days.
So I put my work and every working brain cell that I have aside and followed him outside. And I'm so glad that I did because I found him having a panic attack. My heart breaks for him because I'm not used to him being this way - he shouldn't be going through this.
I don't bother asking him if he's okay, because I know that he's not. I don't bother telling him that everything is going to be alright, because it's probably not. I just stand next to him because my legs refuse to move, because it feels right. Because his fingers slowly graze mine.
My stomach is in tight knots at our proximity. At us. The silence is like a loud ticking bomb in the background. And I wait for him to pull away. I wait for him to cross his hands on his chest. I wait for him to put the mask back on and pretend that he's fine. But he doesn't.
I lose count of time as we stand side by side. That's until my phone vibrates. Can't make it to dinner tonight, I have to cover for a colleague. Love you - Adam.
"Adam won't make it to dinner," I break the silence. "Wanna order pizza?"
He shrugs.
I look at the time and notice that it's four thirty. Fuck, I really don't feel like going back to the office. "We could call it a day, if you want... I don't have much work left."
"I'll wait for you." That's probably the first thing he has said to me today.
I nod and turn back to get my stuff. I let Josh know that I'm leaving early and quickly pack up my bag.
During the car ride back home, soft music fills the silence between us. I already know that he's going to want a Pepperoni pizza so I don't bother asking him when I complete the UberEats order.
It's my turn to set the table today and I'm still doing the dishes from last month's bet, so I have to hang in the kitchen. Logan goes straight to his room.
When the food is delivered, I knock on his door and let him know.
The silence is insufferable as we sit around the kitchen table. I let out a long exhale, "I'm going to eat in my room."
I hate having dinner in my room. But anything is better than this.
"Em, wait-"
I stop, not turning around.
"I'll go, I know that you don't like eating dinner in your room."
I pinch my eyes closed, fully realizing how much I'm going to regret this. "You can talk to me, Logan," I mumble. "I'm here..."
His emerald green eyes pierce through me and I feel naked, like he can see every inch of me. But instead of saying anything, he takes his box and moves past me, our shoulders slightly brushing.
The cracks in my heart widen when I hear the slam of his door.
I look back at my pizza, realizing that I don't even feel hungry anymore. I place the box back in the fridge. Adam will just eat it when he comes home.
I walk back inside my room and try to busy my mind with a gazillion things. I try to complete one of the projects that we have regarding the mountain hikes. I try to write a bunch of emails. I try to watch a freaking movie. I shower, do laundry, change my bed sheets - but I can't get him out of my freaking mind.
So I walk back and forth in my room, fighting with my mind over whether I should go to his room or not. Because if it was the other way around, I know he would. I know he'd keep trying until I talk to him.
Placing my pride aside, I gather the courage to knock on his door.
I count thirty seconds, and when I almost knock again, he opens the door. My heart aches for him. His hair is a complete mess. His eyes are red. His hoodie wrinkled. He looks like hell.
He moves aside, motioning for me to come in. He closes the door behind him. My breath races faster at the thought of us alone in his room. But then I notice his room, and I almost have a heart attack.
It literally looks like a bomb exploded in here. There are clothes everywhere, socks - even the cologne bottle is on the floor. Holy shit, Logan. Not to mention that it smells like vodka. Except that he doesn't seem to care one bit.
Instead of sitting in the bed, he sits on the floor, his back against the edge of the bed. He smirks at my reaction. "Are you going to lecture me about how my room is a mess?"
I shrug. "I never had faith in your hygiene skills to begin with."
This earns me a half-smile.
I reluctantly move to sit next to him. He's surprised for a second, but then his shoulders relax back.
"I'm sorry about earlier. I was rude," He mumbles as he stares at the blank wall in front of us.
"It's okay. I know you didn't mean to."
Ten seconds die between us.
He lets out a long exhale. "And... I'm also sorry about yesterday."
I frown, thinking back of yesterday. I don't remember him being an idiot...
"In the pub, I mean."
I try to meet his eyes, but he's staring at the freaking wall like its the most fascinating thing.
"I don't know what you're talking about," I say back.
He closes his eyes, as if he's dreading this conversation. "You're really gonna make me spell it out for you?"
He finally meets my eyes, searching for the truth in them. When he realizes that I'm clueless, he leans his head back. "I lied to you, Em."
I raise an eyebrow at him. But we only spoke of his girlfr- Oh. Oh.
His breath is heavy, frenzied. "I'm not in love with her. I haven't been for a while," His voice is raspy, deep. And my heart is going to beat out of my chest. Especially when his green orbs touch my soul again.
My thoughts are a wrecking tornado swirling in my mind. I want to ask him, why did you say so, then? Why would you tell me that? I want to ask him if his heart is beating too fast too. But I keep my lips sealed, because I'm scared that if I mutter a word out, everything else will slip.
I can't help but spot the pizza box on the floor. Next to it, his phone with a broken screen, displaying the word "MOM". "Your mom is calling," I mutter. Before I could reach for his phone, he stops me.
"I know. I don't care."
It doesn't take a genius to figure out that's why he's been in a such a shitty mood. "What happened?"
He lets out a sarcastic laugh. "The usual. My family is being shitty again."
I don't know what comes over me, but maybe it's the combination of the dim lights and the smell of vodka. Maybe it's our shoulders touching and the cool breeze of air from the window. But I take a deep breath, and find myself confessing to him what I never thought I would to anyone.
"I have a shitty family too."
His eyebrows shoot up, obviously not expecting me to say that.
Now it's my turn to stare at the ceiling like it's the most fascinating thing. "I was a... I was a mistake," I bite my lip for a split second, hoping it will kick some sense into me. But it doesn't. The words can't stop tumbling out of my lips anymore. "I was a drunken one-night stand."
"Is that why you live with Adam?"
I nod, thinking back of that execrated place. For a split second, it all comes back to me: sleeping in freezing rooms, wearing the same tight shoes for four years, eating the same rotten food every day, being forced to fucking scrape the floors -
"Emily." His hand touches mine. My eyes meet his. "Don't go back there."
I nod, forcing myself to stay here, next to him.
He takes a deep breath. "My brother's girlfriend killed herself, three years ago."
Celeste. Adam told me all about her. Her death destroyed every single person around her in a different way.
"Or maybe she did."
My eyes widen. "Logan, what are you saying?"
He looks like he's in actual physical pain. "I'm saying that I'm scared that she didn't, Em."