For the past few days I'd just laid there, on Nate's sofa. Lifeless - Nate had used that word in a sentence, when trying to get me to talk to him, but it didn't work. I couldn't concentrate long enough to form a word, let alone converse. Sleeping had become increasingly more difficult. Every time I closed my eyes I saw his face.
The worst thing I felt, was the regret. I know his mum was right, Logan wouldn't want me to blame myself but - it was true, it was my fault. If I'd have been there, he would never have ended up in that hospital. Or maybe, he might have, but he would have gotten there in time for the doctors to help him.
If I hadn't overreacted and been a complete twat, actually stayed to hear him out, this all wouldn't have happened the way it did. It still didn't feel real, almost like it was some sick joke that I couldn't quite wrap my head around. Almost like, if I closed my eyes for long enough he'd come back.
I laughed at myself; a twisted, dark laugh that sounded anything but amused. The laughter reverberated around the walls of my mind, the sound had never left my mouth but I heard it just as loud and real and there, in my ears, as if it had.
My eyes widened, catching on the brightness of the light bulb, that's intensity burned into my sight and made shadows dance upon the walls wherever I looked. If I looked hard enough, I could almost see his face, like he was here, and I could pretend for a while that he'd never left.
But a tear escaped from the corner of my left eye, without any kind of permission, and with every second that it burnt a trail down the curve of my cheek, I was reminded he wasn't back, and he never would be back. I just needed to get over it, as a voice, I barely remember from my past, had so delicately put it when I'd lost my parents.
Lost. Lost. Lost. All I ever do is lose people. I find them, and it's great, and sometimes they make me believe that everything will be okay and maybe one day things will sort themselves out and I'll be happy, but then I lose them and that scenario becomes so ridiculous that it physically hurts.
I caught the second tear with my sleeve, half-way down my cheek, and pulled my arm back just enough so I could see the damp spot soaked into the dark fabric. And that was everything Logan, caught into that tiny teardrop that I'd wiped away. All the memories, all that smiles, all the silence, the moments where we just laid wrapped around each other, eyes closed and breathing so soft you could barely hear it.
I stared at it for a long moment, wondering how exactly I'd come to the conclusion that, that damp spot on my sleeve resembled Logan in any way. It just did. It didn't make sense, but it didn't have to. It just did.
I closed my eyes and gently shook my head, brushing that thought aside and trying to cling to the last remaining sanity I had. I let my head fall back against the arm of the chair, my hair sticking to my forehead from not having washed it in a few days. My eyes flew straight back to the light bulb, and the shadows danced across the walls and memories flashed behind my eyes.
Then I realised the jacket I was wearing, wasn't the right one. It wasn't Logan's, and that was wrong, because I should have been wearing it. The panic rushed beneath my skin, and my heart beat in my chest, heat burning inside me as I grasped my phone and dialled a number I knew from heart, as frantic as though my life depended on this one phone call.
I didn't know why, and it didn't much matter, but in that moment the most important thing in the world to me, was getting that jumper. Because if I didn't have that jumper, then what did I have of him except memories? And memories only lasted so long before they grew faded and more like a dream you couldn't remember, when you want to remember everything, down to the smallest detail.
The dialling tone took a few seconds too long, before Tyler finally answered with a, "Yup?"
"The jumper, Tyler, I need the jumper," were the first words to leave my mouth, and when I didn't get an immediate reply, I tried to force myself to make sense. "Logan's jumper, he- he gave me a jumper, Tyler, and I need it." My voice rattled through my ears, sounding panicked and dry.
"J-Jumper? Ash?" There was a pause before, "Wha', uh, wha' kind of a jumper are we talkin' 'bout?" He sounded confused, like he'd just woken up and was in a bit of a daze. But I didn't have time to wait for him to sharpen up.
"It's black, just a black jumper, v-neck. It should be by my stuff- where my stuff used to be. It should be there, Tyler, look."
"Okay, whoa, chill th' fuck out, will ya?" His voice was still gruff and laced with sleep. It wasn't that early in the morning, but Tyler never was an early riser if he didn't have to be.
"Is my stuff still there? My sleeping bag and- cause, shit if it's not there, I don't know..." my voice gave out on me, trailing off into heavy breathing. I was no longer laying on the sofa, instead I was up on my feet and pacing across the length of the apartment's lounge and kitchen area, with one hand fisted tightly in my hair.
"Chill out, Ash, your shit is still 'ere, mate. Uh, black you said, yeah?"
"Yeah,"
There was a moment of silence, as I listened closely, hearing shuffling and quiet thumps as if he was throwing things out the way, until, "Found it."
My heart jumped in my chest and I breathed a sigh of relief. "Can you bring me it?"
"Now?" He complained.
"Yeah, now. Please."
Tyler groaned, but agreed nonetheless, asking where I was. I gave him the directions to the Hotel, the floor and told him the apartment number before hanging up and proceeding to pace up and down the length of the wall-sized windows that looked out on the town beneath.
Cars below on the road were rushing by in little blurs, people moving like skittering ants on the pavements. I turned my gaze upwards, toward the dark grey clouds that reflected onto the window slightly; seemed every day was always bleak and dreary now.
I tried to keep myself occupied until Tyler got here, but I felt so on edge that I just couldn't do much other than bite my nails and walk around, contemplating different things that might have happened between now and Tyler getting here, that would make him lose the jumper and mean that I'd never see it again.
It was a stupid train of thought, but it was moving too fast for my mind to jump from. Until finally, I heard a heavy thump at the door and I ran fast enough that I had to brace my hands against the door to stop myself from colliding with it.
I threw it open with more haste and strength than was really necessary, which left Tyler's hair ruffling in the stirred air and a surprised curve to his brows. I stepped aside and Tyler walked on in, handing me the jumper as he passed with a brief murmur of, "You look like shit."
My hands clutched onto it so tightly, that I was afraid I'd never be able to make them let go. I quickly tugged my jacket from my shoulders and replaced it with Logan's jumper, letting my senses take in everything about it. Down to every last detail - something I didn't do when I'd first put it on, because I hadn't needed to. Logan was there, waiting for me in his bed, he was there. I didn't need to pay attention to the jumper, because I had him.
I noted the soft brush of the inside fabric as it slid over my arms and face, pulling it over my head and letting it settle into place on my torso. It felt right, to be wearing it. Now that it was on, I didn't want to ever have to take it off.
I made my way over to the sofa, and relaxed back into the cushions, pulling the edge of the v-neck up and burying half my face in the fabric, curling my knees up to my stomach and just laying there, eyes closed and completely surrounded by the smell of Logan, remembering the feel of his skin against mine and his voice in my ear-
"Wha's so important 'bout tha' jumper anyway?" Came Tyler's voice, arising an old feeling of frustration that had become unfamiliar, ever since he'd started becoming the old Tyler again. The Tyler I actually got along with, instead of the one who constantly pissed me off.
I didn't open my eyes, just mumbled a quiet, "It's Logan's." And expected Tyler to know exactly why that should have been the only thing he needed to know. But then I realised that he didn't know, and something deep in my chest twinged and contorted with pain.
"Yeah I know tha', ya bloody shouted it down me fuckin' ear," he muttered. "Ye know, this is a real sweet place. This, uh. Damn. Wha's 'is name? Ye fuck-buddy, wine 'n' dine dude," I heard something that I imagined was his fingers clicking together as he tried to recall Nate's name. But I was still stuck on that pain, that dug itself deeper and deeper until it started to affect my breathing and I just had to say it-
I had to say it, because I had to accept it. Fully accept it. Talk about it. Explain to Tyler what happened so that he could understand why the jumper was so important, because it was important. So I had to say it:
"He's dead."
And that was it. My voice was monotone, I didn't blink, didn't wince, didn't shift uncomfortably. I just said it. The pain was gone, there was no sadness to replace it, I wasn't feeling the threatening charge of tears to be expected. I just felt empty.
Tyler was silent for a moment, the words caused a halt in his distant admiring of the apartment, mulling over my words before finally realising who I'd meant.
"Oh," he said, and then it was silent again. Tyler slowly shuffled over into the space between the sofa and the table, perching himself gently on top of the glass surface and letting his elbows rest on his thighs, as he leaned forward.
"I'm s-" he cut himself of from what I thought was about to be 'I'm sorry', but apparently he'd changed his mind and continued with, "We don' 'ave to talk 'bout it if you don' wanna," in the most gentle, concerned voice I'd ever heard him use.
I shook my head, the battle with tears I'd expected earlier only just charging through the barriers and escaping down my cheeks. "I don't really wanna talk about it," I tried to speak, but my voice came out as a raspy whisper that broke on some words, others my voice didn't even manage to form, so instead there was a gap of silence. Tyler understood it, all the same.
I clutched the jumper tighter, pressed it harder against my face, closed my eyes and took in a deep, shaky breath.
"D'you wan' me t' stick around?"
I shook my head, sniffling and wiping at my eyes with the collar of the jumper. "Nah," I forced my voice to be louder, and it wavered as though my vocal cords disagreed with the force. "S'okay, you can leave."
"You sure, mate?" Tyler leaned further forward, hesitation in the way he didn't stand straight up but lingered, waiting for my answer. I nodded, wanting him to leave, yet wanting him to stay all the same. Though, right now I was, above everything, craving the silence of my own company, to think and remember and just lay there, curled around myself, around the jumper.
He waited a few more moments and then stood, hovering about in front of me a little longer, before finally turning and showing himself to the door with no other words.
As soon as I heard the door click shut, with my eyes fixated on the space where Tyler had just been sat, staring at the glass behind a watery gaze, I whispered, "I'll be okay."
And surprisingly, I believed it. If only for a moment.