Rotten Apples Mold Together

Logan had thought about it for days. Weeks, even. The way Wade had filled out again, the sharp edges of his face softened by stubble and a healthy glow. The texts they’d sent—first cautious, then flirty, and finally downright filthy. It was like trying to hold back a tide that had already swallowed him whole.

He didn’t even bother lying to himself. He’d called off work, not because he wanted closure, but because he wanted Wade. Wanted to get it out of his system, just once, and then walk away before the mess of feelings could claw their way back in.

Logan parked outside Wade’s place, the truck door slamming shut behind him. The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows over the lot. He didn’t knock or hesitate. He just strode up to the door Wade had texted him earlier and rapped on it twice before opening it.

“Hey there, stranger,” Wade drawled “Finally decided to stop playing hard to get?”

Logan ignored the comment, shutting the door behind him. He didn’t trust himself to say anything without ruining this already fragile arrangement.

Wade’s smirk faltered for just a moment when Logan closed the distance between them, his hands already reaching for Wade, and any words between them melted into touch.

Logan didn’t think—he didn’t let himself. The moment the door shut behind them, his hands were on Wade, gripping the front of his shirt and dragging him close. Their mouths collided, rough and unrelenting, all teeth and heat. Wade made a noise of surprise, quickly followed by a low, breathy sound, and his hands immediately tangled in Logan’s jacket, pulling at him as if they were both fighting for control.

Logan backed him into the bed, his fingers already tugging at Wade’s shirt, yanking it up over his head. The fabric was gone in an instant, tossed somewhere behind them. Wade’s hair fell messily around his shoulders, and Logan caught his breath for half a second, taking him in. The weight Wade had regained looked good on him—too good.

His hip bones didn’t protrude anymore- his skin wasn’t littered with bruises and scratches. He was in good shape, still on the thinner side but nonetheless completely different.  

“Don’t just look, do something.”

Logan smirked in response, pushing him down onto the bed and crawling over him. The impact made the headboard hit the wall and knock over a picture frame. Wade grinned—he always did—right up until Logan kissed him again, harder this time, swallowing whatever smart-ass remark was about to leave his mouth. Wade responded in kind, his hands sliding up Logan’s back, nails scratching lightly as they roamed. 

“You’re all—” Wade broke off on a gasp when Logan’s mouth moved to his neck, teeth scraping against sensitive skin, “—handsy.”

“Shut up,” Logan muttered, not bothering to pull away, his voice muffled against Wade’s collarbone. He ran his hands down Wade’s sides, dragging his fingers slowly over his skin, drawing a quiet shiver from the man beneath him. Logan’s lips curled into a smirk. “Talkin’ like I’m the only one.”

“Ohhh I love it when your voice is all low like that, keep talking.” Wade’s voice was breathless, but smug. Logan barely had time to process it before Wade grabbed his belt and tugged, a sharp and impatient movement. “And I thought you were the one in a hurry. Who taught you how to take your clothes off, a nun?”

Logan let out a low chuckle that rumbled through his chest. “You’re gonna regret that,” he said, almost amused. He leaned in, catching Wade’s mouth again as he slid his jacket off and let it fall to the floor with a thud.

Wade grinned against his lips, that cocky, familiar edge still there, though his breath was quick and uneven. “Promises, promises.”

Logan didn’t answer. He pressed Wade back into the mattress, kissing him harder, deeper, as his hands roamed down over the curve of his waist. Wade’s teasing gave way to something softer—a low groan, his body arching up into Logan’s touch as if he couldn’t help it. Logan held him there, his weight solid and grounding, like he was afraid to let him go.

For a moment—just a moment—Logan let himself get lost in the feeling of Wade beneath him, the way his hands gripped at his shoulders like they’d done this a thousand times before. And they had, but this was different. It wasn’t just about need or instinct.

It was the pull of something neither of them wanted to name.

“God,” Wade muttered, his voice quieter now, almost a whisper, “you’re really trying to kill me here, aren’t you?”

Logan paused, just long enough to look him in the eye, his chest heaving. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Wade blinked at him, startled, and then started laughing, his hands sliding up to cup Logan’s face. “Oh, you’re hilarious,” he said between laughs, his grin wide and stupid. “Real Casanova, Logan. I missed that.”

Logan groaned, dropping his forehead against Wade’s shoulder. “You never shut up.”

 Wade had forgotten what Logan’s body felt like on his own. He could hardly remember most times they had sex when he was using. He could hardly remember most of anything. What he did know, was that it being intimate with Logan was so much better sober. 

They’d both made quick work of getting off their clothes at this point, until they were both stripped to nothing, and nothing was left but hot breath and skin on skin. They knew how they liked it— like it was a ritual. Logan gripped and stroked Wade with fervor that made his body shake. He placed warm, sharp, wet kisses along his neck, chewing up the skin in the process. It was always painful, the way Logan did it. He sucked on Wade’s neck like he was trying to draw as much blood as possible to the surface. He was trying to bruise him, mark him up. He likes the pain, and Logan knows it. 

Wade jerked into Logan’s fist as he spat on his fingers, desperately working Wade open just enough so that he could stick his dick in without breaking him. Wade was never a natural bottom— but he enthusiastically put up with the pain if it was the right moment.

The immediate relief that came when Logan had finally pushed past the resistance of Wade’s hole was dizzying. The way it felt holding him, clung together by sweat and skin sticking together was maddening. He couldn’t believe how long he’d gone without doing this again— without letting go. Without feeling right in some sense. 

There was even still the little voice in the back of Logan’s head— the hurt, animal part of his brain that told him to run and not repeat the same mistakes… but that voice seemed to go mute when he was finally inside. He couldn’t help but moan into the warmth of Wade’s mouth, moving his hips slowly and sliding his forearm under his head. 

Now, somewhere between the foreplay and getting inside, something had snapped inside Logan. Something dangerous, something that wanted to rampage and take all he wanted.

He watched as Wade’s eyes rolled back, zeroed in on the sensation of his nails raking his skin and leaving red scratches in their wake. Wade felt so, unbelievably full. He could feel his heartbeat in his dick, and tried to find some relief in his fist as Logan began to pound. Each thrust jolted him and made the next one easier. 

Wade gasped, his voice shaky, raw. “Oh, God—Logan, please tell me you love me— Even if it’s a- ah— a fucking lie.”

Logan’s movements didn’t falter, but his jaw clenched, the tension in his body evident as he loomed over Wade. His lips twisted into something between a sneer and a smirk, he didn’t stop fucking Wade for anything, continuing to pound his tight ass, forcing him to look at him while he spoke, focus on him even though his face twisted with pleasure— barely able to think straight with Logan so deep inside him. 

Wade’s breath hitched, his grip tightening around Logan’s arms. “I—I don’t care, I just—”

Logan gripped Wade’s face, squishing his lips together harshly so he couldn’t speak, only moan and take his dick. 

“You’re such a needy bitch. Always— fuck— always taking. Always wanting more.” His words cut, but his hands roamed with a punishing fervor, rough but deliberate, his anger bleeding into every touch. “This dick isn’t enough for you, huh? Gotta be told something you already know to get off?” 

Wade’s eyes fluttered shut, his hands trembling as they clawed at Logan’s shoulders. “Say it, Logan,” he rasped. “Just—say it.”

Logan didn’t respond, instead he made quick work of flipping Wade on his belly and continuing the assault on his prostate from behind. He pulled his hips up so Wade’s body made a nice arch for him. 

Logan’s breath hitched, his body stilling for just a moment before he let out a low, bitter laugh. “You’re fuckin’ unbelievable,” he said, voice rough, his hands gripping Wade’s hips tightly enough to leave bruises. “I fucking hate you.” He spat, though Wade picked up what Logan was putting down. It was less genuine and more a play on Logan’s kink for degrading him. Wade knew it all too well. It meant something more like: I hate that I don’t hate you.

Wade’s voice broke between gasps, his words tumbling out in a wrecked, desperate plea. “I’m sorry—fuck—I’m sorry for being such a dick before. I didn’t—“ His hands clutched at the sheets, utterly wrecked and teary eyed. His brain could hardly even think, like Logan had just zapped all this thoughts through his dick. 

Logan’s hands gripped Wade’s hips with bruising force. “Shut the fuck up and take it.”

Wade whimpered, his body arching into Logan’s touch like he couldn’t help himself. His hair was wet and sticky against his forehead, and now he was in the perfect position to have it pulled— to which Logan wasted no time taking advantage of. When Logan fisted a large chunk of his hair and pulled back like you pull on a dog’s leash when it lunges, hard and rough. 

Wade cried out, quite discomforted, “I’ll be good,” he promised, his voice barely a whisper, trembling with both fear and need. 

“Good?” Logan spat, his breath hot against Wade’s neck. “You don’t even know what that means.” He cranked Wade’s head back just enough to look into his half-lidded eyes, his gaze piercing, unrelenting.

Wade’s breath hitched, his lips parting as he stared up at Logan, trembling under the weight of his words. “I can,” he moaned, his voice shaky, yet dripping with uncharacteristic sincerity. “I want you— so bad.” He didn’t just mean physically— he wanted him back emotionally. He wanted Logan’s companionship— wanted to wake up to him in the morning and see him everyday again. He wanted to do it and it not be miserable. 

But he knew in his not dick whipped mind state that for now, even this was crossing a line that Logan had long ago established. When the afterglow of their sex faded he’d be brought back down to reality- of what this really was. Nothing more than a long time no see fuck— it didn’t mean there were any real breakthroughs. It just meant that they were taking their frustrations out on each other in the form of sex instead of fighting— like they used to. 

Logan’s hand pressed against the back of Wade’s head, keeping him pinned to the mattress as his lips twisted into a mocking grin. “You don’t just get me, Wade,” he muttered, voice rough with anger and lust. “You earn me— giving up this ass again is a good start.”

Wade let out a shaky laugh, his breath catching. “I wanna earn you,” he said desperately, just as Logan delivered a light, almost playful smack to his face.

“How bad?” Logan growled, leaning closer, his breath hot against Wade’s ear. They were both sweaty and worked up- and Logan wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep pumping before he blew his load, and Wade wasn’t either. Logan just wanted to hear it. Wanted to hear that Wade still desired him as bad as he desired him.

“Fuck—more than anything in the world—god,” Wade moaned, his hands gripping Logan’s biceps.

“And you’re gonna be good?” Logan asked, his tone mocking but commanding, his hand maintaining its grip on Wade’s jaw.

“Yes- god yes.” Wade rasped, his voice breaking.  “Yes, I’ll be good.” Wade shivered. Logan was relentless, and determined to drag it out as long as possible before he finished. 

“And you’re not gonna fuck anyone else?” Logan hissed, leaning down to nip at Wade’s neck, the sting making him arch. Logan’s weight pressing down on him, every inch of his cock filling him up almost too much to bear. 

Logan wanted to hear Wade say it- that he would really forfeit all other bodies for him. 

“Yes,” Wade whimpered, his voice trembling with desperation. He needed more, demanded more with the jut of his hips.

“And you’re gonna fuck when I ask?” Logan demanded, his tone daring Wade to defy him, his grip tightening just enough to remind Wade who was in control. He stopped thrusting to jam his hips against Wade’s ass and shove the entire length of his dick up inside him, and instead of pulling out to thrust again— making small circles with his hips, pulling Wade closer to him so his back was glued to his front. He needed to stop moving for a second to avoid cumming. 

“Yes,” Wade gasped, his body trembling under Logan’s. “Whenever, wherever—you say it, I’ll be there.”

“Good—real good, just what I wanted to hear,” he drawled, his grip tightening on Wade’s jaw. “You don’t call the shots anymore, okay?”

Wade shuddered beneath him, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. “Yes,” he rasped, his voice thick with surrender. “Whatever you say. Just—just don’t stop.”

Logan’s teeth grazed Wade’s neck. “Damn right, whatever I say,” he muttered, his hands roaming with possessive fervor. “No questions, no more games. You got it? Never again.”

“I’m yours—fuck, I’m so yours.” 

“That’s right,” Logan growled, his voice vibrating against Wade’s skin. “You’re gonna be a good slut, take what I give you, and remember who’s in charge. Every. Fucking. Time.” He punctuated each word with a mean, hard thrust that made Wade half cry, half moan with mind numbing pleasure. 

“Yes- yesyesyes—“ Wade babbled on. Logan dominating, letting his position and demands be known was the hottest thing he could even imagine. Wade reached to touch himself, just needing to squeeze his dick a little, cup his balls and play with them as Logan continued to relentlessly fuck his ass.

But Logan wasn’t having it. His hand slid to the back of Wade’s neck, gripping just firm enough to send a shiver down his spine. His voice was a low and soft as he leaned in. “You want it so bad, don’t you? Can’t go a goddamn second without needing me to put you in your place.”

Wade gasped, nodding frantically. “Yes, yes, I—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Logan interrupted sharply, his lips brushing against Wade’s ear. “You don’t talk unless I tell you to. You just take what I give you.”

He trailed his fingers down Wade’s chest, his touch rough and deliberate. “You think you’ve earned me back? You haven’t even fucking started.”

Wade squirmed under Logan’s hold, desperate and flushed. “I can— I will—”

Logan smirked, his grip tightening. “You’ll do whatever I say, when I say it. Understand? You don’t cum unless I let you. You don’t breathe unless I say it’s okay.”

Wade whimpered, the raw intensity in Logan’s gaze pinning him in place. He stopped thrusting once again, just holding him in place against him again, like he might crumble into sand if he let go. Like everything might just become painful again if he doesn’t grip him like he’ll die otherwise. 

Logan snarled, his teeth grazing over Wade’s back. “You wanna prove yourself? You’re gonna do exactly what I tell you. You fuck this up, and you’re done. Got it?”

“Yes— yes,” Wade stammered, his voice trembling but eager.

Logan chuckled darkly. “Good. Now, beg for it like you mean it.” 

Logan’s palm came down hard on Wade’s ass, leaving a sting that made Wade’s breath hitch and his mouth form a perfect O’. The smack left a red handprint on his skin, but Logan wasn’t done. He wasn’t done pouring everything he needed to put on him. He wasn’t done fucking him into the bed like he wanted to hurt him. 

“Now, come on boy, speak.” Logan coaxed, his voice dripping with authority, speaking to him like he was a dog.

Wade bit his lip, his hips twitching involuntarily. “Please,” he whimpered, shifting his weight so he was more comfortable, only to be twisted back in the same position.

Logan’s grip tightened as he yanked Wade’s hips back with purpose, his voice low and taunting. “Yeahhh,” he drawled, his tone almost mocking. “Just like that. Come on, bring these hips up—don’t get lazy now. Show me how bad you want it.”

Wade let out a shaky gasp, his hands clawing at the sheets. “I want it, Logan. I swear, I want it so bad.”

Logan gave a sharp, approving smack to Wade’s thigh, making him jolt. “That’s more like it. Keep going—let me hear it.”

Wade whimpered, his voice cracking as he obeyed. “Please—fuck—please. I’ll do whatever you want.”

Logan chuckled darkly, leaning in closer, his breath hot against the back of Wade’s neck. “Damn right. Keep those hips moving. Don’t make me work harder than you.”

As Wade was fucking himself on Logan’s dick, being motioned forward and backwards by the grip on his hair— the banging on the door grew louder, able to be heard through their sex, Vanessa’s voice ringing through the thin walls. “Wade! Open up! I need my keys! It’s been a problem at work my whole shift!”

She huffed, her brows knitted together as she squinted to try and peer through the peephole, to no avail. 

Wade groaned, burying his face in his the pillow and groaning. “Fucking timing,” he muttered. He sat up, glancing over his shoulder at Logan, who was still catching his breath. “Stay out of sight,” Wade hissed, scrambling for his boxers and pulling them on as he stumbled toward the door. He had almost wanted to keep going and ignore it until they finished, but he didn’t want to have to help Vanessa covered in sperm.

Logan raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue, leaning back against the headboard, his chest still heaving. He palmed his dick lightly under the covers as Wade slammed the door, just to relieve some tension. 

Wade cracked the door open just enough to peek through, his face flushed and his hair a mess. “Hey, uh, what’s up?”

Vanessa blinked, her brows knitting together in suspicion. “What’s up? I’ve been banging on the door for five minutes. Forgot my keys. Let me in.” She tilted her head, eyeing him. “Why are you so red? And why do you look like you’ve been hit by a truck?”

“Red? Me? Nah, just, uh… allergies,” Wade stammered, forcing a grin as he stepped aside to let her in.

Vanessa didn’t move at first, her eyes narrowing as she scanned him. Then her gaze drifted past Wade to the suspicious pile of clothes on the floor in the living room—ones that definitely weren’t his.

Her eyes widened. “Oh my god, you didn’t.” She shoved past him, stepping inside and scanning the apartment like a bloodhound.

“Vanessa—” Wade began, holding up his hands, but it was too late.

“Who’s here?” she demanded, crossing her arms and turning toward the closed bedroom door.

Wade sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Vanessa, listen—”

The door slammed open, vibrating the wall as it hit the door stopper. Logan, out of breath, sweaty and completely naked other than a comforter over his lower body. 

“Logan?” Vanessa’s voice was a mix of shock and disbelief. Her gaze darted between the two men, realization dawning quickly. “Are you fucking kidding me?” 

Logan raised an eyebrow. “Hey.”

Wade winced, offering a sheepish smile. “Uh… surprise?”

Vanessa’s gaze flicked between Logan and Wade, her lips twitching into a grin she couldn’t quite suppress. “Well, it’s nice to know you two have… made up,” she sighed, her tone hinting mild amusement. She huffed softly, and then her slight smile faltered, her expression shifting into one of mock indignation. 

“Wait a second. You guys are fucking? In my apartment?” She paused, pointing a finger between the two of them. “And—when did this happen?!”

Wade opened his mouth to reply, but she threw up a hand. “Nope, never mind. I’m already late going back to work thanks to… you guys knocking boots. I don’t have time to unpack this mess.” She turned back to Logan, who was still naked and sitting in bed. Her eyes lingered for half a second longer than appropriate before she let out a low whistle. “Logan, cover your tits, man. It’s kinda giving me a lady boner.” She half-joked.

Wade barked out a laugh, while Logan’s jaw ticked in irritation, though he made no move to cover himself. Vanessa just turned and grabbed her stuff off the counter, throwing them both a knowing look as she headed for the door.

“Bye, Vanessa. Love you, Vanessa. Don’t forget anything, Vanessa.”

“Fine, fine,” she laughed, holding her hands up in mock surrender as she stepped out. “But I better get details later! Both of you owe me!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Wade muttered, shutting the door firmly behind her. He leaned his back against it, exhaling a deep breath before turning to Logan with a crooked grin. “Well. Awkwarrrrrd.” 

Logan raised an eyebrow. “You done letting her get in your head?”

“Depends,” Wade said, stepping forward, the heat between them sparking back to life. “You gonna get back in mine?”

Logan smirked, crossing the room with that slow, predatory grace that made Wade’s knees feel weak. “I’m gonna get back in your everything.”

Wade grinned, meeting him halfway, his hands already finding their way around Logan’s neck as their lips collided in hungry, desperate kisses. Between breaths, Wade murmured, “You don’t—think the illusion that we were hate-fucking is gone now?”

Logan pulled back just enough to raise an eyebrow, “Illusion?”

Wade laughed, low and breathless. “I mean, I thought we were really selling it, but now…” He gestured vaguely toward the door where Vanessa had been.

Logan rolled his eyes, grabbing Wade’s hips and yanking him closer. “If you’re worried about what Vanessa thinks, maybe I’m not doing my job.”

“Oh, no, you’re definitely doing your job,” Wade gasped, his hands fisting in Logan’s hair as their mouths found each other again. “You’re just—shit—giving me a whole new job description.”

But Logan wasted no time establishing exactly where they were before, and where they will be from now on. Logan pulled back slightly, his sharp gaze narrowing on Wade. “Did you fuck her?”

Wade hesitated for a fraction of a second, a flicker of guilt flashing across his face before he forced on a grin. “No.”

Logan smirked darkly, his hand coming down in a light, teasing smack against Wade’s hip. “Don’t lie to me. Did you fuck her, at all?” 

Wade winced, not from pain but from the weight of Logan’s stare. “Fuck—yes,” he admitted, his voice breaking slightly. “I did, alright?”

Logan’s grip on Wade’s sides tightened. He was too calm, too quiet for a moment. He could practically hear the gears turning in Logan’s head— knew he was choosing what to do next. For a second, he looked conflicted. 

Keep going or pull away and make the right decision: leave. 

Logan’s grip on Wade’s hips tightened further, and for a fleeting second, Wade braced himself for the inevitable: Logan pulling away, tossing his shirt back on, and storming out with some cutting remark to remind him what a dickbag he was.

Instead, Logan shifted his weight forward, his chest brushing against Wade’s as he loomed over him. Wade felt a hand press firmly between his shoulder blades, twisting him, pinning him down into the mattress.

“That’s what I thought,” Logan sighed, his voice low, and cold.

Wade’s breath hitched as Logan’s weight settled above him. “You’re not—gonna leave?” he asked, his voice small, as though he couldn’t believe it.

Logan’s lips were back on his neck, biting and kissing with renewed intensity. “Leave?” he muttered between hungry kisses, his hand sliding down to grip Wade’s waist, holding him exactly where he wanted him. “No,” he growled, his voice dark and commanding. “I never finished your punishment. You just gave me more fuel.”

Wade swallowed hard, his head spinning as Logan’s hands gripped him tighter, every touch sending a jolt of heat through his body. “Fuck, Logan—”

“Shut up,” Logan cut him off, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of Wade’s throat before he nipped just hard enough to make him gasp. “You don’t get to talk unless I say so. Not after that.”

Wade whimpered, his fingers clenching at the sheets, his body arching into Logan’s. 

“Sir yes, sir.” Playfully, he saluted, like Logan was joking. 

Logan’s breath hitched at that, but he didn’t miss a beat. “I’m not fucking around. You gonna be good for me again?” His hand slid lower, fingers digging in with an almost bruising pressure.

“Yes,” Wade managed. “Yes, I’ll be good.”

Logan chuckled darkly, the sound sending a shiver down Wade’s spine. “We’ll see about that,” he said, his lips curling into a smirk against Wade’s skin. “But first, let’s make one thing clear.”

He pulled back just enough to lock eyes with Wade, his gaze sharp and unrelenting. “This body? This ass? It’s mine. You wanna give it to someone else again? Think twice. Because this?” His hand slid back up, gripping Wade’s jaw firmly. “This isn’t just for fun, Wade. This is me owning you.”

It wasn’t really true in all actuality, but it was hot to say. Logan made quick work of sticking his dick back inside him, spitting on his hole and jerking his dick with some saliva before doing so. He glided in like it was meant to be, and it only took a couple seconds to really get going again. 

Wade didn’t actually have anything to be sorry for— they weren’t together. Logan had no right to him, and Wade had no right to Logan. He wasn’t owed monogamy when there was nothing to be loyal to… he had every right to sleep with Vanessa if they wanted it… but the thought still made Logan so angry. 

“Did it feel good, huh? Sticking your dick in her? Was she wet for you, Wade?” His breath was hot against Wade’s ear, almost possessive, as if he were trying to push his limits, to make him admit things he wasn’t sure he wanted to.

Wade’s body tensed, his heart racing at the intensity of it all. He could feel Logan’s grip, the raw hunger in his movements, the need to push Wade into submission, to degrade him and wear him down. And damn it, he was responding—his own breath ragged, his skin slick with sweat as the words cut through the air like a sharp knife.

“Fuck, you really wanna know, huh?” Wade’s voice was strained, teasing but with an edge of desperation. 

Logan’s lips were on him again, biting and kissing his neck, all rough, hot, and hungry. Logan muttered against Wade’s skin, still moving with a relentless, punishing rhythm. “You want me to fuck you like I mean it? Want me to show you how it feels when it’s real?”

Wade’s breath hitched, a shiver running down his spine as he fought to keep his composure. His body wanted to melt into the sensation and flood his mind with non-thoughts, but he wasn’t about to give Logan the satisfaction of knowing just how good he was making him feel. His voice, though strained, was steady, a low rasp that barely hid the desperation inside.

“You think this is real? This— all you got?” He let out a slow breath, looking up at Logan with a flash of defiance, even as his hips moved instinctively with the rhythm. “You want me to beg for it?” His words were laced with a taunting edge, but the raw need in his voice betrayed him. He got some satisfaction knowing Logan felt a certain type of way about discovering him and Vanessa’s friendship had added benefits again. 

Logan paused, a brief flicker of something unreadable crossing his face, before he leaned in close, his breath warm and heavy against Wade’s ear. “Shut the fuck up,” he demanded, tightening his grip on Wade’s hips, pushing him deeper into the mattress. He jackhammered Wade, pushing all the way inside, and staying there with his hips flush against his ass. It drew a shaky moan from Wade as he struggled to respond. 

Wade’s pulse raced, the roughness in Logan’s voice scratching every itch. Nothing got him going like Logan being a little mean. Within reason of course. 

“Ohhh- fuck— I’m gonna cum if you keep being an asshole.” 

“Then fucking breathe and figure out how to hold your load.”

The position Logan had him in a couple seconds later was none other than jockey, Logan on him like a racehorse, pushing his head down into the pillow as hard as he could while he pistons his hips. “Spread those legs.” 

Wade did as he was told, and the angle Logan was able to get after was mind blowing. His dick went in so deep he swore he could feel it in his belly- pushing and rubbing against his g-spot with each thrust. 

“Fuck— I can’t— I’m cumming.” He swore his vision went white when he finally let go, sticky ropes of cum painting his belly and the sheets. Logan’s grip tightened on his body, pulling him roughly against his chest as his hips stuttered, the last few thrusts deep and powerful. For a moment, Logan was almost suffocating Wade, his body locking him in place with a force that left little room to breathe. Wade gasped, his vision spinning as Logan twisted and pulled him. 

Logan had used to always pulled out. Always. Wade preferred it that way, because getting cum out of your ass kind of sucked.

But he didn’t this time. He didn’t pull his dick put to cum all over his ass and back, he dumped it all inside— even making sure to pull him as close as possible, burying his dick as deep as it could possibly go to release. 

When Logan finally came to a halt, he held Wade against him for a second, his breath ragged, before softening. His lips brushed against Wade’s skin, his mouth grazing the side of Wade’s face as he murmured, “Good boy.” The words were low, reverberating through Wade’s ear, making him feel both praised and punished at the same time. Logan’s tongue traced a path along Wade’s sweat-slicked face before moving a strand of hair away from Wade’s forehead with a tenderness that felt almost jarring after everything.

Wade’s chest rose and fell rapidly as he lay there, barely able to keep his eyes open. His body was still buzzing, but his mind… his mind was trying to catch up. 
 
Logan let go, leaving Wade to drop on the bed to collapse on top of him in a sweaty pile. Wade let out a breathless laugh, still sprawled on the bed, trying to recover. “Holy shit, Logan. Since when did you learn to fuck like that?” His voice was teasing, but there was a layer of genuine awe beneath it, something he couldn’t quite hide even if he tried.

Logan didn’t respond right away. His expression darkened, and the mood shifted instantly. The playful air between them evaporated as Logan’s eyes grew colder. He didn’t look at Wade, just got up from the bed and started to gather his clothes. The sound of fabric rustling was almost louder than the silence between them.

Wade’s grin faltered, his brow furrowing slightly. “Where are you going?” he asked, his voice holding a hint of confusion, almost like he hadn’t expected Logan to just… leave.

Logan didn’t look back at him, his voice rough as he answered. “Oh. You thought just because we fucked and texted a little, I was gonna stick around to… what… cuddle you?” His tone was cold, amused even.

Wade sat up slowly, trying to keep his tone light, though it faltered around the edges. He cleared his throat, hoping Logan didn’t notice how fragile the act felt. “Right,” he said softly, the teasing lilt in his voice barely masking the uncertainty. “You don’t do the whole ‘staying’ thing.” His words were careful, like he was treading a fine line, not wanting to push Logan too far but still unsure of what to do with the silence building between them.

He shifted slightly, trying to act nonchalant despite the knot in his stomach. He didn’t want Logan to see how much it bothered him—how stupid he felt. He’d known exactly what this was, right? Just sex. Just an outlet. No expectations, no strings. But for some reason, it didn’t feel that simple.

“Yeah. But… this was fun… so, thanks.”

He swallowed, forcing a small, tight smile. “Okay.” His voice was softer than he intended, quieter, like he didn’t want to let any more of himself slip out.

Logan didn’t answer at first, just grabbed his clothes and started dressing. Wade watched him, feeling like an idiot for even thinking this would turn out differently. The worst part was that Logan was still acting like he was the one in control, like nothing had changed.

When Logan got to the door, Wade shifted, his voice small but steady. “You really gonna walk out like that?” He kept his gaze low, trying to hide the flicker of vulnerability in his eyes, trying not to let Logan see how badly he wanted something more. “After everything you just said?”

Logan paused, his back still to Wade, before glancing over his shoulder. The look in his eyes was cold, unreadable, but Wade could feel the space between them growing. Logan didn’t owe him anything—he knew that. But still, the silence felt like a punch to the gut.

“Yeah, I am,” Logan muttered, his voice rough, before he stepped out and closed the door behind him, leaving Wade alone with his thoughts, the weight of what had just happened and a lot of cum inside of him.

Wade sat there for a while, staring at the door, trying to make sense of it all. He felt stupid, vulnerable, like he’d let himself hope for something he wasn’t going to get. Something he wasn’t sure he even deserved.

After Logan left, Wade sat in the silence of the apartment, his breathing still heavy, his body still tingling from the intensity. He stayed there for a while, just staring at the spot Logan had occupied, the warmth of his absence sinking in. It wasn’t that he expected Logan to stay. Hell, they weren’t even anything close to… anything again. But the emptiness that settled in after Logan walked out? That hit harder than any punch.

Wade dragged himself up from the bed, his limbs feeling sore in a way he wasn’t used to. His skin was still sensitive, alive with the marks Logan had left. His neck, his chest, his thighs—all of it branded with reminders of what had just happened. He stood in front of the mirror, running his fingers over the angry red marks, the bruises, and the slight scratches from Logan’s nails. It wasn’t anything new. Hell, he’d had worse, but these… these were different. There was a history behind them. A lot of years of sexual and emotional frustration wrapped up in those marks.

He studied himself, his eyes tracing over the red splotches and the slight indentations of Logan’s nails. He ran his fingers along his collarbone, down his ribs, tracing every mark he saw. He didn’t know what he expected to see, but the sight of Logan’s claim on his skin made something twist inside him. It made him feel small. But there was something else too. Something that came with the sharpness of the ache in his chest. Maybe it was longing. Maybe it was just the aftermath of everything. He couldn’t tell.

Wade’s reflection was staring back at him, looking just as lost as he felt. For a second, he saw the old him again. The skin and bones one, the doped up one. The bruises and bites stood out stark against his skin, reminders of how tangled he’d gotten himself in this mess. But as much as the pain burned, the physical evidence of their entanglement made his heart race. It was a reminder of how real it had felt. How good it had felt, just to be so fleeting.

He ran a hand through his hair, then turned away from the mirror. He didn’t need to look anymore. There was no use in dwelling on the marks Logan left. He wasn’t sure if he was punishing himself by doing this, or if he was just trying to find something that could soothe the aching in his chest. He didn’t know.

Wade didn’t feel particularly hurt—just empty, like he was always one mistake away from falling back into a familiar pattern. It wasn’t drugs. That was the one thing he could cling to. Not drugs. Vanessa would be at work for hours, so it didn’t matter how much he drank, right? It wasn’t like he was losing control. Not yet.

The bottle in his hand was cold against his fingers, the whiskey dark and inviting. He poured himself another shot—just one more. That was all. Just one more. It’s not like it would do any harm.

He knocked it back without hesitation, feeling the warmth spread through him, starting in his chest and working its way to his limbs.. A little relief. A break from the constant hum in his head. He’d been through worse. It didn’t matter if he had a little drink. He wasn’t out of control. Not yet.

The whiskey started to blur the edges of everything, his thoughts scattering like broken glass. The heavy glass bottle was almost empty, and Wade barely noticed. He was too focused on the feel of the alcohol, the fog it created in his mind, letting it wash over him.

Minutes—maybe hours—passed before he realized how late it was, how much time had slipped by. The apartment was quiet again, too quiet. He had already disposed of all the evidence, just left with his intoxication.

That’s when the door swung open.

Wade froze when he heard the front door creak open. The familiar sound of Vanessa’s footsteps reached his ears, and for a moment, he tried to pull himself together—straighten his back, wipe the haze from his eyes, pretend like he wasn’t as far gone as he was. He picked up the half-empty bottle and casually set it aside, glancing toward the door with a forced, exaggerated smile.

“Hey, Vanessa,” Wade said, trying to sound casual, but the slurring at the edges of his words betrayed him immediately. “What’s up? How was work?”

Vanessa stepped into the living room, her eyes narrowing at the sight of him sitting on the couch with that smile. Something in her face shifted, the concern immediately starting to creep in. She took a step closer, and Wade leaned back, trying to seem relaxed—like he wasn’t a mess.

“Wade,” she said slowly, crossing her arms. “What did you do?”

Wade shot her another grin, hoping to throw her off. “What? I’m good. Just… chillin’. You know how it is. No big deal.”

But even as he spoke, he could feel the warmth of the alcohol in his veins, the sluggishness creeping in. The room seemed just a little too bright, a little too loud, and his body felt heavier than it should have.

Vanessa’s gaze flickered down to the shot glass peeking out from under the pillow, then back to Wade. He could see the doubt in her eyes, but he pushed on, trying to cover it up with a laugh.

“Yeah, I didn’t drink much, just a couple shots. It’s fine. No biggie.” He waved his hand dismissively, but his smile wasn’t convincing. His eyes were a little too glassy.

Vanessa didn’t buy it. “Come here.”

Wade’s stomach dropped, panic rising in his chest. He froze for a moment, then forced himself to stand, but his legs felt like jelly. He managed to stay upright, at least for a second, before he had to catch himself on the armrest. His balance was off, his vision a little fuzzy, but he didn’t let it show.

“See?” Wade tried again, his voice a little more upbeat than it should have been. “I’m fine. Just a little… relaxed.”

But Vanessa was no fool. She was already walking toward him, a determined look on her face. “Wade,” she said sharply. “Don’t make me say it again. Come here.”

With a reluctant sigh, Wade stumbled over to her, but his legs wobbled under him, and he had to brace himself against the doorframe for support. He was pretty sure she didn’t miss the way he swayed, but he didn’t care. He had to play it cool.

Vanessa gave him a skeptical look, crossing her arms. “You’re not fooling me, Wade. What did you drink?”

“I told you,” Wade repeated, forcing out a smile, “just a couple shots. Nothing major. I’m fine.”

Vanessa’s gaze flickered over him, then narrowed. She took a step forward, her voice softer now but still firm. “Let me see your eyes.”

Wade hesitated for just a second. He could already feel the alcohol clouding his thoughts, but he lifted his gaze anyway, meeting her eyes. It didn’t take long before Vanessa’s expression shifted from suspicion to concern.

“You’re wasted,” she said quietly, almost to herself.

Wade opened his mouth to deny it, but then he realized he couldn’t keep the charade going. He sighed, shoulders slumping slightly as he let out a frustrated breath. “Alright, fine. I’m a little drunk,” he admitted, his voice cracking just enough to make it sound like he hadn’t meant to get there. “But it’s not a big deal, okay? It’s just… I just needed something to… you know, take the edge off.”

Vanessa didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she took a deep breath, her eyes scanning his face, reading him like an open book. “Wade…” she began, her tone a mixture of exasperation and worry, “You promised me you weren’t going back to this. You promised me when I let you live here.”

“I’m not!” Wade said quickly, his hands up in protest, but his words didn’t carry the weight of truth. He was slurring, and he knew it.

Vanessa didn’t seem convinced. “You’re drunk off your ass, Wade. And I don’t know what the hell you think you’re doing right now, but I’m not gonna just let you slip again.”

She took a step closer, and Wade, trying to keep his balance, swayed with her. She shook her head, exhaling a slow breath. “Come on, you’re going to bed. I’m not letting you make a bigger mess of this.”

Wade wanted to argue, wanted to say that he was fine, but his words didn’t come out right. He just nodded, too drained and too drunk to fight it anymore.

Vanessa reached out to steady him, guiding him toward his room. Wade let her, his mind spinning, realizing he had just lost control in the worst possible way. He had no idea how to fix this.

And, for the first time in a long while, he felt truly alone.

Wade’s head was spinning, his body heavy with the weight of the alcohol he’d consumed. His limbs felt like lead, and his mind was a blur of thoughts, none of them clear. The taste of whiskey still lingered in the back of his throat.

His eyes fluttered shut, trying to convince himself he was fine, but the room spun around him as his body fought to stay conscious and not throw up. He wanted to text Logan. Hell, he wanted to text anyone, but his phone felt miles away, and it wasn’t like he had anything worth saying.

Soon, he drifted off into an uneasy sleep, his face half-buried in the couch cushions, his breath shallow.

Vanessa stood in the kitchen as the silence of the apartment settled.

Her brow furrowed. She walked over to the coffee table first, then lifted the couch cushions, eyes catching the more than halfway-empty bottle of whiskey and the shot glass left carelessly behind.

Her hand moved instinctively to the bottle, picking it up and reading the label like it could tell her what had gone wrong. She wasn’t surprised, not really. But the anger started bubbling in her chest, and her stomach twisted with a deep, aching frustration.

She placed the bottle back down, thinking of Wade again. His disheveled state— the messy hair, the flushed skin, the way he had been curled up on the couch— all of it made her gut tighten with worry. It was clear to her now: Wade was dangerously close to spiraling again.

“Shit…” Vanessa muttered under her breath, walking around the room and starting to rummage through his things. She didn’t expect to find anything more, but she was too pissed off to sit idly by. Her eyes scanned the room, and she opened a drawer in the kitchen. Empty. She checked a few more places, then finally found what she was looking for— a pack of cigarettes under the couch.

The anger in her chest spilled over, and she typed quickly, slamming her finger against the keys.

Vanessa: “What the fuck happened?”

She didn’t expect a response right away, but the venom in her words felt necessary. Logan was the only person who had a clue what was going on between him and Wade. And it was clear to her that this was his fault. She felt an overwhelming sense of protective rage for Wade, and she didn’t care if Logan was the cause. This needed to be addressed, or Wade was going to lose himself again.

Logan sighs, already knowing what she’s talking about. He rubs his face, trying to avoid a confrontation, but he knows he can’t escape it. He types back a short response.

Logan: “We just hooked up. You walked in on us, so you know this. I don’t get what the big deal is.”

Vanessa’s fingers hover over the phone, frustration bubbling up. She types fast, her concern shifting into something more direct.

Vanessa: “I’m asking because he fucking lapsed Logan.”

Logan freezes for a second, his stomach sinking. He quickly types back, trying to act like it’s not that serious.

Logan: “What did he do, benzos?”

Vanessa: “No, he drank.”

The words hit Logan like a punch to the gut. His fingers hover over the phone screen as he tries to process, but he doesn’t want to admit he had a part in it. He knew exactly how he left— knew Wade too well not to know that it would make him feel like dirt. He types, his words coming out more clipped than he intended.

Logan: “Drank? What, so you think I’m the reason?”

Vanessa: “I’m just trying to figure out why. He was doing better Logan. He was completely sober.”

Logan rolls his eyes, irritated by how Vanessa is reading into things, but he knows it’s not her fault. His fingers fly over the keys as he tries to downplay the situation.

Logan: “Look, I didn’t make him drink. He’s a grown man. He’s got his own shit to deal with. I didn’t do anything to cause it.”

Vanessa stares at the message, shaking her head, her frustration rising. She’s not buying Logan’s nonchalant tone. She types back quickly, her words sharp.

Vanessa: “You’re missing the point. Whatever this was between you two, it’s messing with him.”

Logan feels the sting of her words, but he’s not sure how to respond. He doesn’t want to admit his part in it, but something in him makes him pause before typing again.

Logan: “I didn’t come back to fix him, Vanessa. I came back to get a fuck out of my system. And yeah, I fucked up. But I don’t need you texting me about it.”

Vanessa’s heart pounds in her chest, but she’s not backing down. She taps out her next message, fighting her emotions.

Vanessa: “I’m not lecturing you. I’m trying to figure out how to help him because he’s hurting right now. And you know it’s not just about you two fucking, right?”

Logan exhales sharply, frustrated and tired. His fingers move slowly over the keys as he processes her words, finally giving in just a little bit.

Logan: “I don’t know what you want me to say. I didn’t mean to hurt him. But I’m not the one who relapsed.” A blatant lie, he absolutely had meant to hurt him.

Vanessa: “No, but you’re the one who’s been messing with his head. I don’t get it. You want him, but then you walk away every time.”

Logan stares at the message, his throat tightening. He didn’t want to face the reality of how much his actions might’ve affected Wade, but deep down, he knows she’s right. He hesitates before texting back.

Logan: “You don’t get it. I never wanted to hurt him, but I’m not here to fix him either. And I’m not sticking around to be the guy he needs. I can’t be that for him.”

Vanessa feels the weight of his words, but she’s not giving up. She types one last message, her concern for Wade still at the forefront.

Vanessa: “Then what are you doing, Logan?”

Logan stares at the message, the tension in his chest growing with each word. He rubs the back of his neck, frustration mounting, but he doesn’t have the energy to keep going around in circles with her. He types a response, trying to push her concerns aside.

Logan: “I’m trying to leave him alone, alright? I’m not his fucking savior, and I’m not gonna be. He doesn’t need me hanging around, making shit worse.”

Vanessa’s hands shake as she types back. Her concern for Wade, and her anger toward Logan, is undeniable now. She can’t help herself.

Vanessa: “You know, Logan, I don’t get it. I really don’t. Wade has been through hell. He’s an addict, yeah, but he’s trying. You were supposed to help me help him, not be the guy that messes with him and then leaves to be hurtful.”

Logan’s jaw tightens. He feels a flash of guilt, but his pride won’t let him back down. He can’t help it, he’s never been the guy to let anyone in that easily. Not after everything that happened between him and Wade.

Logan: “I didn’t ask for this, Vanessa. You think I’m some kind of fucking hero? I’m not. I’ve got my own shit to deal with.”

Vanessa’s patience snaps. She’s tired of the excuses. She types her next message quickly, her tone sharp, almost final.

Vanessa: “You’re not a hero, Logan. But right now, you’re a problem. If you really cared about Wade, you’d stop dragging him through this. I’m serious. Just leave him alone for good. You’re doing more harm than good. And frankly? I don’t even know if I can keep being your friend after this. You’re not the guy I thought you were.”

Logan’s breath catches in his throat, the weight of her words hitting harder than he expected. But he knows he can’t backpedal now. He looks at the message, his fingers hovering over the phone, before finally typing back, his words clipped.

Logan: “I’m not gonna do what you want, Vanessa. I’ve got my own boundaries. But I get it. You can’t stand the way I’m handling this. You think I’m just playing games.”

Vanessa sighs, almost regretting the words she just sent, but she knows she has to be firm. This isn’t just about her friendship with Logan. It’s about protecting Wade.

Vanessa: “I don’t think you’re playing games. I think you’re being careless. And I’m done watching Wade get hurt, period. You don’t get to keep pulling him in and pushing him away when it’s convenient for you.”

Logan clenches his jaw, the sting of her words cutting deep, but he’s not about to change now. Not for anyone. He starts typing again, but this time, he’s more guarded, more distant.

Logan: “I get it. You think I’m the bad guy. I’m not gonna fight you on this. I’m done talking about it.”

Vanessa stares at his message for a long time, feeling a wave of disappointment settle over her. She doesn’t respond immediately, instead just staring at the screen as the weight of the conversation hangs between them. Eventually, she types one last message, her tone colder than before.

Vanessa: “Fine. Then stay away from him, Logan. For good. In fact, stay away from me too. I’d rather not be around your rank attitude.” 

—

Over the next couple of days, Logan sticks to his word. He doesn’t reach out to Wade, no matter how many messages he sends. The first few are full of hope—light-hearted attempts to break the silence, desperate to get Logan to reply. But as the hours drag into days, Wade’s messages grow more frantic, more urgent. He asks Logan why he’s not answering, why he’s avoiding him, and then, when that doesn’t work, he starts to apologize over and over.

He tries to pretend that it’s fine. That he’s just busy. But the absence eats at him. The silence feels like a weight, suffocating him.

The worst part is that Wade knows he’s being ridiculous. He can’t help it—Logan’s absence is like a hole in his chest. He tells himself he shouldn’t care. But it doesn’t stop the ache that sits deep in his bones, the nagging feeling that he’s not worth the time, not worth the effort.

Each time his phone buzzes with a new notification, he hopes it’s Logan. Every time, it’s just another failed attempt to feel something, to grab at something familiar in the void. His new job at the car dealership isn’t enough to distract him. The work is mundane, and his coworkers barely notice him. He’s just a guy working to get by, and that’s all he’ll ever be.

Wade’s depression hits him like a freight train. Despite the small victories, like staying sober, he can’t shake the overwhelming sadness that clings to him. The weight of everything—his past mistakes, his failed attempts at connection, his inability to fix himself—hangs over him like a constant cloud. It feels like he’s stuck in a place he can’t escape, no matter how hard he tries to move forward.

Wade drags himself out of bed each morning, going through the motions, but the enthusiasm he once had is gone. The dealership feels like a second prison, a place where he’s simply existing. His interactions with customers are polite but hollow, his attempts at small talk with coworkers are awkward at best. He’s not even sure why he bothers trying.

The mornings are the worst—he gets up early, hoping maybe today will be different. Maybe today Logan will text back. Maybe today he’ll get a chance to make things right. But by the time the day slips into afternoon, reality sets in again. Logan isn’t coming back.

On one particularly slow day, Wade finds himself at the break room, staring blankly at the vending machine. He hasn’t eaten much—just a bag of chips—and the thought of food doesn’t even register. His phone is in his hand, but he’s reluctant to check it. He knows it’s just going to be another reminder of how things are falling apart.

He tries to focus on his work, on the cars, on anything that doesn’t remind him of how much he fucked everything up. But it’s hard. His mind keeps drifting back to Logan—the way his absence feels like a missing limb, the way he keeps coming back to the memory of that afternoon.

Wade doesn’t realize it, but the shift is starting to break him. It’s not just Logan’s absence. It’s the cumulative effect of years of disappointment and mistakes. He feels like a failure—of the job, of his relationships, of himself.

By the time he gets off work, Wade barely has the energy to go home. He shuffles back to the apartment, the weight of the day dragging behind him. Vanessa is out—probably working or hanging out with her friends—and Wade doesn’t mind the quiet. It’s the silence he’s become accustomed to, the absence of everything that used to make him feel like he mattered.

The apartment feels too big now. Too empty. Wade’s been here for a while, but it still doesn’t feel like home. It feels like a place to survive, not to live. He stares at his phone for a long moment, then puts it down. He doesn’t even want to bother reaching out anymore. It’s been days since Logan last said anything, and Wade’s too tired to pretend that he’s okay.

A part of him wants to relapse, to forget the ache with a drink or something stronger. But he won’t. He promised himself he wouldn’t go back to that place. Still, the temptation is there, gnawing at him. If only he could numb the pain, just for a little while.

He collapses onto the couch, closing his eyes, feeling the exhaustion sink into his bones. His mind drifts, and for a moment, he’s back in that bed with Logan, tangled up in each other, even though he knows that can never happen again. It would be undignified and stupid.

Logan’s hands tremble as he rubs his face, trying to shake the frustration that’s been gnawing at him for weeks. His mind is consumed by Wade—his smell, his touch, the way he could make Logan lose control with just a glance. The thought of Wade, of what they did together, is eating at him. It’s fucking unbearable.

It’s late, and Logan’s alone in his apartment, the silence almost deafening. He can’t focus on anything. He’s pacing, running his hands through his hair, trying to shake off the overwhelming urge to break something—anything.

The thought of Wade hits him again, unrelenting, a torrent of anger and lust and confusion crashing over him. It’s too much. He can’t stand it. He needs relief, needs to release the tension, but it’s not just physical. It’s emotional, too. The fucking mess that they are, what he’s done to Wade, what Wade has done to him… it’s all swirling together in his head.

Logan’s fist clenches around his cock, his mind still on Wade, remembering the way his body felt under him, the way he came undone. He’s not proud of it. He doesn’t want to be doing this, but the memories are like a drug. And he needs a fix.

The thought of him starts to twist into something darker, more desperate, and the tension builds, pushing Logan’s hand faster. His breathing gets ragged, his whole body tense as his mind flickers between lust and anger. He wants to get it out, to have control for just one moment, but as his release comes, the guilt slams into him.

It’s not just sex. It’s everything. The violence. The need. The rage.

Logan’s body jolts from the release, but instead of feeling better, it feels worse. His chest tightens, his heart pounding in his ears. He can’t escape the feeling of being a fucking monster— like he is some slimy, disgusting beast that climbed out of the sewers and tries to live amongst people. 

It isn’t even a day later that the monster inside him rears his hideous, disgusting head. Logan’s chest is tight, every breath ragged and shallow as he stands in the parking lot of the bar. His hands shake as he lights a cigarette, the ember glowing red in the darkness. The anger from the fight still bubbles under his skin, but it’s not just anger. It’s something deeper, something more suffocating. He can feel the weight of everything crashing down on him—the sex with Wade, the rage he can’t control, the way everything is spiraling out of his hands.

When he finally heads back into the bar, it doesn’t take long before he’s told to leave, and before he knows it, the police are there, responding to the scene of the altercation. His coworker—eyes wide and face swelling from Logan’s punch—has already called them, and Logan doesn’t try to fight it.

By the time they get him outside and into the back of the cruiser, he’s too far gone to even care anymore. He’s done. He’s a mess, and the self-loathing he feels is so overwhelming that he barely hears the police officer reading him his rights.

“Logan Howlett, you are under arrest for assault. You have the right to retain and instruct counsel without delay, and you may call any lawyer you wish. You are not obligated to say anything, but anything you do say may be used as evidence in court,” the officer’s voice is calm but firm, slicing through the muddled mess of Logan’s anger and intoxication.

Logan’s mind is in a haze, the alcohol and the lingering anger clouding his thoughts. “Yeah,” he mutters, his voice rough, but it’s barely a response. He’s too numb to care.

The officer doesn’t waste time, just pulls out his phone and starts typing a report. Logan leans back against the seat, staring out the window, lost in his own thoughts. All he can think about is Wade. He doesn’t even know why. But for some reason, he feels like calling him now.

He wants to fix this, somehow, even if he’s not sure how to explain what he’s feeling. There’s a sickness in him, something that doesn’t make sense. He doesn’t deserve to fix it. Doesn’t deserve forgiveness.

When they arrive at the station, one of the officers turns to him and asks, “Do you have any friends or family we should contact? Anyone you want us to call for bail?”

Logan hesitates. The name feels foreign on his tongue. But in this moment, it’s all he can think of. He’s reaching out, in the only way he knows how.

“Wade Wilson,” Logan says, his voice hoarse, the name slipping out like it’s both a curse and a plea.

The officers don’t react, just make a note of it, and one of them heads off to make the call. Logan sits in the police car, trying to will the frustration, the anger, the shame away.

Meanwhile, his coworker—now standing across from one of the officers—is being asked about what happened. The officer’s voice is calm, probing, but it’s clear that they’re trying to get the facts straight.

“What happened tonight?” the officer asks, pen poised above his notepad.

The coworker rubs his jaw, wincing as he recounts the story. “It was just… a small argument. Nothing major. Then, out of nowhere, he just… lost it. One minute we were talking, and then he—he just punched me, out of nowhere. I don’t know. I don’t know what happened, man. He’s never been like that before. I mean, he’s always been… intense, but never like that. I’ve seen him pissed, but this? This was different.”

The officer nods, scribbling down the details, clearly taking the coworker’s statement seriously. “So, you didn’t provoke him?”

“No,” the coworker says, shaking his head quickly, his hands still pressed to his face. “I swear, I didn’t.”

The officers finish up their questioning and ask Logan’s coworker one final question before they wrap up.

“Do you want to press charges against Mr. Howlett?” one officer asks, looking at the man with a cold professionalism.

The coworker shifts uncomfortably, his face still swollen from Logan’s punch. He’s not sure what to do. He’s angry, but he doesn’t want this to go any further. He sighs, glancing at the floor before shaking his head.

“No,” he says quietly. “I don’t want to press charges. Just… just get him out of here.” He rubs his jaw, wincing again. “He’s a mess, man. I don’t know what happened, but I’m not looking to ruin his life over this.”

The officer nods, acknowledging the decision, and after a few more minutes of paperwork, Logan is driven away in cuffs. The humiliation is sinking in, but the name Wade keeps rattling in his brain like some kind of lifeline, the one person he’s been unable to push out of his mind.

Hours drag on, and the alcohol and exhaustion from the fight take their toll. Logan sleeps through the night in the holding cell, the uncomfortable bed and the cold air only adding to the ache in his chest.

When the next morning rolls around, he’s woken up by the clattering of keys and the heavy door to the holding area swinging open. His head feels like it’s splitting in two, but when the officer tells him he’s being moved, Logan knows it’s time. He doesn’t fight it, his body too drained to care about anything else.

The officer leads him down a hall, through a series of locked doors, and into the main lobby. The stark, sterile walls of the station feel suffocating, and Logan’s stomach churns. But then he sees him—Wade.

Wade’s standing by the door, arms crossed, eyes locked on Logan. He looks like a mess. His hair is disheveled, and his clothes are wrinkled. His eyes are red-rimmed, like he hasn’t slept. He looks… lost, just like Logan feels.

For a moment, neither of them move. There’s an odd tension between them, an unspoken understanding hanging in the air. They both look like they’ve been through hell, both physically and emotionally.

“Hey,” Wade says, his voice low and rough, his usual snark missing. He clears his throat, glancing at the officer like he’s trying to make sense of the situation. “You, uh, need to get out of here?” Wade’s voice is quiet, but there’s something in his eyes—something that’s as tired and worn out as Logan feels.

Logan doesn’t know how to respond. He can’t bring himself to apologize—not yet. Not for what he’s done, for everything that’s been said and unsaid. Instead, he just nods. “Yeah,” he mutters, trying to shake off the thick, suffocating weight of the night before. His throat is tight. “Guess I’m ready to go.”

Wade leads Logan through the parking lot, the sound of their footsteps echoing off the pavement as they walk toward an old, beat-up car. It’s not flashy, nothing special, but it gets the job done. The faded paint and the dents all over it make it look like it’s seen better days, but to Wade, it’s a step up.

He opens the door for Logan, a quick, almost automatic gesture that still feels like a strange kindness. Neither of them speaks as they both settle into the worn leather seats, the stale air of the car making everything feel too quiet, too heavy. The engine hums to life with a groan, and the car jerks forward as Wade pulls out of the lot.

The silence hangs between them, suffocating in its own way. It’s not a comfortable silence, not a peaceful one, but one that feels like it’s made of unspoken words, of things they both want to say but can’t find the courage to.

Logan is the first to break it, his voice gruff and low. “Stop looking at me like that…” he mutters, his gaze fixed out the window, trying to avoid meeting Wade’s eyes.

Wade doesn’t even need to look at him to know what he means. It’s in the air between them, something thick and magnetic that’s hard to ignore, even if they both try to. He shrugs, his expression flat. “I’m not looking at you,” he says, his voice more distant than it probably should be. He keeps his eyes forward, his fingers tapping idly on the steering wheel as the streets blur past them.

His neck still has faint marks, remnants of their last encounter. Wade can feel them as his fingers brush the sensitive skin, the reminder of what happened, and it cuts deeper than he expected. It’s crushingly obvious how much want is still there, simmering just beneath the surface. They both feel it, but neither of them is ready to address it.

For a moment, the only sound is the hum of the engine, the passing traffic, the world going on around them as they sit in this car, two people who should have been done with each other a long time ago. But here they are, sharing the same space, trying to ignore the tension, the pull between them that’s impossible to ignore.

Wade’s hand clenches on the wheel, his jaw tightening, but he says nothing. It’s easier to pretend, easier to push it all down. He doesn’t want to care. He doesn’t want to feel this much.

Logan turns his head just enough to glance at him out of the corner of his eye. There’s something dangerous in his gaze, something raw. He’s not done with this.

Wade’s fingers dig into the wheel as he swallows, “You’re right. You know, I can’t be the one to fix you either. But you can’t just keep running away from me and coming back. It doesn’t work like that.”

The words hit Logan like a punch to the gut, but he doesn’t react, just stares ahead, his jaw clenched tight. The weight of what Wade said hangs in the air, thick and suffocating. Neither of them speaks for a while, the car feeling smaller with every mile they drive, both of them unable to ignore the desire and frustration still swirling between them.

Logan breaks the silence again, his voice low but firm. “Does Vanessa know you’re here?”

Wade doesn’t flinch, doesn’t hesitate. “No.” His answer is final, and there’s something in his tone that makes it clear he doesn’t want to discuss it any further. “It’s gonna stay that way.” He tightens his grip on the wheel, his jaw clenched, and he focuses on the road, as though doing so will keep him from acknowledging the tension in the air.

Logan doesn’t respond right away. He knows Wade well enough by now to understand that when he says something like that, it’s not up for debate. But it doesn’t stop the questions from swirling in Logan’s head. The way Wade said it… like he was protecting something. Maybe it wasn’t just about Vanessa. Maybe it was about them. Maybe Wade was still trying to keep some kind of distance, some kind of barrier between them.

For a moment, Logan thinks about pushing, about asking more questions, but he knows better. Wade’s walls are up, and no amount of prodding is going to bring them down. Not now. Not yet.

Logan leans back against the headrest, his eyes drifting to the side as he watches Wade. The silence between them feels heavier now, thick with unspoken words, with history that neither of them knows how to face.

Wade keeps driving, and for the first time in what feels like ages, neither of them feels the need to speak. 

A couple minutes of silence passes, and Logan’s hand slides between the seats, the motion almost casual, but the intent is clear. His fingers brush against the outline of Wade’s cock in his pants, firm and purposeful.

Wade gasps, a sharp intake of breath, and for a split second, it’s like time stops. His eyes flicker over to Logan, but the surprise makes him lose focus for a moment. He’s so caught off guard that his hand almost forgets to signal at the turn, the light flickering red in front of him as his brain fumbles to regain control.

“Logan,” Wade says, his voice low but with an edge of warning, still breathless from the unexpected move. He swallows hard, trying to fight the rush of heat building between his legs, the undeniable pull of Logan’s touch. “Don’t do this to me. Not now… You know I can’t say no.”

Logan doesn’t respond immediately, letting the words hang in the air between them. His fingers linger, his grip tightening, but his expression remains unreadable, eyes watching Wade with that same intense, quiet energy. He doesn’t care about the timing, about the circumstances. He only cares about the way Wade feels beneath his touch, the way his body reacts like a magnet to his every move.

Wade’s heart races, his mouth going dry as he forces himself to look ahead, not wanting to give in, not wanting to let Logan have that kind of control over him right now. But it’s almost impossible, the way Logan’s presence seems to fill the car, the way he can’t ever seem to say no to him, even when he wants to.

The pressure between them keeps building, Logan’s hand persistent, as if he’s testing Wade, pushing him past the breaking point. He doesn’t care about the logic or the consequences, not now. It’s not about whether Wade’s ready—it’s about taking control, claiming that moment, and not letting go.

Wade’s breath hitches again, struggling to focus on the road, but the way Logan’s fingers move makes his thoughts scatter. He grips the steering wheel tighter, knuckles white, but the desire to shove Logan’s hand away comes too late. His body is already responding to the pull, too far gone to stop now.

“Logan, stop,” Wade says, but it’s a plea buried under the weight of the want that fills the space between them. His voice cracks slightly, but there’s a rawness in it, something that screams for control—control he’s losing faster than he can handle.

But Logan doesn’t stop. He can’t. The anger, the frustration, everything that’s been building up, pushes him to keep going. His hand slides lower, more possessive, more insistent. Logan has Wade’s semi hard dick in his fist, working him like his life depends on it. Wade’s body stiffens, his grip on the wheel faltering as his mind starts to race.

“Fuck.” Wade curses under his breath, unable to focus as the pressure on his groin becomes unbearable. The car swerves for a moment, tires screeching against the road as he slams on the brakes, the car jerking to a stop on some isolated stretch of road.

He’s panting, chest heaving as the car idles in silence. His hands tremble on the wheel, fighting the war between stopping this and wanting more. He slams the gear into park, gripping the steering wheel until his fingers ache, trying to regain his focus

“Shit, Logan…” Wade breathes, voice shaking with the effort it takes to keep himself together. “I told you… I can’t fucking say no.”

Logan just watches him for a long moment, his breath still heavy, his own control slipping. He knows he’s pushed Wade too far—he sees it in the way Wade looks at him, the mixture of frustration and need flashing in his eyes. But Logan can’t seem to stop, can’t seem to pull back.

The tension between them snaps like a thread pulled too tight. Logan’s hands are on Wade before either of them can process it fully, yanking him close, mouths crashing together in a mess of hunger and frustration. There’s no gentleness now, no thought of the consequences—they’re both too far gone, consumed by the need to feel something real, something intense. They managed to unbuckle their seatbelts in the midst. 

Wade groans into the kiss, his hands sliding over Logan’s chest, tugging at his clothes, pulling him closer as Logan presses into him. The weight of Logan’s body against him makes his breath hitch, his heart racing as Logan’s grip tightens in his hair, pulling his head back just enough for Logan to bite at his neck.

Every movement is rough, urgent, desperate—both of them trying to erase the space that’s been between them for far too long. They collide, urgent, sloppy, with no grace or hesitation. Logan’s lips are on his again, teeth nipping at his bottom lip, making Wade moan, his hands sliding down Logan’s back to grip his waist, pulling him even closer, even harder.

“You wanted this, didn’t you?” he mutters, the words more accusation than question, but there’s a rawness in his tone, a desperate need. Wade can only nod, mouth open, gasping as he pulls Logan in even deeper.

It’s a blur of hands and teeth and gasps, a frenzy of passion and confusion that neither of them can control, a feeling of desperate urgency that pushes them both to the edge. Logan can’t stop, not now, not when Wade’s hands is are on him, when he’s tasting Wade’s skin, when the need is unbearable.

He’s quick to unbuckle the belt of his pants and whip his own dick out. He didn’t think he could get any more pent up- didn’t think his dick would swell and be any harder, but Wade’s touch proved him wrong. 

Logan’s breath hitches, his hands shaking as he pulls Wade closer, his forehead pressing against his, the weight of his desperation undeniable. His fingers dig into Wade’s skin, the intensity of it all making it hard to think, hard to stop.

“God,” Logan mutters, his voice rough with the struggle. “I can’t think, I need this. I need you.” The words come out broken, raw, like he’s giving into something darker, something that’s been eating at him for too long.

Wade’s heart races, feeling the depth of Logan’s desperation, hearing the brokenness in his voice. He knows Logan’s not asking for permission anymore—he’s not looking for any kind of redemption. This isn’t about healing or fixing things. This is about breaking all over again.

“I’m not gonna stop,” Logan says, his lips brushing Wade’s ear. Logan is jerking him off roughly and quickly like he’s trying to get him off as fast as possible. Wade gasps, eyes fluttering shut as the heat between them intensifies, every touch burning into his skin.

Wade knows this isn’t healthy, knows it’s a loop they’re both caught in—but it doesn’t matter. It never does. He ignores it anyway, and rationalizes. He gives up on trying to resist, and does Logan how he does him.  

Their movements are sharp, frantic, the energy between them raw and violent. Every touch, every push, every pull is an exchange of anger, frustration, and need. Logan’s hands are rough on Wade, his hand working like he’s trying to stake his claim. It’s not gentle—there’s no softness here, just a fight to feel something, to feel anything other than the weight of everything that’s gone wrong.

Wade fights back just as hard, meeting Logan’s fist with rhythmic thrusts, every desperate touch with equal intensity. They’re a tangle of limbs, bodies shifting in sync, as if this is the only thing left they can do to drown out the noise in their heads. It’s aggressive, almost brutal—like they’re trying to punish each other, punish themselves, but neither of them can stop.

“Fuck,” Wade huffs, his breath harsh, his fists tightening around Logan’s  shirt. “Stop making me need you like this. You’re— fucking impossible.”

Logan’s teeth grit, his hips jerking in uneven motions. 

“Cum with me.” His voice is thick, strained, as he bucks against Wade’s fist, fighting the overwhelming urge to just let go. Logan shoots his load all over his stomach, pulling his shirt up to his chest to avoid a mess. Wade isn’t so mindful. 

The moment post-orgasm, when Wade has to wipe cum off his belly and sweatshirt with a napkin and toss Logan one too— is sobering. 

“Why are you doing this to me, Logan?” 

Logan’s fingers freeze as he finishes adjusting his jeans, his breath still ragged. He doesn’t immediately answer, staring ahead for a moment, lost in thought. He can feel Wade’s gaze on him, like it’s burning into the side of his face, but he doesn’t turn to meet it just yet.

His fingers flex slightly, as if working through the weight of Wade’s question.

“Because I’m fucked up,” he says finally, his voice rough, almost too casual. He keeps his gaze ahead, his expression hardening, but there’s something vulnerable buried in the way he says it. “I’m not the guy you act like I am. You know that.”

Wade’s chest tightens at the response. It’s not exactly the answer he’s been hoping for, but it’s truthful, and it stings. He rubs a hand across his face, trying to ignore the lump in his throat.

“Then why do you keep doing this to me?” Wade’s voice wavers as he asks, the weight of the question hanging in the air.

Logan turns toward him then, his eyes narrowing slightly, his jaw tight. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes—something almost soft, but he quickly suppresses it. “Because you let me,” he says, his tone rougher now, but still holding that undercurrent of something deeper. “You always let me.”

Wade looks at him for a long moment, struggling to keep his emotions in check. “You really don’t give a shit about me, do you?” His voice falters.

Logan shifts, his eyes flicking to Wade’s face before turning away again, visibly frustrated. “Don’t start that shit,” he growls, his voice low. “You know better.”

Wade’s gaze flickers to Logan’s face, searching for something he doesn’t quite find. “I don’t know what to think anymore,” Wade admits quietly. “It’s like we’re stuck in this cycle, and I don’t know how to break out of it.”

Logan rubs the back of his neck, his hands shaking slightly. “You don’t need to break out of it, Wade,” he says, a strange calmness to his voice, though the tension in his words betrays him. “We’re fine the way we are.”

“Are we?” Wade asks, his voice small and unsure. “Is this really fine?” He gestures between them, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between them like a thick cloud. Oh. How the tables turn. 

Logan stares at him for a long moment, his chest still tight. Finally, he looks away, his jaw set. “No,” he mutters under his breath, almost to himself. “It’s not fine. But what the hell else are we supposed to do?”

Wade doesn’t answer. He just leans back in the seat, staring at the dashboard. The silence feels heavy, both of them lost in their own thoughts. Neither one of them is ready to confront the depth of what’s really going on.

Wade’s shoulders shake as he finally lets the tears fall, the weight of everything breaking him down. He wipes his face with the back of his hand, his voice cracking as he speaks.

“I don’t know,” he says, his words barely above a whisper. “I just know my heart wants you so bad it physically hurts.”

Logan’s chest tightens at the sight of Wade breaking down, but he doesn’t know how to fix it. He wants to reach out, wants to say something that makes it all better, but the anger, the resentment—it’s all still there, thick and suffocating. He clenches his fists at his sides, his jaw tightening as he struggles to control the urge to pull Wade close and tell him everything’s going to be okay.

But he can’t. Not when it feels like everything’s falling apart.

Logan leans back in his seat, staring out the windshield, the ache in his chest growing with every word Wade says. 

“I want you,” he mutters, his voice strained, not ready to look at Wade. “But I can’t keep doing this. Not like this. It’s not… it’s not right.”

Wade looks at him, his eyes red and swollen from crying, his breath shaky as he speaks. “Then what the hell is right? Tell me, Logan. What do you want me to do?” His voice is desperate, the rawness of his emotion clear. “You’ve got all this shit in your head, and I’m just standing here, trying to figure out where I fit into all of it.”

Logan’s eyes flicker toward him for a split second before he looks away again. His lips are pressed into a thin line, his fingers tapping nervously on his knee. “I don’t know. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing anymore, Wade. I want to forget about all the shit between us. I want things to be… normal. I want to just be normal, like we never crossed that line.”

Wade’s heart sinks, and he wipes at his face again, trying to steady his breath. “You’re still holding onto it, aren’t you? Everything that’s happened between us. You’re still carrying it around, and you’re taking it out on me. Even though I’m sober.”

Logan swallows hard, and for a moment, there’s a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. He finally looks at Wade, his voice quieter now, but still heavy with the weight of everything between them.

“I’m not trying to hurt you,” Logan says, his tone rough. “But I can’t forget what you did. And I don’t know how to be the guy you need me to be. I’m fucked up. And I can’t just… pretend that I’m not.”

He looks down at his hands, unable to look Logan in the eye. “I don’t need you to be anything!” he says quietly. “I just need you to… need me, too.”

Logan swallowed hard, his gaze fixed on the dashboard as if it held all the answers he didn’t have. “You think I don’t want you?” he asked, his voice low, barely steady. “Wade, you’re all I fucking think about. You’re all I want.” He paused, letting the weight of his words settle between them. “And we are a fucking shit sandwich between moldy bread.” 

Wade stared at him, tears clinging to the corners of his eyes. “Fuck yes we are.”

Logan finally turned to look at him, and the regret in his eyes mirrored Wade’s own. “I don’t think either of us can keep doing this and still have dignity.”

Wade let out a shaky laugh, wiping at his face with the back of his hand. “You know, for someone who says he’s not good with words, you’re doing a real good job of ripping my heart out right now.”

Logan smirked faintly, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah, well, it’s mutual.”

Silence hung heavy in the car for a moment before Logan broke it. “You deserve to be happy, Wade. Not just—” He gestured vaguely between them. “Not just surviving. Actually happy.”

Wade nodded slowly, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from showing too much internal breakage. “You do too. Even if you’re too damn stubborn to believe it.”

Wade reached out, hesitating for a moment before his hand landed on Logan’s. Their fingers tangled together, a brief, fragile connection that felt like both a goodbye and a promise.

And just like that, the moment passed. They sat in the quiet of the car, hearts breaking and healing all at once, knowing they had to let each other go—for now.

Wade sat in his car for a moment after Logan shut the door, gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. He watched Logan walk up to his apartment, his broad shoulders hunched against the weight of everything unspoken between them.

When the door closed behind Logan, Wade exhaled shakily and pulled away, driving in silence. It wasn’t until he stopped at a red light a few minutes later that his phone buzzed. He glanced down, the message lighting up the screen:

Logan: Goodbye. Take care of yourself. Maybe I’ll see you again someday.

Wade’s chest tightened, the words hitting him like a punch to the gut. His hands trembled as he picked up the phone, rereading the message over and over, hoping he’d misunderstood. But it was there, clear as day—final and resolute.

He wanted to respond, to say something—anything—but no words came. What could he even say? Logan had always been the one to pull away, to shut the door before Wade even had the chance to ask him to stay.

The light turned green, but Wade didn’t move. A car honked behind him, jolting him out of his daze. He muttered an apology to no one and hit the gas, his vision blurring slightly.

The rest of the drive was a haze, the message burned into his mind. By the time he got home, his chest felt hollow, like Logan had carved something out of him and taken it with him.

Wade slumped onto his couch, the phone still clutched in his hand. He stared at the screen, his thumb hovering over the keyboard. He wanted to say goodbye too, but he couldn’t bring himself to type the words. Instead, he whispered them into the empty room, his voice barely audible.

“Goodbye, Logan.”

A year later, Wade had done the unthinkable—he’d rebuilt his life.

It wasn’t perfect, and it wasn’t always easy, but it was his. After months of saving and careful planning, Wade had finally moved into his own apartment. It wasn’t much—a one-bedroom on the edge of town—but it had decent sunlight, sturdy walls, and, most importantly, once again, it was his. No more couch surfing, no more suffocating under the weight of old debts and old mistakes.

Work had improved too. Wade had started as a sales associate at the dealership, but his total knack for… charm, persistence, and sheer determination had earned him a promotion. Now, he handled accounts and managed some of the younger hires. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was stable, and for the first time, he felt like he had something to show for himself.

Vanessa still checked in on him—though they’d both agreed to keep some space after everything that had happened. She seemed genuinely proud of him, and Wade could tell she felt relieved to see him sober, steady, and standing on his own two feet.

And he was sober. Completely. No drinks, no drugs. There were days when the temptation felt like a whisper in the back of his mind, but he’d learned how to drown it out with routines, with work, with progress. He’d even joined a small group therapy session—not because anyone told him to, but because he needed to hear other people’s stories, needed to know he wasn’t alone in the fight to stay afloat.

Still, some things hadn’t changed.

Logan.

Wade didn’t talk about him—not in therapy, not to Vanessa, not even to himself most days. But Logan was always there, lingering in the quiet moments. Some nights, Wade would catch himself staring at his phone, wondering if Logan’s number was still the same, if he was okay, if he’d ever come back.

He didn’t let himself linger on the thoughts for long. He couldn’t. It was better this way—wasn’t it? Logan deserved whatever peace he could find, and Wade wasn’t naïve enough to think they could’ve worked out. Not with how broken they both were.

But God, some nights it still hurt.

Wade was sitting on his small balcony one evening, a mug of coffee in hand, watching the sun dip below the horizon. It had been a long day at work, but a good one—he’d closed a major deal with a client and was feeling the kind of tired that came from honest effort.

The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of rain from a storm earlier that day. Wade sighed, taking a sip of his coffee, letting the quiet of the evening wash over him.

His phone buzzed on the table beside him. Wade glanced at it, expecting a message from a coworker or maybe Vanessa.

It wasn’t.

It was nothing. Just a spam email.

Wade shook his head, laughing quietly at himself. “Get over it,” he muttered, leaning back in his chair.

But he wasn’t getting over it.

Wade had been trying. Really trying.

There was someone—Jamie. Sweet, funny, smart Jamie, who worked at the coffee shop Wade visited most mornings. They’d struck up a conversation about bad customer service one day, and it had spiraled into casual dates. Jamie was patient and kind in a way Wade didn’t think he deserved. They laughed at his dumb jokes, asked about his day, and listened when he actually opened up.

It wasn’t bad.

But it wasn’t enough.

Jamie was great. Amazing, even. But Wade couldn’t feel it—the spark, the connection, the pull. Every time Jamie smiled at him, Wade felt this strange, aching guilt. He couldn’t stop comparing them to Logan, couldn’t stop wondering why it didn’t feel the same.

And God, did that make him feel like a piece of shit.

Jamie deserved someone who wasn’t carrying the weight of someone else on their back. Someone who could kiss them without hesitation, without imagining someone else’s face, someone else’s voice.

So Wade tried harder. He took Jamie out to dinner. He let them come over to his place to watch movies. He even kissed them at the door when they left, trying to convince himself that maybe, just maybe, it could work if he gave it time.

It didn’t.

One night, after an especially long silence during a dinner Jamie had cooked for him, they set their fork down and looked at him with a soft, knowing smile.

“Wade,” they started gently, “I don’t think you’re ready for this. For us.”

Wade froze. He opened his mouth to argue, to deny it, but the words wouldn’t come. Because they were right.

Jamie reached across the table and took his hand. “It’s okay. Really. I like you, but I can tell there’s… someone else. Someone you’re not over yet.”

Wade swallowed hard, his throat tight. “It’s not that simple,” he muttered, looking down at his plate.

“I know it’s not,” Jamie said softly. “But you deserve to figure it out, and I deserve someone who’s already figured it out. You’re a great guy, Wade. You’ll get there.”

It hurt, but Jamie was right. And as they hugged him goodbye at the door, Wade couldn’t help but feel both relieved and ashamed.

That night, Wade sat on his couch, staring at his phone again. His thumb hovered over Logan’s name, his chest aching with a familiar, bitter longing.

Logan’s life had changed, too—though it didn’t feel like progress most days. After they split that day completely, he’d thrown himself into rebuilding his own sense of purpose.

He worked construction again, taking odd jobs to keep himself busy, trying to burn off his anger and frustration in the simplest, most straightforward way he knew how: physical labor.

It didn’t always work.

The violence that had gotten him fired hadn’t disappeared. It simmered just below the surface, threatening to boil over whenever something—or someone—pushed him too far. He hated it. Hated the way it made him feel like a monster. But without the chaos of his old life with Wade, Logan realized something terrifying: he had no idea who he was without the rage.

For a while, he’d tried therapy. A group for people with anger management issues. It had seemed promising at first, but sitting in a room full of strangers and listening to their stories only made him feel more isolated. They weren’t like him, he concluded.

Logan stopped going after four sessions.

Instead, he focused on routine. Work. Eating. Sleeping. Trying not to punch anyone. It was a quiet life, and some days he convinced himself it was enough.

But other days—most days, if he was honest—it wasn’t.

He’d moved to a new city, trying to leave behind the ghosts of Wade and their toxic, magnetic relationship. But Wade followed him anyway, in memories, in dreams, in every fucking little thing that reminded him of what they’d had and ruined.

Logan hadn’t been with anyone since Wade. Not even casually. Every time he tried, something in him shut down. He didn’t know if it was guilt, anger, or just plain exhaustion. All he knew was that nothing felt right without Wade.

But he didn’t reach out. Couldn’t.

He wasn’t ready to face him again. Not after everything.

One night, sitting alone in his shitty apartment with a beer in his hand and the TV on low, Logan picked up his phone and scrolled through his contacts. Wade’s name was still there, just like it had been for the past year.

Logan stared at it, his thumb hovering over the screen. He thought about Jamie, the person Wade had probably moved on with by now. He thought about the hurt he’d caused, the wounds they’d both inflicted on each other.

Logan had told himself countless times to stay away, to let Wade live his life, but temptation was a bitch he couldn’t quite shake.

Every so often, when the loneliness got too loud and the beer in his hand wasn’t enough to drown it out, Logan found himself scrolling through Wade’s Facebook.

It was never anything major—just a quick look to make sure he was still breathing, still okay. That’s what Logan told himself, anyway.

The first time he saw Jamie was in a photo Wade had posted a few months after they’d parted ways. They were standing outside what looked like some cheap restaurant, Wade’s arm slung casually over Jamie’s shoulders. Wade was grinning in that big, stupid way Logan used to know so well, and Jamie looked like they couldn’t believe their luck.

Logan’s stomach twisted.

He didn’t dive too deep into Jamie’s profile—just enough to know they were probably a coworker of Wade’s and seemed… nice. Normal. Stable. All the things Logan had convinced himself he could never be.

The next time Logan checked, there were more photos. Jamie and Wade at a work party. Jamie and Wade hiking somewhere Logan didn’t recognize. Jamie and Wade at a bar, sitting too close, laughing too hard.

Logan had slammed his laptop shut after that one.

He told himself he didn’t care. Wade deserved to be happy. To be with someone who didn’t hurt him.

But some nights, when the ache in his chest was unbearable, Logan would sit in the dark and wonder if Wade ever thought about him. If he still missed him.

If Jamie was enough to make him forget.

For a while, Logan tried to convince himself he was okay. He had a decent gig, had cut back on the drinking, and even started going to a local gym to burn off the restless energy that gnawed at him constantly. But no matter how many routines he threw himself into or how many hours he spent working on himself, there was always that one thought he couldn’t shake:

Wade.

Late at night, after another endless day, Wade’s face would creep into Logan’s mind. Not the shiny, smiling version from his Facebook photos with Jamie, but the real Wade—the one Logan used to wake up next to, all mussed hair and snarky comments. The one who’d made him laugh when he didn’t think he could, who could make him furious and keep him tethered all at once.

Logan started justifying his nightly stalking sessions as a way to check in, to make sure Wade was doing okay. At least, that’s what he told himself.

But it was getting harder to pretend he was just being curious.

One night, Logan saw a post from Wade that hit him harder than he expected:

“New place, new chapter. Feels good to finally have something that’s mine. Cheers to moving forward.”

The caption was accompanied by a picture of Wade sitting cross-legged on the floor of a modest but cozy apartment, holding up a takeout container with a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Logan’s chest ached at the sight. He should have been proud of Wade, and maybe part of him was. But mostly, he just felt the distance between them stretch wider.

Wade was moving on. Jamie was probably part of that “new chapter,” Logan thought bitterly, even though he hadn’t seen Jamie in Wade’s posts as often lately.

Still, Logan told himself to stay away. Wade deserved peace, stability—things Logan didn’t think he could offer.

But as the months dragged on, Logan found himself checking less often, afraid of what he’d see. Afraid of confirmation that Wade had finally found someone who could give him everything Logan couldn’t.

And yet, as much as he tried to let go, Logan couldn’t escape the quiet voice in the back of his mind whispering, Maybe it’s not too late.
-

Logan sat there for a moment, staring at the screen in front of him. His finger hovered over the keyboard, unsure, then he typed the name “Jake Morgan,” a bland, forgettable combination. He set up the profile with the bare minimum—just a couple of generic photos, some half-hearted posts about sports and random things. Nothing too specific. Nothing that would make Wade ask too many questions.

Logan stared at the screen for a while, his finger hovering over the “Send” button. He couldn’t believe he was doing this. A fake account. Messing with Wade like this. But there was no other way. No other way for him to get back in his life.

He finally hit send. The friend request was out there, just like that. He leaned back, half-expecting nothing to happen. Maybe Wade wouldn’t even see it. Maybe he wouldn’t care.

A few minutes passed. Then the notification came through: Wade Wilson sent you a message.

Logan’s stomach flipped. He hesitated, staring at the message preview on the screen. Do I know you from somewhere?

He gritted his teeth. Of course, Wade would know something was off. He wasn’t stupid. Logan exhaled slowly and typed out a reply, trying to sound casual.

“Nah, I don’t think so. Thought you seemed interesting, figured I’d say hi. No mutuals, right?”

He hit send and stared at the screen, waiting. Every second felt like an eternity. His thumb hovered over the screen again, but he stopped himself from checking too often.

A moment later, Wade replied.

“Interesting? You sure I’m not a ghost from your past or something?”

Logan could almost hear the playful suspicion in his voice, like Wade was trying to make it sound like a joke, but he wasn’t letting his guard down.

Logan cursed under his breath. Wade knew. He always knew. Logan tried not to overthink it, but he couldn’t help it.

“Nope no ghosts. Just thought you seemed like someone worth talking to. Didn’t mean to be weird.”

A pause. He could practically feel Wade’s eyes on the screen, thinking it over. Then Wade’s reply came:

“Weird? You haven’t even gotten to weird yet.”

Logan exhaled in a short laugh, then typed quickly, feeling the tension creep in.

“Fair enough. I’ll leave you to it. Just figured I’d shoot my shot. No harm in that, right?”

He hit send before he could stop himself. There was no going back now.

Wade’s response came almost instantly.

“Guess not. I don’t usually add randoms. Not really looking for new friends right now.”

Logan’s chest tightened. He hadn’t expected much, but the rejection still stung. He stared at the screen for a few seconds, tapping his thumb against the phone before replying.

“Got it. No worries. Just thought I’d try. Take care.”

He hit send, letting out a breath. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d just made a mistake. But then, a few seconds later, the notification popped up again.

Wade had replied.

“Maybe.”

Logan froze. He stared at the single word, his heart pounding. Maybe.

Logan stared at the message for a moment, his thumb hovering over the screen. Maybe. He had expected something, but that simple word made his pulse race.

He quickly typed back, trying to mask the mix of emotions flooding through him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?????”

He hit send before he could second-guess it. The silence on the other side felt like it stretched on forever. Logan nervously chewed at his lip, waiting for the inevitable reply.

A few moments later, the notification popped up again.

“Maybe means I’m not sure if you’re actually who you say you are.”

Logan’s brow furrowed. Damn, this is going to be harder than I thought. He tried to hide his frustration and came up with another response, careful not to let his real identity slip.

“Fair enough. I guess I’ll have to earn your trust.”

He read the message over again, wondering if that sounded too formal, too rehearsed. But before he could send it, another message from Wade appeared.

“You ever heard of being a little more direct? Not all of us have time for games.”

Logan bit back a grin. Wade had always been direct. He had no idea how to keep playing it cool with this guy, but he kept going.

“Alright then. What if I told you I wanted to talk, just talk? No games.”

There was a pause, longer than the others. Logan’s fingers hovered over the keyboard, debating whether to add something else. He didn’t want to give himself away too easily, but the thought of hearing Wade’s voice again, even just over text, felt too important.

“Well, I’m listening. But that’s all I’m doing. U say one thing that sounds too much like you and I’m blocking your ass.”

Logan almost cursed out loud. Shit.

“You don’t really have to worry about that. I’m a straight shooter. No tricks here.”

The next message came in almost immediately.

“You sure about that “Jake?” 🤣”

Logan’s stomach dropped. He knew he had slipped up earlier, but he wasn’t expecting Wade to catch on so quickly.

Logan stared at the screen for a moment, his fingers hovering over the keys. He knew he’d screwed up. Wade was too sharp, too intuitive to fall for his act for long. But he couldn’t let it go just yet. Not when he was so close.

He quickly typed, trying to mask the guilt gnawing at him. “Jesus. What kind of demons do you have that you think a simple message is a prank?”

He hit send before he could overthink it, but immediately regretted it. It sounded forced, and Logan could almost hear the disbelief in Wade’s voice even though they hadn’t spoken in over a year. He leaned back against the couch, trying to calm his nerves, but his fingers tapped restlessly against the side of his phone.

A moment later, Wade’s response popped up.

“Nice try, but Ik ur not a random guy from Canada. You’re slipping Logan 😒”

Logan cursed softly, feeling the weight of his mistakes. Wade had seen through it, and now there was no going back.

“You got me. It’s me. Happy now?” Logan’s message was clipped, defensive even, but it was the truth. It was better than trying to keep pretending.

There was a long pause before Wade finally replied.

“Guess I am now. How’s life treating you?”

Logan felt a mix of relief and frustration. Wade was still talking to him, but that didn’t mean things were okay. He took a breath, trying to focus on what to say next.

“Could be better. Could be worse. Same old shit.” He didn’t know what he expected from that answer, but it felt… honest.

“Same here. Guess that’s life though.” Wade responded almost immediately, and Logan could hear the dryness in his words.

Logan thought about pushing for more, trying to dig deeper, but he didn’t know if Wade was ready for that. He wasn’t ready himself.

“Yeah. I guess we both just keep going, huh?” Logan sent, leaning  back again, his eyes staring at the ceiling as he waited for Wade’s reply.

A couple minutes passed before Wade responded with a simple, “Yeah. Just keep going.”

And that was it. No confrontation, no anger, just the quiet understanding that they both had too much shit between them to work through.

“Where r u living now?” Wade double texts. 

Logan leaned back in the couch, staring at the screen as he typed out his response. It felt strange, like he was walking a fine line between curiosity and self-preservation.

“Vancouver. Got a place here. Nothing fancy, just getting by.”

He hit send, then paused for a moment. He had more questions. He wanted to know more, but he was afraid of pushing too hard. Instead, he tried to act casual.

“What about that Jamie guy? You two still?”

It was a question that wasn’t supposed to sound jealous, but it did. He couldn’t help it. Wade had moved on, or at least that’s what he’d always thought. But hearing it like this… it hit him differently.

A few moments later, Wade’s reply came in.

“Didn’t work out unfortunately.”

Logan felt a brief flicker of something he wasn’t sure how to label. Sympathy? Relief? Maybe a mix of both, but he tried not to think too hard about it.

“I’m sorry about that,” Logan typed, almost instinctively, trying to sound sincere without overstepping.

There was a pause on the other end, but eventually Wade responded, and Logan could almost feel the skepticism in his words.

“So did you add me with any particular goal in mind orrrr??????”

Logan smirked at the message, but the smile faded as soon as he read it. It was blunt, like Wade had just laid it out there for him. What was he supposed to say to that?

He leaned forward, hands resting on the keyboard, fingers hovering over the keys as he thought it over. He knew that if he told the truth, it would sound like he was making excuses.

“I didn’t really plan anything,” he typed. “Just wanted to see if you were doing alright. I guess I missed talking to you, in a way.”

He hit send before he could second-guess himself. It felt too honest, but it was the truth. He wasn’t sure what he expected from Wade, but he couldn’t hide from it anymore. It was better to be upfront than pretend he didn’t care.

Another pause. This time, it felt longer, like Wade was deciding how to respond. Logan had no idea what Wade was thinking, but he braced himself for whatever came next.

Logan’s heart skipped a beat when he saw the message come through.

“Honestly, I missed you too.”

For a moment, Logan just stared at the words, as if they didn’t make sense. He hadn’t expected that. Not after everything. Not after the silence, the time apart. But there it was—clear as day, coming from Wade, the one person who’d always been an enigma, a contradiction.

Logan didn’t know how to respond at first. His fingers hovered over the keyboard again, unsure if he should push forward or just leave it be. He wasn’t sure where they stood now. They’d both been through too much, and there was still so much unsaid. But Wade had opened the door a crack.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Logan typed finally, his voice sounding different in the quiet of his apartment. “Didn’t expect it, honestly.”

He leaned back, trying to play it cool, but his chest was tight, the words coming out of his mouth not matching what his body was telling him. There was a part of him that wanted to let the conversation continue, but there was another part that feared what might come next. They’d both hurt each other. How could they go back to anything resembling what they had before?

“So, what now?” Logan typed after a beat. He didn’t want to be too direct, but he needed to know if this was just a brief moment of weakness or something more. Something that could lead to… what? More mess? More pain? Or maybe the possibility of something better?

Wade’s response came quicker than expected.

“I don’t know, Logan. I’ve been doing better. Got my shit together, you know? But I don’t think I’ll ever fully shake the past with you. I don’t know if I want to.”

Logan felt his stomach drop. He didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. But Wade had been clear. He wasn’t sure, and neither was Logan. And that was fine. Maybe that was the point. Maybe they weren’t supposed to fix everything.

“I get that,” Logan responded. He didn’t know what else to say. He didn’t want to promise anything. They were both too far gone for that. But he couldn’t ignore the connection, even after all this time.

Logan’s eyes widened when he saw the message come through. He’d been prepared for more hesitation, more of that quiet understanding, but Wade’s words caught him off guard.

“If it helps, I can’t get off without thinking about you after all this time.”

Logan paused, his fingers hovering over the keys. It was exactly the kind of thing Wade would say, something reckless, something to test the waters and push Logan’s buttons. And it worked. Logan felt a rush of heat surge through him, a mix of longing and frustration. He hadn’t expected to hear something like that after everything, but it was Wade. And Wade had a way of making everything feel like it could pick up where they left off.

Logan let out a frustrated sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. He wanted to respond, wanted to keep the banter going, but there was something different about this. Something heavier. Something neither of them had truly faced before.

“You still know how to get under my skin.”

 “You always did.”

Maybe this was just old habits resurfacing, but Wade’s words had stirred something inside him. It wasn’t just physical anymore, not just about the past. There was a complexity to it now.

The response didn’t come immediately. Logan wondered if Wade was trying to figure out where to take the conversation next, or if he was still debating whether to dive deeper into this thing between them.

Finally, Wade replied.

“You know I’m not one for unfinished business.”

Logan bit his lip, the words hitting harder than he expected. He stared at the screen, unsure if they were flirting or talking in circles, but it didn’t matter. Wade was right. They had unfinished business, and no matter how much time passed, it would always linger between them.

“I’m not sure what we’re doing, Wade,” Logan typed slowly, the weight of his own uncertainty feeling heavier with each letter. “But I can’t keep pretending this doesn’t matter.”

Wade didn’t answer immediately. Logan’s mind raced, unsure if Wade had gotten cold feet or if he was processing. But when the message did come, it was direct.

“Then don’t.”

Logan stared at the screen for a long moment, that simple reply sinking in. Wade hadn’t backed away. He hadn’t shut him down. He’d taken a step forward.

Logan’s pulse quickened. Maybe they couldn’t ignore the past. Maybe they couldn’t change what had happened. But right here, right now, something was changing. Something between them was shifting, and Logan wasn’t sure where it would lead, but he knew one thing for sure.

He wasn’t ready to walk away this time.

Logan stared at the screen, his fingers hovering over the keyboard as he read Wade’s last reply. His heart was racing, his mind spinning with everything unsaid between them. The tension between them had always been there, simmering under the surface, and now it felt like it was about to boil over.

He typed slowly, biting his lip as he tried to process everything. “I can’t remember the last time I got off.”

He hit send before he could second-guess himself.

The seconds dragged on as Logan waited for Wade’s response, a knot of anticipation tightening in his chest. He tried to focus on something else, anything else, but the constant buzz of his phone pulled him back to the screen.

Wade’s message appeared.

“That’s a shame. Wish I could help.”

Logan let out a soft, frustrated exhale. It was too much. Wade knew how to push his buttons, how to make him feel like he was standing on the edge of something he didn’t fully understand yet. And Logan hated how much he wanted it.

“This is pretty bad, isn’t it?” Logan typed, staring at the words. He almost regretted sending it. He wasn’t looking for validation, but somehow, he needed to hear it, needed to know if they both understood the weight of what was happening.

Wade’s reply came quickly.

“Yeah This is pretty bad.”

Logan exhaled sharply, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. The situation felt so wrong, but at the same time, there was something intoxicating about it. Something that made him feel alive, even if it was self-destructive.

He thought about what Wade had said, how Wade’s words always seemed to cut through the bullshit and make everything feel like it was both too much and not enough at the same time.

Logan rubbed his hands over his face, exhausted. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Wade’s response was a little slower this time, but when it came through, it was clear and direct.

“Neither do I. But I don’t think we can stop now.”

Logan’s heart raced again. It wasn’t an answer, but it was a confirmation of everything they’d both been avoiding. This thing between them wasn’t just physical. It was complicated, messy, and they were both caught in it.

Logan stared at the message for a long time, fingers resting on the keyboard. He didn’t know where they were heading, but in that moment, he knew he couldn’t back away. Not now. Not when it felt like there was so much more at stake than just the heat of the moment.

“Maybe we should talk about this then.” He typed out carefully, but he couldn’t bring himself to send it right away. He didn’t want to complicate things more than they already were.

A few moments later, Wade responded.

“We’ll talk. Later.”

It was a promise, but Logan wasn’t sure what it meant yet.

Logan sat frozen for a moment, staring at the screen, as if the question had somehow escaped his mouth before he had even fully thought it through. He immediately regretted it. But there was something about the way the words had slipped out, the rawness of it, that made him feel exposed. Vulnerable in a way he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in a long time. He was on the edge of something he wasn’t sure he could handle, but he couldn’t pull himself away.

“Would you even want to see me?” Logan typed, almost breathless with the way his heart was pounding in his chest.

It was a dangerous question. One he didn’t really want an answer to. Or maybe he did. Maybe he wanted the validation, the idea that Wade still saw him as someone worth wanting. Or maybe, just maybe, he was hoping for something that would bring them back to the same place they had been before—the confusion, the desire, the push and pull.

Wade’s reply came quickly.

“And do what? Fuck?”

Logan let out a laugh, though it felt strained, as if he couldn’t quite hide the tension in his chest. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to shake the feeling of being tangled up in something that had never really been clear.

“Wouldn’t be a terrible idea.” Logan sent back, shaking his head as if Wade could see him through the phone.

He was teasing. He had to be, right? But there was something in Wade’s tone—something deeper than just the surface-level jokes that Logan could pick up on. It made him ache in ways he didn’t want to admit, ways that felt like a crack in his armor.

Wade didn’t respond immediately. Logan waited, fingers tapping nervously against the edge of his laptop, but when the message finally came, it wasn’t what he expected.

“What do u want me to say Logan?” Wade typed. There was a shift in his words, something different about the way he approached this conversation now. It wasn’t playful, but it wasn’t cold either. It was… guarded.

Logan’s chest tightened. “Idk.”

And that was the truth. He didn’t know what he was looking for. All he knew was that he wanted something. Maybe not even with Wade, but with someone who could make him feel less like he was losing his grip on himself.

“IDK either,” Wade sent.

It was the kind of text that stung, reminding Logan that some things couldn’t be fixed by just falling back into old habits. The past wasn’t just going to disappear because they both wanted to pretend they could go back to how things had been.

Logan let out a slow breath, fingers hovering over the keys as he contemplated the conversation. He felt the weight of everything unsaid hanging in the air between them, the desire still there, but also the realization that maybe they weren’t supposed to have all the answers right now.

“So… what happens now?” Logan typed, unsure if he really wanted to know the answer.

Logan’s heart skipped a beat at Wade’s challenge. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for this—whatever this was—but the temptation was too strong. Wade was always a test, and he knew that. He had always been the one to push him, to make him feel like he was standing on the edge of something he couldn’t control.

“Come find me.” The message was a dare. A test of his own resolve. Wade knew what that would do to him.

Logan took a deep breath. He stared at the screen, fighting the urge to send something impulsive, to just go. But it wasn’t that simple. Nothing between them ever had been.

“Where are you?” Logan typed, his fingers steady, though his mind raced with possibilities. The hesitation lingered, but it didn’t stop him from asking.

A few seconds passed before Wade responded. The response was brief, direct.

“You’ll figure it out.”

Logan laughed, but it was dark, almost bitter. Wade was playing the game again, testing him, and he had no idea if he was ready to play. But he could feel the pull. Wade had always been able to make him feel things he couldn’t quite put into words, and now, even through the distance, it was as if that magnetic force was still there.

“You’re really making me work for this, huh?” Logan typed, leaning back in his chair, staring at the screen as if he could will Wade to appear in front of him.

Wade’s response was fast, too fast. “I don’t make u work for anything. U just can’t help urself.”

Logan’s chest tightened. “You know me too well.”

And Wade, in his own way, did. Maybe better than anyone. That was what had always made this whole thing between them so complicated.

Logan sat for a moment longer, fingers tapping rhythmically against the edge of his desk, trying to decide if he was ready to face whatever would come next. His gut said go. But his head… his head was full of all the reasons it was a terrible idea.

The message from Wade pinged again.

“Well?”

Logan stood up. The decision was made. The challenge had been thrown down, and Wade wasn’t going to let him back out of it.

“Give me an address.” Logan sent, the words heavy with a mix of defiance and uncertainty. But there was something else too, something deeper, a yearning he couldn’t deny anymore.

Wade’s response came almost immediately.

Logan’s car hummed steadily as he typed out a quick response. Wade hadn’t made him work for it this time, just handed over the address with a few words that carried all the weight of their past.

“Winnipeg.” Logan murmured to himself, staring at the screen for a moment. He’d been there once before—years ago, when things were different, when things were easier. The memory made him tense up. He could already feel the old city crawling back into his skin, the dust and rust that made it feel like everything was on the verge of falling apart.

He pulled up the map on his phone, calculating the drive. Winnipeg was about twenty-five long hours from where he was—twenty-five hours of highway and empty stretches, long enough to give him too much time to think. Logan didn’t like thinking too much; it made everything feel heavier, like he was carrying a weight he could never put down.

Meanwhile, back in Winnipeg, Wade was staring at his phone. The quiet silence of his apartment felt louder than it should have. He was used to being alone, but tonight felt different. Maybe it was the message, maybe it was the feeling of something shifting in the air between them again. But as the minutes dragged on, the quiet felt suffocating.

He glanced around his small, cluttered place. It wasn’t much—never had been—but it was his. The walls were scratched, the floors creaked, and the furniture had seen better days, but it was home. The same old view out of the window: the grimy streets of Winnipeg, the kind of place that had a reputation for being rough around the edges.

Wade ran a hand through his hair, staring at the phone screen. He had given his address to Logan. He’d really done it. It wasn’t a place that invited company. It was the kind of neighborhood that only had a handful of people who cared enough to stick around, and Wade had always been one of them.

He wasn’t sure what to expect from Logan when he showed up. He hadn’t seen him in a year, not really. Yeah, there were those messages, but it wasn’t the same. Wade wondered if Logan would even show up.

Wade didn’t know why he felt nervous. He’d told himself over and over that he wasn’t interested in jumping back into anything with Logan, that they couldn’t go back to what they were. But tonight, with Logan on his way, it felt like all those walls he’d built up were crumbling.

The thought of Logan walking through his door made him ache in a way he hadn’t expected. He shook his head, trying to ignore the mess of emotions swirling in his chest.

He stared at the time on his phone, chewing his lip.

“Fuck,” Wade muttered under his breath. He didn’t know why he was even bothering with this. Logan was probably just looking for a distraction. He’d probably show up, get what he wanted, and leave again. He’d been doing that for years, so why would this time be any different? Just because he wanted it to be?

But still. The fact that Logan had texted him, that he’d actually made the effort to reach out after all this time, made Wade feel something. Something raw. Something dangerous.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Wade allowed himself to want it.

He wasn’t sure what Logan would be expecting when he showed up. Maybe nothing. Maybe everything. He just knew one thing: whatever came next, he wasn’t going to be the one to stop it.

Logan’s car was moving fast, the familiar roads passing by in a blur. He didn’t know what to expect when he reached Winnipeg, and he wasn’t sure he even cared. All he knew was that he had to get there. He had to see Wade again. Even if it was just for one night.

The drive was long, but Logan didn’t mind the quiet. He didn’t need to talk or think. He could just be on autopilot, focusing on the road, the hum of the engine beneath him. The emptiness of the road felt like a kind of relief—until his mind inevitably drifted back to Wade.

He thought about what Wade had said earlier, that he missed him too. It was the first time in ages he’d heard something from someone that made him feel alive. And Logan had no idea what to do with it.

The farther he drove, the more it felt like there was a magnet pulling him toward something he didn’t know how to resist.

—

Somewhere between Vancouver and Winnipeg, Logan’s car sputtered and died on the side of the road. The hum of the engine cut off abruptly, leaving only the cold, lonely silence of the empty highway stretching out in front of him. He sat there for a moment, hands gripping the steering wheel, eyes focused on the dark road ahead.

He wasn’t sure why it had happened. Maybe it was the distance, the isolation, or the weight of the decision pressing down on him. But as he sat there, surrounded by the vast nothingness of the road, Logan felt the anxiety and tension he’d been pushing down for days suddenly crash over him like a wave. His chest tightened, his breath grew shallow, and his stomach twisted into knots.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, slamming his hand on the steering wheel. He’d been on the road for hours, trying to outrun whatever it was that had been gnawing at him over the past year, trying to chase down a connection that might never happen. And now, as he stared at the dead car, all that noise in his head was louder than ever.

Logan felt completely paralyzed. The idea of seeing Wade again, of facing the past, of opening himself up to the mess they’d created—it was all too much. He couldn’t escape the feeling that he was walking into something that was bound to break him again. And maybe it wasn’t just Wade he was afraid of. Maybe it was what Wade would make him face in himself. The part of him that wasn’t fixed, that was still as broken as ever.

He leaned his forehead against the steering wheel, taking a deep breath.

“I’m fucking messed up,” he muttered to himself.

He didn’t want to give up. He couldn’t. But the weight of everything felt so heavy.

His mind spun in circles for what felt like hours, and then he did something impulsive—he had his car towed back to Vancouver. It wasn’t a rational decision, not really. It was just easier to run away again, to avoid the confrontation, the conversation, the need for change. And yet, as he stared out the window at the city slowly disappearing behind him, he knew deep down that he was just making excuses to stop himself from doing what he knew he needed to do.

It wasn’t the universe telling him not to go. It wasn’t fate intervening. It was just him. Fear.

—

Back in Winnipeg, Wade didn’t hear from Logan. The first day passed. No texts, no calls. Wade told himself he wasn’t going to wait around. He’d heard it all before—people who said they would show up but didn’t— Logan being one of them. He told himself to keep his expectations low, to stop caring.

But with every hour that ticked by, his hope kept creeping back, and when day two arrived, he found himself staring at his phone too often, checking for messages he knew he wouldn’t get. He kept telling himself that Logan wasn’t coming. He’d had his chance. Wade had put himself out there, and now it was on Logan to make the next move.

But as the days passed, Wade found himself getting angry with… himself. He’d gotten his hopes up, Logan disappointed him again. But even worse, he let himself be disappointed. 

Finally, he sighed and threw his phone down on the couch.

“I’m fucking stupid,” Wade muttered under his breath. “Guess I really thought… something would be different this time. Insanity. Insanity.”

Logan didn’t say much when he climbed into the cab of Earl’s truck on day four. Earl looked him over with the cautious, squinted eyes of a man who’d seen too many strangers try to pull something. Logan held his hands up like he was surrendering.

“Just need a ride,” he said. “Not looking for trouble.”

Earl chewed on the stub of an unlit cigar, grunted, and motioned for Logan to climb in. The old truck smelled like diesel and coffee, and the bench seat creaked under Logan’s weight as he settled in.

“Where you headed?” Earl asked as they pulled onto the highway.

“Winnipeg,” Logan said, staring out the windshield. He didn’t elaborate. Earl didn’t seem the type to pry.

“Got family there?”

Logan hesitated. “Not exactly.”

Earl didn’t push. He just nodded, his hands steady on the wheel, his gaze fixed on the road. For a while, the only sound was the hum of the engine and the occasional crackle of static from Earl’s radio.

After a long stretch of silence, Earl spoke up. “You a drifter, or just passing through?”

Logan considered the question. “Passing through.”

Earl grunted again, and Logan got the sense the man was content to leave it at that. It was a relief, honestly. He didn’t have the energy to explain his life to some stranger. Still, there was something about the quiet presence of the trucker that felt grounding. Earl didn’t need to know the details to let Logan sit in his truck and stare out at the endless stretch of road.

They stopped at a diner just past the Manitoba border. Earl parked the truck and climbed out, his boots crunching on the gravel. Logan followed, stretching his legs as he took in the small, rundown building. It had a sign that flickered faintly, one of the bulbs struggling to stay lit.

Inside, the diner smelled like bacon grease and coffee that had been on the burner too long. Earl headed straight for a booth, sliding in with the ease of someone who’d been on the road for years. Logan hesitated for a moment before sitting across from him.

A waitress came over, her hair piled high and her smile tired. Earl ordered coffee and a burger. Logan just asked for water, not trusting his stomach to handle much more than that.

“You’ve got the look of a man running from something,” Earl said after the waitress left. His voice was low, almost like he didn’t care whether Logan answered or not.

Logan snorted. “What makes you say that?”

“Seen plenty of folks like you over the years. Quiet, restless, don’t stay in one place too long. Ain’t my business what you’re running from, but…” Earl paused, leaning back in the booth. “You oughta figure out what you’re running to.”

The words hit Logan harder than he expected. He looked down at his hands, rough and scarred, and didn’t say anything. Earl didn’t seem to need a response. He just sipped his coffee, his gaze drifting out the window.

After they ate, Earl dropped Logan off near a busier part of town. He wished him luck before driving off, leaving Logan standing on the side of the road with nothing but the clothes on his back and the faint ache in his chest that had been there since he started this trip.

That night, as he sat in the corner of a small motel room with peeling wallpaper and a mattress that smelled faintly of mildew, Logan finally picked up his phone. He stared at the screen for a long time before typing out a message to Wade.

Logan: Hey.

Wade: I thought you said you would be here. 

Logan stared at the message, his thumb hovering over the screen. It wasn’t exactly an accusation, but it wasn’t casual either. Wade’s words carried a weight that made Logan’s chest tighten.

He exhaled and typed back.

Logan: I will be. Got held up. It’s a long drive.

The three little dots indicating Wade was typing appeared, then disappeared. Logan frowned, waiting. Finally, another message came through.

Wade: What, your wheels fall off or something?

Logan huffed out a bitter laugh. The irony wasn’t lost on him.

Logan: Something like that. I’ll be there. Just needed a minute.

Another pause. Logan imagined Wade, phone in hand, probably pacing around whatever shitty little place he lived in now.

Wade: You got me sitting here thinking you bailed, man.

Logan: I didn’t bail.

Wade: Then quit dicking around and get here.

Logan leaned back against the motel bed’s headboard, his eyes closing for a moment. He wanted to snap something back, but he didn’t. Wade wasn’t wrong to be impatient. Logan had kept him waiting for years, even when he hadn’t meant to.

Finally, he typed back:

Logan: I’ll be there tomorrow.

This time, the reply came quickly.

Wade: Better be.

Logan stared at the screen a moment longer before setting the phone down on the bedside table. He rubbed his hands over his face, feeling the exhaustion of the journey settling in. Tomorrow. It felt like a promise, but one he didn’t know if he could keep.

Still, as he lay down, he couldn’t shake the small, ridiculous flicker of hope in his chest.

Logan stood on the side of the road, squinting against the morning sun. His thumb was out, though he felt ridiculous doing this again. He’d hitched enough rides over the past few days to last him a lifetime, but there weren’t many other options. His duffel bag weighed heavy on his shoulder, and he hadn’t eaten anything decent since the diner.

He heard the sputtering of an engine before he saw it—a beat-up van barreling down the road toward him. It screeched to a halt, the brakes squealing, and the side door slid open with a loud clang.

Inside, chaos. Three teenagers surrounded by empty soda cans, chip bags, and crumpled fast-food wrappers.

“Yo, need a ride?” the driver called out. He was lanky, with greasy hair shoved under a backward cap. A cigarette dangled lazily from his lips.

Logan hesitated, eyeing the group. They were all dressed in some version of thrift-store punk: ripped jeans, band tees, dyed hair. They didn’t exactly scream “reliable transportation,” but he wasn’t in a position to be picky.

“Where you headed?” Logan asked.

“Minneapolis, but we’re picking up our friend in Winnipeg.” the driver said. “You?”

Logan adjusted his bag. “Winnipeg.”

The driver grinned and jerked a thumb toward the open door. “Hop in.”

Logan climbed in, shoving aside a pile of jackets to find a seat. As soon as the door slammed shut, the van lurched forward, sending him sprawling back.

“Nice reflexes, old man,” said the girl in the back seat, who had electric blue hair and a Nirvana shirt. She turned around to smirk at him, her legs propped up on the center console.

Logan scowled. “Old man?”

“How old are you?” she shot back.

“I’m only forty-two,” Logan muttered, already regretting this decision.

The whole van erupted into laughter.

“ONLY?!” one of the boys in the back shouted. He had thick glasses, a bad tattoo of a skull on his arm, and a joint tucked behind his ear. “Man, how are you even alive?”

The driver chuckled, tapping ash out the window. “You got, like, grandkids or something?”

“No,” Logan growled, glaring at him.

“Geez, calm down, gramps,” the blue-haired girl teased. “We’re just messing with you.”

Logan sighed, leaning back in his seat. This was going to be a long ride.

“What’s your name, old man?” The girl asked. 

“Logan. Howlett. If the last name matters.”

“Woah? Howlett? That’s some twilight shit. Are you a werewolf?” The kid with glasses chimes in.

“Want to find out?” He threatened, buckling his seat belt.

Over the next couple of hours, Logan learned more about the group than he cared to.

The driver’s name was Caleb. He claimed to be a music aficionado but couldn’t stop playing the same six songs on repeat. The girl was Rae, who prided herself on her encyclopedic knowledge of underground bands and obscure trivia no one asked for.

The kid with glasses was Milo, an aspiring “artist-slash-poet” who spent most of his time doodling skulls and pretending to be deep. Rae’s cousin. 

“So why the hell are you guys going to Minneapolis?” Logan finally asked after hours of Rae humming along to whatever grunge-adjacent song was playing on repeat.

Caleb glanced back at him through the rearview mirror, his smirk widening. “Supposedly, there’s a show there that’s gonna change our lives.”

“So,” Caleb asked after a while, glancing at Logan through the rearview mirror, “what’s waiting for you in Winnipeg?”

Rae perked up, twisting around in her seat. “Yeah, this band, Bleeding Pig Corpse—ever heard of them? They’re like, underground icons.”

Logan stared at her blankly. “Not even a little.”

Milo groaned dramatically from the backseat. “Of course he hasn’t, Rae. He probably listens to, like, classic rock or some lame old guy stuff.”

Logan raised a brow. “What’s wrong with classic rock?”

“See?” Milo grinned, elbowing Liam, who hadn’t said a word since the last pit stop. “Totally called it.”

Logan let out a low growl, leaning back in his seat. “You’re all insane.”

“No, no, no, you’re insane,” Caleb said with a laugh, gesturing broadly with one hand while steering with the other. “You’re hitching rides with a bunch of emo degenerates to Winnipeg. Who’s really making the bad choices here?”

Rae cackled. “He’s got a point, old man.”

Logan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m forty-two. Not old.” 

“That’s what makes it funny,” Rae shot back, still grinning.

A few hours later, the van pulled into a gas station on the edge of nowhere. Logan climbed out, stretching his legs while Caleb refueled. The sun was setting, casting the horizon in shades of orange and purple.

Rae leaned against the van, lighting a cigarette. “So, who’s this friend of yours in Winnipeg?” she asked, exhaling a puff of smoke, she offered a puff of her cigarette, and Logan took it despite himself. 

Logan glanced at her but said nothing.

“Oh, come on,” she pressed, flicking ash onto the ground when he passed the cigarette back. “We’ve told you all about us. Least you can do is give us something.”

“An old friend,” Logan said finally, crossing his arms. “We’ve got unfinished business.”

“That’s vague as hell,” Milo muttered, climbing out of the van with a bag of chips. “Sounds like a love story to me.”

“Shut up, kid,” Logan snapped, narrowing his eyes.

Milo just grinned, crunching obnoxiously on his chips. “Touchy. Must be true, huh?”

Rae exhaled another puff of smoke, smirking at Logan. “If it’s not a love story, then what is it? A revenge plot? A secret brother?”

Logan groaned, leaning against the van. “It’s neither. It’s complicated.”

“Complicated,” Rae repeated, dragging out the word like it was foreign to her. “Translation: definitely a love story.”

Milo chimed in, pointing a chip at Logan like it was a microphone. “So, when’s the wedding?”

Logan shot him a glare that could melt steel. “I could kill you, and no one would even notice.”

Milo’s grin only widened. “Would you kill me… for love?”

Rae burst out laughing, clutching her stomach as Caleb finished refueling the van and climbed back in. It was some reference Logan didn’t understand. “What the hell are you freaks on about now?”

“Our new friend here is clearly on a romantic mission,” Rae said, gesturing at Logan with her cigarette. “He won’t admit it, but we know the truth.”

Caleb looked Logan over as if sizing him up. “You’re going all the way to Winnipeg for someone, huh?”

Logan hesitated, his jaw tightening. “Something like that.”

Rae leaned closer, her expression softer now, almost curious. “They worth it?”

Logan didn’t answer right away. He stared at the horizon, the sky painted in deep shades of gold and purple. Was Wade worth it? After everything, the pain, the anger, the endless nights spent wondering if he’d made the right choices?

“Yeah,” he said finally, his voice low. “They are.”

For once, the group didn’t push further. Rae flicked her cigarette to the ground, grinding it out under her boot. “Well, good luck with that.”

For once, the group didn’t push further—except for Milo, of course. He leaned over from the backseat, propping his chin on the headrest in front of him and staring at Logan like he was a particularly interesting exhibit at a zoo.

“Wait, wait, wait. We’re just gonna let that slide? Nah, I need more. Who is this mystery person? Give me some deets. What does she look like? What’s her deal? How’d you meet? Did you blow it big time or just regular-time?”

“Milo,” Rae warned, flicking her cigarette away, “give it a rest, man.”

“No, no. He’s got a story. You don’t hitchhike all the way to Winnipeg if it’s not, like, the love of your life or some shit. Spill it, old man!”

Logan groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “First of all, stop calling me old man. Second, why the hell do you care?”

“Because I’m bored,” Milo admitted with zero shame. “And also, I believe in true love.” He clasped his hands together dramatically. “This is basically a Nicholas Sparks novel, and I’m here for it.”

Logan gave him a side-eye glare. “You’re here for it? You’re about to be on the side of the road for it.”

Milo gasped, clutching his chest. “You wouldn’t!”

“I would. Keep pushing and find out.”

But Milo wasn’t deterred. “Oh, come on. Just one detail. One tiny detail, and I’ll shut up. Pinky promise.” He held up his pinky, waving it obnoxiously in Logan’s face.

Logan stared at him, unimpressed. Then, to everyone’s surprise, he smirked. “You really want a detail?”

“Yes.”

“Fine. He talks too much. Kind of like you.”

Rae snorted, and Caleb glanced in the rearview mirror with a grin. Milo lit up like a Christmas tree. “He?! Oh my god, this is so much better than I imagined. Okay, okay—what else? Is he hot? Wait, duh, of course he is. You wouldn’t be going all this way if he wasn’t.”

Logan shook his head, leaning back against the seat. “You’re insufferable, kid.”

“Yeah, but I’m also right, aren’t I?”

Logan didn’t answer, staring out the window instead. The city skyline was getting closer now, and for the first time in days, something like hope flickered in his chest.

Milo grinned triumphantly, settling back in his seat. “Yup. Definitely a Nicholas Sparks novel. But, like, the edgy gay version.”

Rae nudged Logan with her elbow, a teasing grin playing on her lips. “Come onnnn, show us a picture. I know you have him on Facebook… unless you’re too old for that in the great year of twenty-twelve.”

Caleb snorted from the driver’s seat. “Bet he uses MySpace.”

“Or MSN Messenger!” Milo chimed in, earning a round of laughter from the group.

Logan rolled his eyes, his patience hanging by a thread. “You’re all hilarious. Really.”

“Seriously, though,” Rae pressed, leaning closer. “You’ve got to have at least one picture of him. Let’s see what this guy looks like. We need to know what’s worth crossing half the country for.”

“I’m not crossing half the country,” Logan muttered. A lie. He didn’t tell them where he’d come from exactly.

Caleb raised an eyebrow in the rearview mirror. “Bro, you’re literally in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, Manitoba. Feels like half the country to me.”

Logan didn’t respond, pulling out his phone reluctantly. He swiped through his apps, inwardly cursing himself for even humoring them. Of course, Wade’s profile was still saved in his bookmarks.

“Fine,” he muttered, pulling up Wade’s Facebook page and holding the phone up just long enough for Rae to snatch it.

“Hey!” Logan protested, but Rae had already leaned back, grinning as she studied Wade’s profile picture.

“Damn, okay,” she said, clearly impressed. “This guy’s hot.”

Milo scrambled over the seat to get a look. “Whoa. Whoa. Hold on. He’s, like, actually hot. And he’s got that hippie ‘I don’t care about anything but have found inner peace’ vibe going on. No wonder you’re losing your mind, old man.”

“Give me that,” Logan snapped, grabbing the phone back.

Rae and Milo were still grinning as Caleb glanced back at them. “So, what’s the deal with you two?”

Logan hesitated, his thumb hovering over Wade’s profile picture. “It’s complicated,” he said finally, shoving the phone back into his pocket.

“Complicated how?” Milo asked, leaning forward again.

Rae rolled her eyes. “Milo, seriously, let the guy breathe. Not everything has to be your business.”

“Fine,” Milo huffed, flopping back into his seat. “But if this turns into a rom-com where you run through a train station to confess your love, I’m gonna be pissed I didn’t get an invite.”

Logan smirked despite himself, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re mysterious,” Milo shot back with a wink.

Rae wasn’t done. She leaned back against the seat and fixed Logan with a curious look. “What’s his name?”

Logan sighed, resting his elbow on the window ledge. He hesitated, debating whether to give them anything more. But the truth slipped out before he could stop himself. “Wade.”

“Wade?” Rae repeated, testing the name out. She gave a crooked grin. “He sounds like trouble.”

Milo perked up again, leaning between the seats. “Wait, wait. Is this, like, some epic lost-love thing? Because if it is, we need the full tea. Like, what happened? Why’d you break up?”

Logan shot him a glare. “You ever think about shutting up for two minutes, kid?”

“Never,” Milo quipped with a smirk. “Come on, man. You’re stuck in this car with us. Might as well spill.”

Logan shook his head, letting out a dry laugh. “It’s not a love story, okay? It’s a fucking mess. We weren’t good for each other.”

Rae raised an eyebrow. “And yet, here you are, going all the way to Winnipeg for him.”

“Because I owe him,” Logan muttered, his voice quieter now. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to push down the knot in his chest.

The car went quiet for a moment. Even Milo seemed to pick up on the weight of Logan’s words.

“So…” Rae started, her tone softer now. “Do you think it’s gonna work out this time? You know, with you two?”

Logan shrugged, staring out the window. “I don’t know. I just need to see him. That’s it.”

Rae exchanged a glance with Milo, but they didn’t push further. Instead, Rae shifted in her seat, pulling her knees up to her chest. “For what it’s worth, I hope it works out. You look like you could use some good news.”

“Thanks,” Logan said gruffly, his eyes still fixed on the passing landscape.

Milo, of course, couldn’t leave well enough alone. “So, is he, like, a ten out of ten? ‘Cause that profile picture—”

“Drop it, Milo,” Logan interrupted, but his tone wasn’t as sharp this time.

The group settled into a comfortable silence after that, the hum of the engine and the soft notes of a guitar riff filling the car. Logan leaned his head back against the seat, his thoughts drifting to Wade.

No matter how much these kids pried, they wouldn’t understand. Hell, Logan didn’t even understand it himself. All he knew was that he was going to Winnipeg, and for the first time in years, that felt like the right thing to do.

A couple of hours later, Logan sat in the passenger seat, his phone in hand. Milo was driving now, singing off-key to some emo anthem blaring from the speakers. Logan tried to tune it out as he tapped out a quick message to Wade:

Logan: Almost there. Should hit Winnipeg by morning.

He hesitated before adding another line:

Logan: You gonna be awake?

Just as he hit send, he felt a presence over his shoulder. Logan whipped around to see Rae leaning in, her chin practically on his shoulder as she tried to read the screen.

“What the hell?” Logan snapped, nearly dropping his phone.

Rae threw her hands up defensively, a smirk plastered on her face. “Relax, old man. Just curious who you’re texting so intensely. Wade, huh?”

Logan glared at her, quickly locking his phone. “Mind your own damn business.”

“Oh, come on,” Rae teased, settling back into her seat. “It’s cute! You’re all serious texting your ex.”

“It’s not like that,” Logan grumbled, stuffing his phone into his pocket.

“Sure,” Rae said, dragging out the word like she didn’t believe him for a second. “If it’s not like that, then why are you freaking out every time I get near your phone?”

“Because I don’t need a bunch of nosy kids in my personal life,” Logan shot back, though his voice lacked real heat.

Milo chimed in from the driver’s seat, his eyes on the road but his tone dripping with amusement. “Dude,again, you’re hitchhiking with a bunch of teenagers. You kinda forfeited privacy when you climbed into this car.”

Logan groaned, running a hand over his face. “This was a mistake.”

“Big mistake,” Rae agreed, but she was grinning now. “Anyway, I’m rooting for you and Wade. Just don’t screw it up, okay?”

Logan didn’t answer, turning to stare out the window instead. But as the car rumbled on down the highway, he found himself glancing at his phone again, wondering if Wade would respond before they made it to Winnipeg.

As the car rumbled down the highway, Caleb in the back seat took a deep drag from a joint he’d carefully rolled in the tray on his lap, blowing the smoke in slow, deliberate puffs. The scent of weed filled the car, mixing with the heavy sounds of My Chemical Romance blasting from the speakers.

Milo, with a scowl on his face, turned the volume down just enough to complain, “This is not underground, people! This is mainstream, total sell-out material!”

“Shut up, Milo,” Rae shot back, already sticking her head out of the sunroof. Her blue hair whipped around in the wind, a wild grin on her face. “Stop being such a hater. You act like you were born in a garage band or something!”

Caleb chuckled from the back, taking another hit from the joint and passing it to Rae, who reached down to grab it, still with her head out of the sunroof. “Milo needs to accept that My Chemical Romance is a staple, man. It’s not all about ‘the underground’ and obscure bands no one’s ever heard of.”

Logan had barely been paying attention to their antics. His mind was still on Wade—on the way his text had sounded, the way it made him feel like maybe, just maybe, there was something left for them. But then the joint came into his line of sight, and Caleb was looking at him expectantly.

Milo threw him a half-interested glance. “You smoke?”

Logan raised an eyebrow but took the joint anyway, a silent challenge in his eyes. He didn’t have anything to prove, but maybe this would make the drive a little less miserable. He took a long drag, holding it in for a moment before exhaling slowly. He didn’t cough or sputter, just blew all the smoke out, the cloud filling the van. 

“Damn,” Rae shouted from the sunroof, her voice filled with approval. “You hit that like a pro! He it us with that French inhale too.”

“I’ve been smoking weed since before you little shits were born.” It was only a little bit of a lie— he didn’t smoke often. Not anymore at least.

The others erupted into cheers and laughter. Caleb slapped his knee, the car swerving slightly as he did so. “Shit, I thought you were just some grumpy middle-aged guy. But you’re cool as hell!”

Logan let out a low chuckle, feeling the haze of the weed begin to settle over him. His shoulders, which had been stiff and tight since the moment he climbed into this car, were loosening. The tension in his jaw slowly melted away, and for the first time in days, he felt a little bit of ease.

“Don’t get used to it,” Logan muttered, but there was a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He passed the joint back to Caleb, settling deeper into his seat as the music picked up again.

The car was hotboxed, the smoke thick and curling around them like a second layer of atmosphere. They were going ninety miles an hour down the highway, the wind rushing through the windows, and for once, Logan wasn’t thinking about the past, about the mistakes, about what had happened with Wade. For a few minutes, he was just a guy in a car with some reckless teens, riding through the night.

It was reckless, it was stupid, but goddamn, it felt good.

Logan exhaled a thick cloud of smoke when the joint reached him again, and glanced over at Rae as she slid back into her seat, still grinning.

“Me? Add you all on Facebook, huh?” Logan said, his tone dry but laced with amusement. 

Rae raised an eyebrow, clearly not impressed. “Please, old man. We all know you’ve got Facebook. I bet you scroll through it a lot, don’t you? All those cat memes get you laughing, huh.”

Logan scoffed, taking another hit. “Maybe. But adding a bunch of strangers to my list? That’s a new one.”

Milo, ever the curious one, leaned in from the front seat, eyes glinting. “Wait—what are we? Strangers now?” He shot a glance at Rae, who was smirking.

Logan gave a half-hearted shrug, glancing at his phone before flicking his gaze back to the group. “I guess you could say we’re… acquaintances.” He said it with just the right mix of humor and indifference, though he couldn’t deny that, despite the weirdness, he was actually enjoying their company.

Rae reached into the glove compartment, grabbing a crumpled pack of gum and unwrapping a piece. “Acquaintances, huh?” she said, popping the gum in her mouth. “Alright, old man. If you’re not gonna add us on Facebook, at least tell us something good about your ‘mysterious’ past.” She leaned back in her seat, eyes sparkling with challenge.

Logan raised an eyebrow, leaning his head against the window, feeling the buzz starting to settle in deeper. “Why would you want to know about that?”

Milo grinned, his voice lowering to a dramatic tone. “I dunno, maybe you’ve got some wild story. Maybe you were some kind of… rock star back in the day. Maybe you’ve got a criminal record.”

Rae snorted. “Please, Milo. You couldn’t handle a criminal record.”

Logan chuckled under his breath, taking another hit. “Criminal, huh? Guess that’s one way to put it.”

Rae smirked. “Guess I was right then.” She leaned forward, her elbow resting on the seat, watching Logan through half-lidded eyes. “You’re full of secrets. You’re just not sharing ’em. We want the lore.”

Logan exhaled slowly, staring out the window. He wasn’t used to talking like this, especially not with strangers. But in a weird way, it felt… easy. Carefree.

“Maybe some stories are better left untold.” He shot Rae a quick glance, his lips twitching up in an almost-smile. “But sure, I’ll think about the Facebook thing.”

Rae shot a victorious glance at Milo, who had been waiting for Logan to crack. “There it is,” she said, settling back into her seat. “We got him.”

Logan just shook his head, chuckling quietly to himself. Maybe they weren’t as bad as he thought.

Logan just shook his head, chuckling quietly to himself.. These kids were relentless, but there was something oddly comforting about the way they didn’t let up.

Caleb, still focused on the road, took another drag from the joint before passing it to Rae. “So, what’s the deal with this guy, anyway?” he asked, his voice casual, but there was genuine curiosity behind it. “You’re headed to Winnipeg. That Wade guy is waiting for you there… what else?”

Logan hesitated for just a second before answering. “Yeah, just… unfinished business.”

“Unfinished business?” Rae repeated, clearly intrigued. She gestured to his phone. “You guys must got some crazy history.”

Logan nodded slowly, the words he’d been avoiding finally tumbling out. “Yeah, something like that. He’s a mess, I’m a mess. But somehow, it just keeps pulling me back.”

The car got quieter, the air thick with the weight of his words. Milo leaned in, eyes wide. “Damn, dude. That sounds like some serious shit. Like, real deep.”

Logan didn’t respond right away. He wasn’t sure how to explain the tangled mess that was him and Wade. But these kids, for all their teasing and wild energy, were listening. Really listening.

Logan didn’t respond right away. He wasn’t sure how to explain the tangled mess that was him and Wade. But these kids, for all their teasing and wild energy, were listening. Really listening.

Rae leaned forward from the backseat, curiosity in her eyes. “So, what’s he like, then?” she asked, clearly intrigued. “I mean, you’re going all the way to Winnipeg for him. What makes him so special?”

Logan stiffened, the question catching him off guard. He’d been avoiding talking about Wade as much as possible, he wasn’t sure where to even start. He wasn’t sure how much of the truth he wanted to spill, either. But then, for some reason, it just started coming out of him. It was probably the weed, the way it made him chill out.!

“He’s… complicated,” Logan muttered, glancing out the window. “But, uh… when he’s good, he’s really good. Like, you wouldn’t believe the kind of shit he can pull off when he’s not in his head, you know?”

He paused, fingers tightening around his phone as he subconsciously pictured Wade’s face. “He’s funny. Really fucking funny. You don’t even know how bad you need that kind of humor until you’re around him. He doesn’t take anything seriously, but he’s smart. He can be a dick, yeah, but… I don’t know.” Logan’s voice softened a bit. “He’s just… broken. I guess I’m kind of the same way.”

He stopped himself there, suddenly aware of how much he’d said. It wasn’t like him to talk so openly about someone—especially someone like Wade. But it felt good, in a way, to let it out, even to strangers who had no idea what the hell he was talking about.

He stopped himself there, suddenly aware of how much he’d said. It wasn’t like him to talk so openly about someone—especially someone like Wade. But it felt good, in a way, to let it out, even to strangers who had no idea what the hell he was talking about.

Logan shifted in his seat, trying to regain his usual cool. “Haven’t seen him in a year,” he added, his voice quieter now, like the weight of that fact was sinking in.

The reaction was immediate.

“A YEAR?” Rae practically screamed from the backseat. “What the hell, dude? How do you go a year without seeing someone you’re all… in love with?”

Milo let out an exaggerated gasp. “That’s insane! How do you even survive that long, man?”

Logan shot them both a look, his fingers tapping against his phone nervously. “It’s complicated,” he muttered, unwilling to get into all the messy details. But they didn’t let it go.

Caleb, who’d been mostly quiet up until now, chimed in, clearly amazed. “A YEAR? And you’re still, like, going after him? Damn, dude, you’re either really patient or really crazy.”

Logan glanced out the window, the road stretching on in front of them. “Maybe a bit of both,” he muttered. “But it’s not like I’ve been just sitting around waiting for him, you know? I’ve got my own shit to deal with.”

They all went quiet for a moment, letting the weight of the situation settle in. Then Rae broke the silence again, her voice less teasing and more thoughtful this time.

“Man, I get it,” she said quietly. “Sounds like you’ve been through a lot with this guy, huh? Sometimes people just… get under your skin like that, no matter how far you try to run from them.”

Logan couldn’t help but nod, his jaw tight. “Yeah. You don’t always know why, but… it’s there. And you can’t just erase it.”

The others were silent now, all too aware that Logan wasn’t just talking about Wade anymore, but the bigger picture. The things that had kept him from moving on. The things he couldn’t fix, no matter how far he drove.

Finally, Milo broke the tension with a grin. “Well, sounds like you’re headed for one hell of a reunion. Better make it count, old man.”

Logan smirked despite himself, but he didn’t know if he was ready for what awaited him.

Rae leaned back in her seat, arms crossed, as she gave Logan a once-over. “Well, we can’t just let him go to Wade looking like… that.”

Logan frowned, straightening up defensively. “What’s wrong with the way I look?”

Rae burst out laughing, and Milo chimed in with a smirk. “You sure you want her to answer that? Your beard is adding like twenty years and those clothes…. Tsk tsk.”

“Nothing’s wrong with it exactly,” Rae said, shrugging with mock innocence. “But you could, y’know… shave a little, clean up? Guys, we need to make a pit stop.”

Milo groaned dramatically. “Oh, Rae, ever the fashionista. Can’t let anyone live.”

Caleb, still focused on the road, chuckled under his breath. “She’s not wrong, though. Logan, buddy, you look like you just crawled out of a cave.”

Logan ran a hand over his scruffy beard, frowning. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Rae said, already pulling out her phone to search for the nearest store, “that if you’re gonna show up after a whole year, you might as well not look like you’ve been living off wild berries and regrets.”

Milo snorted at that, earning a glare from Logan, but Rae was unbothered. “Trust me,” she said, tossing her phone onto the dash. “You’ll thank me later.”

Logan groaned, sinking lower into his seat. “I’m not doing a damn makeover.”

“Relax, old man,” Milo teased. “We’re just talking basic hygiene. Don’t you wanna look at least halfway decent for Wade?”

“Shut up,” Logan muttered, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward in spite of himself.

A short drive later, Caleb pulled into a small roadside plaza, parking the car in front of a convenience store and a discount clothing shop. Rae jumped out first, motioning for Logan to follow.

“I don’t need any of this,” Logan grumbled as they walked inside, but Rae ignored him entirely, scanning the aisles with a practiced eye.

“Here,” she said, tossing a pack of razors and a stick of deodorant into his hands. “And grab a clean shirt or something. That one’s seen better days.”

Milo wandered by and smirked. “You know, I kinda like the rugged look on him. Maybe Wade’s into that.”

Logan gave him a glare sharp enough to cut glass. “Not another word.”

By the time they’d pulled off to a roadside plaza, Rae dragged Logan out of the car and toward the women’s restroom of the clothing store they’d wandered into. He was already regretting every decision that led him to this moment.

“You can’t be serious,” he grumbled, digging his heels in as Rae yanked him forward by his sleeve.

“Oh, I’m dead serious,” Rae shot back, barely flinching at his resistance. “We’re on a mission, and you’re the project.”

Milo trailed behind, a mischievous grin plastered across his face. “I don’t know, Logan. I think a little polish might do wonders for you.”

“I don’t need polish,” Logan growled, wrenching his arm free, though he still followed reluctantly. “And why the hell are we going in there? Isn’t there a men’s room?”

“Men’s rooms are gross,” Rae said dismissively, shoving the door open. “You want me to fix you up right? We do it in here.”

“You’re not fixing anything—” Logan started, but Rae ignored him entirely, gesturing for Milo to shut the door behind them.

The bathroom was mercifully empty, though Logan still felt ridiculous standing in front of the mirror while Rae unloaded the supplies she’d grabbed from the store. A cheap razor, a can of shaving cream, and a couple of combs sat next to a pile of clothes she’d deemed “acceptable” for him.

“I’m not putting on a damn fashion show,” Logan warned, arms crossed as Rae snapped on a pair of plastic gloves she’d snagged from the counter.

“Oh, you’re not,” she replied dryly. “You’re gonna sit there and do exactly what I tell you.”

Milo perched himself on the sink, swinging his legs and grinning like a kid on Christmas morning. “This is the best day of my life.”

“Shut up, kid,” Logan snapped, but Milo just laughed.

Rae held up the razor like a weapon. “Alright, Logan, sit. Let’s lose the mountain man look.”

Logan grumbled under his breath, but he sat on the edge of the counter. As Rae worked, scraping away at his scruff, she muttered instructions like a drill sergeant. “Hold still. Tilt your head. No, not like that. God, how long have you had this beard? Since the Civil War?”

“Something like that,” Logan muttered dryly, glaring at his reflection.

“Leave the sideburns,” Milo piped up. “They’re iconic.”

“They’re ridiculous,” Rae countered, but she spared them. When she was done, Logan looked up to see his classic facial hair—trimmed sideburns, the faint stubble around his jaw—and even he had to admit he looked… better. Hot even.

Next, Rae thrust the pile of clothes into his hands. “Change. Now.”

Logan frowned, inspecting the items. A brown leather jacket, a black button-up shirt, boot-cut jeans. “You’re kidding.”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” Rae said, raising an eyebrow.

“You forgot shoes,” Logan pointed out.

“You’re keeping your old ones,” she said. “You’re a man of the people. Now move.”

Logan muttered curses under his breath as he stepped into the stall to change. When he emerged a few minutes later, Milo let out a long whistle, and Rae crossed her arms with a satisfied nod.

“Now that’s an improvement,” Milo said, grinning. “You actually look like someone who could be loved.”

“Bite me,” Logan said, tugging at the sleeves of the jacket.

Rae ignored the jab and gave him a final once-over. “There. Now you look like you’ve got your shit together. Sort of.”

Logan caught his reflection in the mirror again. The clothes fit perfectly, and for the first time in a long while, he didn’t feel like a total mess. He still looked like himself—just… the better version. Like the guy he used to be before everything went to hell.

“Alright,” Rae said, clapping her hands. “Let’s roll.”

As they piled back into the car, Milo leaned over the front seat, grinning. “Next stop: Winnipeg, baby. You better be ready for this reunion.”

Logan glanced at his reflection in the side mirror as they sped off. He didn’t know what he’d say to Wade when he got there, but for the first time in a long while, he felt like he might actually be ready.

As they sped down the highway, Rae, lounging in the passenger seat, turned to Logan with a mischievous grin. “Okay, so since we’ve come this far, we are totally coming with you to meet this Wade fella. We wanna see him in the flesh. Bleeding Pig Corpse isn’t for another two days.”

Logan blinked, stunned by the audacity. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on!” Rae drawled, dragging the words out dramatically. “You owe us. We’re emotionally invested now!”

“Hard pass,” Logan grunted, folding his arms.

Milo turned from the back seat, eyes wide with faux innocence. “What, you don’t want us there for moral support? I mean, we did just give you a makeover fit for the gods.”

“Don’t push your luck, kid,” Logan growled.

But they weren’t giving up that easily. Milo and Rae exchanged a quick glance before they both began to chant. “Please, please, please, please!” Their voices grew louder and more obnoxious with each repetition, joined by Caleb tapping on the steering wheel in rhythm.

Logan groaned, pressing his thumb and forefinger against his temples. “You’re all insufferable.”

“Say yes, and we’ll stop!” Rae said with a triumphant grin, still chanting.

“No, you won’t,” Logan muttered, but the chants didn’t relent. He sighed deeply, clearly regretting every decision he’d made in the past week. “Fine! Fine. Just shut up already.”

The car erupted into cheers, and Milo pumped his fist in victory. “Yes! This is going to be amazing.”

Logan scowled. “You’re not actually going to be there. You’re dropping me off, end of story.”

“Uhhh, no,” Rae said, spinning in her seat to face him. “You’re going to tell him to meet you at some restaurant nearby, and we are so going to say hi to him. You can’t stop us.”

“He’ll have a lot of questions,” Logan muttered, his voice tight.

“Oh, I’m sure he will,” Rae said, smirking. “And you’ll figure it out, big guy. You’ve got that ‘rugged man of mystery’ vibe. Wade’ll eat it up.”

Milo leaned forward, grinning. “Speaking of, are you going to tell him how you ended up hitchhiking across two provinces with the coolest emo band on the planet?”

“Not if I can help it,” Logan grumbled.

“Aw, but we make the story better,” Rae teased, flicking a piece of lint off his jacket. “You’re welcome for making you cool again.”

Logan sighed, staring out the window. He could already feel the headache forming as they barreled toward Winnipeg, and toward Wade. “This is a terrible idea.”

Rae just laughed, elbowing Milo. “He’s totally going to thank us later.”

-

Logan sat in the passenger seat, staring at his phone. His fingers hovered over the last text he sent to Wade: “I’m here. Same town, just outside that old diner on Main. You coming?”

His stomach churned as he looked out at the familiar streets of Winnipeg. He hadn’t seen this place in years, but it hadn’t changed much. The group sat in buzzing anticipation, with Rae tapping her fingers against the steering wheel and Milo craning his neck to peer down the road. Caleb idly scrolled through his phone in the back, though even he kept sneaking glances toward the diner’s entrance.

“You think he’s gonna show?” Milo asked, unable to hide his excitement.

“Course he will,” Rae said confidently. “Guy’s had Logan on his mind for a year. If he doesn’t show then I’ll personally track him down.”

Logan gave her a glare that lacked any real heat. “Stay in the car.”

Milo smirked. “Oh, like that’s gonna happen.”

Before Logan could retort, Rae gasped and slapped his arm. “There! That him?”

Logan turned, and his heart did something he hadn’t felt in years. Wade was crossing the street, unmistakable in his stride, even from this distance. He glanced around, clearly looking for someone—clearly looking for him.

“That’s him,” Logan muttered, barely audible.

“Holy shit, it’s him!” Milo said, practically bouncing in his seat. “This is the guy?”

Logan let out a frustrated sigh. “Alright, listen up,” he said, turning in his seat to glare at them. “If you want to see anything, you’re staying in this car. Got it? No introductions, no shouting, no—whatever it is you do. Just stay here.”

Milo raised his hands innocently. “Okay, okay, we’ll stay. Geez.”

“Promise?” Logan pressed, narrowing his eyes at Rae, who smirked like she was about to say something snarky.

“Promise,” Rae said, crossing her heart. “Scout’s honor.”

“Fine,” Logan muttered, shoving the door open. The cool Winnipeg air hit him like a slap as he stepped out, closing the door behind him. He didn’t glance back, but he could feel their eyes on him as he started toward Wade.

“Look at him run,” Milo said, pressing his forehead to the window to get a better look. “I didn’t think old man legs could move that fast.”

“He’s got that adrenaline rush,” Rae said, leaning over to get a better angle. “It’s the power of love or whatever.”

Caleb chuckled from the driver’s seat. “You two are embarrassing.”

Logan’s boots thudded against the pavement as he closed the distance. Wade finally noticed him, his eyes lighting up with recognition before shifting into something softer. A small, hesitant smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

The sight of Wade stopped Logan in his tracks for a moment. He’d changed, but somehow, he was still unmistakably Wade. His hair was much longer now, hanging down to his back in slightly uneven, messy waves, like he’d let it grow out on a whim and never bothered to get it trimmed. A thin silver hoop glinted in his left ear, catching the weak afternoon sun. His clothes were relaxed—faded jeans and a loose, colorful shirt that screamed “free spirit”—and the whole look gave him an almost hippie-like vibe. It wasn’t the Wade Logan remembered, but it wasn’t entirely a stranger either.

Logan stopped a couple of feet away, hands still shoved in his pockets. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Wade replied, his voice quieter than Logan remembered, but still distinctly Wade.

“You look… good,” Logan said, awkwardly gesturing toward him. “Better than I thought you would.”

“Well, I am the picture of health,” Wade said with a lopsided grin, spreading his arms theatrically. “You know, minus the whole ‘dying of cancer’ thing.”

Logan frowned, his jaw tightening, but Wade quickly waved a hand. “Kidding. I’m good. Been good.”

Logan’s eyes briefly flicked over Wade again, taking in the changes. He noticed a bead woven into one strand of hair, resting against his shoulder. It was strange—Wade embracing this whole laid-back, almost bohemian style—but there was something oddly comforting about it. He’d found a version of himself that he could live with.

“You, uh… you’ve grown out your hair,” Logan said, not entirely sure why he brought it up.

Wade grinned wider, running a hand through the long strands. “What can I say? Felt like a change. Figured I’d lean into the whole ‘rebel without a cause’ thing. You like it?”

Logan shrugged, though his lips twitched upward ever so slightly. “It’s… different.” He tried to act indifferent, but all he could think about was how badly he’d want to pull on it while—

Wade’s grin softened as his eyes flicked over Logan, taking him in. He shifted his weight, his gaze roaming from Logan’s freshly trimmed facial hair to the brown leather jacket and black button-up he was wearing. Wade’s lips twitched into a flirty smile as he bit down on his bottom lip, chewing it thoughtfully. “You don’t look bad yourself,” he said, his tone casual, though his eyes lingered a second too long on Logan’s chest.

Logan cleared his throat, suddenly feeling the weight of Wade’s attention. “Yeah, well… I had some help.”

Wade arched an eyebrow. “Help, huh? From who? One of your blue collar friends?”

“Not exactly.” Logan stuffed his hands deeper into his pockets, glancing toward the car behind him. Rae, Milo, and Caleb were all leaning forward, faces practically pressed against the windows as they watched intently.

“Don’t tell me…” Wade tilted his head, following Logan’s gaze. His smile grew wider, almost disbelieving. “Are those… kids you’ve been hitching with?”

“Yeah,” Logan muttered, scratching the back of his neck. “Picked me up somewhere around… I don’t know. The middle of nowhere?”

Wade’s laughter bubbled up, light and genuine. “Jesus, Logan. You hitchhiked your way back here? That’s commitment.” His eyes softened, the teasing tone fading slightly. “I mean it. You didn’t have to do all that.”

“Yeah, I did,” Logan said, his voice quiet but firm.

The sincerity in his tone made Wade pause. For a moment, the air between them felt heavy with everything unsaid. But before it could settle too deeply, Wade turned his attention back to the car, giving a lazy wave. “Well, don’t leave me hanging. Are you gonna introduce me to your new fan club or what?”

“They’re not my fan club,” Logan grumbled.

“Uh-huh.” Wade smirked, his hands settling on his hips. “Sure looks like it from here.”

Logan sighed and turned toward the car, motioning for the group to get out. As soon as the doors opened, Rae was the first to bound out, Milo and Caleb close behind.

“Hey, stranger!” Rae called, throwing her arms wide as she approached. “Wade, right? We’ve heard so much about you.”

Milo elbowed her as he passed, grinning from ear to ear. “Seriously, man. You’re, like, a legend.”

Caleb gave a small, awkward wave from the back. “Hi.”

Logan pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering under his breath. “Kill me now.”

Milo leaned forward, pointing at Wade with an exaggerated look of realization, squinting. “Dude, you’re literally… like Brandy in Joe Dirt! You know, like when Joe gets famous on the Xander Kelly show, and the whole world knows who she is on the bridge. That’s you right now! Except the whole world is us. Which would be a pretty sick world.” 

Wade’s eyes lit up as he slapped his thigh, looking genuinely thrilled, and then squeezing his hands together. “Holy shit! I love that movie! What the shit biscuits, Logan? Where did you find these darkly wardrobed little shits?”

Logan pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. “I didn’t find them—they found me. Hitchhiking across Canada, remember?”

“You should’ve started with that,” Wade said, pointing at him. “Any Joe Dirt enjoyer is automatically good in my book. I mean, it’s a masterpiece of cinema. Can we just agree on that?”

“Absolutely,” Rae chimed in, reaching in her pocket for a pack of cigarettes. “David Spade in a mullet is a cultural reset.”

Caleb laughed, leaning over to hold a light for Rae like it was habit. “I don’t know, man. That’s a bold claim.”

“Bold but accurate,” Wade insisted, his enthusiasm contagious. He turned to Milo, who was already grinning ear to ear. “Okay, you officially get to stick around for that comment. Congrats, you’re my favorite.”

“Hey!” Rae protested, nudging Wade across the table. “What about me? I’m the one who gave Logan a makeover!”

“And we do appreciate that,” Wade said diplomatically, giving her a mock-serious nod. “But, come on. Joe Dirt references? That’s next-level bonding.”

Logan groaned, leaning back in the booth. “You guys are unbelievable.”

“Unbelievably awesome,” Milo corrected, winking.

Wade leaned closer to Logan, his grin softening just a little. “Seriously though, these kids aren’t half bad. You could’ve done worse.”

Logan glanced at the group, who were now debating whether Joe Dirt or Napoleon Dynamite deserved the title of “most underappreciated comedy of the 2000s.” His lips twitched into a reluctant smile. “Yeah… I guess they’re good kids. Not if you’re their parents I’m sure— but a random hitchhiker?” 

Wade grinned. “That’s the spirit, Joe Dirt.”

“Don’t start,” Logan warned, though his voice lacked any real bite.

Rae flicked the last ash off her cigarette, grinding the butt under her boot with practiced ease. “Alright, I’m starving. What’s the plan?”

Wade clapped his hands together, grinning as if he’d been waiting for this exact moment. “The plan is: I’m treating you all to a meal. You dragged this grumpy man halfway across Canada, and I have been handsomely compensated for my hard, back-breaking labor.”

Caleb raised a brow. “What kind of labor are we talking about?”

“Oh, you know, the usual,” Wade said, waving a hand dramatically. “Lifting impossibly heavy boxes, saving helpless kittens, charming the masses—basically, I’m the backbone of society.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “You work at a warehouse.”

“Car dealership,” Wade shot back, grinning. “Anyway, order what you want. The sky’s the limit.”

“Seriously? Anything?” Milo asked, eyes widening.

“Anything,” Wade confirmed, spreading his arms like a benevolent king. “I’m feeling generous today.”

“Hell yeah!” Milo cheered, already scanning the menu like it was a treasure map.

The group piled into a booth, Rae claiming the edge so she could stretch out her legs. Logan and Wade slid into the other side, facing them. Wade made a point of elbowing Logan lightly as they sat.

“So,” Rae said, leaning on the table with a sly grin. “You’re like some kind of sugar daddy?”

Wade snorted. “Please. If I were a sugar daddy, I’d be the kind that gives out coupons and asks for gas money.”

“Sounds accurate,” Logan muttered, flipping open his own menu.

“Oh, don’t pretend you’re not thrilled to be sitting here eating on my dime,” Wade teased, nudging him under the table.

“Thrilled,” Logan deadpanned, though the corner of his mouth twitched upward.

The group dove into conversation as they picked out their meals, Rae teasing Caleb for his overly complicated order, while Milo declared he was going to try “one of everything.” Wade leaned back in his seat, watching them all with a rare softness in his expression.

“You really did it, huh?” Logan murmured, low enough for only Wade to hear.

Wade glanced over, eyebrows raised. “Did what?”

Logan shrugged. “Found a way to keep going. Got your shit together.”

Wade’s grin faltered for just a moment, replaced by something quieter, more genuine. “Yeah. Took a while, though.”

Logan nodded, his gaze lingering on Wade’s face. “Looks good on you.”

Wade flushed slightly, his usual humor bubbling back to the surface. “Careful, Logan. Keep talking like that, and I might start thinking you like me.”

“Yeah, well,” Logan said, looking down at his menu to hide the faint color creeping up his own neck, “maybe I do.”

The moment hung between them, quiet but heavy with meaning, before Milo broke the silence by waving his menu in the air. “Hey, Wade! What’s the most expensive thing on this menu? Asking for a friend!”

Wade laughed, throwing a crumpled napkin at Milo’s head. “Keep dreaming, kid.”

As Logan stood with Wade near the curb, the car of mismatched emo teens idled in the street, its engine rumbling softly. Rae leaned out of the passenger window, cigarette dangling between her fingers, her sharp grin softened by something resembling genuine affection.

“Well, this is it, old man,” she said, her tone half-teasing, half-sincere. “You’ve been officially adopted by our dysfunctional little family.”

Milo popped his head out from the back seat, grinning ear to ear. “Yeah, dude, you’ve got the vibe. Like, the mysterious, emotionally-repressed uncle everyone likes but is kind of scared of.”

Caleb honked the horn, leaning his arm out the driver’s window. “We’re gonna miss you, man! Seriously, good luck with everything. And don’t forget to add us on Facebook.”

Logan smirked, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’ll get right on that.”

“Hey, we mean it!” Milo protested. “I wanna see how this thing works out. You better post updates. And pictures. Lots of pictures. Oh! And invite us to the wedding!” 

Logan groaned but reached into his pocket, pulling out a scrap of paper with his Facebook info scrawled on it. He handed it to Rae, who took it with a triumphant grin.

“Look at you,” she said. “Actually sharing something personal. You’re growing.”

“Shut uppp— now leave before I actually get attached to you. I’m bad with kids.” Logan muttered, but the faint amusement in his voice betrayed him.

Rae scoffs, “Hey, you say you’re not an old man— and we are not kids. I’m nineteen thank you very much. Could a kid make you look so good, or drive you across the country?” She raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms with some playful sass. 

“Nineteen years ago I had a consciousness. Now scram.” 

Milo gave him a thumbs-up. “See you again someday, maybe?”

Logan hesitated, his stoic mask cracking just a little. “Yeah. Maybe.”

As the car began to pull away, the group leaned out of the windows, waving and yelling over each other.

“Don’t screw this up!” Milo hollered.

“Have a good life!” Rae added, her voice full of laughter.

“See ya one day, side quest!” Caleb shouted, slapping the side of the car as they disappeared down the road, the van spitting out thick clouds of smoke.

Logan stood there for a long moment, watching until the taillights faded into the distance. For a brief second, he almost missed their energy. But when he turned to Wade, who was watching him with an unreadable expression, that fleeting feeling was replaced with something heavier, more important.

“You keep surprising me,” Wade said softly, tilting his head.

Logan shrugged, his lips twitching into the faintest of smiles. “Maybe I’ve got layers.”

“Oh, I know you do,” Wade teased, his grin returning. “Come on. Let’s go find something to do. We’ve got a lot to catch up on.”

As they walked down the dimly lit street, Logan’s sharp gaze flicked to a neon sign buzzing in the corner of his vision. It read “Cage Fights Tonight!” in blocky letters, and the low thrum of a crowd could be heard through the open door. He slowed his pace slightly, tilting his head toward it.

Wade caught the shift in Logan’s attention and followed his line of sight. “Oh, hell no,” he said with a laugh. “Imagine you, cage fighting. That’s badass. Is that even legal?”

Logan smirked, his tone casual but his steps now angling slightly toward the bar. “Imagine? Come on.”

Wade froze, grabbing Logan’s arm. “Woah, woah—hold up. I wasn’t being serious. You can’t just… walk into a cage fight. What, are you gonna introduce yourself as Logan, local tough guy?”

Logan glanced over his shoulder, the faintest hint of a grin on his face. “Well, if you’d like to know, I took up boxing since I last saw you.” His eyebrows wiggled in exaggerated playfulness, the lines around his eyes crinkling in that subtle way Wade had almost forgotten about.

Wade blinked, thrown off by the sudden charm. He let out a short laugh. “Boxing? You? What, like, with a coach and a gym membership? Or did you just punch trees in the woods and call it training?”

“A little of both,” Logan quipped, already tugging open the heavy wooden door to the bar.

“Wait, wait,” Wade said, scrambling after him. “You’re seriously doing this? Right now? You do know this isn’t Rocky, right? These guys don’t do freeze frames when you get knocked out.”

Logan didn’t bother answering. He was already making his way toward the signup table by the bar, his boots thudding against the worn floorboards. Wade trailed behind, shaking his head but secretly intrigued.

When Logan reached the table, the man behind it barely looked up from his clipboard. “Name?”

“The Wolverine,” Logan said gruffly, ignoring Wade’s sharp intake of breath behind him.

“The Wolverine?” Wade whispered loudly, leaning in close. “You’re gonna use that?”

Logan just shot him a pointed look, the kind that managed to shut Wade up despite the dozen jokes piling up in his head.

The man at the table smirked, jotting down the name. “You’re on in twenty. Rules are simple—no biting, no eye-gouging, no weapons. Everything else is fair game.”

“Got it,” Logan replied, shrugging off his jacket and handing it to Wade, who gawked at him.

“Oh my god,” Wade muttered, clutching the jacket. “You’re actually doing this. You’re insane.”

Logan’s smirk deepened as he leaned in closer, his voice low and full of quiet confidence. “Stick around, Wade. You might learn something.”

The bar was a dive, dimly lit with a haze of smoke hanging heavy in the air. The scent of spilled beer, sweat, and cheap cologne mingled together in a pungent cocktail that made Wade’s nose scrunch. The crowd pressed tightly around a crude metal cage erected at the center of the room, their voices blending into a raucous roar. Some leaned over the railings, exchanging bets and slapping cash into outstretched palms, while others jeered at the fighters already in the cage.

Logan stood off to the side, near a scratched and dented locker that served as the fighter prep area. His eyes were sharp and focused, scanning the ring with a predator’s calm, while his hands busied themselves methodically taping his knuckles. He wrapped the tape tight, muttering something under his breath, a mantra to center himself. Wade, still clutching Logan’s jacket, hovered nearby, watching with an odd mixture of awe and concern.

“You sure about this, Rocky?” Wade asked, leaning against the cage wall.

Logan didn’t respond. His shoulders were squared, his breathing measured, his entire body taut with controlled energy. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, stretching out his neck until it cracked, the sound loud even over the din. It was like watching a switch flip—he wasn’t just Logan anymore. He was The Wolverine.

The announcer’s voice crackled over an old PA system. “And in the red corner, hailing from parts unknown—The Wolverine!”

A chorus of boos and cheers erupted as Logan stepped into the cage, his boots ringing against the metal floor. His opponent was already waiting—a hulking man with a shaved head, tattoos snaking up his arms and throat. He grinned at Logan with a mouth full of gold teeth, flexing his muscles for the crowd.

Wade leaned closer to the railing, squinting. “Oh, he’s definitely got a criminal record,” he muttered.

Logan ignored him. He rolled his shoulders, his jaw tightening as he locked eyes with the man across from him. The referee barked out the rules, but Logan wasn’t listening anymore. His world narrowed to the cage, the opponent, and the sharp pulse of adrenaline coursing through his veins.

The bell rang.

Logan exploded forward, his movements quick and deliberate. His first punch connected hard with the man’s jaw, the sound of bone meeting bone cutting through the crowd’s roar. His opponent staggered, but Logan didn’t give him a chance to recover. He was relentless, raining blows on the man with a precision that bordered on brutal artistry.

Wade watched from outside the cage, his breath caught in his throat. Logan didn’t fight like a man—he fought like an animal. Every punch, every dodge, every calculated step forward was filled with a raw, almost primal energy. It wasn’t just a fight; it was a hunt. It didn’t just thrill him to watch. It lit him on fire with need— like he’d suddenly broken out a fever. It made his knees wobble and his fingers twitch against the railing… in fact— his fingers weren’t the only thing twitching. 

Blood sprayed from the man’s nose as Logan landed a vicious uppercut, followed by a kick to the ribs that sent him crashing into the cage wall. The crowd went wild, chanting Logan’s new moniker—“Wolverine! Wolverine!”

Wade found himself gripping the railing tighter, unable to tear his eyes away. Logan’s face, usually so guarded and grim, was lit up with something Wade hadn’t seen before—a twisted kind of joy, pure and unfiltered. His eyes gleamed, his lips curled into the faintest of smirks, and his entire body seemed to come alive in the chaos of the ring.

The opponent managed to get a hit in, a sharp jab to Logan’s side, but it only seemed to fuel him further. Pain— only made him want his victory more, it focused him.

Logan pounced, wrapping his arms around the man’s torso and slamming him to the ground with enough force to shake the cage. The man gasped for air, and Logan didn’t hesitate. He rained down punch after punch, his fists slick with blood, until the referee stepped in, waving his arms frantically to stop the fight.

The bell rang again, signaling Logan’s victory.

Logan stood, breathing hard, his chest rising and falling as he looked down at his defeated opponent. The crowd erupted into cheers and whistles, slapping the cage walls in appreciation. 

Wade, still leaning against the railing, let out a low whistle. “Jesus Christ, Logan,” he muttered, though he couldn’t help the grin tugging at his lips.

Logan stepped out of the cage, wiping his bloodied hands on a towel offered by one of the staff. He glanced at Wade, his eyes still burning with that wild, untamed light. “Told you,” he said simply, his voice rough and gravelly.

Wade stared at him, then shook his head. “Remind me never to piss you off.”

The din of the bar began to fade as Logan and Wade stepped outside, the cool air biting at their skin. Logan still had a faint sheen of sweat on his brow, the blood on his knuckles starting to dry. Wade was quiet, uncharacteristically so, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of Logan’s jacket that he’d draped over himself like a cape.

For a moment, neither of them said anything, just walking side by side under the dim streetlights. The muffled roar of the crowd still echoed faintly in their ears, but the quiet between them felt heavier than the noise inside.

Wade finally broke the silence. “It’s weird, y’know? Watching you fight like that. It’s…” He paused, searching for the right words. “It’s a lot different when it’s not me you’re throwing into a wall.”

Logan stopped walking, his boots scraping against the pavement. He turned to face Wade, his expression unreadable, though his jaw tightened slightly.

“I wasn’t gonna bring it up,” Logan said after a moment, his voice low. “Didn’t think you wanted to.”

Wade huffed out a laugh, but it wasn’t one of his usual sharp, sarcastic ones. It was softer, tinged with something close to regret. “Guess it’s hard not to. Watching you in there… all that energy, all that control. It’s like you finally found a way to use it without—”

“Without hurting you,” Logan finished for him, his voice cutting through the night air.

Wade glanced at him, his mouth quirking into a half-smile, though his eyes stayed serious. “Yeah. Without that.”

Logan stepped closer, the weight of the moment pressing between them. His hands moved without hesitation, finding Wade’s waist and pulling him in until there was barely any space left between them. He stared at Wade, his gaze steady but softer than it had been in the cage.

Logan stepped closer, the weight of the moment pressing between them. His hands moved without hesitation, finding Wade’s waist and pulling him in until there was barely any space left between them. He stared at Wade, his gaze steady but softer than it had been in the cage, as if something deeper had settled in him.

“I would never hit you again,” Logan said, his voice low but firm. His hands tightened slightly on Wade’s waist, grounding him in the moment. 

Wade barked out a laugh, the awkwardness of the moment diffused slightly by his dry humor. “Holy shit, Logan. You’re gonna bring me back to the grave with this sudden directness.”

Logan let himself smile, a rare thing that came more easily around Wade now than he could ever remember. His voice softened as he continued, “I mean it. I’ve spent so long thinking I couldn’t change, thinking all I’d ever be is what I’ve been before. But this past year…” He shook his head, his grip loosening as his fingers brushed lightly over Wade’s sides. “It’s not enough yet, but I’ve come a long way.”

Wade blinked at him, the teasing edge dropping from his expression. For once, he didn’t seem to have a joke lined up, just a flicker of something vulnerable behind his usually guarded eyes.

Logan’s voice dipped even lower, more reflective. “And so have you. You’re not the same guy I left behind. You’ve come so far, and it’s… I don’t know.” He hesitated, the words sticking to his throat. “It’s something, Wade. It’s good.”

Wade shifted slightly under the weight of the compliment, a soft, awkward laugh escaping him. “Okay, well, first of all, thanks for being proud of me, Dad.” Logan gave him a sharp look, but Wade barreled on. “But let’s not forget—we were both horrible to each other. I think the score is more or less even. I mean, half the time I can’t even remember the details. Like… why were we even fighting that much? And also—‘The Wolverine’? Where the hell did that come from?” 

 A year ago, that comment would have pissed Logan off. Something like, oh, you don’t remember all the pain you put me through? You don’t remember all the things you made me do? 

But it didn’t anymore. 

He let the topic change to Wade’s question. 

“My mom used to call me her little Wolverine.” His voice grew quieter, more introspective. “She had this story she used to read me as a kid, about a talking wolverine. Tough little bastard, scrappy and mean, but… smart. Always found a way to survive.”

Wade tilted his head, watching Logan carefully, noticing the slight tension in his jaw and the way his eyes flicked downward, as though caught in some memory.

“She hurt me a lot,” Logan admitted after a beat, his voice steadier than it had any right to be. “She wasn’t… good to me. But I loved her anyway. She died when I was still a kid. Never got a chance to figure it out with her. But that name stuck.” He let out a small, humorless laugh. “So, there you go. That’s where it came from.”

Wade blinked, his expression caught somewhere between curiosity and something softer. “You know, I just realized—that’s the first thing you’ve ever told me about your childhood. And I’ve known you for, what, seven years now?”

Logan shifted slightly, the weight of Wade’s words making him feel strangely exposed. “Yeah, well,” he muttered, glancing off to the side, “not much to tell.”

Wade tilted his head, clearly not buying it. “Sure, but you’ve never even mentioned it. Not once.”

Logan sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was a kid so long ago, it doesn’t even feel like it matters anymore. Those memories… they’re fuzzy. Like they don’t belong to me. Or like they’re someone else’s life.” He paused, his brow furrowing. “The good ones, anyway. The rest… well, I try not to think about those.”

Wade’s gaze lingered on him, quiet for a change. “That’s… a lot,” he said finally, his tone unusually soft.

“Don’t need pity,” Logan said quickly, his voice gruff, though not unkind.

“Not pity,” Wade countered, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Just… surprise. You’re like an onion, Logan. So many layers.”

Logan huffed, but there was no real annoyance behind it. “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it. You’ve got enough to work with for now.”

Wade grinned, leaning closer as they walked. “Don’t worry, I’m savoring every crumb of this emotional backstory. It’s like getting bonus content in a video game.”

Logan’s lips twitched in what could almost be a smile, but then he stopped walking, the 
 crunching under his boots as he turned to face Wade. For a moment, he just looked at him, his expression serious but not cold. There was something soft in the way his eyes lingered, tracing the edges of Wade’s features as if trying to memorize him all over again.

“Can I kiss you?” Logan asked, his voice low and rough, a stark contrast to the gentleness of the question.

Wade froze for a beat, his brain scrambling to process what he’d just heard. Logan asking? Not taking, not diving in headfirst like he always used to, but actually asking? It was weird. And oddly endearing.

A slow smile spread across Wade’s face, the kind that lit up his whole expression. He leaned in slightly, tilting his head. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Logan’s hand moved to Wade’s waist, steady but cautious, as if he wasn’t entirely sure this was real. Wade, impatient as ever, closed the gap between them, his lips meeting Logan’s with a softness that surprised them both. There was no rush, no desperation—just warmth and familiarity, the kind of kiss that felt like coming home after a long, cold journey.

This kiss was different. Logan wasn’t pulling, biting, or devouring like he used to. There was no edge of aggression, no frantic need to fill the silence between them. It was deliberate, gentle, full of something that felt suspiciously like love. His hand stayed firm at Wade’s waist, grounding both of them, while his other hand moved up to brush a stray strand of hair behind Wade’s ear.

The gesture was slow, almost reverent, and it made Wade’s chest tighten in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. He wasn’t used to this Logan—the one who didn’t just take but offered, who didn’t demand but asked. It felt like he was seeing someone new, someone touched by the peace he’d apparently found in the time they’d been apart.

Logan pulled back just enough to look at Wade, his forehead brushing lightly against Wade’s as he caught his breath. His eyes, usually so guarded, were soft, open in a way Wade didn’t think they could be.

“I missed you,” Logan murmured, his voice quiet but steady. The words weren’t loud or dramatic; they didn’t need to be. They carried the weight of everything he’d been holding back for the past year.

Wade swallowed hard, the teasing comment on the tip of his tongue falling away. Instead, he cupped Logan’s face with both hands, his thumbs brushing lightly over the scruff along Logan’s jawline. “Yeah,” he said, his voice quieter than usual. “I missed you too, peanut.” 

For a moment, they just stood there, holding on to each other like they were afraid to let go. Wade broke the silence first, his grin returning, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You keep kissing me like that, and I might just want to move to Vancouver.”

Logan smirked faintly, his hand still resting on Wade’s waist. 

Wade tilted his head, studying Logan like he was some strange new species. “What happened to you?”

Logan shrugged, his lips twitching into the faintest smirk. “I had a lot of time to think.”

Wade grinned, leaning closer and sliding his hands down to grip Logan’s belt loops. “Well—can we get home so you can think while inside me?”

Logan huffed a laugh, shaking his head but not pulling away. “You’re unbelievable— but… yes.”

“And you’re unbelievably hot when you’re soft,” Wade shot back, leaning in for another quick kiss. “Now come on, big guy. Let’s see if you’ve been thinking about me for the past year as much as I’ve been thinking about you.”

Logan gave him a look that said, Do you even need to ask? before slipping his arm around Wade’s waist and steering them toward the apartment. Wade, as always, kept talking the whole way, but Logan didn’t mind. The quiet between them had never been about the absence of words—it was about the way Wade filled the spaces Logan didn’t even know were empty.

When they reached his place, Logan took a moment to study the exterior—a modest building tucked between a laundromat and a convenience store. It was hardly luxurious, but it had charm. Wade fumbled with his keys, muttering something about a stubborn lock, before finally swinging the door open and gesturing for Logan to step inside.

The interior was nothing like Logan had expected. For someone as chaotic as Wade, the space was surprisingly neat. The walls were painted a soft blue, dotted with framed posters of movies and bands Logan had never heard of. A worn but comfortable-looking couch sat against one wall, draped with a knitted blanket in earthy tones. A collection of mismatched throw pillows scattered across it added a homey touch.

The shelves were filled with books—actual books, not just comic books—and small trinkets that looked like they’d been carefully chosen. A potted plant thrived in the corner near the window, its leaves stretching toward the sunlight. The coffee table held a half-finished puzzle, a cup of pens, and a notebook filled with Wade’s messy handwriting.

“Didn’t peg you for the HGTV type,” Logan remarked, stepping further in.

Wade grinned, tossing his keys onto the kitchen counter. “Yeah, well, turns out living in a dump doesn’t help with the whole mental health thing. A therapist told me making my space nice might help me… y’know, not hate being alive.” He waved a hand. “So here we are. Feng shui and all that crap.”

Logan looked around again, taking it all in. It wasn’t just that the place was tidy—it was intentional. Every piece of furniture, every decoration, spoke of someone who had spent time thinking about what they needed and wanted.

“You’ve really changed,” Logan said, his voice quieter.

Wade glanced at him, a flicker of self-consciousness in his expression. “Yeah, well. Had to, didn’t I?”

They stood there for a moment, the air between them thick with unspoken words. Then Wade clapped his hands, breaking the tension. “Alright, honey badger, let’s see if you’ve still got those feral animal instincts. I assume I’m getting pinned to the bed?” He said, already unbuttoning his shirt from the top button.

Logan smirked, stepping closer and sliding his hands onto Wade’s hips. “Not this time,” he said, his voice low and steady.

Wade blinked, caught off guard. “Wait, what? You wanna—”

“Yeah.” Logan’s lips quirked upward. “I do.”

Wade’s cheeks flushed, but he recovered quickly, his trademark grin returning. “Damn, Logan. A year away and you’re full of surprises. I just assumed we were uh… going with the usual position.”

“You’re not complaining, are you?” Logan asked, leaning in until their foreheads almost touched.

“Not even a little,” Wade replied, his voice dropping into something softer, almost tender. “Show me what else you’ve been thinking about.” 

Logan wanted to consume him, huff him like a drug. The need to service was not lost on Wade as Logan dropped to his knees in front of him like he was about to prey. He was slow, and thoughtful about unbuckling his belt and sliding Wade’s dick out. He gave it a few experimental strokes, Wade’s abdomen clenched in response. 

Wade went to place a hand on Logan’s head when he leaned it to suck him, but froze mid-motion, a knock at the door cut through the heat of the moment. 

“Shit,” Wade muttered, disentangling himself from Logan, who rose to his feet to lean back against the counter with a raised eyebrow.

“You expecting someone?” Logan asked, his tone edged with suspicion.

“No,” Wade said quickly, tugging his shirt back into place as he headed toward the door. “Probably just a neighbor or something.”

“No,” Wade said quickly, tugging his shirt back into place as he headed toward the door. “Probably just a neighbor or something.”

Logan stayed where he was, leaning casually against the counter but keeping his ears perked. The knock hadn’t sounded casual, and the sudden tension in Wade’s body told him this wasn’t just a friendly visit.

When Wade opened the door, Jamie stood there, silhouetted against the dim hallway light. Jamie was tall, taller than Logan, with a lean build and a sharp jawline that gave them an edge of maturity despite their youth. Their dark hair was short but slightly tousled, like they didn’t put much effort into it but still somehow made it work. Their  eyes—just a shade lighter than Logan’s—flickered with something that teetered between curiosity and caution.

Jamie wore a faded denim jacket over a plain black t-shirt, paired with boots scuffed just enough to suggest they actually used them. There was an ease to the way they stood, a quiet confidence, but the slight hesitation in their expression betrayed their unease.

“Hey,” Jamie said, holding up a small canvas bag. “I, uh, was cleaning out some stuff and found these. Thought you might want them back… sorry for not calling first.” 

“Uh, thanks,” Wade said, forcing a smile as he reached for the bag.

Jamie’s eyes drifted past him, scanning the apartment in an almost casual way until they landed on Logan, who hadn’t moved from the counter. Their gaze froze, lingering, and something passed over Jamie’s face—surprise, recognition, maybe even understanding.

“Oh,” Jamie said softly, their voice dropping just a bit. “I see. So… this is why.”

Wade grimaced, stepping slightly to the side as if to block their view. “Jamie, it’s not—”

Jamie cut him off, their gaze still fixed on Logan. “Is he the one from that picture in your wallet?”

Logan frowned slightly, straightening. “Picture?”

Wade opened his mouth, but words failed him as Jamie shifted their weight, their expression somewhere between hurt and resigned.

“Yeah,” Jamie said, their voice quiet but steady. “I guess it makes sense now.” They didn’t sound angry—just… tired, maybe.

Wade rubbed the back of his neck, glancing between Jamie and Logan. “Jamie, listen—”

“It’s fine,” Jamie said, their lips curving into a small, almost self-deprecating smile. Their gaze flicked back to Logan, studying him again, this time with a faint glimmer of something like amusement. “Good luck with that.”

Logan arched an eyebrow but didn’t respond, his sharp eyes fixed on Jamie as if trying to decipher them.

Jamie shifted, their confident posture returning as they handed Wade the bag. “I’ll leave you to it,” they said lightly, turning to go.

“Jamie, wait—” Wade started, but Jamie shook their head, glancing back with a softer expression now.

“It’s okay, Wade,” they said, their voice quieter. “Just… be happy, okay? That’s all.”

Wade watched them go, his shoulders slumping slightly as the door clicked shut.

Logan pushed off the counter, stepping closer. “So,” he said, his voice calm but laced with curiosity. “Picture in your wallet, huh?”

Wade groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Don’t. Just… don’t.”

Logan smirked faintly, his gaze trailing back to the door where Jamie had disappeared. The resemblance wasn’t lost on him, and somehow, that stung more than he wanted to admit.

Logan stepped forward, his arms crossing over his broad chest, his sharp gaze locked on Wade. “So your rebound was just me fifteen years ago?”

Wade winced, dragging a hand through his long hair. “Okay, first of all, ouch,” he said, pointing a finger at Logan. “Second of all, not fair.”

“Not fair?” Logan repeated, his tone laced with dry amusement. “He’s—“ 

“They.” Wade corrected.

“THEY, are my height, my build—hell, they looked at me like...” Logan didn’t finish his sentence. 

Wade groaned, leaning against the wall dramatically. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Am I?” Logan tilted his head, his smirk softening into something more thoughtful. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

Wade huffed, his cheeks flushing slightly. “Okay, fine. Maybe Jamie had a certain… Logan-ness about them. But it’s not like I was consciously trying to—” He cut himself off, waving his hands in frustration. “Whatever. Look, Jamie was a nice distraction, and they were good to me. But they weren’t you.”

Logan’s expression shifted, the humor fading as his gaze softened. “Wade.”

Wade sighed, letting the tension drop from his shoulders as he met Logan’s eyes. “What do you want me to say, huh? That I went looking for you in other people? That I thought maybe if I found someone like you, it’d hurt less that you were gone? Newsflash, it didn’t work.”

Logan stepped closer, his voice quieter now. “You didn’t need someone like me, Wade. You needed me.”

Wade’s throat worked as he swallowed, his usual quips and jokes failing him for once. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I did.”

Wade reached out, his hand finding Logan’s waist with the kind of certainty that left no room for doubt. He was thrown off by the change of position, like he’d forgotten what he proposed for a second. It made Logan red, and bashful. Wade hesitated for only a moment before leaning in, his lips brushing against the column of Logan’s neck.

The first press of his mouth was soft, testing. When Logan didn’t pull away—in fact, when he let out the faintest sound of approval—Wade grew bolder. His lips parted, and he let his teeth scrape lightly against Logan’s skin before suckling gently.

“You still okay with this?” Wade murmured against his skin, his voice softer than usual, tinged with something almost vulnerable.

Logan swallowed, his throat bobbing as he nodded. “Yeah.” His voice was rough, but there was no mistaking the warmth behind it. “I’m okay.”

Wade’s lips curved into the faintest of smiles, and he pressed a little closer, letting his hands slide up Logan’s sides. “Good,” he whispered, before kissing the hollow of Logan’s throat. His movements were slow and deliberate, as though he was rediscovering every inch of him, relearning what made him shiver and sigh.

Logan closed his eyes briefly, letting himself be in the moment. It wasn’t just about the physical connection—it was about the way Wade seemed to be paying attention to him in a way that made him feel seen. A little overwhelmed, sure, but seen.

“You still taste the same,” Wade murmured, a faint smile in his voice, though there was a tinge of something more serious beneath the words.

Logan let out a low sound from the back of his throat—half a chuckle, half a groan. “That a good thing?”

Wade shrugged, his teeth grazing the sensitive spot just above Logan’s collarbone. “Take it however you want.”

Logan’s breath hitched, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he let his hands roam up Wade’s back, his fingers brushing over the curves and angles he hadn’t touched in what felt like forever.

“Missed this,” Logan said gruffly, the words almost too quiet to catch.

Wade paused for a second, his lips hovering against Logan’s skin, before he pressed one last, lingering kiss to his neck. “Yeah,” he whispered, his voice lighter but still warm. “Me too.”

They didn’t say much more after that, at least not for a moment. Wade rested his forehead against Logan’s shoulder, the quiet hum of the city outside filling the space between them. Logan’s fingers absentmindedly traced patterns along Wade’s back, and for the first time in a long time, the silence didn’t feel like it was hiding something.

Wade finally pulled back, his hands resting on Logan’s chest. “We should… probably move this somewhere more comfortable. Unless your whole ‘new year, new me’ thing involves hooking up in kitchens now?”

Logan smirked faintly, the corners of his lips twitching. “Nah, still prefer a bed.”

“Good,” Wade said with a quick grin. “Because I just cleaned my counters, and I’d hate to ruin all that hard work.”