The bar was quiet, save for the low hum of classic rock from the jukebox and the occasional murmur from the few patrons scattered across dimly lit tables. Kurt sat on a stool at the far end of the worn wooden bar, his tail swaying idly behind him. Beside him, Logan was watching him, a half-finished beer held casually in his broad hand.
Kurt took a sip from his stein, the foam brushing against his upper lip before he licked it away. The cold liquid was a welcome comfort, something familiar and steady. He’d always liked the way a good beer could ground him. Especially when his thoughts started to drift.
“So,” Logan rumbled, breaking the silence between them, “what’s got you all twisted up tonight, Elf?”
Kurt glanced at him, his yellow eyes catching the glint of the overhead lights. “Am I so obvious?” he replied, a hint of his German accent curling around the words.
Logan chuckled. “You’re always obvious. You just think you ain’t.”
For a moment, Kurt hesitated. It was one thing to share a beer with Logan; it was another to share the thoughts that had been nagging at him. But if there was anyone who could handle a difficult conversation, it was the man sitting next to him, the one who’d seen enough pain and carried enough of his own to understand.
“I have been… thinking,” Kurt began, his voice low, “about how I fit into everything. My faith, my—” he paused, “myself.”
Logan’s brows furrowed slightly as he took a swig of his beer. “Ain’t nothin’ new there, is it?” he said, his tone gruff but not unkind. “You’re always tryin’ to figure yourself out.”
Kurt shook his head. “This is different,” he insisted. “It is about who I am. What I am. In the eyes of God and… and the Church.”
Logan turned his head, eyeing him thoughtfully. “You talkin’ about bein’ a mutant?”
“No.” Kurt swallowed. “Not just that.” He set his beer down, staring at the condensation pooling around the glass.
Logan stared at him, his gaze knowing. “About us?”
Kurt nodded.
The words hung between them, a confession shared in the open air. For a moment, Kurt wondered if he should have said anything at all. But then Logan exhaled, the sound a mix of resignation and understanding.
“Hell,” he said, “I’ve known plenty who struggled with who they are and where they belong. Ain’t no easy answers.” He took another drink, then set the bottle down with a heavy thud. “But I don’t see why God wouldn’t take you as you are. Mutant, queer, or otherwise.”
Kurt’s lips twitched into a faint smile. “It is not so simple, mein Freund. There are rules, doctrines… and some of them say that people like me are—” he paused, searching for the right word, “—wrong.”
Logan shrugged. “The way I see it, Elf, if someone’s got a problem with how you love or who you are, they’re the ones who got it wrong.” He gave Kurt a sideways glance. “You ever think maybe God don’t see things the same way as the folks who wrote those rules?”
Kurt considered that, his gaze drifting to the ceiling as if he were searching for answers beyond the smoke-stained tiles. “Sometimes,” he said softly. “But I am a man of faith. I have always wanted to live by the teachings. It is… difficult, to reconcile.”
Logan snorted. “Sounds to me like you’re puttin’ too much stock in other people’s interpretations of somethin’ that’s supposed to be between you and the Big Guy.” He leaned back on his stool, crossing his arms. “Look, Elf, you’ve fought more for your beliefs than half the people who sit in church every week. That’s gotta count for somethin’.”
Kurt’s smile widened, a little warmth finding its way into his chest. Logan’s words weren’t exactly a solution, but they were a reminder: he wasn’t alone in wrestling with his faith, nor was he the first to question the human-made barriers that stood between him and the God he knew in his heart.
“I suppose you may be right,” he said, his voice a bit lighter. “It is not easy, but then again, nothing worth believing ever is.”
Logan raised his bottle. “Ain’t that the truth.”
They clinked their drinks together in quiet solidarity, sharing a brief moment of understanding. In a world full of noise and chaos, sometimes it was enough to just sit and talk, to know that your battles weren’t yours alone to fight.
The silence between them settled, broken only by the occasional creak of a stool or the low rumble of the jukebox playing an old tune. Kurt swirled his beer thoughtfully, staring at the amber liquid as if it might hold some answers. He hadn’t planned to bring this up tonight, but the words found their way to his lips nonetheless.
“You know, Logan,” Kurt began quietly, “sometimes I wonder about… marriage.”
Logan glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “Marriage?”
Kurt huffed a small laugh, shaking his head. “I suppose it does seem unlikely, doesn’t it? But I think about it all the same. It is one of the sacraments,” he explained, his tone thoughtful. “A sacred bond, blessed by the Church. It is meant to be a reflection of Christ’s love for His people.”
Logan took a sip of his beer, listening. “Yeah, and the Church is pretty clear about what that’s supposed to look like, ain’t it?”
Kurt nodded slowly, his eyes drifting down to the condensation on his glass. “Ja, it is,” he said, voice soft. “It is a union between a man and a woman. That is what the Church teaches… what it expects.”
Logan grunted, leaning back in his stool. “So where does that leave you?”
The question hung in the air, blunt and direct, just like Logan himself. Kurt’s tail flicked behind him as he struggled to find the right words. “I do not know,” he admitted, his gaze still fixed on his drink. “It is not that I don’t believe in the sacrament. It is that… I cannot partake in it, not as I am.”
Logan’s brow furrowed. “Sounds like a raw deal to me,” he said, his voice carrying a hint of annoyance. “What’re you supposed to do, just never think about gettin’ married ‘cause some old book says you can’t?”
“It is more than just an ‘old book,’ Logan,” Kurt replied, his voice firming up. “The sacraments are sacred. They are signs of God’s grace, gifts meant to bring us closer to Him. I have always believed in their importance.” He hesitated, then sighed. “But it is difficult, knowing I can never be a part of that.”
Logan shook his head. “If it’s all about gettin’ closer to God, I don’t see why it matters who you’re marryin’,” he muttered. “You love who you love. Ain’t that what it’s all about?”
Kurt’s lips curved into a faint, weary smile. “I wish it were that simple,” he said. “But the Church sees it differently. To them, marriage is not just about love, but about fulfilling a divine purpose. It is supposed to bring life into the world, to be open to children… that is why it is reserved for a man and a woman.”
Logan snorted. “Seems like a lotta rules for somethin’ that’s supposed to be about love.”
Kurt’s smile faded as he took a breath. “Logan, I know you don’t understand. But the Church is not just a set of rules to me. It is… the reason I’m still here.” His voice grew quieter, more vulnerable. “Before I found my faith, I had nothing. I was an outcast—cursed, some said. But the Church… it was there that I found hope. It was there I learned that even someone like me could be accepted, be loved.”
Logan’s eyes softened as he took another drink, his gaze fixed on Kurt’s pensive expression. “So what,” he said gruffly, “you’re just supposed to live the rest of your life feelin’ like you don’t belong ‘cause you don’t fit their mold?”
Kurt shook his head. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I cannot turn away from my faith. It saved me when nothing else could. Even now, with all my doubts… I still believe. In God, in the sacraments, in the Church.” He let out a sigh. “It is not that I don’t question these things—I do. But I do not think that struggling with the teachings means I should abandon them.”
Logan grumbled under his breath. “Faith’s supposed to give you hope, not chain you down,” he said, his voice carrying a weight of experience. “You’re one of the most decent people I’ve ever known, Elf. Ain’t no way God’d turn His back on you of all people.”
Kurt looked at Logan, his eyes glinting with gratitude. “Thank you, mein Shatz,” he said softly. “I think you may be right, even if it is hard to remember sometimes.” He took another sip of his beer, then added, “But faith is not always about feeling free. Sometimes, it is about carrying a cross—even if it is a difficult one to bear.”
Logan huffed a small, thoughtful laugh. “Guess you’re more stubborn than I thought,” he said, clinking his bottle against Kurt’s stein. “But don’t let ‘em grind you down. You’ve got a right to live your life, just like anybody else.”
“I will try to remember that,” Kurt replied, a quiet determination settling over him.
As the night continued, the conversation drifted to lighter topics, but the weight of their shared words lingered. For Kurt, it was enough to know that someone like Logan—someone who had seen more than his share of the world’s cruelty—would stand by him, even when his faith made life complicated.
In a world that often felt divided between what was and what could never be, it was a small but precious comfort.