A Softer Shade of Blue
Morning crept into their hotel room in slow, soft beams of light that spilled through the curtains. Logan stirred first, groaning quietly as he rolled over. His sharp senses registered the faint smell of the town’s bakery wafting from the street below, mingling with the lingering cold in the air.
Kurt was already awake, sitting cross-legged on his bed, flipping through the pages of the map he’d bought the day before. His tail flicked against the mattress absently, a slight rhythm that Logan had come to recognize as Kurt’s version of idle thought.
“You don’t sleep much, do you?” Logan asked, his voice rough with sleep.
Kurt looked up, startled, and then offered a sheepish smile. “Not when there is work to be done.”
Logan smirked, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “Workaholic, huh?”
“Hardly,” Kurt replied, his tail curling as he stretched his arms. “I just prefer to be prepared. There is comfort in knowing the lay of the land.”
Logan stood, ruffling his hair as he glanced toward the small bathroom. “Well, some of us need coffee first to even think about maps. You ready to head out?”
“Almost,” Kurt said, setting the map aside. He reached for his image inducer, slipping the device onto his wrist with practiced ease. A shimmer of light passed over him, and his blue fur gave way to a projection of smooth, fair skin, dark curls, and a human visage that still carried his unmistakable charm.
The sight always made Logan pause. It wasn’t that he preferred Kurt’s human appearance—far from it. If anything, the image inducer felt like a mask, hiding the unique, untamed beauty of the man underneath.
“You don’t get sick of wearin’ that thing?” Logan asked as he pulled on his flannel shirt.
“Every moment,” Kurt replied quietly, adjusting the device. “But it is necessary.”
Logan nodded, unsure how to respond.
The café they found was warm and bustling, the scent of fresh bread and coffee filling the air. Logan held the door open for Kurt, who adjusted his collar self-consciously as they stepped inside. His image inducer hummed faintly, its projection seamlessly blending him into the crowd.
They ordered at the counter—Logan got his usual black coffee and eggs, while Kurt opted for tea and a fruit pastry. They found a small table in the corner, where Logan leaned back in his chair, watching Kurt with casual curiosity.
Kurt ate delicately, savoring every bite of his pastry as though it were a rare treat. Logan found himself smirking. “You really got a thing for sweets, huh?”
Kurt glanced up, his human guise still carrying his characteristic sharpness in the eyes. “Is it so strange to enjoy life’s simple pleasures?”
“Guess not,” Logan replied. “Just wouldn’t peg you for it, is all.”
“And you?” Kurt asked, tilting his head. “You seem like the type to take everything as it comes—bitter or sweet.”
“Yeah, well,” Logan muttered, taking a sip of his coffee, “that’s just how life’s been for me.”
Kurt nodded thoughtfully, the silence between them feeling less tense than usual. As they finished their meal, Logan found his attention wandering. Kurt’s tail was probably flicking beneath the hologram, though it wasn’t visible. He wondered, not for the first time, what Kurt’s fur felt like. Soft, probably. Like velvet or something.
Logan frowned, shaking the thought away. What the hell’s wrong with me lately?
The day’s investigations took them through the heart of the town, stopping at small shops and speaking to locals. Kurt, always polite, handled most of the talking. His accent and warm demeanor seemed to put people at ease, even when the questions were invasive.
“Does the name Purelight mean anything to you?” Kurt asked one woman, her arms laden with groceries.
She paled slightly, shaking her head. “I—I don’t know anything about that.”
Logan watched her closely, his sharp senses picking up the slight tremor in her voice. As she hurried away, he muttered under his breath, “She’s scared.”
Kurt nodded, his face tightening. “It’s everywhere, Logan. The fear, the silence. They’re controlling this town.”
“Yeah, I see it,” Logan replied grimly.
As they walked to their next destination, Logan noticed Kurt’s posture stiffen slightly, his shoulders hunching as though under an invisible weight. His hand brushed against his image inducer, a small motion that Logan recognized as fidgeting.
“You good?” Logan asked, his tone rough but not unkind.
“Ja,” Kurt replied, though his voice wavered. “It is… difficult. Being seen and yet unseen.” He gestured to his image inducer. “They see someone who is not me. It is hard to remember who I am when even my reflection lies.”
Logan frowned. “You’re still you. Doesn’t matter what’s on the outside.”
Kurt gave him a faint smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
The snow had begun to fall more heavily as they made their way back through the town, their boots crunching against the thickening layer on the pavement. The streets were quieter now, the muted glow of streetlights casting long shadows that danced with the flurry of snowflakes.
Kurt walked a few paces ahead, his tail—hidden beneath the illusion of the image inducer—no doubt swaying with his steps. Logan kept his eyes on him, his sharp gaze catching the way Kurt’s shoulders relaxed slightly, as if the falling snow had softened the weight of the day.
“I think tomorrow will give us answers,” Kurt said, breaking the quiet.
“Answers aren’t always good,” Logan replied, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets.
“Perhaps not,” Kurt conceded, his tone thoughtful. “But they are better than silence.”
They stopped near a small park bench tucked under a streetlamp. Kurt hesitated, brushing snow from the seat before sitting down. Logan stood nearby, leaning against the lamppost, the glow casting his face in sharp relief.
“I used to love the snow,” Kurt said quietly, gazing at the flakes as they caught on his lashes. “It always felt like a kind of miracle.”
Logan huffed a soft laugh. “Never saw much use for it myself. Just makes tracks easier to follow.”
Kurt smiled faintly, though his expression was distant. “Even now, there’s something about it that makes the world feel… pure. As if everything ugly is hidden beneath it.”
Logan tilted his head, studying Kurt in the dim light. His face—his real face, beneath the image inducer—flashed in Logan’s mind. The intensity of his golden eyes, the way his fur caught the light like velvet, the quiet strength in the set of his jaw. Logan’s stomach tightened unexpectedly, and he quickly looked away, annoyed with himself.
“C’mon,” Logan said gruffly, pushing off the lamppost. “We’ve got a long day tomorrow. Better get back before the snow buries us.”
Kurt nodded, standing and brushing off the imaginary flakes that the image inducer would never show. He fell into step beside Logan as they resumed their walk, the silence between them growing comfortable once more.
But Logan’s mind wasn’t quiet. His thoughts raced, each one more unwelcome than the last. Kurt’s voice, his laugh, his smile—all of it lingered in Logan’s head like an itch he couldn’t scratch. The way his fur had looked under the soft light of the hotel room earlier, how his tail flicked when he was focused, the curve of his sharp grin.
Logan clenched his fists in his pockets, forcing his gaze forward. Get a grip, Howlett. You don’t have time for this.
Yet, as the snow fell heavier and the hotel loomed closer in the distance, the thoughts remained—unshakable, unfamiliar, and unsettling in ways Logan wasn’t ready to admit.