Words that linger
The warehouse smelled of rust and rot, a combination that clawed at Kurt’s heightened senses the moment they stepped inside. The shadows stretched long and thin, distorted by the flickering light of a single hanging bulb swaying from a rusted beam. Each creak of the floorboards beneath their feet echoed louder than the last, like the building itself was holding its breath.
Kurt’s heart raced, not just from the looming danger, but from the lingering weight of the feelings he’d finally admitted to himself. His fingers brushed over the small, round device on his wrist, the image inducer humming softly under his touch. He hated wearing it, hated hiding behind it, but in public spaces, it was necessary. Here, though, in this decaying tomb of the Purelight’s making, it felt suffocating.
Logan moved ahead, his body tense, claws already unsheathed with that familiar metallic shnnkt. Kurt followed close behind, muscles tight with anticipation.
"Stay close," Logan grunted without looking back.
The words were simple, but they sat heavy in Kurt’s chest. He wanted to say something-something casual, something that would cut through the tension spiraling between them, but the words stuck in his throat. He’d never been good at navigating his own emotions.
They moved deeper into the warehouse, weaving between crates stamped with faded logos and ominous markings. The air grew colder, heavier, Kurt’s gut twisted, the knot from earlier tightening with every step.
Suddenly, a voice echoed through the cavernous space.
"Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity and cleanse me from my sin."
The words bounced off the walls, sharp and hollow, leaving Kurt frozen mid-step.
Purelight.
Before he could react, figures emerged from the shadows, cloaked, masked, their eyes hollow with fanaticism. Logan’s claws flashed in the dim light as he lunged forward without hesitation, a feral growl ripping from his throat. Kurt snapped into motion, teleporting across the room in a burst of sulfur and smoke, reappearing behind one of the cultists to knock them out with a swift kick.
The fight was chaotic, bodies moving in a blur, but Kurt’s mind wasn’t fully in it. The scripture still echoed in his head, twisted and corrupted. He’d heard that verse countless times in prayer, but Purelight’s leader wielded it like a weapon, stripping it of its very meaning, of its grace.
A sharp pain exploded in Kurt’s side, pulling him back to the present. He gasped, stumbling as one of the cultists drove a baton into his ribs. Before he could recover, Logan was there, a blur of rage and claws, tearing through the attacker with brutal efficiency.
"You okay?" Logan barked, his chest heaving.
Kurt nodded, though the pain burned deep. "I’m fine."
But he wasn’t, not really.
They fought their way deeper into the warehouse, bodies dropping one by one until only silence remained. Kurt leaned against a cold metal beam, his breath ragged, while Logan paced nearby, blood dripping from his knuckles.
The silence stretched between them, thick with more than just exhaustion.
Finally, Kurt spoke, his voice. "Do you still think my faith is the same as theirs?"
Logan froze mid-step. His jaw clenched, eyes narrowing before he sighed, the tension in his shoulders softening just a fraction.
"I didn’t mean it like that," Logan muttered.
"Then how did you mean it?" Kurt shot back, sharper than he intended. The adrenaline still pumping through his veins made it hard to hold back. "Because when you said it, it felt like you were lumping me in with… with them."
Logan didn’t answer right away. Instead, he ran a hand through his hair, pacing like a caged animal.
"I’ve seen what people do in the name of faith," Logan finally said, his voice low. "War. Hate. Justifications for things that should never be justified." He turned to face Kurt fully, his gaze softer now, less guarded. "But that’s not what you are. I know that."
Kurt swallowed hard, his throat tight. "Then why does it feel like you don’t?"
The words hung in the air, raw and unfiltered. Logan didn’t have an answer, and maybe that was part of the problem.
After a long pause, Logan stepped closer, his presence overwhelming in the quiet. "You’re not like them," he said quietly, his eyes flickering down for just a second—just enough to betray his deeper emotions. "You never were."
Kurt’s heart thudded painfully against his ribs. He wanted to believe him, wanted to take those words and stitch them into the torn fabric of his heart. But the ache lingered.
They stood there for what felt like forever, the distance between them shrinking, not physically, but their walls had started to crack.
Kurt was the first to break the tension. "We should keep moving," he whispered, his voice shaky but steady enough.
It wasn’t just the cult or the danger that had his heart racing.
It was Logan.
And that terrified him more than the Purelight ever could.