undressingthewords

You watched Logan curiously as he allowed his eyes to briefly close before slowly opening them again. He repeated this same slow blink a few times keeping his head hung and staring down at his hands, which were now fidgeting with your borrowed flask. 

There it was again, that silence. You scrunched your nose up trying not to give in to your overwhelming need to fill it.

"How did you end up in this mess anyway? Something tells me it wasn't exactly planned... Or it might have been. Maybe you're into naked strolls through the wilderness we all got our weird kinks..." 

  You trailed off at the end realising how ridiculous you sounded a little too late.

  He glanced up at you quickly, startled by the sound of your voice like he had completely forgotten you were even there, consumed by his own thoughts. 

  Logan knew things often got a bit wild here in Westworld, but he'd never gotten this far in over his head. Didn't really think it was possible to, it was all just a game after all. Figured if things ever got too messed up or something went wrong the park would be all over it.

  The last thing he could clearly remember was throwing himself down on the couch in his apartment, beer in hand, a rerun of the baseball game he'd missed that day due to back to back meetings playing on his television. There was some vague, distant memory of a discussion with his slightly uptight soon to be brother-in-law about taking a trip to Westworld for his bachelor party.  Well, it had been more Logan telling him that’s what was happening and to ‘loosen up and live a little’ rather than an actual discussion, but for the life of him he couldn't remember actually arranging anything, let alone arriving here. He wondered whether William was in the park too, waking up in the same position he was.  He hoped not, William would probably throw a fit waking up in a state like this and he'd never hear the end of it.

  "Honestly? I have no fucking idea." 

  He sighed, frustration consuming him. 

  "Last thing I remember is sitting down to watch a game, don't even remember coming to this damn place."

  You studied him as he continued to fidget; the rough ground wasn’t exactly the most comfortable place to sit even when dressed so you could only imagine how sore his ass was right now. You grimaced thinking about it and kind of wished you had something better than a measly handkerchief to offer him. But this was Westworld and the outfit you had chosen was done so with the intent of looking smoking hot and ultra badass and not much else.  Damn trousers didn’t even have any pockets and you hadn't bothered with a jacket, the long sleeves of your shirt being enough to keep you warm during the night and it was easily modifiable into something cooler for when the day hit peak heat. 

  "So, you literally remember nothing?" You cocked an eyebrow at him.

  "Not a thing."

  Great. 

  Not only were you stuck with a total stranger, but an amnesiac too. So much for your plan of getting the boy some clothes and sending him on his merry way. Poor sod probably didn't know where any of the nearest outreach posts were. Though, to be fair, neither did you, you had never been out this far into the park before. 

    The sound of hooves in the distance split through your thoughts and shortly after the sound had reached you a galloping horse appeared on the horizon.  

  You tensed up slightly and glanced over at Logan, your hand automatically reaching for the pistol in its holster attached to your thigh, your fingertips hovering above it. Waiting. 

  As the figure in the distance got closer and you were able to work out the familiar clothing of your friend you relaxed, a sigh of relief escaping you. 

  Finally. 

It wasn't long before she had reached you, pulling the horse’s reigns to a quick stop expelling a large cloud of dust into the air. 

  "Hey, man! Glad you're not dead! Had kinda been fearing the worst." She beamed over at Logan as she climbed down from the horse and patted its side and muttering a "good boy" as she did so. She reached for a brown bag that was attached to the horse's saddle, opening it and pulling out a bundle of mismatched cloth.

  Logan raised an eyebrow as he watched your friend unravel the various items - a burgundy shirt that looked like it was probably big enough to fit two of Logan in, and a pair of cream coloured pants that looked like they would be way too tight. There was a good chance they weren't even men's.

  She dropped the clothes down at his feet.

  "Here. I hope they fit." A proud toothy grin filling her face.

  Logan stared down at the pile of clothes, and then back up; eyebrows raised and mouth slightly agape.

  "You're kidding right?" 

  Her proud grin faltered and she glanced between Logan and yourself, confused. 

  "What?" She questioned innocently. 

  Logan stared at her in disbelief and picked up the shirt, holding it up against his body. Correction. It could easily fit three of him in.  

  "Alright so they may not be the best fit but it’s better than nothing!" She threw her hands up in exasperation and turned away walking back towards the horse. She pulled off the boots that had been tied together by the laces and thrown over the horses back, tossing them in Logan's direction. 

"They probably won't fit either but what the hell at least I tried." 

 You laughed.

---

Logan groaned as the sound echoed out through his apartment. His brain was foggy from sleep and the one too many drinks he had shot back the night before.  

He knew he shouldn't really have been drinking but the day had been long and everything seemed to have been against him and all he wanted was a buzz and to forget about it.  

The last thing he had expected, or wanted, was his damn ex to show up and dump his kid on him for the night.  

He was already a glass and a half in at that point. 

A heated argument had followed as he tried to get out of it, her eventually spotting the empty glass on his living room table and accusing him of being drunk and having a problem.  

That hadn't sat well with him. He had protested immediately, clearly stating that he had only had one and was perfectly sober and would be fine to "look after the damn kid."  

For some godforsaken reason he had then spent the next 15 minutes trying to convince her of that, which had included him pouring a perfectly good almost full expensive bottle of scotch down the drain as a big dramatic gesture that he didn't need it and wouldn't be drinking anymore that night.  

With that she had shaken her head, turned on her heal and cursed at him under her breath as she left his apartment, door slamming behind her.  

He had stood staring at the closed door for a few moments before sighing and grabbing a bottle of beer from the fridge. He was met by the timid nervous gaze of his son stood peering around the corner of the wall as the fridge door closed, the kid quickly hiding and running back down the hallway to the spare bedroom he had gone straight to when he had first arrived.

Logan bit into his bottom lip, contemplated going after him for a brief second but instead headed back to sofa, switched the TV over to a ball game and drank his beer. 

* 

He rolled over and reached to grab one of the extra pillows to slam over his head to drown the noise filling his apartment out and suddenly felt the mattress disappearing beneath him.  

He snapped his eyes open and slammed his outstretched hand against the table stopping him from crashing to the floor between it and the sofa and leaving him half suspended in the air.  

He pushed himself back up and sat staring out into the darkness of his living room. 

He ran his hands over his face trying to wipe some of his tiredness and confusion away before it suddenly registered in his mind where the noise was coming from.  

The loud ear piecing scream that had woken him had gone but his apartment was now being filled with the loud terrified sobs of a child.

Logan threw himself up off the sofa quickly, tripping slightly over his own feet as he started down the hallway towards the spare bedroom. He pushed the door open with a force and fell through it, the sudden outburst startling the child and making him scream out through his sobs.  

Logan clambered onto the bed, pulling the child from beneath the covers and into his lap, holding him close to his chest as the boy grabbed hold of Logan's shirt and buried his face into Logan's shoulder, his warm tears soaking through Logan's shirt to his skin.

"Hey, hey. It's ok. You're alright." Logan mumbled stroking the boy's hair and resting his cheek against the top of his head.

He sat there holding the child for several minutes, hushing and soothing him until his sobs calmed to just muffled sniffles.

"Bad dream, huh?" Logan asked, the boy just nodded his head, a soft whimper escaping him.

"Yeah, I get those too. You just got to remember they're not real, Ok?" The boy moved his head to look up at him, eyes wide and cheeks tear stained.

"They're not real. They can't hurt you."

The boy buried his head back into Logan's chest and increased his grip on Logan's shirt.

Logan placed a soft kiss to his hair.

He pursed his lips together and scratched at his beard thinking about how badly he was going to sucker punch Frank for this one.

What the hell had he been thinking setting Billy up with this... this... Well, he wasn't even sure how to describe her. But she certainly wasn't his type at all. Hell, Billy doubted she was anyone's type. And it wasn't anything to do with her weight, no, Billy had been with bigger woman before. Some of his best times, in fact.

It was that voice. 

That damn voice that hadn't stopped and was like a cheese grater against his brain.

They had been here a total of 15 minutes at most, though to Billy it felt more like 15 years, and aside from introducing himself, he had barely spoken a word.

She wasn't exactly a looker either, mediocre and average at best. And the bright red lipstick she’d slapped across her lips was wonky.

He pitied her. 

Maybe that's what this was? A pity date. Frank had set him up with this girl out of pity, and for a good laugh at Bill later on no doubt. Nice one, Frankie boy.

Billy coughed, clearing his throat, stopping himself from laughing at his own inner monologue and took another swig of his beer. 

Oh man, now she's prattling on about her ex-boyfriend. Something about not being a nice guy, finding out he had ties to a gang? mob? Blah blah blah. Doesn't she know "no ex talk" is the number 1 rule on a first date? Or any date in Billy's rule book. 

Clearly, she didn't. Because she hadn't stopped. 

And now she's getting upset about it. Dear god, how clueless is she?

Billy sighed.

Please stop talking or I'm going to shove this steak knife right through your windpipe.

He'd been so caught up trying to drown out her incessant jabbering that he didn't even notice when it actually stopped. Perhaps she had asked him something and was waiting for a response? He wasn't sure. And quite frankly, didn't care.

"Wh-What?" She choked out.

Billy raised his eyebrows and shrugged. 'What', what? He hadn't been listening.

Wait. Shit. Had he said that other thing out loud?

The look on her face suggested he must have.

He smiled - a sickly one - and ran his tongue across his bottom lip before biting into it.

He was nervous. No, terrified. And he shook his head.

"No, I can't. I'm not... I'm not ready too. What if I drop her? Look at her she's so tiny I'll probably break her."

You rolled your eyes at him, he was being as overdramatic as ever.

"Logan, get your shit together. You're not gonna drop her, or break her. It'll be fine. You're gonna have to do it eventually."

He had lowered his eyes to the child in your arms again, his hands were nervously picking at his jeans and he was chewing on his bottom lip.

"What are you gonna do? Go your whole life without ever holding her? Some damn good fathering that would be..."

That last part struck a nerve, you knew it would, and his eyes darted back up to yours as soon as the words hit his ears.

He stared at you intensely for a second, you didn't want to push him too far knowing with his emotions already running high he would be quick to snap, so you kept quiet and waited for a response.

He shook his head and let out a deep sigh.

"You're right. OK. Let's... Let's do this." He gave his arms a quick shake and nodded to you that he was ready as he held them in a cradled position in front himself.

You took a step closer to him, leaning forward and placing your daughter into Logan's arms. She was small enough to fit securely in just one and you made sure that he had a complete hold on her and that her head was fully supported before letting go, placing one of your hands lightly on the elbow of the arm he had supporting her to show that you were there if needed.

You smiled up at him but his attention was fully on the beautiful baby girl now snuggled against him. He was staring down at her completely in awe and mesmerized by her little face. He gently stroked at her cheek with his thumb and she managed to capture hold of his pinky finger in her tiny hand.

A beaming smile spread across Logan's face as she did it and hell, you thought you could maybe almost see some tears forming in his eyes. Logan. Crying. Now that would be a first.

You lent further into the side of him and snaked an arm around his back.

He placed both hands against the counter suddenly feeling very unsteady on his feet.

His heart was pounding like mad in his chest. He had no idea why, and even though he was now stood completely still it didn't seem to be slowing down or stopping at all. In fact, it was getting faster and thumping harder, radiating through his arms and up his neck into his ears. 

Panic began to bubble and rise in his gut and his breath quickened, chest tightening and hurting. He removed a hand from the counter, clutched at his shirt over his beating heart and squeezed his eyes shut.

Shit. This is it isn't it? This is how I'm going? Heart attack at 36. Dead, alone in the kitchen, after getting up in the middle of the night for a glass of water.

Plain, boring and mediocre. 

He was trembling, hadn't even noticed that. He opened his eyes again but he couldn't quite focus them, his head was swimming. He lost control of his balance for a brief second forcing him to place his hand back on the counter, his hip falling against it for extra support.

He blinked quickly a few times hoping it would refocus his vision. It worked, slightly. He could make things out but everything felt warped and distorted. Like he was looking at the world through the rounded glass of a fishbowl.

His head was heavy but his mind was on fire, brain buzzing, and he wanted to dig his fingers into his skull and scratch at it but was too scared to remove his hands from the counter in case he fell. It suddenly felt like that was the only thing keeping him upright. 

He felt sick. He was dizzy and his guts were churning and he just didn't feel right. Something was wrong, he knew it, but he couldn't quite pinpoint what it was.

He was hot. So hot. And he could feel the perspiration forming on his brow and beginning to drip down his face.

"Logan? You good?"

He didn't even hear the words, his heart pounding so loud in his ears deafening him and drowning it out.

His legs were becoming weaker and he found himself slumping down against the counter more and more until he eventually gave in and lowered his shaky body to the floor.

Placing his back against the counter, the coolness of it through his shirt a small comfort to his burning skin, he closed his eyes and tried to steady his breathing which was now nothing but short erratic breaths.

"Shit..."

Something wrapped around his bicep and squeezed it. His eyes snapped open at the touch, startled. 

"Logan?"

His mouth hung slack as he went to respond but his brain couldn't form any words to go with the movement and he just sat there, dazed.

*

"Hey. Hey. It's OK. You're OK." Your voice was soft, still shrouded in sleepiness, but calm and stern.

You sat yourself down on the floor across from Logan, the cold tiles on your bare skin making you shiver slightly.

You kept your eyes locked on his as he stared at you confused, breathing heavily, and unable to speak. He clutched at the material of his shirt again, the pain in his chest seemingly getting worse with every breath he took.

"You're fine. You're OK. You just gotta breathe."

Logan's eyes were wide and he was shaking his head that he couldn't as though that was the most irrational thing you could have ever asked him to do.

"You're OK. You just gotta breathe. C'mon, I'll do it with you, OK?"

You curled your lips up into a half smile and gave a brief nod to reassure him.

"We breathe in and hold for 2 and then out for 4, OK? I'll count it."

He was terrified and not at all convinced but nodded in agreement anyway.

"Ok. So, we breathe in..." You paused, taking a breath, and waited for Logan to follow suit before continuing.

"1... 2..."

You kept your eyes locked on his as he shakily held his breath in, the grip on his shirt tightening.

"And let go..."

You mimicked breathing out and slowly counted to three as Logan let go of the breath he was holding, forcing it to last as long as your count.

You smiled at him.

"Good. That's good. Now, let's do it again."

You repeated the breath several more times smiling at him and encouraging him to continue and repeat it each time before increasing the hold count from two up to four and encouraging him to breathe out for longer.

As his breathing began to calm and even out, the rest of his body followed suit. He was shaking less, the pounding in his ears was depleting and his heart, although still beating erratically, no longer felt like it was about to burst out of his ribcage.

Logan's eyes softened, the panic and horror they previously held slipping away as each deep breath soothed him a little more.

He had released the grip from his shirt after the third or fourth deep breath and had grabbed a hold of your hand tightly for comfort. His fingers were now entwined with yours, your thumb lightly stroking at the side of his wrist.

You smiled at him warmly as he kept taking the breaths without your encouragement and lifted his hand to your lips.

“There's nothing to be scared of, OK? I’m right here.”

You raised your eyes as you finally entered the room and found Logan knelt on the floor in front of your 8-month-old son about to endeavor on his first attempt at changing a baby’s nappy. You had near enough had a heart attack when he offered to do it so you could finish getting ready, had asked if he was sure multiple times before giving in and letting him get on with it as he began complaining about how late you were already running and that you were just wasting more time.

The last few months had been pretty rough on the both of you, a child hadn’t exactly been the plan but here you were having to deal with it. It had taken Logan a hell of a long time to get used to the idea of having to take care of another human when some days he failed at even being able to take care of himself. He still wasn’t keen on it and certainly wasn’t at all fond of being left alone with him.

He grinned over at you when he heard your footsteps on the wooden floor. He was looking pretty smug with himself that he had managed to not only remove the dirty nappy from the child without any issues or assistance, but he had also managed to wipe the child’s bottom clean too.

You did notice however that there was something he hadn’t done.

“Logan, sweetie, you might want to-”

It was too late.

You threw your hand over your mouth and tried to hide your amusement.

Logan jumped back in horror and disgust as his son began to pee, it hit him directly in the stomach christening his expensive white shirt.

He grabbed at a few wipes and threw them down at his son hoping to get one to land so that that it would stop him from pissing all over the floor now that Logan himself had moved out of the direct line of fire.

The infant happily lying on the floor of course found the whole thing hilarious and he giggled and gurgled away to himself happily as his dad frantically threw wipe after wipe at him. He caught hold of one in his hands and proceeded to hold it in the air above him and try and pull it apart with his bare hands.

The flow finally stopped, the wooden floor between the child and where Logan sat looking down at his ruined shirt was now a small lake of urine.

“Babe, I-” You started but Logan shot you a glare which shut you up quickly.

He grabbed the fresh nappy and packet of wipes from where they lay beside his son and rose to his feet.

He strode across the room quickly, not even giving the child a second glance, and shoved them against your chest.

He stood beside you for a brief second and looked down at you. You bit your lip and diverted your eyes to the floor sheepishly unable to stop the amused grin from forming on your lips.

He honestly couldn’t remember ever smelling something so vile in his life.

He gagged as he pulled the front of the nappy down before quickly closing it again and burying his nose in the crook of his arm attempting to mask the smell.  This was gross.

The infant laid on the floor in front of him wriggled and Logan placed a hand on her stomach to stop her from rolling over.  She frowned up at him and kicked her legs out, her foot catching the side of the nappy and, inevitably, landing in the pile of shit it contained.

Urgh, so gross.

She giggled and lifted her legs before throwing them down onto the cream coloured throw she had been laid on.

“Seriously?!” He questioned glaring down at the small child as he took hold of her wriggling leg so she couldn’t spread her own crap any further.

"Please, please, just go back to sleep." He pleaded.

The tiny human in his arms just stared up at him, eyes wide, her tongue lapping out of her mouth every so often as she watched him in wonder.

A grin, or something vaguely resembling one, spread across her mouth and she reached out a tiny paw towards her father's face. Her short stubby arms nowhere near long enough to actually reach him and she ended up grabbing at the leg of her sleepsuit instead, blowing raspberries and dribbling as she pulled her knees higher up towards her belly.

Logan pulled his eyes away from the wall in front of him and looked down at her as she squirmed in his arms, a dopey smile spreading across his face. 

He watched as she opened her mouth wide and let out the biggest yawn her small body could muster.

"Yeah, I know. You're sleepy. So go to sleeeeep." He cooed softly, stretching the last word out in desperation hoping somehow she would take the hint and oblige. Instead, she continued to watch his face intently in the darkness gargling nonsense at him.

"Bet you're not even tired really are you? Just being a damn tease with your cute little yawns and laughing at silly ol' daddy holding on to the hope of getting some rest."

He must have been in here almost an hour now, give or take. He was beyond exhausted and his neck was starting to stiffen and his arms ached.

When he had finally gotten her to settle down from the original screaming fit he had tried to lay her back down in the crib only for her to look at him in horror and start back up again. He had sighed and had very quickly picked her back up again like a complete pushover, the little beauty had him whipped already.

He hadn't attempted to put her down again since and had been stuck in the same spot swaying back and forth with her in his arms. He was sure there would probably be worn marks on the wooden floor beneath his feet before long.

"You know, you kinda look like a shrunken version of your grandpa. Wrinkles, no hair, chubby cheeks."

He chuckled softly to himself. 

"Boy, I hope you grow out of that."

It seemed almost every night you were woken at some ungodly hour of the morning your phone blasting out the most ridiculous ringtone at full volume - the asshole had somehow fixed it so it would always go off full volume and you had spent hours one night trying to figure out how he had done it and trying to get it back to a normal level with no luck. It never failed to make you jump out of your skin when it rang, even if you were already awake and expecting it at any moment.

You glanced around the room looking for a glimpse of anything that resembled him. It was heaving with people and you wondered how so many bodies even managed to fit in one apartment. 

You couldn't spot him anywhere but out of the corner of your eye, you noticed someone familiar, and the most likely suspect for who had bought Logan here in the first place. 

You strode across the room and grabbed the guy's shoulder, dragging him away from the girl he was necking on. He went to yell before realising it was you and his face softened and he went to smile and 'welcome you to the party' but you cut him off before he had even started.

"Where is he?"

It wasn't so much a question but more a demand. You were exhausted and this was the third time you had been woken by Logan this week. 

He looked down at the ground sheepishly.

"Down the hall, second door on the left."

He waved you away with his hand before he turned his attention back to the woman, who almost completely pounced back on to him.

You rolled your eyes and headed down the hall.

The first door on the left had been left wide open and you glanced in and immediately regretted it as you made eye contact with a woman who was clearly having the time of her life riding some poor sod's dick to death. She smiled and gave you a wink and you quickly diverted your eyes to the floor and carried on walking.

As you reached the second door you held your breath as you knocked and opened it, scared of what sight might greet you after the last one. Actually, all you really hoped was that you wouldn't be greeted with a naked Logan. You had witnessed that far more times than you had ever wished to in your life already.  

The room was dark, vaguely lit from the streetlights outside and, as far as you could tell, empty.

"Logan?" You called out.

No response.

You called his name a second time, slightly louder wondering if the music from down the hall might have drowned you out the first time. 

You entered the room a little more searching it with your eyes but you couldn't see anyone around. Again there had been no response to your call. You frowned and turned on your heel to leave.

"Y/N?" The voice wasn't much more than a whisper and it sounded confused more than anything. You stopped in your tracks and turned back into the room.

"Logan? Is that you?" You questioned, you still couldn't see him anywhere.

"Where the hell are you?"

A head popped up from the side of the bed, a dopey grin on his face and his hair falling messily in front of his eyes.

"Hey, it is you!" He beamed.

"You called me?"

He frowned, "I didn't call you..."

You pulled your phone out of your pocket and opened up the missed call history and threw it on to the bed for him to see. He grabbed it and stared at the screen, his eyes squinting slightly as they tried to adjust to the brightness. He pulled his own phone out of his pocket and held it beside yours studying them both, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Huh, I guess I did call you..." He placed your phone back on the bed and returned his to his pocket, leaning back against the wall behind him. 

"Yeah, no shit." You climbed over the bed to where he was and perched yourself on the edge of it directly across from him.

"Y'know, I'm getting kind of sick of always coming and saving your drunk ass. I'm just... So fucking tired." You sighed and ran your hand through your hair.

You watched Logan curiously in the darkness, the dopey grin had returned to his face and he was being easily distracted by the patterns the lights from outside made in the room, a look of wonder appearing and disappearing from his face whenever he caught sight of different one that intrigued him.

"Are you high?"

He tore his eyes away from a wave of light that had captured his attention on the ceiling and giggled. He forced himself up on to his knees and leaned forward, resting his head lazily on your knee.

He gleamed up at you and shrugged.

"Maybe a little."

You frowned as you noticed him pull on his shirt sleeve slightly, lowering it to his wrist to cover up his track marks.

"You keep this up you'll be dead before long..."

His dopey grin faulted slightly but he forced it back in place.

"You saying you'd miss me?"

Your hand had somehow made its way into his hair and he lent his head into it as he watched you intently waiting for a response.

"Maybe I'd actually be able to get some fucking sleep if you weren't around..."

You had meant it as a joke but he pulled his head away from your hand and stared up at you, hurt. Of course, he had taken it to heart.

You shook your head and let out a light laugh. 

"You really believe I wouldn't miss you?"

He shrugged.

"Don't think anyone would to be honest, the world's probably better off without me anyway."

He fell back against the wall and stared at you blanky through the darkness.

You frowned and climbed down from the bed and into his lap, straddling him. He didn't resist, just watched you as you did it, his face flat and deadbeat.

You pushed a strand of his hair out of his face and tucked it behind his ear, your fingertips lightly brushing his neck and wandering across his jawline.

"This world, Logan. Would be nothing without you." You said softly, closing your eyes and resting your forehead against his.

He broke the connection after a few moments and placed a soft kiss to your cheek as he snaked his arms around your waist and pulled you closer to him. He buried his face into the crook of your neck, his hold on you tightening significantly.

You softened into his embrace and wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders, your fingers finding their way into his hair again. 

An elderly gruff looking gentleman sat across from you chattering away and grinning to himself like a fool, you smirked at him as you swirled the cool dark liquid in your glass around before necking it back and draining it in one mouthful and placing the now empty glass back down on the table. 

You went to speak but got interrupted by the door to the place flying open with a force, a man appearing in the open space, gun drawn, and a stupid grin plastered all over his face. The grin faltered as the door came back towards him and he quickly hopped out of the way, glaring at it as it narrowly missed hitting him.

Silence had filled the saloon at the man's dramatic entrance and he glanced around at each person grinning from ear to ear searching for something before his eyes landed on you.

"You!" He exclaimed waving his pistol about as he crossed the room towards you.

"You are one hard lass to keep track of!" He beamed.

The rest of the occupants of the place had returned to their loud conversations and the music had started up again as if they had never been interrupted.

You sighed and slumped back into your chair. There he was again. Logan Delos, your apparent new stalker.

He reached the table you were sat at quickly and stood beside it, staring down at the gruff old gent sat across from you.

"Move." He said forcibly, gesturing with his gun for him to up and leave. The man raised an eyebrow at him but didn't speak and Logan rolled his eyes and grabbed at him by the shirt collar pulling him up out of his seat and pushing him to the ground.

The old man scrambled to his feet and was ready to start hurling abuse and fight back at Logan but you held your hand up to stop him, shaking your head, telling him not to bother. He huffed and walked away.

"Why do those things never listen?" Logan asked now sitting across from you. He placed his pistol on the table and turned his attention fully towards you.

"Anyway.... Where were we?" He said leaning forward and propping his elbows up on the table.

You rolled your eyes at him.

"I told you I wasn't interested." You stated, aggravated, and went to stand up to leave. He grabbed your arm to stop you.

"Woah, c'mon now. I just wanna talk." He said letting go of you and holding his hands up in defeat.

You sighed again and sat back down. He grabbed the bottle of whiskey that was on the table between you, refilled your glass and the empty one the old man had left behind. He watched as you drained the drink quickly, an amused smile lighting up his face. He refilled your glass as soon as it had hit the table.

"So... talk." You shrugged at him, twisting the glass around on the table between your fingers.

He let out a deep chuckle and fell back into his seat. He stared at you for a moment and then pursed his lips, tilting his head to one side.

"Why don't you like me?" He asked innocently.

You smiled and shook your head at him in disbelief, a laugh escaping your lips.

"You've been following me around this damn park just because you think I don't like you?" You questioned cocking an eyebrow at him.

"Am I wrong?" He asked, confused.

"I never said I didn't like you." You shrugged and took a sip from your glass this time, the last down had made your head rush a bit and you weren't quite ready to repeat it.

"So... you do like me?" He was leaning forward again now, a pearly white toothy smile encasing his face, a single eyebrow raised.

You furrowed your brows.

"Didn't say that either."

He bit his lip and looked down at the table for a moment before meeting your eyes again.

"So, which is it? Do you like me or not?" He asked his shoulders rising and falling in a small shrug.

"I don't even know you."

He laughed.

"Sure you do." He said with a grin, raising both eyebrows as he sat up straight. "You knew my name and you knew my business without me even saying, so you’ve heard of me. You know who I am."

You bit your tongue.

"You're right, I do know you. You're an asshole rich kid who never had to work a day in his life and had everything handed to him on a silver platter. You spend the majority of your time partying and falling in and out of clubs with model after model. You're just living to splash your cash, get high, and fuck everything that moves."

He watched you as you ranted, his smile still firmly in place, eyes lit up with amusement.

You drained the glass of liquid in front of you again as you finished speaking, you had gotten angrier than you meant too but this obnoxious jerk had been following you around and bugging you for nearly two days now and you were kinda bored of it.

He leaned forward again and looked you in the eyes.

"Oh, Sweetheart..." He smiled, and you grimaced at the nickname and glared at him which only made him chuckle softly and shake his head.

This had probably been the third or fourth time someone had asked him that question now and each time he continued to stare at the blue and red lights blinking and lighting up the darkness of the street, hypnotized by them.

Truth be told, he didn't have an answer. He wasn't entirely sure what had happened tonight. He remembered laughter and drinks and happiness and kisses and giggling in the dark. Then shouting and screaming. Loud horrific screaming. And crying and... red. He remembered red. He glanced down at his hands as the colour filled his mind.

There it was. Red.

Not the red he remembered though. This red was dark, almost black in places covering his hands. The red he remembered was so much brighter, and he remembered being able to feel and touch it. It was warm and wet and sticky. And it belonged to you.

He felt his pulse race, heartbeat quickening as he stared down at his hands. He began to tremble and he rubbed at the red that covered them - the wrong red - trying to make it disappear.

"Jesus, Toby. Look at him. He's a wreck. I don't think we're gonna be getting anything out of him anytime soon..."

Water pricked at the corners of his eyes and his teeth sunk into his bottom lip as he continued to rub and rub and rub. It was no use. The red wasn't coming off.

He threw his hands up in the air exasperated and then let them fall to his lap, giving up. His teeth released his captured lip quickly as he did so, a pained panicked sob escaping him as he looked back over at the flashing lights.

His breathing was quick and heavy and every single breath he took hurt. He blinked as the bright lights began to burn at the back of his retinas. It stung, the blink, and as he opened his eyes again the tears that had pricked at the corners of them finally fell and rolled down his cheek leaving a wet trail on his skin.

He continued to watch as the lights blinked.

Red, blue, off.

Red, blue, off.

Red, blue, off.

As he watched he felt his heartbeat and breathing simultaneously slow and fall in time with the rhythm.

"Mr. Delos..."

He tore his eyes away from the lights slowly and stared blankly up at the man stood in front of him.

"Can you remember anything at all?" The man sighed as he asked the question, and his eyes searched Logan's desperately hoping for an answer.

"Sh... She..." Logan paused, he glanced back over at the blinking lights and then back up at the man.

He swallowed hard and wiped at his right cheek with the sleeve of his shirt as another fat tear escaped from his eye. He missed it and it continued its course down his cheek until it reached his mouth, his tongue absentmindedly lapping at his top lip to get rid of it, the salty bitterness consuming his mouth.

"She what?" The man probed, yearning for more information.

Logan swallowed hard, his eyes returning to the flashing lights.