#also eventually

For the longest time, his earliest memories were those of the sun.

Half-remembered moments where he thought he could see a man with eyes bright like the sun staring down at him, a smile on a blotted-out face. A voice in the distance asking him to stay, to wait just a moment longer when he was walking down a street. Whispered words of comfort after another daily beatdown, struggling to get up from the floor and keep fighting.

Most of the time it was things like wisps of smoke at the periphery of his vision, yet he never saw anything when he turned to look. In the end, trying to mention it to anyone only taught him to ignore these weird occurrences until they became nothing to him; just echoes that made his ears ring as if he just heard his name, except it was wrong and he should stop listening.

He could still remember the way warm hands had cradled his face one time after an awful nightmare he couldn’t quite remember anymore―it was a memory, of burning―of something that didn’t happen. The warmth lingering long after those fragmented things haunting him faded away with the risen sun.

Those blurry memories of things that never happened were the furthest thing in his mind as he clawed his way out of the wreckage he’d made of himself and staring at the metal buried in his gut, relieved at the idea that this torment was finally over. That he could finally rest after all these awful years of breaking and pushing himself to fight the way his father had taught him. That he could lay down somewhere, close his eyes and just let go.

Then, because the universe couldn’t let him have one thing, the one thing he’d been asking for when he willingly threw himself into that trap―he woke up.

After all, why should he get what he wanted, if he still had a duty to fulfill?

“Remus…” The other man’s silence had stunned him, as though part of him still expected Logan to reject him. “Nothing could be further from the truth.” He paused, but Remus was still quiet, listening. “I… I am quite fond of you and…” If they’d had this much difficulty communicating face to face, there was no way this conversation would work over the phone.

“Are you free to go for a walk together?” he asked, impulse overriding his sense at the last minute request to get together.

“You want to see me now?” The incredulity in his voice stung and Logan didn’t need much imagination to picture those bright green eyes wide with shock. Or narrowed and guarded with suspicion.

“To talk and… make plans for another date if you are amendable,” Logan explained. “Only if you are not busy. I would understand if—”

“Meet me at my room.” There was a muffled sound like he’d covered the mouthpiece and another voice. After a moment, Remus returned. “Please,”  he added.

“I will be there in ten minutes.”

~

Nine and a half minutes later, Logan knocked on Remus; door, the sketchbook and charcoals from last night tucked under his arm, and a pale green celosia bloom in his other hand. He smiled when Remus opened the door and he offered the flower. “Remus, thank you for—” he started, then stopped, eyes narrowed as he peered closely at the other man’s face. “Remus?” he said. Something wasn’t right.

“Good,” the other man said, unsmiling. “You passed.”

“I told you he’d be able to tell the difference,” Remus said from behind the door. He stepped out and tilted his head toward the nearly identical man standing next to him. “Roman, this is Logan. Logan,” he smiled, gaze lingering on the flower in his hand. “This is my brother, Roman.”

“You didn’t mention your brother was your twin,” Logan nodded, looking between them. Particularly side-by-side, their eyes and mouths were immediate giveaways. Then he noticed how differently they were dressed, with Roman in a flowy, deep crimson top tucked neatly into impeccable dark indigo jeans and matching argyle socks. Remus was barefoot and wore ripped cutoff jean shorts and a sleeveless Green Day hoodie over a long-sleeved waffle knit henley.

“I suppose you don’t get mistaken for each other very often,” he murmured.

“On the contrary,” Roman groaned, rolling his eyes.

Remus reached for the flower Logan still offered. “Okay, can I go out and play now?” he grinned at his brother.

“Not yet,” Roman said, hard green eyes boring into Logan. He squared his shoulders and smiled faintly when he realized he was slightly taller. Then he stabbed a finger at Logan’s chest and frowned. “You make my brother cry again—”

“Ro!”

Roman turned to his Remus. “He did.” He waited until Remus gave a half nod, looking down at the floor, then returned fiery eyes to him. Logan’s heart clenched at the way Remus curled into himself, but he dragged his eyes away to face Roman’s fury. “If you hurt him again, I will find a way to hurt you.”

“I assure you,” Logan inclined his head to Roman. “I was completely unaware the way we ended our evening caused Remus any pain. It was never my intention and if I’d had any inkling…” He turned to Remus, searching his eyes. The surprise in his voice when he’d answered echoed through his mind. “If I’d had any inkling of the impression I’d left you with, I would have elaborated last night. I am truly sorry I hurt you, Remus. 

“I intend to rectify that error. To make amends and find a way to make it up to you.” He bowed his head with a little smile and offered his now empty hand. “If you will allow me?”

“What kind of flower is that?” Roman asked, eyes narrowed. Remus examined it more closely, and his face exploded in a grin.

“It is a celosia bloom,” Logan said smoothly, winking at Remus. “It has been known by other names as well, of course.”

“We’re going!” Remus announced, ruffling his brother’s hair as he passed. Roman squealed and scrambled to smooth his locks back into their previous style. “Thanks, Ro, don’t wait up!” he laughed.

Roman pierced Remus with a glare. “You’re not getting out of dinner tonight!” Remus simply waved and Roman rolled his eyes then, let the door slam shut. 

Standing together in the comparatively silent hallway, Remus grinned at him.

“We have much to discuss before that sort of date,” Logan murmured with a little smile. 

“Yeah, I figured,” Remus shrugged. “I just like fucking with him.”

Chuckling, Logan tapped the flower in his hand. “May I?” he asked. When Remus nodded, he tucked the flower into Remus’ hair. “Lovely.”

“You know this is a cockscomb, right?” Remus asked, waggling his eyebrows and brushing his fingers over the fuzzy petals.

“Mm-hm,” Logan hummed, offering his arm with another little wink. “I grow them in a flower box in my apartment.”

“You are full of surprises, Nerdy Wolverine,” Remus purred, tentatively hooking his hand on Logan’s forearm. His fingers relaxed, then, after a moment, gripped with more confidence. 

Logan smiled back at him, then tucked Remus’ hand a little closer against his side. “As are you, Prince Remus.”

They walked together in near silence until they’d reached the Quad. The paths were mostly empty, that quiet period on campus when late afternoon classes hadn’t yet ended and the dining hall wouldn’t open for another hour or so. Remus chewed his bottom lip, fingers twitching and tracing the seams on Logan’s sleeve. His other hand was shoved in his pocket and he watched his feet as they walked. 

Finally, he looked up at Logan. “So last night really wasn’t a… a pity date? I didn’t… I didn’t fuck everything up and make you…” His shoulders curled in when Logan stopped walking and faced him. “Make you not want me?” he said, voice uncharacteristically quiet.

“Oh, Remus, no,” Logan shook his head gently and set down the art supplies. He cupped Remus’ cheek, thumb brushing gently over his lower lip to free it from between his teeth. “Last night was wonderful. You were wonderful.”

“But I… I didn’t do anything.” Confusion and sadness battled in Remus’ eyes and it was all Logan could do not to just pull him into his arms and kiss away his worries. But that was exactly what Remus didn’t need in this moment. “You snuck me into the library and bought me such a thoughtful gift and brought a picnic and…” He met Logan’s eyes. “And I didn’t do anything.”

“Remus, you were you,” he said, bringing both hands up to either side of his face. “I got to share a place I love with you. And you shared your wonder with me. And your art.” Remus’ eyes widened, the tiniest spark of a smile lighting up his face. “You were funny and creative and smart and beautiful and…” Logan nodded, breath hitching. “And, yes, very sexy,” he added, voice lowering. “I believe you… perceived that when we were kissing.”

Remus’ cheeks warmed beneath his hands and the memory alone was enough to make Logan’s pulse race. Then Remus’ face fell, confusion returning.

“But… but why didn’t you want to… to be with me? Everyone else I’ve been out with… that’s…”

A pair of undergrads meandered down the path, drawing nearer. Logan scanned the quad before pointing to a large ginkgo tree a few dozen yards away. “May we sit and talk?”

He nodded and walked with Logan toward the tree, a bit of his smile returning when Logan reached for his hand and laced their fingers together. They settled at the roots of the tree, Logan’s back against the trunk, with Remus leaning against his chest. He sighed, a brief, content smile flashing across his face, arms covering Logan’s around his middle.

“Remus, you are worth so much more than a single night of pleasure,” Logan began plainly, leaving nothing to chance, nothing to interpretation. “Yes, I want you.” Remus turned in his arms to face him, and hooked both legs over one of Logan’s. “I am very attracted to you,” he said quietly, rubbing circles against the small of his back. “But not only physically.”

He smiled when Remus met his eyes. “I want to get to know more of you. The parts I’ve already seen, your energy, your humor, your intelligence… your sensitivity… You are remarkable.” He brushed a soft kiss at the corner of his mouth. “I care for you, Remus. And I feel we have the potential to build something truly beautiful between us.”

“I… I’d like that. But…” Remus hung his head. “I might have already fucked that all up.”

“You’ve done nothing wrong,” Logan insisted.

“I…” He shook his head, hiding his face against Logan’s chest. “You didn’t hear what I did yet.” 

Logan didn’t let go, simply nodded and murmured. “I’m listening.”

“Well, last night, I… I was really upset and… That’s not your fault, I’m not saying that, I…” Slouched against Logan’s chest, he glanced up and winced. “I went for a walk and I… I bumped into Janus and…”

Logan frowned. “Did you fight with him?”

“Oh, no!” Remus shook his head. “No, no, Janus is cool, I…” He shifted against Logan’s chest, head hung low. “I slept with him. And… I’m… I’m going to see him again.”

“Oh,” Logan breathed. Cold seeped up from the ground and through his skin and he closed his eyes. 

‘We won’t all break your heart, Logan…’

“Are you…” Logan’s voice cracked. Had he just made a fool of himself? Had he already lost his chance with Remus? And Janus… He pushed away that thought. One person at a time. While Remus wouldn’t meet his eyes, he hadn’t pulled away and he’d agreed to speak with him. Perhaps…

He took a deep breath and wrestled down his initial assumptions. And his hurt.

“Does this…” He pressed his lips together, momentarily grateful Remus had hid his face. It meant he didn’t need to hide his own. “Does this impact your desire to pursue a relationship with me?”

Remus’ head jerked up and Logan—too slowly—papered a neutral expression over his face. “Logan…” he whispered, reaching up to touch his cheek. “No!” he said firmly. “No, I was afraid it would make you not want me. I… I like both of you,” he admitted.

A low chuckle melted the ice in Logan’s chest and he nodded. “I care for both of you, too.”

“I told him so!” Remus laughed, draping his arms over Logan’s shoulders. “Jannie will be fucking thrilled to hear that!”

Logan nuzzled against his neck with a happy laugh, his sudden joy contagious. He breathed deeply, inhaling the intermingled scents of cloves and cinnamon and, yes, a faint brush of Janus’ cologne. He pulled back at a sudden worry. “Was he concerned your encounter would impact our relationship?”

“Fuck, no!” Remus shook his head and settled into Logan’s arms. “I told him you rejected me last night. No, Janus likes you, too.”

~

“Necktie?”

Janus’ voice pulled him from his reverie and he looked up before rising to his feet, chair scraping across the floor. He smoothed down his aforementioned tie and gestured to the seat in front of him. “I hope you do not mind, I took the liberty of saving us a table…” He looked around the nearly empty café. “Since it was so busy,” he added, putting on a wry grin.

“Excellent,” Janus bowed his head with a little smirk. “Otherwise, we might not have managed to find a place to sit.”

Despite the tension in his chest over Janus’ ominous ‘we have to talk’ message, despite his certainty Remus’ insistence that their feelings were mutual was—at best—magical thinking, Logan smiled as he sat and picked up his coffee. 

“I should order,” Janus said, turning toward the counter. “I’ll—”

“Decaf affogato with cinnamon?” a server asked behind him, a pot of brewed coffee in one hand and a tiny ornate cup of coffee and ice cream in the other.

Janus raised an eyebrow and accepted the cup with a murmured thanks. The server refilled Logan’s mug and returned to the main counter.

“How—” Janus stared down at the cup in his hands before raising it close to his nose. He sniffed the blend of scents, a bit of steam billowing over his face. “How did you guess?”

“You have ordered that twice before during our study sessions here,” Logan shrugged with a smile. The pleased surprise in Janus’ eyes was a shot of warmth through his heart and his smile grew when he sat down across from him. “And you consistently order decaf after five o’clock.”

Cheeks flushed from the coffee’s heat, he stared back at Logan. “I like the aroma,” he murmured, before taking a careful sip. “Thank you, Necktie.”

“My pleasure,” he nodded, and took another sip of his coffee. “I… I know I said this earlier, but I am relieved you are well.” After walking Remus to the dining hall for his promised rendezvous with his brother, Logan finally recognized the timing of Janus’ absence and precisely why he’d slept so late.

“I… I am,” Janus said, almost surprised by his own answer. He addressed his cup rather than him. “Better than I have been in a long time.”

Logan’s heart clenched, an old but familiar ache. Still, he smiled and raised his cup. “That is wonderful to hear,” he said. Taking another slow sip of his coffee, he relished the bitter heat and watched how Janus continued to avoid his eyes.

He was now more sure than ever that the morning’s repeated messages had been what prompted Janus’ request for an audience with him and he blessed Remus’ sweet heart for his assurances otherwise. Whatever it meant now, Logan was not sorry for messaging him. However… irritating it may have been for Janus given nothing was actually wrong, Logan would be hard pressed to apologize for reaching out. And if something had been wrong… he would not have wanted his personal feelings and earlier rejection to have prevented him from seeking to assist Janus when he needed him.

He waited for Janus to savor more of his drink before gently prompting. “While I will always enjoy sharing a coffee with you, Janus… you said we needed to talk?” Logan pressed a smile onto his face, hoping it counterbalanced his own reluctance to have this discussion. The speed with which his initial interest in Janus had morphed, gripping his heart and mind was… unnerving. It would hurt to hear Janus’ anticipated request for him to tone down his attention, but… he supposed it would be for the best in the end.

“I did, didn’t I?” Janus smiled and set down his cup. He blew out a sharp breath and nodded.  His eyes danced around the table, moving from his own cup, to Logan’s tie, and back again. Finally, he leaned closer and met Logan’s eyes, face pale and hands twisted together on the edge of the table. The tips of his fingers were white.

“I slept with Remus last night,” he blurted out in a low voice.

“Yes, he told me,” Logan nodded, hiding his face behind his coffee cup. It hurt more than it should. But he didn’t own Remus and Janus had made his feelings clear, no matter Logan’s waning confidence he could somehow demonstrate that whatever he feared would not come to fruition if he took a chance with him. He knew in time the part of him that was genuinely happy for Janus, for both of them, would grow.

“What? He did?” Janus flushed bright red from his hairline down past his open collar. “Why would—When—when did you talk to him?”

“I called him just after five.” It had been the first of many conversations they still needed but Logan was… optimistic. Both that he could find a clearer way to express his needs and desires—and that Remus would, as well. “I was fortunate to catch him before he needed to meet his brother for dinner.”

“But why?” Janus looked dumbfounded. “What prompted the call?”

Logan tilted his head and peered back at Janus, brow furrowed in confusion. “I am dating him.” He leaned in, nodding slowly. “Remus shared with you his misconception that I was not interested in him because I did not consent to sex on our first date.”

“Could you describe that in a more clinical tone?”

He chuckled. “I am game to try.” After a moment, he sobered. “Oh… That means he was not aware of my true intentions when you two were together so you would not have discussed it. I…” While he was confident in both his and Remus’ capacity to care for and, perhaps, eventually love more than one person, he had no reason to believe Janus would feel the same. “I… I realize it is not technically my concern, but I hope this does not prevent you and Remus from—”

“Logan, stop,” Janus interrupted, reaching across the table and placing a hand over his. “While it would be healthy for us to discuss Remus at a later date, that is not the only thing we need to talk about. I am…” He squeezed Logan’s hand, warmth shooting up his arm. “I am relieved you are continuing to pursue a relationship with Remus. I had trouble believing you would simply reject him and…” Janus smiled. “I’m pleased to know you are the man I thought you were.”

Logan’s fingers wrapped around Janus’ and he nodded. “That means more to me than you might realize, Janus.” He smiled, promising himself he would release his hand after just a few more moments. “Thank you.”

Clouds passed over Janus’ eyes and Logan loosened his grip. They both knew Janus had more to share, even if it seemed neither wanted him to actually say it.

“Do you…” Janus began slowly. He hadn’t removed his hand and instead, sandwiched Logan’s between both of his. “Do you remember when you brought me to your apartment after the party?” 

Logan nodded. He would never forget the pain and fear in Janus’ voice, nor, selfishly, the way his own songs seemed to have soothed him. “Of course,” he murmured, uncertain where this was leading, but he waited for him to continue.

Janus sighed, and a flicker of that evening’s pain pinched his face. Logan couldn’t help but squeeze his hand and Janus looked up, a bittersweet smile curling up his lips. “Gabe was—” His voice broke and Logan’s eyes widened. “I haven’t said his name out loud—consciously—since I moved here.” He looked down at their shared grip and added in a thin whisper. “Since I fled here.” 

Fled?

‘Please, Gabe, please just promise me. Promise me you won’t go out there…’ 

A protective fire sparked in Logan’s chest and he drew closer. He strengthened his grip on Janus’ hand and brushed his thumb across the back in little swirls and he nodded.

“Gabe was my first love,” Janus continued in a low voice. “We fell in love in high school but I… I was a minister’s son and we had to hide our relationship.” His voice wavered and he moved one hand away to swipe at his face with a napkin. “Gabe—he didn’t care, though. He said it didn’t matter if we had to hide for a while because one day we’d get out, we’d run away and build a life far away from both our families and—” A stifled sob broke through and he covered his mouth with the tissue.

Logan slid his chair to the other side of the table, immediately next to Janus. 

After a long moment, Janus lowered his hand and twisted the tissue around his fingers in his lap. “My brothers found us. We’d… In the winter we would meet in his parent’s old workshop and… I… I must’ve done a lousy job of hiding my car and… and they found us and they—” 

He leaned against his side and Logan wrapped an arm around his shoulders, drawing him close. Janus curled into him and soon Logan felt hot tears through his shirt. “Gabe was dead before he even got to the ER,” he whispered past another quiet sob.

Logan held him while he cried, stroking his soft hair away from his face and humming quietly. Their server briefly caught his eye, then nodded and closed the table behind them, effectively blocking off their corner of the café. After a long while, Janus took in a shaky breath and looked up. “I promised myself I’d never let myself feel that kind of loss again. That I’d never let myself be hurt like that again.”

He looked down at their intertwined fingers. “But then I met you. And…” Janus sighed, shaky and broken. “And Remus.” He buried his face against Logan’s shoulder. “You fuckers just wouldn’t let me hide anymore,” shoulders shaking in something between a sob and a laugh.

“Oh, we excel at that,” he chuckled, his own throat tight with unshed tears. “I’m so sorry, Janus,” he whispered into his hair, rocking gently. “That’s so much loss.”

“I don’t want to lose anymore…” Janus looked up, eyes still overflowing with tears. “But right now the newest thing I may have lost…” He shook his head, mouth trembling. “Is a chance with you.”

“‘You haven’t,’” Logan whispered, brushing away his tears and smiling softly when Janus’ eyes flashed with recognition. “You’ve done nothing to damage that chance.”

Janus looked back at him, a shaky smile splashed across his face. He shook his head and opened and closed his mouth a few times before finally squeezing Logan’s hand. “Will you take me home?” 

Logan’s eyebrows shot up and he started to speak but Janus smiled again. He reached out and brushed his fingertips over Logan’s lips, stilling him. His hand was warm and soft, and the tiny gesture sent heat racing across his skin.

“Not for…” Brow furrowed, he shook his head. “Just to sit together and… and talk?”

It's important to note that him and Steve are buddies. Good pals. Life-long trauma bonded bros. It doesn't count here or anywhere that Eddie has a raging crush or that he wakes in the night, drenched in sweat, and with a hard-on that could cut burnt steak, if need be.

Oh, but the journal is tantalizing. Within arm's reach. A little thing; red cover, silver spiral, lined paper. No way of identifying who it belongs to. Unless...

No, he chides. Do not open the damn thing. It's not yours.

It's red cover pulsates in the glow of the floor lamp next to the couch. A button with the sign: do not push. And the spiral spins. A hypnotizing magician tactic.

His eyes sweep back and forth across the room. Double take over the back of the couch into the kitchen. Steve is shifting from foot to foot at the stove, humming gently under his breath, stirring at something in a large pot. Eddie turns back towards the coffee table.

And suddenly, his conscious is an angel and a devil on his shoulders.

He's distracted, one squeaks.

But, he left that in the open probably because he trusts you, the other says.

Eddie collapses against the back of the couch. His hands fidget in his lap. Twisting rings, pulling at rips in his jeans, pinching the skin on his palm. One leg shakes. Then the other. And then both. Chews on his nails, his lips, the insides of his cheeks.

One look, he concedes. And then I'll leave it alone.

So he does one last look to the kitchen, where Steve is now rummaging through his kitchen cabinets for two matching bowls. Then, his shaking hands quickly spring forward, swipe the book off the table, and flip open to the back of the front cover.

It reads: "This journal belongs to: Steven Harrington."

Eddie heaves a giant breath. Obviously it's his, he notes. And now that I know who's it is, I can just-- put it back.

Before he does though, his eyes accidentally shift to the first page. Like they do when he reads a book, starting at the first paragraph, but then leaping to end of the page; evidently spoiling a major plot point. Steve's chicken scratch writing is glaring at him. Shining like something holy. Eddie feels as if he's opened Pandora's box. What contents lay inside this journal, they could potentially swallow the universe whole. They could stake Eddie. They could just burn that fucking Munson Doctrine.

Eddie doesn't resist anymore with flipping throughout the pages. Each one is dated at the top, filled to the brim with information, and then signed off with a simple S.H. And that's probably the cutest thing his eyes have ever seen.

Of course he signs each one, his brain chuckles. He'd probably autograph headshots if given the chance.

So, with almost all these pages filled, scratched at with a black pen. Bolded in too many areas where the ink would pool. Eddie pockets the journal inside his vest.

Steve comes out from the kitchen with two bowls of steaming spaghetti.

He smiles at Eddie and hands him a dish. "Hope it's good," he says. Eddie can only hum.