.I click on another link. Another page about the science of love. I keep hoping somewhere in the scientific journals I’ll find an excuse for existing. A scientific reason why I defaulted on something that seems such a fundamental part of the human experience. There must be a study to make sense. A theory. A harebrained idea without any scientific backing. 

But I find nothing.

My sinuses are thick, my breaths choked. There’s pressure behind my eyes. Every second I spend trapped in this cycle, searching for justifications that I should even be allowed to live  It’s a fool’s errand. No one cares. No one wants to research why people like me happen. It’s not interesting. 

We’re not fascinating.

I can’t stop. Every second I spend reading, clicking back, clicking again, and reading some more--it’s hurting me. Tears are rolling down my cheeks. Quiet sobs are squeezing past the phlegm dams of my throat. Some tears catch on my lenses and glistening puddles obscuring my vision, but I can’t move. My head hurts. I can’t move, except moving the mouse and scrolling. I’m searching for anything. If I just find one thing to justify myself, one study on love that doesn’t conclude romance the default, then I can stop.

One thing, I think desperately. Just one thing.

I hear the door open but I don’t turn to look. “Logan?” It’s Roman, drowsy. “Why are you still up? It’s the middle of the night.”

Finally, I’m able to tear myself away from the screen. The pressure of having someone demanding my attention is too much; I’ve heard the angry screams of people ignored for my hyperfocus. It’s not worth the arguments.

I duck my face and pull off my glasses setting them aside and rubbing my eyes. Roman should think it’s just tiredness, that I’m massaging sore eye. He shouldn’t guess I’m hiding tears.

I turn to look at him and instantly, I don’t want to. I don’t want to look into his eyes. I have to. I’ve always had to. You don’t get to avoid eye contact. It’s only polite to make it, but I can’t right now. 

I try to look at Roman’s forehead, but even that is too much. I turn back around and put my glasses back on, but there’s still tears quivering on the lenses. I take deep breaths, the tightness in my chest feeling enough to suffocate me.

“Logan?” From my periphery, I see Roman wander further in. 

I turn my face to the side, not wanting him to see the tears on my glasses. I try to force words, but they won’t come. There’s a psychological brittle glass cage wrapped around my larynx and to vibrate it is to shatter it, sending razor-sharp shards scattering throughout my throat. 

“Okay, so it’s definitely a bad night,” Roman says. “Is it just one of those spirals you get into? Where you can’t stop doing something even though you want to.”

I close my eyes. Of course. Even half-asleep, Roman understands. Something settles in my chest and I nod.

“You haven’t said anything yet, so unless you say something now, I’m just going to assume it’s a nonverbal day and try to figure this out on my own. All right?”

I take a deep breath and nod.

“Can I look at your computer?”

I nod again.

“Intense, Passionate, Romantic Love? Why the heck are you reading something like this?” Roman looks at me, quirking a lip. “This stuff freaks you out.”

I hang my head. Thick, curdling shame consumes me. It’s hard to tell whether it’s shame over my incapability or shame that I’m not proud of it. There’s a non-zero likelihood that it’s both.

Roman waits for a while longer and then hesitates. “Wait...” He looks back at the computer, then to me. He exhales, nodding to himself, and kneels down. He rests a hand against the back of my chair but doesn’t touch me. “Logan, are you feeling insecure about being aromantic?”

I squeeze my eyes shut.

“What brought this on?”

I hesitate, then reach for the computer, pulling up the Archive of Our Own page for Star Trek. Littering the screen are names joined by slashes.

“Oh.” Roman’s voice is quiet. “Yeah...fandom wouldn’t feel too fun for you on a bad night, I guess. Logan, I’m sorry.”

I rest my chin against my chest.

“Maybe you can type on your computer, talk to me that way,” Roman offers.

I glance over at him, briefly meeting his eyes, and squeeze mine shut again. I take another deep breath and lean forward to pull up a Microsoft Word page, typing.

THERE ISNT’ A PLACE FOR ME IN EVEN MOST QUEER SPACES.

“Yeah,” Roman agrees softly. “Yeah, it’s...most queer people feel romantic attraction, and I know how hostile those spaces can be to aspec people. I can’t imagine feeling ostracized from your own community. That must feel so lonely.”

I hesitate, then type: IT DOES.

“I’m sorry,” Roman says. “But you don’t need science to justify yourself. You are justified. Science is years behind on any queer studies already, you know that. There has to be funding and people caring in order to build a study around something, and...well, scientists don’t care about us as much as it would be nice if they did. You know that.”

I hesitate again and consider deeply, and then reach for to the keyboard one more time.

I DON’T WANT TO BE ALONE.

“Okay,” Roman says. “I’ll stay with you tonight. We can watch The Next Generation for a while.” He pushes up and starts to head for the door, but I hold up a hand, then clench it closed.

I take another deep breath and type again. I WANT TO SPEND MY LIFE WITH SOMEONE, ROMAN. I JUST DON’T WANT IT TO BE ROMANTIC, AND I’M BEGINNING TO DOUBT I WILL EVER FIND SOMEONE WHO CARES ABOUT ME ENOUGH TO VALUE A RELATIONSHIP WITHOUT ROMANCE WITH ME.

Roman reads, completely silent, and I glance up at his face as my anxiety spikes. He looks...upset. I know him well enough to know when he’s upset, and he is definitely upset. 

“I’m sorry,” I sign frantically. “Don’t be sad. I’m sorry.” I make my movements as emphatic as possible, mouthing alongside the words even though Roman’s made an effort to learn every sign I use on nonverbal days to make me more comfortable.

Roman looks at me and I freeze, forcing myself to hold eye contact. So, he averts his gaze himself. “Logan,” he says quietly, “you are my best friend. I might be a hopeless romantic, but...I can’t imagine my life without you being a huge, important part of it.”

I stop.

Roman glances up and meets my eyes, and this time, it doesn’t hurt as badly. “You won’t be alone as long as you have me,” he vows. “I promise.”

I suck in a breath. “You mean it?” I sign, eyes watering again.

Roman nods. “With every bit of my heart.”

I choke on a sob.

“Can I hold you?”

I honestly don’t know, but I don’t know how to communicate that and I know Roman will stop if I act uncomfortable. He embraces me lightly and waits, letting me settle into it. My skin crawls a little at first and then gradually settle. I hug him back, resting my head against his shoulder.

“Thank you,” I breathe into the cotton of his pajama shirt. “I love you.”

Roman laughed tearfully. "Kind of actually, but it's not because I'm sick."  

"Then what's wrong?"

"Promise you'll listen? You can get mad, just...listen. Please."  

"Of course. I'll listen, I promise."  

Roman took a deep breath, that sounded almost like a gasp for the emotions building in his chest. "I don't love you," he croaked. "I want to. I want to so bad, but I don't. And I've tried. I've read what it's supposed to be like and what it's supposed to feel like and I've tried because you're my best friend and that's what it's supposed to be you're supposed to find your best friend and fall in love and get married, but I can't and I don't know why and I'm sorry-"  

"Roman-"  

"I wasn't trying to lead you on by still doing this. I still want to spend time with you. I still want to be friends, but I had to be honest, because it hurts to hold it in and-"

"Roman-"  

"And it's okay if you're mad at me, I'll understand if you wanna stop this or if-

"Roman,"  Logan said a little more firmly.

"No, you said- you said you would listen and- and I need to get this out so- so you just stop and listen-"

"You're not broken," Logan said instead and squeezed Roman's hand.

"What?" Roman asked through his tears.

Logan's heart clenched in his chest and wrapped both arms around Roman as best he could. "I don't know what it was you were looking up, but your research left out something very important." He kissed Roman's head. "Roman, I want you to take a moment and think. Have you ever experienced having a crush on someone? A kid at school when you were younger, a popular celebrity, anything?"

Roman shook his head after a moment. "I thought it was just something kids made up to sound more like adults. It was just a thing people said because of movies and stuff."

Logan squeezed him tighter. "Some people do, other people genuinely experience those feelings."  

"But..." Roman shook his head and sat up out of Logan's arms and turned to face him so he was sitting almost sideways on the couch. Logan's heart ached seeing the look of open confusion and worry on Roman's face. "I didn't. I- Is it because I’m autistic?"  

"No!" Logan said firmly. "No, Roman-"

"Then what's wrong with me? What am I missing?!"  

"Nothing! Roman-" Logan took his face in both hands and thumbed away the tears running from his amber eyes. "I promise, you're not missing anything, there's nothing wrong with you, and you're not broken, I promise. What you're describing sounds like aromanticism, a lack of romantic attraction-"

"So I am missing something!"

"No, you're not,” Logan shook his head. “I mean, yes, if you want to get technical, you are, but so am I. And so are so many other people that they band together can built a whole community around the word. And if we're only looking at romantic love, then I don't love you either. I am not...attracted to you at all in the way that many people would deem necessary for a relationship, to be completely honest. But we don't have to check boxes on anyone else's list to be happy or to love each other, Roman. We can just exist as we are."  

Roman launched himself at Logan, flinging his arms over his shoulders, nearly knocking them off the couch. Logan laughed as he caught him, and hugging him tightly. "I love you," Roman murmured.  

"I love you too," Logan replied into his neck. "Let's lie down, okay?"  

Roman sat back and Logan pushed himself upright and the two stood together. "I feel like an idiot. A relieved idiot, but an idiot."  

Logan slung an arm around his shoulders as they moved to his room. "You're not an idiot. There are still many people who don't believe aromanticism is real. It’s okay that you didn’t know.  And even if you were an idiot, it would be okay because you would be my relieved idiot," he teased.  

Roman scowled and pushed Logan away with no real force. "Should make you sleep on the couch," he muttered. He stopped in the doorway as if it had just clicked in his brain where he'd been walking to.  

Logan seemed to pick up on Roman's sudden tension.  

"We've fallen asleep on the couch together before. This isn't really any different, but if you are uncomfortable I'd be happy to walk you to your own room or I really can sleep on the couch."

"It just feels weird. Because we had the whole confessing our feelings moment and now we're going to bed and that only ever goes one way in movies."  

"Well, for starters this isn't a movie. But also there is another word that I have found to be applicable to me. I'm asexual. I don't experience sexual attraction. And while there are some asexual people who can and do enjoy that type of relationship for a variety of reasons, I have no desire for one. But I'm not going to judge you for being uncomfortable by the idea of bedsharing. A lot of media sexualizes the idea to the point where bedsharing has come to be viewed as inherently sexual. It's not. But it's okay if you don't want to. I don't want you to think I'm trying to convince you that you have to, but I really don't see it as different than us falling asleep on the couch. Except that this is better for our necks because we won't be sitting up."  

Roman laughed and slumped against Logan. "I'm exhausted. I think I'm okay staying here."  

"I'll get you some pajamas then." Logan moved to his dresser and pulled out a loose pair of black and white plaid sweatpants and a black tee shirt and handed them to Roman, who accepted them with murmured thanks. It took just a few minutes to change then they settled down next to one another.

"You're right this does feel better on my neck," Roman mumbled, his eyes already closed.  

Logan snorted and just touched his forehead to Roman's. "You're ridiculous."  

"'M your ridiculous."  

"Yes, you are," Logan agreed. "And I love you in a very non-romantic and weird way."  

Roman smiled, already falling asleep. "Luff you too in same weird way."  

Logan shook his head with a soft smile. "Go to sleep, Princey. And sleep well."  

"Mhm. 'Night, Lo."  

    Logan cleared his throat. He could do this. All he had to do was convince Remy he was fine and get them to leave so that he could try again and maybe actually get it right this time.

    “I am adequate.” Logan started, and he was proud of himself for how level his voice sounded. “Apologies for worrying you, however- is there something I can assist you with?”

    “You’ve been in your room a while. I just wanted to check in.” Remy said, still looking mildly concerned. “You sure you good, hun? You’re a little pale.”

    “Simply a side effect of lots of hard working.” Logan answered. “But I assure you, I am doing just fine.”

    Remy frowned. “If you say so… still, you shouldn’t be working that much. Come take a walk with me, yeah, clear your head a bit?”

    Logan shook his head in negation before Remy had even finished their sentence. “While that sounds very pleasant, Remy, I really am quite busy- can’t be distracted while my work’s at such a crucial juncture-”

    As Logan spoke, Remy’s frown quickly morphed into a smile. “I knew it.”

    “Hm?”

    “I knew it!” Remy repeated, moving past Logan to get a better look around his room. “You’re experimenting again. Something real dangerous if you don’t want me to know about it- have you finally tried your hand at artificial dragon fire? For all you mock my version of it I’m sure you’ve quickly realized it’s not nearly as easy to make as the books say it is-”

    “I’m not experimenting!” Logan cut them off, trying to sound indignant and not panicked. If Remy went looking too long they might find his supplies. “And I really do have work to do, so if you could kindly-”

    “Sorry, babes, but you can’t fool me.” Remy said, still looking. “You were always a terrible liar- you know that?- absolutely horrible, never could keep your… work a secret… Logan, what’s this?”

    Logan turned from where he had been glaring at his desk to look at Remy. The moment he saw what they were holding, his breath caught in his throat and he froze.

    The vial.

    The vial he had been using for his experiment.

    The vial that still had traces of his latest attempt staining the inside of it.

    Remy pushed their sunglasses up on top of their head, honey-brown eyes full of worry and the beginnings of fear now on display. “Logan.” They repeated, voice sounding slightly shaky. “Why is the vial empty?”

    Logan didn’t answer them, instead remaining stock still in place, hands still planted on the desk behind him to make sure his now much more wobbly legs didn’t give out on him. 

    “You drank it.” Remy guessed, the conclusion they had likely come to first only confirmed by Logan’s refusal to explain the vial’s emptiness. “And you’re hiding it so it must be bad- Logan, what did you drink?!”

    Still no response.

    Remy nodded. “Alright, you’re not going to tell me, either because you’re stubborn or it’s a side effect- damnit Logan you’re so pale- sit down, please, before you fall down.”

    Logan didn’t react to what Remy said, still trying to get past the mental shock that was ‘Remy’s going to find out and they’re going to stop you and your experiments and you will have failed them and yourself and it’s all over now just because you couldn’t hide your supplies-’

    He was dragged out of his thoughts by the sudden, but not unpleasant, feeling of hands gently grabbing his arms, tugging him away from where he was leaning against the desk and moving him to sit in his chair instead.

    “There we go.” Remy was murmuring, voice still sounding worried and afraid, but gentler now, likely an attempt to keep Logan from falling completely into a panic attack. “Now come on, hey, it’s okay, don’t look away, let me see those pretty eyes.”

    Logan’s attempt to keep his eyes downcast and focused on his lap was thwarted by Remy gently taking his chin and lifting it up, looking carefully at not only his eyes but his whole face. They were mumbling under their breath, and after a moment, Logan realized what they were doing- trying to categorize Logan’s symptoms to figure out what he had taken.

    That conclusion was enough to make Logan at least try to stand up, to move, get away until the symptoms were gone and his experiment hidden, but Remy just moved one of their hands to rest at Logan’s hip and hold him steady.

    “I know you probably think I’m babying you, Lo, but I need to figure out what stupid thing you took.” Remy chastised lightly, the hand on Logan’s chin moving to take his wrist instead, counting the pulse. “I know I don’t exactly set the best example for this sort of thing, but you really can’t just go around drinking potions- especially if you’re not an actual alchemist. What were you thinking?”

    “Nothing.” Logan managed to mumble. “I wasn’t thinking anything because it’s nothing- really, Remy, I’m fine, this is unnecessary-”

    “Mhmm. No offense, sweetheart, but I call bullshit on that.” Remy responded. “If it was nothing, you wouldn’t have tried to hide it from me. And you definitely have symptoms- your pulse is racing, your pale and shaking but your cheeks are still a bright red, your eyes are normally blue but right now they’re brown…”

    Remy trailed off, their eyes widening in understanding, and Logan pretended there was a chance they had come to a wrong conclusion. “What is it?”

    “Logan… why the hell were you drinking love potion?” Remy asked instead, frowning in confusion. In response, Logan looked away.

    Of course they had figured it out. Logan knew they would, knew Remy was too smart to miss it, to mix it up for something else, but that didn’t change the fact that he wished they hadn’t, hadn’t figured it out and put it down to Logan’s nerves and left him alone for the day to try again and this time get it right.

    Remy didn’t force Logan to face them, instead just quietly sighing. “Don’t move.” They ordered lightly. “I’m going to get my bag.”

    They sprinted out of the room after that, and Logan once more looked forward, looking at the door they had left open. He had half a mind to get up and close it, jam his chair beneath the knob and get back to his work, but he doubted that would last long before Remy broke the door down. He also doubted if he had enough strength- physical and mental- to get up and block Remy out.

    The choice was made for him quickly enough anyways, Remy returning before Logan could even test if his legs would support him enough to stand. They were ruffling through their brown satchel, soon enough throwing it aside as they pulled out a roll of chalky white discs.

    They offered one of the discs to Logan. “Eat this.” They instructed, pressing it into Logan’s hand when he didn’t immediately take it. Logan just held it for a moment, squeezing it pointlessly between his fingers, but Remy’s waiting stare was unrelenting and he gave into it soon enough. The taste of the disc was abysmal, but it dissolved quickly enough, and he swallowed it down as soon as he could.

    “Give that about five minutes and the majority of your symptoms should be gone.” Remy said quietly. “And while we wait for those minutes to pass, you can tell me why you were making and self-administering love potion.”

    Logan half-shrugged and looked at his lap. “I am my own person, I can make and self-administer whatever potions I should please at my own will.”

    “When it makes sense, maybe.” Remy responded. “But love potion? People use that to trick their crushes into liking them. Or to prepare themselves for a disastrous but necessary arranged marriage. Now, unless you have a future spouse I hadn’t been informed of-”

    “I don’t.”

    “-I don’t see any reason for you to have been taking this stuff.” Remy finished. “Care to enlighten me?”

    “It doesn’t matter.” Logan answered instead, shaking his head. “The potion didn’t work. I made it wrong. It doesn’t matter.”

    Remy raised a disbelieving eyebrow at that. “Uh. Yeah. Sure. Great stalling tactic but-”

    “I’m not stalling.” Logan snapped, the result of pent of stress and the desire for Remy to leave so he could get back to his work. He felt bad about his tone immediately, though, sighing as he softened it. “It really didn’t work, Rem.”

    At this, Remy frowned, looking between Logan and the vial. After a moment, they (to Logan’s shock and mild horror) put the vial to their lips and managed to convince a few spare drops to slide down into their mouth.

    “What are you doing?” Logan hissed, watching as Remy closed their eyes and swished the few drops around in their mouth. Remy didn’t respond for a moment, busy tasting the love potion. Finally, they swallowed.

    “Don’t worry about it, hun, I’m immune to most potions by now.” Remy told him, looking into the vial in bewilderment. “Though this one is really throwing its hat into the ring to try and disprove that- I don’t know how you got the idea that this thing is ineffective considering it’s a few more drops of hollybreath strain away from stopping your heart instead of exciting it. No wonder you’re shaking so badly.”

    “So… you’re saying it should’ve worked?”

    “To be frank, I’m not sure how it couldn’t have.” Remy answered, gingerly setting the vial down on Logan’s desk. “I’m a little surprised I don’t have to pin you down to stop you from running off to your new boo… what were you looking at when you drank this, anyways?”

    Though Logan heard Remy’s question, he didn’t answer it, instead once more turning his attention to his lap as his thoughts ran wild. The potion had worked. Hell, Remy said it was too strong, which meant at least some of the potions before must have worked too… but they didn’t. None of them had done what they said on the tin, none of them had made him fall in love. Not really, anyways, since there was no burning heart or sudden desire- there was just the same soft, impossibly warm sort of feeling in his gut that let him know he felt something, but not love, not really, just-

    Logan jerked out of his thoughts when Remy snapped their fingers in front of his face, Remy frowning, worry laced in their entire expression. “Earth to Logan? Darling, you know I love seeing your big brain in action, but I’d be lying if it wasn’t putting me a bit on edge right now. What’re you thinking about in there?”

    Barely a thought as to how to respond had crossed Logan’s mind before he was blurting out, “I’m broken.”

    Remy blinked. “Nope. Don’t like that. Your brain rights are being revoked. No thinking for you if you’re going to think wrong.” Remy said, light words contrasted by a distressed tone. “Honey, darling, sweetheart, why do you think you’re broken?”

    “Because the potions didn’t work.” Logan said miserably, too tired to try and backtrack or explain it away as anything other than what it was. “I thought I had been making them wrong, not adding enough of something, so I kept remaking them and trying again but none of them worked and I just thought the potions were wrong but it was me, I was wrong, the only same variable of course it was me-”

    “Logan, sweetie, please slow down.” Remy cut him off, placing their hands on Logan’s shoulders and running them lightly over his arms. “You’re not making sense. How many of these potions have you been taking?”

    “Three or four, I don’t know.” Logan said indifferently. “But it doesn’t matter, because they didn’t work-”

    “That’s not possible.” Remy said with a frown. “That love potion was strong, sugar, there’s no way you could’ve resisted it unless you had some sort of personal mutation against it- and your eyes changed colour, so I know you don’t. And if you’re telling me you drank more than one... the love potions had to have worked, Lo.”

    Logan shook his head. “No, they didn’t; I know they didn’t, I don’t feel any different, nothing’s changed-”

    “That means you’re already in love, darling.” Remy said gently. “Whoever you’ve been trying to fall in love with- you already love them. The potion can’t give you feelings you already have- no wonder you feel the same, you are the same. Not broken. Just already in love.”

    “That’s the problem!” Logan exclaimed, frustrated, curling his fists together and digging the nails into the skin, closing his eyes as well. “I’m- I love but I- but not enough, not right- the potion was supposed to fix that and- and it didn’t because I’m so fucking broken nothing can fix it-”

    “Please don’t say that.” Remy pleaded, one hand moving from Logan’s arm to cup his cheek. “You’re not broken at all, honey, but I don’t know why you think you are, and that’s worrying me. You’re worrying me. What’s gotten into your head?”

    Logan didn’t respond immediately, opening his eyes only to look unseeingly at his pants, trying to ignore Remy’s searching, troubled expression. “I love someone.” He admitted quietly.

    “...Okay. That’s okay.”

    “But I don’t-” Logan paused, struggling with his words, “I don’t want to kiss them. Or- or make-out with them, or have sex with them, or anything like that-”

    “That’s okay.” Remy repeated. “I don’t want to kiss anyone or have sex with anyone either. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

    “No, I-” Logan froze, processing what Remy had said, looking up at them in confusion. “What?”

    Remy smiled just a little. “Kissing’s weird. Sex is yucky. They’re not really my scene. Does that mean there’s something wrong with me?”

    “I- wha- of course not.” Logan said, stumbling over his words but still sure of them.

    “Then- surprise!” Remy said, their smile growing a bit bigger. “You’re not broken either.”

    “But the potions-”

    “-make you fall in love as fully as you can.” Remy finished for him. “If you don’t like sex or kissing or romance or any of that, you won’t suddenly start feeling those feelings because you drank the potion. You’re not broken for not feeling those things. Just human. Why would you try to force yourself to feel like that?”

    “Y- the person I love, they… they deserve all my love.” Logan said, hoping Remy would ignore his obvious slip of tongue. “Before I told them I- I wanted them to have all my love; they deserve to have all my love.”

    Remy’s smile turned sympathetic. “Whoever this person you love is… you love them a lot, don’t you? Want them to be happy?”

    “Of course.”

    “Then you love them enough. Hell, you probably love them more than enough.” Remy told him. “Love isn’t parts- it isn’t one third sex and one third romance or anything like that. If you love them, you love them completely. No if’s, and’s, or but’s about it.”

    Logan didn’t respond to that, choosing to just look up instead, finding Remy’s eyes watching him closely and warmly.

    “Hun.” Remy said, tone lightly teasing. “Do you want to tell me who you were trying to ‘fall more in love with’ or should I guess?”

    Logan remained quiet, meeting Remy’s gaze evenly, not sure if he’d prefer for them to guess or just drop the matter entirely. Remy just kept smiling, looking much too amused.

    “Guessing it is, then.” Remy said delightedly. They moved, pushing Logan a bit to the side as they sunk down into the chair next to them, the hand that had been cupping his cheek slipping around his shoulder.

    “You don’t have to do this-”

    “I bet they’re really pretty.” Remy began, ignoring Logan. “Not as pretty as you, of course, but no one’s that pretty so it’s an unfair comparison. And I’mma say they have to be at least a little smart to get your attention given how absolutely brilliant you are-”

    “Remy!”

    “-and I know they have brown eyes because of the love potion, and I have a random suspicion that they’re an alchemist- though that one’s just a hunch- and I really have the feeling that for your cheeks to be as bright red as they are right now they must be very close to you indeed.”

    Logan didn’t need to touch his cheek to know it was, in fact, burning, but he still did, glaring at Remy when their words were only confirmed. “I hate you.”

    “Doubtful.” Remy responded cheerily. “In fact, cutie, I think you looooove me.”

    Logan groaned. “This. This is why I didn’t tell you sooner.”

    “Wrong again.” Remy said, leaning in to rub their nose against Logan’s before leaning their forehead against his. “I think you didn’t tell me because you were harboring under the horribly false idea that you having a brain and realizing that kissing and sex were overrated made you an unsuitable partner. But that’s okay. I’m going to prove you wrong about all of that.”

    Logan smiled at that, reaching over to take Remy’s free hand and run his thumb over the back of it. “How’d you guess?”

    Remy grinned. “My photo was next to the vial.”

    “...Oh.”

    “Thought you had just dropped it or something. Once I realized what you had been chugging I realized why it was really there.” Remy told him. “I didn’t mention it straight away because I didn’t want you to distract me from why you were trying to fall in love with me.”

    Logan nodded. “Yeah… I’m sorry, again, for that Remy, I just-”     “You loved me?”

    “I loved you.” Logan echoed. “Love you. And you deserve so much love, more than I felt I was offering-”

    “Hey-hey-hey, enough of that, now.” Remy said, cutting Logan off gently. “You don’t need to apologize to me, love. I know what you were trying to do, and I appreciate the effort- in theory. But I also need you to know that I love you. You and your big brain and cute face and geeky personality.” Remy freed their hand from Logan’s so that they could brush back some of Logan’s hair, tucking it behind his ear. They smiled as they looked at him, expression sappy in a way Logan really felt should be illegal. “You are magnificent to me, Lo. If I’m lucky enough to get any of your love, in whatever form it may take, I promise you, it’s plenty more than enough.”

    Logan blushed even harder than he had been, which was impressive given up until that moment he didn’t think he could do that. “I- I… I think you’re magnificent too.”

    Remy grinned. “See? That’s what I’m talking about. You look so cute when you’re flustered- and calling me magnificent back, oh, my dear darling starshine, you really are too sweet to be real.”

    Logan squeaked. Remy just laughed.

    “See, this?” Remy asked, leaning in and pressing a quick little kiss to the tip of Logan’s nose before pulling back and watching him turn redder. “This is why I love you.”

    “...I love you too.” Logan said, trying to act annoyed and be sullen but failing miserably in the sense that so long as Remy was looking at him like that- like he had hung the moon and painted the sunrise- he really couldn’t be anything other than a blushing, smiling, giddy mess. A love-stricken mess.

    “There you go.” Remy said happily, shifting so that their arms were wrapped loosely over Logan’s shoulders and around his back in an odd, yet comforting, sort of hug. Once more their forehead leaned against Logan’s, their eyes close and bright with excitement and joy and love as they looked at him. “That sounds like enough love to me, don’tcha think?”