hi everyone! so this is my new (not so little) little project, and im really excited about it!! this chapter is just the prologue so if this does well im going to write and post the actual story. so please if you enjoy this little sneak peek into my new au, like and reblog it!!!
also, @tinysidestrashcaptain wanted to be tagged, so here!
Title: Wearing Our Hearts On Our Sleeves
Chapter: Prologue
Word Count: 2018
Ships: Logicality, Prinxiety, Dukeceit
Summary: Logan Bright, a Police Officer, is trying to find his father's killer, and solve the case that led to his death once and for all.
Throughout his investigations, Logan meets an eclectic bunch of people. A paramedic who owns 2 cats yet is deathly allergic, a 911 operator with severe social anxiety, twins who happen to be a firefighter and a forensic scientist, a cps worker who is a compulsive liar, and a 7-year-old boy who's parents were murdered.
Warnings: References to past child abuse, mentions of murder, and includes references to violence and talks about injuries so please be careful if you choose to go ahead and read! this fic is also very, very, sympathetic deceit heavy, so if you dont like that, dont read.
AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23046337/chapters/55117603
[April 24th 2020, 2:17 am]
“Hello, 911, what’s your emergency?”
“Some bad man hurt my mom and dad,
I don’t think they’re okay. Can you please come?”
“Okay, how old are you?”
“Please come fast, there’s lots of blood.”
“I’ve got officers coming as fast as they can,
but I need you to stay calm for me, alright?”
“Okay.”
“What’s your name?”
“Thomas.”
“Hi Thomas, I’m Virgil. How old are you?”
“I’m 7 years old.”
“Okay Thomas, you said there was a bad man,
is he still there or did he leave? Did you see him?”
“He left. I only saw his clothes.”
“Alright, where are you right now?”
“In my mom and dad’s room.”
“And do you have any brothers or sisters?”
“No, it’s just me.”
“Can you tell me what happened, Thomas?”
“I was sleeping with my mom and dad
and I had to go to the bathroom, and then
I heard my mom scream and two loud bangs.”
“Those loud bangs, did they sound like gunshots?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, did the bad man leave quickly?”
“No, he stayed for a little.”
“So you heard the loud bangs and waited a little
until the man left?”
“Yes, he did something else to my mom and dad.”
“What did he do Thomas, do you know?”
“He closed their mouths with string.”
“...God, okay the officers should be there
any minute now.”
“I can see police cars.”
“Perfect, you did such a good job calling. Can you
give the phone to a police officer for me please?”
“Okay.”
“Thank you, Thomas.”
“Detective Phillips speaking.”
“Hi detective, I just wanted to make sure help arrived
before I ended the call.”
“No problem, we’ll handle this now.”
“Of course.”
[The Sanders Residence, April 24th, 2:21 am]
Detective Clark Phillips hung up the phone call and made his way over to the front stairs were Thomas had sat down. Sitting next to him, Clark shrugged off his coat and placed it around Thomas’ shoulders, making sure to give them a firm squeeze before he pulled away. Clark lent down slightly so that he could speak to Thomas more quietly and directly.
“So Thomas, was it? Did you see the man that killed your parents?” Thomas dried his face with his pyjama sleeve and looked at the detective sitting next to him, trying to find the courage to speak, his voice uneven and scared.
“I saw what he was wearing, but I didn’t see his face.” Clark watched as Thomas wrapped his arms around himself tightly, bowing his head and attempting to shrug the coat off. The detective chuckled at the sight before him.
“Well, Thomas that won’t help us at all.”
“But-” Clark put his right hand on the back of Thomas’ neck and squeezed slightly, a warning for the boy to stop talking.
“Unless you saw his face we’ll never find him. So if someone asks you if you saw something you tell them you saw nothing, alright?”
“But I did-” The hand tightened around Thomas’ neck and new tears began to form in the corner of his eyes.
“What did you see Thomas?”
“Nothing.”
[The Myers Residence, April 24th, 2:18 am]
Demitri Myers was rudely woken by the sound of his annoying default ringtone in the early hours of the morning. Without moving as much as he could, Demitri reached behind him and grabbed his phone from his bedside table, hitting the answer button and putting the call on speaker.
“Myers.”
“Dee, oh good you’re awake.”
“Why of course, it’s not as if I were sleeping
or something.”
“Oh poor Demitri was woken from his
beauty sleep-”
“Look, Allison, unless someone’s died
I’m hanging up.”
“It was two people actually, their young
son found them, I need you to take this one.”
“Fuck, sorry. Yeah alright, text me the
address, I’ll get there as quick as I can.”
“Thanks, Dee.”
Hanging up the phone, Demitri threw the bed covers off him and made his way into his ensuite, turning the tap on and gently splashing cool water over his face. He quickly slipped on his sneakers and coat, then grabbed his ID badge and car keys, and left. Demitri turned the car on and opened up his phone, tapping on the address Allison had sent him and started his GPS before pulling out of the underground car park and driving toward the crime scene.
[The Sanders Residence, April 24th, 2:27 am]
Demitri walked up to the yellow police tape and showed the nearest officer his ID badge before slipping under the tape and walking over to the group of detectives standing by the paramedics. He was quickly given a rundown of what had happened and was directed by another officer over to the boy who was alone on the stairs. This was always the worst part of these kinds of jobs, the child had just lost his parents and now some stranger wants him to go with them. But Demitri had never struggled as much as he did that night. As he got closer he realised that the kid hadn’t been seen by the paramedics on sight, he could tell by the dried blood on his hands and the bottom of his pyjama pants.
Kneeling down in front of the child as slowly as he could, he was able to get a closer look. His eyes were red and swollen, his cheeks were puffy, hair a mess, and dried snot under his nose. Demitri tried to keep the left side of him facing away from the kid as he introduced himself.
“Hi there, my name’s Demitri, but you can call me Dee.” The boy slowly looked up at him, nodded his head and looked back down at the ground.
“My name’s Thomas.” Demitri smiled sadly and moved to sit next to Thomas on the stairs, noticing him flinch away as he got closer, so he put some space between them and let his hands fall into his lap.
“It’s nice to meet you, Thomas. I’m here to look after you, do you have any other family we can call?” Thomas shook his head, wrapping his arms around himself once more.
“Alright then, why don’t we go inside and pack a bag with some of your things. Do you think you can do that?” Thomas nodded and Demitri let out a quiet sigh, he knew this was going to be difficult, he just wished that Thomas didn’t have to go through this. Demitri stood up and walked over to Detective Phillips who seemed to be leading the case and asked him if he and Thomas could pack a larger bag and take a few small comfort items. The detective agreed and he went back over to Thomas asking him where his room was.
When they reached Thomas’ room, Demitri looked through the closet to find something to pack Thomas’ things in, eventually deciding on his small Spider-Man themed suitcase. Together they packed it full of clothes and toys, as well as Thomas’ toothbrush and hairbrush. Before leaving the room Demitri grabbed one of Thomas’ pillows and asked the boy to grab his shoes.
[The Myers Residence, April 24th, 2:45 am]
When Demitri and Thomas had finally made it back to his apartment, he gave Thomas a quick tour, showing him where he’d be sleeping, where Demitri slept, where the bathroom was, and how to use the television. But before anything else, Demitri grabbed a new towel for Thomas and a new change of clothes, turning on the shower and letting the child clean himself of his parent’s blood. While he showered, Demitri put clean sheets on the guest bed and placed Thomas’ pillow near the headboard.
After Thomas had gotten changed he brushed his teeth and lied down in the bed that’d been made for him, quietly asking Demitri to leave the door slightly ajar. Once he was sure Thomas was safe and comfortable, Demitri made his way to his own room and climbed back into bed after kicking off his shoes. He knew he should probably figure out what he needed to do tomorrow regarding Thomas, but he could practically feel sleep calling him. He had almost drifted off when he heard a soft knock on his bedroom door and a creak letting him know it’d been opened.
“Mister Dee? Are you awake?” Demitri sat up and patted the empty side of his bed, inviting Thomas to take a seat so they could take.
“Yeah buddy, I’m awake. You doing alright?” With a little help, Thomas climbed up on the bed, sitting cross-legged and playing with the edge of the blanket.
“I’m okay, I can’t sleep.” Demitri nodded and slid back down the mattress until he was lying once more, pulling some of the blankets from underneath Thomas and lifting it up, inviting him to lie down with him.
“That’s fine, you can stay here with me.” Thomas smiled, albeit sadly, and made himself comfortable.
“Mister Dee-”
“Just Dee, Thomas.”
“-Dee… what happened to your face?”
Demitri stiffened. Usually, when he looked after children they’d be too scared to ask about his face, so when Thomas questioned him about it he was immediately ready to respond with a lie, to keep him happy. But his only rule when it came to lying was that he would never do it to a child. So he told Thomas the truth.
“It melted in a fire when I was 9.” Thomas’ wide, chocolate brown eyes blinked a few times, the boy refusing to break the silence so that Demitri would go on. And with a reluctant sigh, he did.
“My parents had a bad fight one day and my Dad hit me so hard I fell asleep. While I was asleep he accidentally started a fire. I was left inside.”
“Did they forget you?” Demitri should really lie here, to tell Thomas ‘No, they didn’t, my Dad saved me’ and that everything was okay. But looking across at him, Demitri just couldn’t bring himself to do it.
“No, they didn’t forget. My Mom and Dad didn’t want to save me.” Before he knew it small, warm arms were wrapped around his stomach, Thomas’ face pressed tightly against his chest. For the first time ever since the incident, Demitri let a few silent tears slip past his eyes and down his cheeks. Because Thomas, a boy who had just lost his parents, who he had just met, was here comforting him for something that had happened 19 years ago.
Demitri smiled as Thomas pulled away, looking up at the scar tissue that travelled down his face, neck, and arm, slowly raising a hand and looking back to Demitri.
“Can I touch it? Does it hurt?” Demitri chuckled softly and carefully grabbed Thomas’ hand, placing it on his bumpy cheek and running it past his jaw and down to the part of his shoulder exposed by his t-shirt.
“No, it doesn’t hurt.”
“It feels so weird, cool!” This time they were both laughing, real happy smiles on each of their faces.
“Hey Dee, guess what.” Thomas curled into Demitri’s side as he placed an arm around him, holding the boy close and gently rubbing circles on his shoulder.
“What Thomas?”
“It’s my birthday today.”
The rubbing stopped. Surely he had heard that wrong. Surely, there was no way that sweet, sweet Thomas’ birthday was today. Everyone’s always scared that something will go wrong on their birthday, maybe a friend didn’t turn up, or the family dog took a bite from the cake before the candles were blown. But for a child to listen to their parents be murdered, find the bodies, and make the 911 call is quite possibly the worst thing that could ever happen. What was Demitri supposed to say to that? What? ‘Happy birthday Thomas, I hope it’s a great day! Your parents are dead but that’s okay!’ Instead Demitri chose the safest option, resuming rubbing circles on Thomas’ shoulder and pulling the blanket up.
“Get some rest Thomas, tomorrow’s going to be a busy day.”
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Occasionally, the world will listen to the moods of its inhabitants. When a bunny dies, the skies will often cry. The birth of a butterfly is usually greeted with radiant sunshine.
But sometimes, the worst of times, nature can be cruel. The emotions of the day will juxtapose the world around it, spreading a false sense of feeling to those who are unaware of events taking place elsewhere.
The bright, beautiful sunshine of July 12th just so happened to be one of those cruel days.
The news would spread quickly, all of the castles courts knew, but it only seemed right to leave the young prince alone with the body of his newly dead mother - if only for a few moments.
The death of a Queen… She’d been ill for some time. At first, only small coughing fits would affect her days, but before long she fell victim to spasms and fits. When her legs succumbed to numbness she was advised to keep it hidden, but she had been adamant about her honesty to the people of her kingdom. She was aware of the weakness it showed, but she’d always seen the best in people - including the rulers of the surrounding countries, whom she considered friends. Even when she was officially bedridden, she ruled with a calm and kind hand.
To many, it was merely the death of a Queen. To many more, it was the death of a friend. To only one, though, it was the death of a mother.
Roman couldn’t fathom the brightness of the outside while he felt so dark within. Even with every curtain drawn, and every torch put out, the sunlight prevailed and pushed through every tiny crack it could find, as though to say, “Dear Roman, everything will be alright. Happiness will prevail,” just as his mother had said each time he had cried as a child. But how could it?
Knelt beside his mother's bed, clutching her feather-light sheets, Roman couldn’t help the moaning sobs that fell past his lips in endless waterfalls, drenching the sleeve of his mother's arm beneath him. He wasn’t sure how long he’d sat like this. Not long enough to have been pulled away, not yet, but long enough that his knees ached against the cold stone floor under him. His eyes burned, a never-ending river still running from the blue pools they held. His stomach rolled with nausea and his brain seemed to be pounding against his skull…
How could happiness prevail when the very embodiment of the word lay cold in her bed?
As time passed, Roman began to calm. His shaking slowed, and he became quieter with every passing moment. He wasn’t happy - far from it - but at some point, a person must run out of tears. For a prince, that moment was required to be fast.
He listened attentively to the room around him, choking back the remaining whimpers in his raw throat. He could hear the near-silent mumbling of the staff near the doors, the awkward side-steps of the guard behind him. They were all waiting for their next orders.
Roman took a slow, deep breath through his nose. He could still smell her in this close proximity, but the life behind her flowery scent was gone… As though a forest fire had snuffed out every bloom.
It was time.
The prince stood, blinking away the last of his tears. There was no time to mourn. The time had finally come to take action, and he knew that now the orders must come from him. He would plan the funeral, large and befit of the beautiful life it would celebrate, but soon after there would be a coronation.
With a final look at her beautiful, peaceful, sleeping face… He knew.
It was time for Roman to become King.
***
“Thomas! Get down from there, silly!”
“Never!” the boy yelled from his perch in the large oak tree. His brown hair danced across his forehead, nearly touching his bold brown eyes.
Grinning up at him, his father noted that the boy desperately needed a haircut. “Thomas, we’ll be late! C’mon, please?”
“Fine,” he sang, recklessly jumping down one branch at a time.
Laughing, Patton added, “Don’t rip your trousers! Those are your good pair, son.”
“I know, Papa!”
Patton landed on his feet with a heavy thump, not a scratch in sight. He grinned up at his dad proudly, showing off the gap in the front of his otherwise toothy smile. Though Patton couldn’t afford to give Thomas his well-deserved coin for the missing fang, the boy didn’t seem any less happy than any other day. Patton felt grateful to have such a mature, understanding nine-year-old as a son.
“Ready to go?” Patton asked.
With a hum of confirmation from the boy, the two set off. The walk to the castle wasn’t long, but they were planning to stop at the blacksmiths' shop along the way. Afterall, Mr.Thatch had promised to buy Thomas a balloon on the way to the parade!
Thomas stopped many times along the dirt path, picking white carnations and hydrangeas for the flower crown he was creating along their way.
“Papa?” he asked once he was done, “Would you like a crown as well?”
Patton smiled brightly as his beautiful little boy. How cute Thomas looked, flowers sat askew across his tiny head. How could he turn down this wonderful child? “Of course, my starlight.”
Again, Thomas flashed his papa a grin. “Mr.Drake has been teaching me much about flowers, Papa!”
“Has he?” Patton smiled, listening attentively to his son. “Do tell.”
Thomas ran off to the side of the path once more. When he returned his hands were filled with flowers. His smile never faltered as he explained, “Chrysanthemums indicate a long life, and Hyacinth’s symbolize playfulness. These orchids represent exotic beauty, and roses are symbols of love!” With each flower he listed, he added them to the crown. The array of plants looked odd altogether, Patton had to admit, but the thought behind them made his smile glow as he leaned down to let Thomas place it on his head.
“Now we both have crowns, Papa!” Thomas exclaimed.
Nodding, Patton added, “Yes, and soon, so will Prince Roman.”
“King Roman!” Thomas shouted, fist thrown in the air with a gleeful laugh.
“Yes,” Patton chuckled, patting Thomas’ hair gently. “King Roman indeed. It is quite the shame the Queen has passed… But Prince Roman will be a fine leader, don’t you agree?”
Thomas nodded, jumping ahead of his father to walk backwards as they spoke. “Of course! He’s beat dragons and armies, nothing can stop him!” A mock battle took place as Thomas mimed a sword and shield, swiping at the air and jumping away from invisible danger. “He’s very nice too! Remember, Papa? Mr.Thatch says that Prince Roman is very nice!”
Patton nodded once more. “I remember,” he promised, chuckling at Thomas’ antic. “Careful, starlight. Watch where you’re headed.”
“Yes, Papa!”
***
Logan Thatch didn’t consider himself an aggressive man. In fact, he thought himself quite fair and logical. Every day he would sit through listening to his customer's demands, however annoying and ridiculous they may be, and he would work hard each night to try to finish the projects requested of him. If a mistake was made of his own fault, he offered discounts and partial refunds, and if his customers simply didn’t like their product he was always willing to redo their piece for an equal price.
He was always smart with his money, saving for needed equipment and food, as well as a little extra should he need it. His math skills weren’t the best, but the knowledge he had was enough to get by. Once a month he would splurge just enough to take a math or literacy class in order to further educate himself. His reading was greatly improving every day!
But still, Logan was smart enough to know that money was tight. Afterall, he wasn’t the most popular blacksmith in the small town - by far, he wasn’t the best. His customers came to him for cheaper prices, not higher quality.
So when Lyle Drake arrived at Logan’s shop, on the morning of the coronation no less, to inform the blacksmith of the rising price of rent, Logan was infuriated.
“Fifty coins?! Mr.Drake, you must know that fifty coins is an absurd amount?” In his outrage, he found himself getting nearer and nearer the other man, but Mr.Drake seemed entirely unaffected by Logan’s outburst. “Twenty was already more than I could afford, and now you ask fifty of me? Every month? That’s just illogical, and frankly, it isn’t going to happen. It can’t. I’ll barely be able to afford bread!”
Lyle Drake chuckled, finally taking a step back from Logan, who had gotten close enough to see the golden shine of Lyle’s eyes. Both men were tall, but Lyle’s six feet won out by just a few inches. He was slim, with think black hair beneath his silk top hat. Half of his face was covered in green skin and scales, the result of venomous snake bite as a child, and his clothes reflected his abundance of wealth. After All, the Queens tax collector and royal advisor was paid rather well.
“Mr.Thatch, or rather, Logan, the kingdom has reached dire times my friend! The Queen's funeral, and now Prince Roman’s coronation… Very expensive events indeed. Everyone is required to chip in.” He paused, grinning in response to the snarl he received from the blacksmith, before continuing, “Besides, his royal highness has been advised to collect money to build a proper shrine for his beloved mother, God bless her soul.”
“I wonder who advised that, Mr.Drake?”
“I haven’t the faintest what you’re implying, Logan.” The two faced man turned on his heel and began to walk away. Only seconds later he called over his shoulder, “I’ll be by in a week to collect your rent, Mr.Thatch.”
Logan wanted to scream. He wanted to punch that slimy man and wipe that stupid grin off his annoying face. He wanted to-
“Mr.Thatch!”
His murderous thoughts were interrupted by a pair of arms flung around his waist, squeezing in a friendly manner. It took him a moment to realize it was Thomas, a young boy who occasionally helped him around the shop in exchange for a loaf of bread.
“Mr.Thatch,” the young boy continued, releasing the man from his hug before looking up with a grin. “Look what Papa and I made for you!”
Logan smiled, gazing down at Thomas and the boys' outstretched hands. A flower crown made of aster, gladiolus, and lilac… “How beautiful. Thank you, Thomas.” Logan gently picked up the braided plants and placed them on his head. Normally such ridiculousness would annoy him, however, he found he could never say no to Thomas. The young boy was such a bundle of joy and delightful energy. And Thomas’ father… Well, Logan’s smile brightened more as he watched Patton descend down the path towards the blacksmiths' shop.
The father's face seemed to be flushed pink as he greeted Logan, and the blacksmiths face mimicked the shy greeting without fail as Thomas ran around them with loud exclamations of his excitement.
Title: Wearing Our Hearts On Our Sleeves
Chapter: Prologue, Chapter 1
Word Count: 2054
Ships: Logicality, Prinxiety, Dukeceit
Summary: Logan Bright, a Police Officer, is trying to find his father’s killer, and solve the case that led to his death once and for all.
Throughout his investigations, Logan meets an eclectic bunch of people. A paramedic who owns 2 cats yet is deathly allergic, a 911 operator with severe social anxiety, twins who happen to be a firefighter and a forensic scientist, a cps worker who is a compulsive liar, and a 7-year-old boy who’s parents were murdered.
Warnings: brief mentions of drugs, guns, and hostages. implied past murder
Taglist: @tinysidestrashcaptain @avocados26 @shadycreatorrebelpersona @jadedmidnight @suicidalcitrusfruit @virgils-angels @human-being-kinda
AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23046337/chapters/55408117
[July 12th 2019, 8:03 am]
Walking into the Police Precinct as an officer for the first time was, admittedly, a huge ordeal for Logan Bright. It’d been his dream for many years to follow in his father’s footsteps, to become a detective like he was, and to finally be recognised as an officer reinforced the fact that he was one step closer to achieving that goal. After he had signed in and introduced himself to the captain, Logan made his way down to the equipment room to officially receive his gun and badge, as well as the other necessary items he needed. However, as he turned around to leave the room, he was stopped by a group of 5 or so detectives, each one giving him a look up and down as if they were deciding for themselves whether or not he should be employed there.
“Well fellas, look at what we’ve got here. Fresh meat. I wonder how long this one will last.” The detectives began to laugh, making Logan feel as if he had to adjust his appearance with his posture straightening and his hands clasping together behind his back.
“Say, rookie, what’s your name?” Logan looked the man who spoke in the eye as he replied, trying to hide the proud smile threatening to form on his lips.
“Bright. Officer Logan Bright.” It was then that the laughter faded, the detectives glancing between each other as if trying to find an explanation. Only a few seconds passed before one of the detectives at the back of the group stepped forward with a look of disbelief in his eyes and hesitantly placed a hand on Logan’s shoulder.
“Logan… You’re Daniel’s son, aren’t you?” Logan nodded and a smile broke out onto the man’s face as he pulled the young officer in for a hug.
“I’m Clark, Clark Phillips, I was your father’s partner. He used to tell me so much about you. You were so little the last time I saw you.”
“You knew my father?” Logan gently hugged back before pulling away and adjusting his glasses, a small action that caused Clark to chuckle.
“I did, yes. You’re so much like him, you know?”
“No I- I didn’t know that.” Before Clark could respond, Logan’s radio crackled and a voice came through, calling Logan to go and begin his first patrol. With a quick goodbye to Clark and the rest of the Detectives, Logan was on his way, a small smile resting on his face for the rest of the day.
[March 3rd 2020, 12:38 pm]
Logan had finally gotten back to the precinct after a busy morning on patrol. He’d been an officer there for a little under eight months and Logan had enjoyed every minute of it. And although he enjoyed structure and schedules, the monotony was starting to become just a little tedious. He’d become an officer to give back to the community, but deep down he knew he was far more focused on finding the man that destroyed his family. So Logan decided he’d talk to Clark and see if he could take a look at his father’s murder file, a small favour he could pay back one day. Luckily, Clark was kind enough to sneak out a few case files for Logan to read through when he wasn’t out on patrol.
Clark had given him the files a week ago and Logan still hadn’t read a single one. He’d had plenty of time to go through them, his patrols had been quiet and he didn’t have anything to do during his breaks, so why hadn’t he read the files yet? If he was honest, he was scared. He was scared that when he’d open up those case files that all the pain and hurt that he felt would come flooding back. He was scared of finding out what happened to his father. He was scared that he’d never find the killer.
Logan was afraid.
He’d spent his whole life hoping that his father would walk back through his door, that he’d finally come home after so long and rebuild a relationship that was once lost. So he was afraid of those hopes being shattered if he opened the files. Logan was tempted to give them back, to keep pretending that someday his father would return. But he’d made a promise to his mother before she died that he’d find the murderer, and Logan Bright has never broken a promise. So this was where he was now, sitting at a spare empty desk, his father’s files in front of him, and a shaky hand hovering above the manila folders; and with great hesitancy, he opened them.
[November 29th 1997, 11:54 pm]
Detective Daniel Bright pulled into the car park opposite the abandoned factory. He’d recently been investigating a case regarding one of the biggest drug dealers in all of Florida and had followed a lead to where he was currently sitting, watching and waiting for any movement at all. He was so close to finally cracking open this case if he could get even just a photo of the transaction and the parties involved.
Before he knew it, a black SUV pulled up across the road, multiple men with guns exiting the car. Daniel picked up the camera sitting on the seat next to him and started taking pictures of the men, but as he did so his blood ran cold. Emerging from the other side of the car was a young couple with guns to their heads. Any wishes Daniel had to stay in the warmth of his car and gather intel were thrown out the window, he knew more men were bound to arrive with even more guns than the last car full. So without a second thought, Daniel got out of the car, his fingers gripped tightly around his gun and made his way over to the factory, looking for another way in.
Slipping through an open window in the back of the factory, Daniel snuck along the inside of the wall, going from stacks of crates to shipping containers to find a better vantage point. Eventually, he found the perfect spot to sit and hide where he could see the couple, kneeling on the ground hand in hand. Daniel sat in silence watching and waiting until finally, the factory doors opened and another group of men walked in. As the second group got closer, one of the men from the first stepped forward. Daniel shuffled closer in an attempt to hear what was being said.
“Y’all can stop right there, that’s close enough. Where’s the boss?”
“He’s taking care of some other business real quick, he’ll be here any second now.”
Daniel carefully began to move more to the right to try and get a better look at some of the men from the second group of men when he felt cool metal touch the back of his head. Slowly, Daniel put down his gun and stood up, being sure to let whoever as behind him that he didn’t want any trouble. As he turned around the gun that was previously on the back of his head moved to his forehead, the safety clicking off as he did so.
“I’m sorry Daniel, I didn’t want to have to do this. I’m sure you understand.”
[March 3rd 2020, 10:23 pm]
Logan’s apartment that night was eerily quiet. All the lights were turned off except the television in the living room, a soft blue glow being cast across all the furniture. A plate with half-eaten dinner was left on the small dining table and all the pots and utensils used were left piled in the sink.
Quiet sobs could be heard coming from Logan’s bedroom. There, lying curled up in the fetal position under his duvet was Logan, dressed in a baggy shirt and sweatpants with tear tracks down his face. After he’d read his father’s murder files he’d gone straight back to work and kept busy for the rest of the day. Logan didn’t want to go home that night and be alone with his thoughts. He knew that the walls he’d built all those years ago would come tumbling down if he was left by himself, and that’s exactly what happened.
For 23 years Logan truly believed his father might have come home and in a heartbeat that small slither of hope he had was snatched away. That night Logan finally came to a realisation that was a long time coming, it was just something he didn’t want to admit. He was really, truly, alone. Logan doesn’t have any friends, it’s just a rule of his. He’s worried that if he lets people get too close to him that he’ll lose them. So he keeps everyone at a safe distance, but after being alone for so long, it began to take a toll on him.
Logan had moved from his position on his bed so that he was sitting in the corner of his room, staring at the adjacent wall with his legs pulled up to his chest. The tears had finally stopped, but the deep feelings of brokenness and emptiness inside of him were still there, haunting him. He wanted his Mom back. He wanted his Dad back. He wanted his family back. He wanted to fall asleep and wake up the next morning to the smell of his mother’s blueberry pancakes and the sound of his father complaining about the news. Logan just wanted to feel loved again.
Wiping his face with the back of his hands, Logan pushed himself up off the floor and slowly made his way to the bathroom, turning on the tap and splashing his face with cold water before grabbing his glasses. Once he’d dried himself off Logan walked out to the kitchen, turning on a light and rinsing off the dishes before putting them into the dishwasher and turning it on. The sound of the dishwasher beginning its cycle was more than welcome in the silent apartment, the feeling of loneliness that’d been hanging over Logan’s head slowly disappearing. As he wandered into the living room Logan picked up the large knitted blanket that he kept on the back of his sofa and wrapped it around himself before he sat down, grabbing the television remote and scrolling through Netflix until he found a documentary on space he hadn’t yet watched.
~*~
“Look Lo, a shooting star! Make a wish!” Logan looked up at his mother from her lap, she had her eyes closed and a soft smile on her lips.
“Mommy, what’s a shooting star?” Sarah opened her eyes and admired the young boy in her arms. Logan smiled as she turned him around, resting his head on her chest.
“They’re little pieces of rock that fly through the sky called meteors.” Daniel wrapped his arms around his wife’s shoulders and placed a gentle kiss on her cheek as he explained what shooting stars were to his son.
“Wow...” Logan tried to stifle a tired yawn by pressing his face further into his mother’s shirt, to no avail. His parents laughed quietly as Daniel carefully tried to pick Logan up so that Sarah could stand up. Once she had, the pair walked down the hallway to Logan’s room and tucked him into bed, both of them sitting on either side of the bed.
“Why doesn’t Mommy sing you a song to help you sleep, huh?” Sarah smiled at Daniel and leant down to press a kiss to Logan’s forehead before beginning to softly sing.
“When you wish upon a star, makes no difference who you are.” Logan closed his eyes as his father joined in, the blanket around him being tucked in ever so gently.
“Anything your heart desires will come to you… If your heart is in your dream...” Logan slowly drifted off to sleep, the sound of his parents quietly singing to him comforting him.
~*~
Logan placed the television remote on the coffee table in front of him along with his glasses and pulled the blanket tighter around him, making himself comfortable lying on the sofa and closing his eyes, a sweet melody escaping his lips.
“No request is too extreme… When you wish upon a star, as dreamers do."
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