On Miguel’s last day at the inpatient rehab facility, he asked Logan to join him for a walk down by the water. The weather wasn’t great for it, but Logan could sense that the man was looking for more than a pleasant stroll. The gray clouds filled the sky, blotting out the sun and cooling the air temperature, but Logan followed his friend out into it without questioning it, neither of them speaking until they’d reached the railing that ran parallel to the beach, Logan stopping after Miguel, waiting for him to say something. 

“You know I’m outta here tomorrow.” It wasn’t a question, and Logan wasn’t sure what the point was. Yeah, of course I know that. Miguel swallowed, the muscles of his throat working under his skin before he let out a laugh. “I mean, yeah obviously.” 

“Miguel,” Logan shook his head, the longer strands of his hair falling into his eyes. “What…” 

“Look I know we talked about...a lotta shit, right?” We sure fuckin’ have. There were few people aside from you and Ezekiel that he’d shared as many details about himself with. But there’s still a lot he doesn’t know.  “But...I just thought maybe we take one last chance to… talk about…” He sniffed and looked over at Logan. “About what we...what got us here.” 

Logan’s eyes widened then as a pair of wild horses galloped into his vision along the shoreline, their hoofprints forcing flashes of a very different horse running through very different sand. Fuck...this is how he wants to spend his last… He sighed heavily though, knowing that Miguel’s suggestion was likely for the best. It was good, having an ally, someone like Miguel who was intimately familiar with the type of struggle that Logan was fighting to free himself of, and he knew that part of having an ally meant letting them know your weakest parts. “Yeah,” he breathed the word, barely audible over the waves. “Yeah that’s...we should.” 

The two men had leaned against the rail then, Miguel prompting Logan to begin, asking him to tell him more about the trip to the park that had set everything in motion. “I know you said...in group once, you said something happened, that your brother in law did something to you on that trip… is that… did that have something to do with you usin’?” 

Before long, Logan had launched into the grittier details that had played out in his nightmares for the better part of the last nine months. He skipped over the things that he knew Miguel already knew- that the trip was supposed to be a bonding experience for him and his sister’s future husband, that the man had lost his sense of reality and snapped, that he’d abandoned Logan in the park and manipulated his family upon their return. He elaborated on the parts that Miguel didn’t know- the extent of his injuries both physical and mental, and how his time alone in the desert broke him. 

“Everything- the… the vultures, the bison, the fuckin jackrabbits, the,” he nodded towards the foamy surf where a strong, chestnut colored banker stepped confidently up to a white and brown filly. “The horses. It’s all fake. None of it’s real.” There was no way that live animals could be safely and humanely used in the parks. They, like the Hosts, had been built, their actions simulated and determined by a few lines of what he was told was simple code. “For me it was always…” Logan leaned against the weathered wooden post, arms crossed, his right hand squeezing his left bicep just above his elbow. He narrowed his eyes, focused on the arch of the darker horse’s mane as the animal tossed its head. “It was easy to keep...to remind myself that it was just a game. You know?” 

Logan saw Miguel’s shrug out of the corner of his eye. “Nah, I mean,” he laughed, folding his arms over the railing. “I never been to Westworld or, what’s one of the other ones you got?” He smacked the splintered wood, flakes of dried paint chipping off. “Shogun World?” He laughed again and shook his head. “Shit man, I’ve never even been to goddamn Disneyworld, so…” He shrugged again and even Logan had to let out a snort of laughter. I sound like an entitled fuckin prick right now. “So when it comes to your fancy as fuck vacations? Assume I don’t know nothin.” Miguel used the back of one hand to slap Logan on the arm. “I don’t assume you know shit about the Bronx right?” 

You sure don’t. “That’s fair.” Logan turned to look down at Miguel with a smirk. He shook his head and let the smirk fade as he sighed, eyes going back to the pair of horses, their tails flicking as they trotted along beside one another. “So,” he gestured with one hand, waving it before letting it fall back to its original position. “They… all the Hosts in the parks, they’re all characters in a storyline.” He blew out a sharp breath. “They’re all fuckin clichés. The town drunk, the sheriff, the-“ he felt his top lip twitch in disgust. “The rancher’s daughter, and it’s all… well for fuckin sane people, it’s all easy enough to remind yourself thats it’s not real. They’re just fuckin robots and it’s not…” He sniffed as he recalled the way that Dolores’s programmed painful screams did nothing to him but pierce his ears. “Even watchin’ ‘em die it just… it was a game. Didn’t matter.” 

The white and brown horse nudged her companion and then both horses broke into a gallop, their hooves splashing through the shallow water as it receded around their ankles. Logan heard Miguel’s whispered damn and he silently agreed. “The horses there though…” Logan kept his eyes on the pair down on the beach, but in his mind he saw a very different beast. “It’s harder to forget that they’re…” he flinched. “When the Hosts die it’s… it’s dramatic. And realistic and...satisfying in a sick fuckin way. ‘Cause it’s what you go there for. But the horses it’s… watchin’ them die it’s different.”

He curled his fingers into fists and he could feel the fine filament strands of the robotic horse’s faux mane.  

“That damn horse he had me on?  Shit, they must’ve programmed it to just go. Y’know? Not stop until the rider told it to or,” he inhaled through his nose, “or the narrative demanded it or whatever. But at that point I was so… I was out of it. I couldn’t tell it to stop, I had no fuckin… I had no clue where I even was.” He flinched, top lip curling. “It kept fuckin’ going and I… well I guess figured that I was better off on it than trying to wander around alone, but fuck, I…” He looked over at his friend then as the two Banker horses they’d been watching got closer. “I wasn’t ready for how it was gonna fuck me up when that thing died. It just…” 

He closed his eyes then and he saw himself crawling away from the collapsed horse, raw sobs emanating from his chest as the sun scorched his bare skin. When he opened his eyes again the corners were stinging with tears. Fuck. 

 “I remember bein’ on it, feelin’ it move and then...then it just went still, stopped movin’, it…” He swallowed as another set of tears fell from his eyes. “It dropped. I felt it’s muscles stop and I looked in it’s eye and it was done. It ran itself out and it didn’t even know it was comin’ because it wasn’t alive. 

“But you were.” Miguel spoke quietly, a soft damn following his words. 

Logan nodded. “Yeah. That...that was when I first thought I was gonna die and I...shit… It was the most scared I’ve ever been. Dyin’ alone? Without… anyone there.” Your name slipped into his mind. Without seein’ her again. “That’s when I realized I didn’t have my… the picture that I had with me? The one I brought to help keep myself grounded if I needed it.” Before that trip he hadn’t needed his emergency reminder in over a year. He’d only brought the photo of Juliet in case William needed it the one of you he’d brought purely because he wanted to. But when he found himself actually in need of a reminder that he wasn’t alone, not in the real world, he’d found himself without it. “Once I realied that I… I lost my shit. Went completely out of it, spent a couple days like that and…and started thinkin’ I shoulda died, that it’d be better.” 

“Fuck, man.” Miguel sniffed. “That’s…” Yeah. I know. 

Logan shook his head. I’m not… yeah it’s still there, but I’m not a mess about it anymore. At least not now. It actually… He blinked a few times, feeling strangely lighter. It actually feels good to talk about it. “Yeah, so-” 

“So you really… that girl really means something to you then.” Again, it wasn’t a question- not in the way Miguel had asked it, and not in the way that Logan felt about his answer. 

“She is.” She’s… 

“Then why don’t you write to her, man?” 

This again. Miguel had been on Logan’s ass about how important it was to try to reach out to the people in his life and let them know how he was doing, let them know that they mattered to him, and that they were still a part of who he was learning that he was. But I never see him writing any goddamn letters. 

 “It’s not that simple, Miguel, I can’t just…” he closed his eyes and saw the way that you looked at him when he told you that he didn’t want you to be waiting for him to finish treatment- when he told you that it was for the best if you left him in your past so that he could focus on a future that wouldn’t bury you both. He could still feel the way that your hot tears soaked his overgrown beard when you kissed him for the last time. Even though he knew that you were hurting, he watched you put your pain aside to tell him that he deserved to be happy. It was pain that he had caused by letting you get so close to him, by leaning so hard on you, and he wasn’t eager to resurrect that hurt for you. I could still fuck this up. “I can’t do that to her, not when I don’t know how long I’ll... “ Logan shook his head and opened his eyes in time to watch the two horses turn and bolt along the shoreline, a spray of sand and ocean foam flying from their hooves. “I can’t put her through it all again just to-”  

“You wanna know why I never write to anyone, Logan?” Miguel spoke quietly as he watched the waves cover the horses’ tracks and Logan snapped his attention towards the other man,  a lump moving down his throat as he swallowed. “Why I sit here and write shit to myself insteada reachin’ out to people I care about? People that care about me?”

Normally this was exactly the type of conversation that Logan would try to avoid- personal information, intimate truths, things that required a balance of trust to share. But Miguel had proven himself time and again to be someone that Logan could talk to, someone that wanted to help. He blinked as his friend turned to face him, deciding that it might just be time to return the favor and hear him out. “Why?” 

“I got no one to write to. Not anymore.” The flat tone he used for the last two words made Logan blink, his forehead creasing. What does that- Miguel cleared his throat, coughing into his fist as he returned his gaze back to the beach and leaned over the railing again. “Shay...my girl she… she’s gone, Logan. She ODed right in fronta me, right in my arms.” Damn. “She was… she and I we, we talked about the future a lot, talked about gettin’ clean together, gettin’ out of the shithole neighborhood we were livin’ in and... ” He took a breath and it didn’t matter that his hood was blocking the side of his face, Logan knew that the man was crying. ”And still, watchin’ that happen to her, it wasn’t enough to get me to stop. My brother, he died in prison, withdrawing.”

 A caustic, humorless sound came from Miguel’s lips as he blew out a breath. Jesus. Logan felt his grip on the railing tighten . “Got arrested ‘cause he passed out in a parking lot and the cops found stuff on him so instead of gettin’ him help they charged him with felony intent to sell.” Logan listened intently as the man he shared a room with for the last five months revealed a chunk of truth large enough to sink anyone. Jesus Christ, Miguel. “My brother never hurt anyone but himself. He wasn’t a dealer, didn’t have a gun, he had a problem, and he never got help for it, and then they just… in prison, they just let him fuckin’ die.” A tear fell from Miguel’s face as the younger man lifted his hand up to wipe harshly at his eyes. “Like he was nothin’, like he was...like he wasn’t even a person.” 

Logan cursed under his breath and softly kicked the post of the railing that they were leaning against. What do I even...that’s fucking horrible. For half a second he imagined Juliet getting that news about him- that he’d spent his last moments on the floor of a dirty cell, begging to be treated like a human being- and it caused him to shudder.  No one should have to...that’s… He tore his eyes from the coastline and the horses running along it and turned towards Miguel. No one deserves that. He didn’t know what to say, but Miguel’s pause ended with a sniff relieving him of the need to do anything but listen.  

“And the thing is? I know that what he did...what Shay did, me, you...all of us,” he gestured back at the building behind them. “I know it was illegal. But it shouldn’t be about fillin’ jails because that’s how you fill graves.” A weight fell into Logan’s stomach then as he pictured you standing in front of a stone, his name etched into it as clear and crisp as the pain that was etched into your face. No. Standing straight again, Miguel shifted his hands into the pocket of his sweatshirt. “Look, point is, you can’t beat yourself up about the decisions you made and the things you did when you were usin’. It’s a fucking disease, Logan, and you can’t punish yourself… or her, just because you survived it.”     

That’s not what I’m...I’m trying to protect her. She’s better off without me. It was what he’d told himself time and again to ease the ache he felt from missing you. She doesn’t deserve-  

“I almost died on her, Miguel. Twice. Twice, I… fuck, the second time? I stopped goddamn breathing I-” Logan shook his head, grip tightening on the railing. “Bein’ with me, that was punishment for h-“ 

“Do you love her, Logan?” It was as direct a question as Miguel had ever asked him, the young man’s tawny eyes suddenly seeming to hold at least double the wisdom that someone his age should be capable of. 

What? Logan blinked slowly as a fine mist started to fall. His mouth dropped open but he didn’t know what to say. He’d never allowed himself to use that word in regards to you, even if he knew the answer to Miguel’s question. I never told her that. I… He shook his head. “I never...we didn’t...that’s not what-” 

“Logan.” Miguel turned sideways, leaning his hip against the railing. “C’mon man, no bullshit.” Logan swallowed, turning as well so that he could face his friend. “I don’t care what you told her or didn’t tell her. I know she means a lot to you. I know you got a picture of her next to your bed.” 

The image of you smiling as you stood in front of the Golden Gate Bridge filled his mind. It was the same photo he’d brought with him to Westworld, the one he’d needed in the desert, the one that made even the worst nights during the past five months bearable. Like he did everytime he looked at it, he recalled the way he felt when you’d sent it to him, recalled the text you’d sent along with it. Wish you were here, Logan. He took a breath and closed his eyes, imagining the distinct weight of your hand on his chest, of your arms wound around his body, of your laughter and the warmth that came with it. I wish I was there too, but I… “She…” 

“From what you’ve told me about her?” Miguel narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. “Shit man, I know that girl loves you.” Logan sucked in a breath. She… “So I’m askin’ you- Do you love her?”  

“I-” His throat tightened then as Logan was faced with the reality of speaking his true feelings about you aloud for the first time. Shit, I… He was terrified not only of how sure he felt about his answer, but also of how long he’d known it without acknowledging it. He swallowed the dry lump that threatened to choke him, then let out a ragged breath. “Yeah,” he finally said, staring at the wooden rail, voice thin and raspy. “Yeah, Miguel.” Logan looked up then, meeting Miguel’s knowing gaze. “I love her.” 

“Then you should reach out to her, man. Let her know how you’re doin’. She…” His hand came to Logan’s shoulder, clapping the top of it and squeezing once, and Logan watched a flicker of pain pass over Miguel’s face. “I’m sure hearin’ how well you’re doin’ will be...good for her.” He dropped his hand then, and cleared his throat, turning back to the beach, but the horses they’d been watching at the start of the conversation were gone now. 

He thought back to the brief interval between the night of Juliet’s wedding and the night that made him see that he needed to make a change, remembering the good days and how you were a part of every one of them. One morning in particular flooded his memory, and he turned his back to the waves to stare blankly at the building he’d called home for the last five months as it played out. 

..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..

“G’morning, Logan.” 

He felt your sleepy words vibrate against his cheek before you pressed your lips to the skin above his beard with a hum. Arms instantly tightening around you, he pulled you flush to his body as you let out a breath in the form of a warm laugh. Turning his face to find your lips with his, he kissed you before even opening his eyes. It was a habit he’d formed for the mornings when the sun had woken him instead of his nightmares, letting your smile as he kissed you be the first thing that he felt. It was a reminder to him that there were moments, days worth fighting for, and that you were there, fighting with him.  

“Mornin’.” He spoke without moving his lips, kissing you again the second that the word was out of his mouth. You sighed into it and one of his hands came up to the back of your head, fingers carding through your bed- disheveled hair. Your touch moved from his chest up to the side of his neck, fingertips tracing the curve of his ear before pinching the lobe lightly and pulling down. Damn, that feels… Logan groaned quietly as he pulled away, finally opening his eyes to drink you in. Goddamn. You were looking at him through your lashes, eyes still puffy from sleep, the golden sunlight coming in through the drapes falling on your hair, on your skin, casting shadows along your curves, and he couldn’t help but wish that every morning could begin exactly like this one. “How’d you sleep?” He leaned in to capture your lips in another kiss before letting you answer. 

You curled your fingers where they’d fallen at the base of his throat, humming your surprise as you kissed him back. “I slept well,” you answered, bringing your lips up to his nose before sliding yours along it. “Seems like you did too, huh?” 

He swallowed, fingers absently moving over your skin where his hands lay on your body as you tucked yourself back against his chest, your palm finding the center. “Yeah.” When was the last time I could say that? He rested his cheek on the top of your head, inhaling deeply through his nose, breathing in the scent of your hair. “Slept great.” 

You drew lazy patterns over his sternum before moving your fingers up to his collarbone, dropping your thumb in the dip where it met his rib cage. “Good.” He felt your breath hit his throat before your lips landed there and his eyes fell shut again. This. This is why I… what I have to hold on for. Mornings like this.   

They were still few and far between, mornings like this one, Logan knew that. He knew that you knew it, too. But moments like this made it hard to believe that only three weeks ago he’d woken up hooked to I.V.s, the medications working to bring him back from the brink that he’d sent himself to on the night of his sister’s wedding. It was hard to believe that only twenty-one mornings ago you’d tucked yourself against him just as you had now, only it had been in a narrow hospital bed and your cheeks had been wet with tears. Logan took another deep breath and flattened his hands to press you closer as he let it back out. Almost… but not there yet. Just… He ducked his head down to kiss your temple. Just have to keep trying, keep goin’. Then we can-

“You hungry? Think I saw some eggs in the fridge last night.” You pulled yourself back to look at him as you spoke and he blinked his eyes open once more, hands sliding down your sides as you propped yourself up on one elbow. “I’m not much of a cook, but I-” 

“Not yet.” He cut you off, sitting up and pulling you with him, flipping you beneath him as he reversed your position. You clutched his biceps, laughing as he dropped his weight down on top of you, one of your legs winding around one of his. “Wanna work up an appetite first.” He licked at the skin behind your ear before taking it gently between his teeth. You sucked in a breath, nails scratching lightly down his triceps. “And I think I know a good way to do that,” he released your earlobe and bit down on your shoulder, eliciting another hiss of pleasure and a roll of your hips into his. “What do you think?” 

..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  

You had made him breakfast eventually, though by the time the two of you had gotten around to eating it was well into the afternoon. Logan could still taste the under-salted scrambled eggs you’d cooked. They were fuckin’ terrible, she was right. But it finally hit him that it was that morning- the lazy touches, the greedy kisses, the shitty eggs- that stood out from the others. It was that morning and moments like it that made him sure. I love her. And she… 

“I’ll be here for you, Logan...when you get back.” 

That’s what you had said to him the night before he’d left for the East Coast and the facility he stood in front of now. “I told her not to…” A far off rumble of thunder drowned out the rest of his words as he turned back towards the ocean. 

“Huh?” Miguel looked over, squinting through the steady drizzle that the mist had become. “You say somethin’?” He brought one hand up to pull the hood of his sweatshirt further over the top of his head, but neither man made a move to get out of the rain even as it picked up, soaking Logan’s hair. 

“Before I left, to come here?” Logan sniffed, nodding at the foamy surf as it rushed up the shore to swallow the hoofprints left by the Banker horses. “I told her not to wait for me.” The water receded, taking with it any evidence that anything, man or beast, had ever made its mark in the sand. If one wave could erase all of that, he had to wonder what six months would do. I told her to… He closed his eyes, letting the wind pelt him with wayward raindrops. I told her not to love me.  

Miguel blew air out through his nose in a dry laugh. What the hell is funny? “Shit, man.” Logan straightened up and drew himself up to his full height, looking Miguel in the eye. “You rich types. You all think just ‘cause you say somethin’ everybody’s gotta listen.” He let out another short burst of air. “You really think she just stopped carin’ about you, Logan? Just ‘cause you told her to?” He shook his head. “Nah, that ain’t how it works man.”

The idea that he might someday have you in his arms again- have you and be whole enough to keep you, whole enough to give himself to you- nearly made him dizzy. But that’s not… I can’t expect… “She...Miguel, I told her I didn’t want her around for all this.” Why would she- 

“Damn you got a thick head, you know that?” Logan pressed his lips together then, eyebrows high on his forehead. What? Miguel went on. “Lemme ask you somethin’. If it were the other way around, her tellin’ you to forget her, not to keep stickin’ around, is that all it’d take for you to just,” he shrugged, “forget about her? Outta sight, outta mind?” 

The answer came swiftly and with absolute certainty.  No. 

Logan stiffened, remembering the look in William’s eye when he’d tried to make him see reason; when he tried to make him see that Dolores wasn’t real, that the man had someone real waiting for him. His fingers curled around the wet wooden railing, squeezing as more of the peeling paint fell away in flakes. “Now you’re scheming to become part of the family.” His own words swam through his head, and he saw William’s blue eyes glaze over as he stared at the blonde haired Host. “Marrying my sister, whom incidentally you seemed to have completely fucking forgotten about!” Logan had pulled two photos from inside of his jacket then, flipping past yours to get to the one he’d taken of his sister in Times Square a few years earlier. “Her?” Tucking your photo back in its place inside the inner pocket, he waved Juliet’s smiling face in front of her soon to be husband. “Here, keep it.”  He leaned in then, shoving his sister’s photo into William’s pocket. “You apparently need the reminder.” 

“No.” The single syllable came out more loudly than he’d meant for it to, his top lip lifting, almost offended that Miguel had even asked the question. Swallowing, he shook his head and licked at his lips. “No,” he said again, “I could never forget about her.”  

“Well what the hell makes you think it's any different for her, huh?” Hands still in the front pocket of his sweatshirt, he elbowed Logan lightly as he challenged him. 

Logan shifted his weight, absorbing Miguel’s bony jab and regaining his balance. It’s different because… She’s… I’m… “Fuck, Miguel, it’s different, it should be different, because I’m a-” 

“Don’t fuckin’ blame this on you bein an addict.” Miguel’s tone suddenly turned serious, his eyes narrowing and his nostrils flaring. 

Logan felt his own eyes widen, his lips parting in surprise. But I-  

Miguel was quicker than Logan’s thoughts, waving one hand dismissively as though he could read them. “Nah. That’s  not…” He sniffed. “A? You’re five months clean, man. Five damn months, that’s fuckin’ something, and you worked hard for it. And B? Your girl knew, Logan. She knew you had a fuckin’ problem, and it wasn’t enough to…” He trailed off, cursing under his breath. “Look. You needed to take time to get right with yourself and that’s all good. You had to do what you had to do, but don’t twist it. She loved you, and if I had any damn money to put on it?” He finally let one side of his mouth lift in a small smirk, tone lightening again. “I’d bet she still does, man. Yeah. It’s been a while, and yeah, you leavin’ was probably just as hard on her as it was on you.” Logan winced at that but Miguel went on. “For different reasons, obviously, but…” But? “Shit, I know it woulda taken a fuck of a lot more than me tellin’ her not to wait to make Shay give up on me.”

Damn. The realization that his struggle didn’t negate your love for him hit him just as hard as the fact that he’d shared so much with Miguel over the last several months, and yet this was the first time the man had opened up to him as much as he did. He never told me about Shay… or his brother, I never… The waves were riding atop one another to combine and amplify their crashing, the rolling thunder becoming less distant as the storm that had chased the horses away came closer. 

The sound of the rain hitting the wooden boards that made up the walkway that the two men stood on grew heavier as the droplets themselves began to double in size. Miguel blinked up at the sky, a fat drop splashing on his cheek. “Hey, c’mon man, let’s get back inside, it’s-” 

But Logan didn’t let him finish, instead throwing his arms around the man in a tight but brief embrace. It wasn’t characteristic of him to show that he cared about people, at least not anyone that wasn’t you or his sister, but somehow through the course of their time together, Miguel had earned a place in that small circle. There were no words that Logan could come up with to thank the man for everything that he’d done for him since his very first night at the facility, so he didn’t try. Fuck. I’m gonna miss him. 

At first Miguel didn’t respond, standing frozen as four seconds turned to five, but then he returned the hug, clapping Logan twice on the back. “Yo, it’s all good man.” He pulled back and gave Logan one more clap to the side of his arm. “You don’t have to thank me for anything.” Yes I do, I- “No,” he read Logan’s furrowed brow and spoke before the thoughts could materialize. “You don’t.” He shook his head, the hood slipping down his back. One hand flew up to tug it back into place over his short curls before dropping again. “You know this was my second time through here,  right?” Logan nodded, still unsure where this was headed. “Yeah, well… Well I only got through it okay this time ‘cause I had you.” What? Me? How could I have- “You meet who you need to when you need to, right?” He laughed and looked back up at the sky, squinting one eye. “Somethin’ my mom always said.” He looked back at Logan then,  hands already back in his pocket. “Hey can I…call you? Once you’re outta here and back home and all… settled? I just…” He shrugged. “Hell, man, I ain’t tryin’a make it a three-peat an you’re-” 

“You fuckin’ better call me.” Logan cut him off. I mean it. His throat felt thick and he struggled to swallow down the unexpected emotions. 

Miguel just nodded, his features arranged in an uncharacteristically serious fashion, the two of them now soaked through to their tee shirts as the drizzle finally gave over to full-blown rain. “Alright.” He cleared his throat and tossed his chin in the direction of the building. “C’mon now, I don’t wanna spend my whole last night here dryin’ off.” With that he turned and started walking, the Atlantic Ocean to his back. Logan shook the shock of everything he was feeling and followed, his thoughts and heart racing, but Miguel swiveled back around and he stopped short. “And Logan? Write to your girl. Even if it’s just to tell her you’re headed in the right direction. I’m sure she…”

“Yeah.” Logan’s response was quick, his voice thin but sure. “Yeah, I will.” 

The two of them began walking, traversing the path back to the facility that had brought them together. He didn’t stop again, but another thought seemed to occur to Miguel and he swiveled his head towards Logan. “Hey one more thing.” 

Logan rolled his eyes sarcastically. “Goddamn, what else can you possibly have to fucking say?” 

Miguel’s face split into a shit eating grin then. “Just a reminder to be nice to your new roommate. He’s gonna be havin’ the shittiest damn day of his life and it’s gonna be your problem for at least 48 hours.” 

“Ah, shit.” Logan recalled his own first day there- the pitiful way he felt, the anger and confusion, the feeling that none of it mattered and it all hurt too much. He recalled thinking about smothering Miguel in his sleep because the man wouldn’t shut up with his positive bullshit. I wouldn’t have made it through that night without his bullshit. “I’m gonna get someone as bad as I was, aren’t I?” 

“Yup,” Miguel laughed. “That’s how it works man. But you never know if you’re who they need to meet, right?” 

..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  

“I wanna go to Law School.” Logan sat down in the purple chair in Zeke’s office as he made his declaration. 

Zeke took his glasses from his face and pulled a small microfiber cloth from his pocket to wipe them with as he stepped around from the door to take his seat opposite Logan. “Okay. You wanna back up and tell me where this is coming from, Logan?” He flipped the small cloth to fold it and tucked it back away before perching the frames back on his nose. 

Logan twisted in his chair to face his counselor and the man he’d come to respect more than almost anyone he’d ever met. “You kiddin’ me, Zeke?” He turned his upper body back around as the other man sunk into his wheeled desk chair with a sigh. “This whole time you’ve been askin’ me what I’m plannin’ to do with myself after this place, what I want to change?” Zeke nodded and gestured with both hands for Logan to continue. “Well, I got three weeks left, and I know what I want to change. I want to change what happened to me, but I can’t. I know that now, and I know I can’t run from it or…or ignore it, either.” 

“No, that’s true, you can’t.” Ezekiel dropped his hands to the clutter-covered surface of his workspace.

“But I can change what happens next.” Logan leaned forward, elbows on his knees and pointer fingers steepled together to tap the edge of Zeke’s desk.

Zeke’s lips twitched slightly, eyes lighting with encouragement behind the lenses of his glasses. “Yeah, you can. You get to decide how your story goes from here.” He dropped his chin and drew his eyebrows together. “So, law school, huh?” 

Logan nodded slowly, taking a deep breath. “I want to figure out how to… what to do about Delos. I want...I need to protect the, my…” Zeke lifted one eyebrow but didn’t say anything. Slow down. He closed his eyes and blew out a breath. Opening his eyes again, he continued. “I can’t let William take control.” His lip curled involuntarily on the man’s name but he shook it off, moving his head from side to side. “It’s not even about what he did to me, it’s… He’s dangerous for the company.” And for Juliet, and probably a lot of other people. “But in the meantime? While I work on what to do about him? I want to…” Logan rubbed his fingertips over the sweaty centers of his palms. “Zeke, I wanna help people like...like us.”  

He released another breath then, eyes narrowed and focused on the man who still sat silently across from him. There. That’s my decision, that’s what I want to change. Logan licked at his dry lips and sat back in his seat, waiting to hear Zeke’s reaction. I don’t need his approval, I’m doin’ it, I just- 

“Damn.” Ezekiel blew out a burst of air through his nostrils. “Damn, Logan.” He smiled, eyes warming to a melted caramel. Despite the fact that he’d made up his mind regardless of what his counselor had to say about it, Logan sighed in relief and felt some of the tension ease out of his jaw. He thinks I can do it. “You really do go all in, don’t you?” I do. “Well I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t warn you that law, as a profession? The lifestyle isn’t exactly friendly to-” 

Logan laughed then, a genuine smile joining it. “All due respect here, Zeke?” He cocked his head to the side and Ezekiel gestured for him to go on. “I’ve been around lawyers my whole goddamn life. I know. Its a lotta pressure and a lotta them drink and…” he blinked, eyes refocusing. “They do a lotta shit. But I’m not… I won’t-”

“Logan.” It was Zeke’s turn to cut him off. “I know you won’t. I know you can keep fighting like you have been, and I know you’re only getting stronger. You’ll just have to… stay on top of it. That’s all.” He held up both hands. “But I think it’s a hell of a plan, and I think you’re gonna make a hell of a lawyer” 

“Thanks, I...that means…” Logan couldn’t help the small swell of pride that he felt knowing that Zeke was in his corner. “Thank you, Zeke.” 

He hadn’t told Miguel- but I will- but hearing his story, about what he and the people he loved had gone, helped push him towards his decision. I’m gonna figure out my shit...what to do about William, but… I’m gonna help other people with their shit, too. 

“This isn’t all you are, Logan, I promise you that.” You’d told him that one night after laying your lips to the faded but still present marks that lined the inside of his left forearm. He absently reached over and pressed his thumb into the bend in his arm. She was right.

In the back of his mind, an old, warped version of his own voice called out, desperate for attention. You serious? You won’t last two months. You’ll be back, you’ll- 

But he didn’t even answer it, choosing to let it fade entirely. Fuck you. 

..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  

Logan sat at the table in the common area, a pad of paper in front of him. He held a pen between his pointer and middle finger, tapping the end of it against his thumb. It was Monday on the second to last week that he’d be a patient in the rehab facility he’d checked himself into after his second overdose in only a few months had made him see that on his current course, his time was short and his options were limited. The last six months had been some of the hardest but most eye-opening and life changing that he’d ever experienced, and though in a way he felt more like himself than he had in far longer than he could say, he also felt like a completely new person; a different person than the man you’d known before he’d left. 

But that’s for the better. And I’m not… I’m still… He sighed. I’m still me, I’m just… what’d Zeke say? He tapped the pen again. Stronger. 

Your face filled his mind for the millionth time since last he’d seen it, and he heard Miguel telling him again to write to you, to let you know that he’d come up from the depths that he’d been drowning in. He’d been surprised to find that writing to his sister, though he had no idea if she’d read any of it, had been simple. He had so much history to call in with Juliet, so many memories to hang on to and to hope for, that all he had to do was tell her that he hoped he’d get the chance to have them back some day. 

With you it was harder, because there hadn’t been anything established between the two of you, not really. But that’s not really true, is it? He saw the way you smiled at him through a mouthful of barely edible eggs, legs crossed as you sat perched on his countertop, wearing his shirt. Goddamn. With her I had… everything, no matter what we never said. 

He wanted it back, craved it, and though he hadn’t spoken to you since you pulled your lips away from his cheek, he found himself wondering if you didn’t want it back, too. If anyone deserves to know I’m doin better, it’s her. Its… 

He’d sent his application in to Stanford earlier that week, and he wanted more than anything to tell you, to be able to call you over when the decision email came so that you’d be there with him when he found out if he was accepted or not. But I… I can’t just show back up in her life again, not after how I left. He frowned down at the paper, the blank lines staring back up at him. 

Finally, he brought the tip of the pen to the top of the pad, hand moving over it to reveal your name in dark black ink. I can’t just show back up but I can… I can start somewhere. 

Once he’d started his letter to you, Logan found that the words flowed more easily than he thought possible. He’d explained things he wouldn’t have been able to months earlier, acknowledged and thanked you for things that you’d done for him and ways that you’d helped him without even knowing it. He’d apologized for the ways that his addiction and the things that surrounded it had hurt you, and when all was said he’d written three pages, front and back, signing his name near the very bottom of the third page. Yours, Logan. 

Maybe one day I can be yours again. Before he could rip the paper to shreds, he shoved it in an envelope and scrawled the last address that he’d known for you, hoping that you still lived with your roommate in L.A. 

..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  

Exactly seven weeks after sending in his application to Stanford School of Law, Logan sat at the counter in his kitchen. He blinked at the screen in front of him as it refreshed for a third time, reloading only to display the same message as before. Holy shit. His eyes widened as his breath left his lungs in a hurry. For a split second he thought about deleting it, the old ghosts that he’d fought so hard to rid himself of now screeching their last cries. Worthless. Junkie. Impetuous. Unstable. Embarrassing. They were all words that Logan was familiar with. But they all paled in comparison to the word that was in bold font in the email that was open on the laptop before him, the death rattles of the things that he once let define him silenced by that one, single word. 

Accepted.  

.

.

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