Logan’s stomach churned, his knees buckling slightly as he looked away. The word lingered in the air between them, reminiscent of the last note ina melody, resonating through the room with an undeniable finality that left the crowd breathless.
“Sick,” Logan repeated quietly, his voice barely audible, that part hung there, and suddenly it was like he was learning about Adrian’s illness all over again.
Dean nodded grimly, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the wall. “He’s terminally ill. He’s dying, Logan. Do you understand that? He’s dying.” Dean’s voice broke slightly, but his gaze remained hard. “You don’t get to come here, drag up the past, and upset him when every moment he has left counts.”
Logan swallowed hard, his vision blurring with tears he didn’t bother to wipe away. He felt like he was drowning, sinking into a sea of regret and helplessness. He moved toward the living room and sank into the couch, his hands trembling as he buried his face in them.
Dean followed, settling into a chair across from him. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his expression unreadable. “God, Logan,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I hate you so much. I don’t even thinkhateis the right word for it.”
Logan flinched at the venom in Dean’s tone, but he didn’t look up. “How much do you know?” he asked quietly, staring at the floor as though it held the answers he couldn’t find.
Dean’s laugh was humorless. “I know everything,” he replied, his voice laden with bitterness. “I’m his best friend. Who do you think he called when you walked out of his life and left him in pieces? Who do you think picked him up from that cabin in Australia when he couldn’t even stand on his own?”
Logan’s chest tightened painfully. He’d spent two years suppressing those thoughts, locking them away in a part of himself he refused to visit.
“He was a wreck,” Dean continued, his voice quieter now, but no less sharp. “I flew halfway around the world to find what was left of him. And let me tell you, Logan, you didn’t just break his heart. You brokehim.”
Logan drew a sharp breath, the words not unfamiliar yet piercing all the same.
Dean sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. “The thing is,” he continued, the acerbity in his voice dulled, “I hate you, but that doesn’t matter right now. What matters is him. And whether I like it or not, you’re here now, and maybe—God help me—maybe you’re what he needs.”
Logan lifted his gaze, a fragile hope shimmering softly amidst the tear-streaked sadness that clouded his eyes.
“But,” Dean said with resolve, leaning forward, “you don’t make this about you. You don’t push him. You don’t demand anything. And when he needs space, you give it to him. Do you understand me? He’s weak, he might try to conceal it and act like it’s nothing, but those confrontations and high emotions are too much for him now.”
Logan nodded slowly, his voice breaking as he said, “I understand.”
Logan sat rigid on the couch, his hands clenched on his knees, as if grounding himself in a reality he wished he could escape. The faint scent of salt lingered in the air, a ghost of the ocean just beyond the walls, as ever-present as the ache in his chest.
“What about treatments?” Logan asked, his voice a low, gravelly whisper, raw from the endless tears that had carved trails down his face and shimmering with hope.
Dean leaned back in the chair; his expression indecipherable but heavy with something Logan couldn’t quite place. “That’s not my place to discuss,” he said evenly. “If Adrian wants to tell you, he will.”
He nodded, though the silence that followed settled over him like a suffocating mist.
After what felt like an eternity, Dean stretched, his movements slow. “I need to go to work.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Logan announced quickly, his voice firm as he sank further into the couch, as if anchoring himself to the spot. The defiance in his tone felt hollow, born more from desperation than determination.
Dean paused, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his lips, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Good,” he said softly. “Fight for him. He deserves that.” He hesitated, then let out a dry chuckle. “You know, I knew from the moment I saw you that you were bad news.” The words, though harsh, were spoken without malicious intent.
“Fuck you,” Logan shot back, and while his voice was sharp, his expression betrayed the rawness beneath. “Adrian was happy with me.”
Dean’s smile faded, replaced by a thoughtful frown. “It’s not about that,” he started, his voice quieter now, almost pensive. He shifted his stance, folding his arms as if bracing himself against the current of his own thoughts. “Having your best friend dying really puts things into perspective. I don’t have time for sugarcoating or beating around the tree, I think this is how the American expression goes? I don’t know. I’ll just say it like that: Adrian was the happiest I’ve ever seen him when he was with you.”
Logan’s chest tightened as the words affirmed his longing for Adrian, a bittersweet acknowledgment of guilt and desire.
Dean continued, his gaze distant, as though he were seeing Adrian in some long-lost moment. “I’ve known him my whole life. He’s my brother in every way that matters. And when I saw that he had given you his mom’s bracelet… I knew.”
Logan felt himself go still.
Dean’s eyes flickered back to him.
“I knew that in his mind, it wasn’t just something to take lightly. It was a promise. A beginning. Adrian doesn’t know how to do anything halfway, especially when it comes to love. If he gave you that bracelet, he was already thinking about engagement rings and proposals. He was planning a forever, because that is the kind of guy he is. And he looked at you… His eyes were shining every time he looked at you, it was so obvious.”
The words didn’t just land—theylodged. Logan felt them settle in his chest like shrapnel, burning him from the inside, a truth he had no armor for. He swallowed hard, throat raw. There was no air left in the room. No time left to rewind.
Dean, however, wasn’t done. His voice softened, but it lost none of its weight, none of its sting. “But you weren’t ready, were you? You couldn’t give him that. And I get it, you were scared, it was too fast, too soon. You had your reasons. But Adrian?” Dean let out a breath, shaking his head. “He’s the kind of person who throws himself into the deep end without hesitation, trusting the ocean will carry him. And you left him there, Logan.”
