So instead, he pulled his phone from his pocket, the screen flaring to life with a harsh, bluish glow. His pupils shrank instantly, tightening against the sudden flood of light, and for a moment, his eyes stung, his vision swimming as they adjusted. He squinted, blinking rapidly, the brightness searing afterimages into the darkness. His thumb hovered over his contacts, scrolling with slow, thoughtful intent until it stopped on Adrian’s name. Buried beneath years of neglect, beneath all the things he had tried to push away. But he had never really erased him.
A gasp slipped from him as his eyes caught the small, cruel reminder beside the name: Blocked. A severed connection, a wall of his own making. He had built it, steel-clad it, made damn sure Adrian could never reach him again.
And yet, Adrian had still left him a blanket. Still turned on the heat. Still saw him.
His chest ached as he tapped the screen, removing the block, as if the act itself could undo the damage, could bring back all the things he had let slip through his fingers. He sat there, staring at the name, at the thread of messages that hadn’t disappeared—that hadn’t let him forget.
That thread was the sole thing that made Logan cling to this cellphone, refusing to upgrade it no matter what.
Logan’s breath hitched as he scrolled up, back through time, through every moment of Adrian reaching for him when he had refused to reach back:
November 13, 2018
You can’t just leave. You can’t do this to me.
This is us. You and me. Remember? It’s me, Logan.
I’m begging you.
Please, answer the phone!
Please don’t run. Please, not from me. Please pick up the phone!
I love you. Okay? There. I said it again. I LOVE YOU. So now what? You’re gonna disappear on me?!
Logan, please. Come back. Please pick up the phone!
I’m not okay. I can’t breathe.
I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to lose you.
Please answer. Please just… let me hear your voice. One word. Are you okay?
The last message Adrian had sent him. A plea that had gone unanswered.
Logan squeezed his eyes shut, guilt clawing at his throat, at his ribs, at the spaces in between. He scrolled further, before everything shattered, before that night, before the running, before the silence.
And there it was.
A life reduced to pixels on a screen. The echoes of a love that had once been whole, woven into the quiet, mundane things, the kind of texts people send when they don’t think there will ever be a last one.
Logan scrolled, his breath shallow, his pulse a dull, aching thrum in his ears. Fragments of them. Of the life they had built. Of the ordinary moments that had meant nothing at the time but now felt like everything.
His thumb hovered over the screen as the dates blurred together, time folding in on itself.
August 25, 2018
I’m heading out.
September 4, 2018
I’m grabbing dinner. They’re out of your favorite. What do you want instead?
Just get me what you get yourself. I’ve finished packing. We’re all settled for tomorrow.
October 29, 2018
Where’s my hoodie? Did you steal it again?
