So… yeah. He and Oz weren't dating. And yet, weirdly, Logan couldn't help but feel like they were, somehow? Sometimes, Logan will wake up in the middle of the night to find Oz rolled over, nearly falling off the other side of the tiny mattress onto the floor, and… And it's Logan who reaches out for him. Logan, who tucks a sleeping Oz against his chest. Logan, who frowns at the sight of Oz's empty pillow in the morning. Logan, who's swallowing back the regret that, once again, he didn't say, "Stay."
He and Oz weren't dating, and… Logan's not sure how to feel about that anymore.
Chapter 24
Old Ghosts
The sharp double-knock on their doorframe had Logan looking up from his biology textbook in alarm. Sprawled out on his stomach across Oz's bed to study, Logan had the sudden fear that they'd been too loud just a few moments ago. That finally, their luck had run out, and it was one of the fraternity brothers coming to complain about all the moaning and shouting.
But no — it was only an old man in a green sweater vest and yellow bowtie combo, beaming from the doorway with a cheerfully expectant expression on his face. Logan fought the urge to roll his eyes, gamely pasting on a politely confused smile as he gave a halfhearted little wave.
"Can we help you?" Oz asked respectfully enough as he appeared just behind the guy, hair still wet from the shower and making his shirt collar damp.
"Oh, I…uh," the man stammered, clearly not expecting Oz but holding his hand out to shake, anyway. "Walter McLane, class of '74."
Dutifully, Logan got up to shake his hand, too. Walter's skin was paper-thin, and his fingers were bony. Especially his pinky, as Logan added the secret finger-hook like you were supposed to do greeting Mu Tau Rho brothers for the first time, or after a long absence.
"You wanna sit?" Logan asked, gesturing at the desk chair
The man might be an interrupting old busybody, but something about Walter reminded Logan of his grandfather. He'd feel guilty all week if he made the guy stand.
As for himself, Logan wandered over to lean up against the bed frame, crossing his arms over his chest as Walter waved away the offer.
"Thank you," Walter said as he stepped out of the way to let Oz slip by, sighing as he settled carefully into the desk chair. "I promise, I won't take up too much of you boys' time. Was only taking a walk down memory lane. Came for the auction tomorrow, and thought I'd come see the old place while I was in town. I'd forgotten how many stairs this house had!"
"Was this your room?" Logan asked doubtfully. It hadn't been for any of the alumni brothers who'd ever 'just dropped by' to shake Logan's hand, not even once.
"Oh, me? No," Walter chuckled as Logan fought to keep from rolling his eyes, his attention wandering as the old guy went on. "I was downstairs in the big room. Party Central, we used to call it. No, this was my best friend Danny's room, right until we were drafted. He played on the football team too, there for a while. Used to let me come and study up here where it was quiet."
"Drafted?" Oz asked, turning from where he'd been putting his Dopp kit away. There was enough curiosity in his expression that Logan found himself tuning in again.
"That we were. I was pre-med then, so I served as a nurse; while Danny wielded the meanest ladle you've ever seen this side of the Mekong waiting for his CO status to be approved."
"Stands for Contentious Objector," Walter added with a grim little smile at Oz's curious look. "Danny was a pacifist; organized student rallies over on the campus, saying we shouldn't be over there at all. Damn fool tried to get out of it, too. Day our number was called, he had an 'accidental misfire' with his pappy's service weapon, aiming for his toe. Changed his mind at the last second and only clipped part of the nail. You'd've thought he'd lost the whole foot the way he went around demanding every half-pretty thing buy him a drink after. To 'console him in his time of need'." Walter snorted.
"I think I heard about that," Logan hazarded.
Walter barked a laugh. "Drafted Danny Ninetoes?" he asked, laughing again as Logan and Oz nodded warily.
"I don't know how that story got started," Walter scoffed. "Or worse, why it won't die! I half suspect the whole 'haunting' bit is something he ginned up himself as a prank. It's the kind of thing he would do."
"Wait — " Oz tilted his head. "How could your friend have come back to start the story of him being a ghost, if he died in the war?"
"Danny didn't die in no war!" Walter chuckled. "We both came back and finished our degrees on the government's dime, thanks to the GI Bill. He couldn't play football anymore on account of a bullet he took over there, and I'd had my fill of the operating room by then. So he switched to business, and me to accounting. Opened up a bakery downtown together, and expanded to three locations before we decided it was time to sell it on. Made a few investments, traveled around a bit with some friends for a while before he got too sick. But Danny died in his own bed four years ago this November, peaceful and happy."
Walter paused.
"Though I wouldn't put it past him to haunt you boysnow."
Logan couldn't help but notice that the whole time, Walter had been rubbing at the gold ring on his left hand; twirling the wedding band as he talked.
"What did he have?" Oz whispered.
Walter's eyes flicked to the window for a brief moment, before meeting each of their gazes in turn. "A joyful life of his own making," was all he answered.
There was a weight there, a hanging shadow of something too large to be asked. Neither Oz nor Logan tried to pry at it any further, sensing it wasn't theirs to know.
"Anyway," Walter said heavily after the too-long moment passed. "I was cleaning out some old things, and I found these."
