Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
s o n g s : pretty boy, you get me so high
A loud thud, mixed with the distant rumble of thunder, jolted me awake. I groggily rolled from side to side, attempting to drift back into a peaceful slumber. However, my efforts were a complete fail. Despite the heaviness of my eyes and the weariness in my body, sleep remained elusive.
The sound of footsteps, accompanied by muttered curses, reached my ears, and I soon realized it was Logan. He had returned from whatever trouble he had gotten himself into once again. Letting out a tired sigh, I sat up, ran my fingers through my disheveled hair, and slipped on my slippers before making my way to the living room.
The dim light revealed a sight that startled me. Logan, drenched from the rain, stood there with a bloody nose. His eyes widened as they met mine, and he forced a weak smile.
"Hi," he greeted, taking a few steps back and attempting to wipe away the evidence of his altercation. I motioned for him to sit on the sofa, my concern growing.
"What did you do?" I asked, pointing to the sofa, urging him to take a seat while I fetched a wet tissue. "Nothing," he insisted, but I scoffed in disbelief. "Yeah, right. Because nothing would leave you soaking wet and with a bloody nose-" I paused, taking a deep breath, "Logan, what the fuck did you do?" I questioned once more, facing him. He hesitated, debating whether to admit the truth.
Knowing that lying wouldn't change the obvious state he was in, he finally relented. "I got into a fight," he confessed, a sense of shame evident in his eyes. He couldn't even meet my gaze as I gently cleaned up his nose.
"With who?" I pressed, my tone more insistent. Logan stayed silent, avoiding eye contact as he lowered his head into his hands. Frustration building within me, I gently lifted his head, determined to get an answer. As I examined his injuries, I noted a cut on his lip and a swollen nose, thankfully stopping short of a black eye.
"Tristan," he whispered, and a sinking feeling settled in my stomach. Savannah's brother - the son of the man who had been one of my generous patrons. I gulped, trying to push aside the complicated thoughts swirling in my mind. As I cleaned his wounds, Logan broke the heavy silence.
"Say something," he urged, desperation in his eyes. I sighed, tilting my head with a frown. "What do you want me to say?" I questioned. He looked frustrated.
"You're grounded for sneaking out? Grounded for getting into a fight?" I sneered, closing my eyes briefly before putting away the cleaning supplies.
"You won't listen anyway. At this point, just do your own thing, Logan," I said, my tone reflecting a mix of frustration and resignation.
"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, pacing around the room. I sat there, rubbing my forehead. "What happened?" I asked him, eager for at least a tiny bit of an explanation.
