Invisible String || Erik Lehnsherr

Chapter 6

It was time for dinner, and the dining room was bustling with the usual chatter of voices and the clatter of utensils. Everyone was gathered around the long table, except for Logan. I sat next to Jean, picking at my plate while glancing around the room, noticing the empty seat that should have been his.

"Hey, Jean, where's Logan?" I asked, leaning closer to her as she twirled her spaghetti around her fork.

Jean looked up, chewing thoughtfully before responding, "I think he's in his room. Why?"

I shrugged, feeling a bit concerned. "Is he not going to join us?"

She gave me a quick glance before returning to her food. "I don't think so. Hank went to get him earlier, but he doesn't want to come down."

"Where's his room?" I asked, a plan already forming in my head.

"Next to mine and Scott's," Jean replied, raising an eyebrow. "Why?"

I didn't bother answering. Instead, I stood up, leaving my barely-eaten dinner behind and heading toward the hallway where Logan's room was located. I wasn't sure what I'd say or how I'd convince him to join us, but I knew one thing—I wasn't about to let him isolate himself. After what he'd been through, it was my job to help him feel included now.

I found Logan's room easily enough, the door slightly ajar. I knocked lightly, then pushed it open a bit more. The room was dim, the only light coming from the small bedside lamp. Logan sat on the edge of the bed, hunched over with his elbows resting on his knees, staring at the floor.

"Hey," I said softly, stepping inside.

Logan didn't look up, but his body tensed slightly, as if he sensed my presence.

"I know you don't want to come down to dinner, but..." I paused, trying to find the right words. "You don't have to do this alone. We're all here for you."

He didn't respond at first, just kept his eyes focused on the floor like he was trying to figure something out. I took a deep breath, moving a little closer.

"Logan," I said gently. "I get that things have been... hard. I can't even imagine what you've been through. But staying in here, hiding from everyone? It's not going to help."

He finally looked up, his eyes heavy with exhaustion and pain. "You don't get it," he said, his voice rough. "I don't belong here. You people... you're different."

I crossed my arms, meeting his gaze evenly. "Maybe we are different. But so are you. And that's exactly why you belong here. You're not alone, Logan. None of us are."

Logan clenched his jaw, looking away again. For a moment, I thought he was going to tell me to leave, to mind my own business. But then he let out a deep sigh, running a hand through his messy hair.

"I don't do well with... people," he muttered.

I smiled a little, taking a seat on the chair across from him. "Well, lucky for you, this place is full of people who don't 'do well' with others. Trust me, we'll figure it out."

He glanced at me, something like skepticism flickering in his eyes. But he didn't tell me to go. Instead, he leaned back, staring at the ceiling as if debating something with himself.

"Alright," Logan finally said, standing up slowly. "I'll come down. But don't expect me to be all friendly and chatty."

I grinned, relieved that he was willing to take the first step. "I wouldn't dream of it."

We headed back to the dining room together, Logan walking a little behind me, clearly uncomfortable. But as we neared the room, I could hear the buzz of conversation, the warm glow of voices and laughter. And I hoped, just for a moment, that Logan might find a place among us—just like I had.