➳ Oh, Well Imagine Marvel➳ FINISHED

•Easy~Logan Howlett•

I've been lookin' all around
For something to change my mind
Felt like floatin' on the ground
And I wasn't satisfied with what I found

♣ ♣ ♣ ♣ ♣

Logan walked up to the isolate bar, his shoes splashing in the rain. Water fell down in varying sizes of drops on his face, and lazily, he reached up to shield his eyes so he could see better.

It was night outside. Small apartments and buildings were lined up like boxes on each side of the street, all of different colors. Right now he didn't care where he went. He just needed to relieve some stress. Few people were outside; Logan guessed no one really wanted to stand out in heavy rain—he didn't, either.

At last he came across a small box of a bar and decided to take a trip into it. Briskly he opened the door, wanting nothing more than to get out of the bad weather outside. Warmth cascaded like a thick blanket onto him, and at that moment, he briefly wished he could've spent a moment like this with (y/n). Shaking those thoughts out of his mind, he took a lonely seat in front of the small bar. The bartender looked up from the glass he was washing.

"Lookin' for shelter, eh? No one really comes by around here. You must be desperate." The glass clinked as he set it down, onto washing—and then drying—another.

"No," Logan responded, although he knew that answer was a lie. But frankly, he didn't care. "Just had a rough night."

"Rough" was a light way to put it.

The bartender put two palms on the wooden bar, leaning on it, staring directly into Logan's eyes—intensely. "Need a drink?"

The mutant looked up at the other man. "A couple,"

♣ ♣ ♣ ♣ ♣

Could figure out what it's all about
I won't be there to hold you tight
Make a turn on the next runabout
Following the signs inside your mind

♣ ♣ ♣ ♣ ♣

A few heavy drinks later, Logan was ready to black out. Drunkenly he held onto the wiped down counter, making the bartender wonder if he was ready to get back home. The man snapped, trying to get Logan's attention, but instead he slumped onto the counter. The employee sighed.

"Looks like we need to call a taxi,"

Drowsily Logan groaned in response. The bartender walked around the counter, wrapping an arm under Logan's to pull him up. "C'mon," he huffed, "Man, it's Friday. I don't have time for this. Come. On."

The poor mutant seemed to be too much of a challenge to carry, so instead, he ended up getting dragged by his jacket collar to the door—by the worker, no less. He kicked open the door, dragging Logan into the pouring rain. His cellphone was squished between his ear and shoulder. The man talked into it, his voice filled with an unknown sense of anger.

Logan fluttered his eyes open. He was sluggish; he looked up at the bartender and got up, half-heartedly. "'Scuse me," he muttered, and left, just like that—the bartender was watching him the whole way down the sidewalk, fading away into mist.

Although Logan was familiar with this city, he didn't seem to know where he was going. He took random turns, walking to wherever, hoping to get memories and thoughts of off his mind. It wasn't working.

He was about to stop in a tiny coffee shop. There were large windows near the entrance, showing all of the people inside. They all looked at peace with their magazines and cups of coffee—and there were even couples, too, enjoying each other's company. Walking towards the door, he was about to open it when he saw something that completely ruined him.