smokin' | louigan

thirty-four

"you're home early."

"the party sucked, didn't even get tipsy." louise grunted, slamming the door closed and kicking off her heels. logan was still on the old couch, shirtless and sad. only this time he was drinking.

he laughed and took another sip of his beer. he held up the plastic ring of cans and louise didn't need any further invitation. she fell onto the couch next to him and grabbed a cold can, popped the lid, and began drinking. she took a long gulp before whispering,

"rudy f*cked some girl on his kitchen counter. i think they go to the same college." logan's drink spewed from his lips and louise didn't even blink; her voice was a murmur but it sounded like a scream in the silent apartment. he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. 

"i'm sorry, what?" logan looked at louise. her face had morphed into a subtle scowl. he could tell she was trying to hold her emotions in but the trembling of her hands gave her away.

"not going to repeat myself." she adjusted the strap of her dress and ran a hand through her hair. logan asked,

"how'd you get home."

"anita."

"anita?"

"anita vasquez. parents own a thrift shop. older brother, miguel."

"oh yeah, i remember now. he graduated a year below me. last i heard he got into a car accident." louise took another sip,

"yeah."

"oh."

"he died." logan blanched.

"i'm sorry."

"it's alright," she took another sip, "long time ago." she looked away, crossing her legs underneath her. logan wrapped an arm around her shoulders, the familiar side hug of a pitying creature. she shrugged him off. logan stared at the back of her head. her hair was pin straight and swept over her shoulder. a diamond was tattooed on the tan skin of her neck, over the top of her spinal cord. it was small and black and surrounded by three dark freckles.

he looked away then. he thought of rudy, of his nervous smile, his tight grip, and the blush he would leave on louise's face.

"rudy's a f*cking idiot." logan shattered the silence. louise scoffed sarcastically.

"no sh*t, sherlock. great detective work." they laughed dryly, both kinda pissed off but too tired and tipsy to care. they took another sip of their drinks. the silence surrounding them was suffocating. louise wanted rudy back, she wanted the asthmatic, dorky, stare-at-me-across-the-room rudy back, the one that would drop flower petals between the vents of her locker and bring her to the wharf when they needed a break from reality. 

louise realized that rudy was a break from reality. his entire existence in her life was based around refuge, a guiding light (with breathing difficulties) in a dark, seemingly endless tunnel. he had always been bright, but after tonight louise thought he was just another burnout.

logan couldn't even think. he was caught teetering between conflicting emotions, from an empathetic sadness to wrap louise away from the harsh sirens rudy had become and then a blinding rage to kill him after she was safe. he glanced down at his hand. the cuts had healed and faded but he could still feel the glass opening his skin. he imagined how rudy would react to the pain and realized that his suffering would never amount to louise's. 

"louise, i--"

"it's fine logan, everything's fine," logan rolled his eyes, louise huffed, "seriously, it's cool. it's sad, well, i'm sad, but it's cool." it's not f*cking cool and you know it, belcher. he wanted to scream into her face till his own turned red. he's a tool and you know it. he wanted to smash someone's brains out, his brains out. and he wanted a f*cking cigarette.

he pulled a pack from underneath the couch cushion and offered it to louise. she already had his lighter in hand.