When He Sees Me | Logicality

7. High Times, Hard Times

The next couple of days were hell for Logan. 

Well, not quite hell. Purgatory, maybe. Or limbo.

The math department at the university had forgotten to mention the guest speaker they had invited for all interested students, so Logan found himself losing valuable instructional time, what with the cancelled classes after he went out with Roman. It was unacceptable. His fellow teachers insisted it was an accident; a mistake when the math head forwarded that email, and Logan agreed with them, for the most part.

Except he didn't. 

Kristen's had it out for me ever since I took the Introduction to Calculus course from her, he fumed while frantically trying to reorganize his classes, conveniently forgetting that she had given up several classes in order to spend more time with her grandchildren.

"There's to goddamn much stuff," he groaned, letting his head fall into his hands, trying desperately not to cry. I just need to figure this out, and then I can fall apart. You can do this. You were fucking Valedictorian. You beat out that motherfucker with those tasteless yellow gloves.

He threw himself back into his lesson plans before he could lose motivation.

--

A knock on the door shocked Logan nearly out of his skin. He jolted up, knocking over the papers he had been drooling on. He must have been sleeping.

Standing at the door, looking a little nervous, was the person in the orange beanie. It took Logan a moment to place them, before the night at the bar with Roman came rushing back to him in short snippets. They were talking about physics? And airplanes?

"Joan, come in," he stuttered out, shuffling the shit on his desk around and patting down his ruffled hair. "I apologize for..." he trailed off, gesturing vaguely at everything.

Joan laughed, tension draining out of their shoulders. "You look like shit, teach."

Logan just groaned. "It's been a shit week."

"Well, don't be rude, teach! You met me, didn't you?" Joan gasped, hands flying to cover their mouth. Logan scoffed at this, but couldn't quite stifle the smile that tugged at his face. It seemed to him as if he'd never smiled before; his skin seemed too tight, his muscles too sore to smile properly.

Seeing him crack, Joan grinned. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a joint. Logan raised his eyebrows, but, when met with Joan's questioning look, he waved them on. He did decline a hit, though; he was still technically working.

"Tell me about this shit week."

Reluctantly, Logan related the week's tribulations. All in all, the events themselves weren't anything remarkably terrible, but they seemed to weigh on his shoulders, heavier than he could bear.

Joan perked up at the mention of the theatre's production of Heathers. They remarked that they had friends who were in the costume department, then adding, "I'm planning on being there for opening night."

This pulled Logan out of his funk. Here was Joan, someone he'd met by chance, and they were going to be at the performance. Logan had started another friendship. Organically. That hadn't happened in months!

Maybe this is the catalyst I need to break myself out of this funk.

It was a fleeting thought, as irrational as it was foolish. No one person or relationship could be given that much control over his feelings. Logan pushed it out of his mind, determined to put it aside.

The two chatted for a while, Logan getting Joan's advice on his lesson plans, before Joan announced, as soon as he'd come, that he had to go.

"I'll see you opening night, right?" Joan asked, and Logan just nodded. 

Apparently that was not good enough for Joan. "Teach?" they asked again, making direct eye contact with Logan, "I'll see you there?"

This time Logan didn't try to hide his grin. "You'll see me there."

Author's Note

I'm alive, y'all. And this story is back! Don't expect a regular upload schedule, though-- let's not be crazy. Thank you for sticking with me, and for reading!