A life in the Dark

C h a p t e r T h i r t y N i n e

M o n d a y 9 t h J u n e
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Its almost been a month since the incident at the park, and-much to my surprise-Logan hasn't really spoken to me at all. Scrolling through his contact, we'd hardly spoken: the last time was two weeks ago when he had skipped his thirteenth lesson that week.

Where are you? Are you ok?

Logan: I'm ill

It was such a short reply I didn't bother replying back; he was clearly lying but I didn't dare push it.

Besides, Dominic assured me he was fine.

I guess I'm happy that he respected me enough to listen to what I said, but on the other hand I can't escape the growing feeling of guilt that's consuming me, devouring me in ideas saying that it's my fault that Logan's skipping classes. Shit, he'd better not skip any this week.

Frankly I know that he can be a dick; that he fucked up a few times, but then again... I don't know what happened. He never got a chance to explain or plead innocent or whatever; I kind of overreacted.

I hopped off the bus and, seeing as Harley was with Rachel, walked off alone. The school had been well cleaned during the week's holiday so the windows reflected the brilliant white light, blinding me as I walked into my form's exam room for the next two weeks of fun GCSEs.

As soon as I entered the room, I found my eyes scouring the hall for a certain someone, and when I saw the dark haired boy staring back at me with those shimmering eyes, my heart stopped.

Logan...

I noticed that the other boys were stood away from him, and I guessed that was Finley's work. Out of the corner of my eye I also saw balloons by the girls, which was when I remembered whose birthday it was. The whole atmosphere was filled with chatting and laughter, but all that seemed to blur; as I stared at him the world surrounding the two of us seemed to separate, blocking out everyone and everything else. In that moment, I only cared for him.

My heart ached to reach out to him, go chat to him, ask how he was, and, almost as if we were in slow motion, I found myself being drawn to him as if he was a magnet and I had a metal chain around my neck.

After an eternity, my feet were next to his desk. His eyes were bloodshot and his hair looked like it hadn't been brushed for weeks. He looked as bigger mess as I felt.

We just kind of stared awkwardly at one another for an excessively drawn out minute until I blurted out "you're here."

"Yeah," he croaked in response, then coughed to clear his throat. "Yeah."

"I'm sorry," I admitted. "I should have let you explain yourself-"

"No, you were right to want me out of your life. I'm no good for you."

"Logan..." I began, the already-shattered shards of my heart breaking even more.

"We both know it. You have a great career ahead of you and I'm not helping. You should focus on that. I'll just hurt you again."

"But how can I focus on the future when I know you're hurting because of me?" I asked, dropping my bag and pulling up a chair to sit opposite him, but he wouldn't meet my eyes.