echolls_cursed | Follow me, don’t follow me. (open to friends only)

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Follow me, don’t follow me. (open to friends only)

Logan's head had stopped pounding less then a day after the accident. He'd taken a hard hit, but he was alright, and other then a small cut and a bruise that was turning a pleasant shade of purple, Logan wasn't looking much worse the wear. He was sleeping a lot though, more then usual even, but he wasn't sure he could blame the bump for that. No, sometimes Logan just didn't like getting out of bed.

For the last hour or so though, he hadn't really been sleeping, just sort of drifting in and out. One minute he was awake and almost ready to get up, and the next he'd roll onto his side and find that perfectly warm spot on the bed... the one that made it all too easily to let his eyes drift shut again. Neil was out, probably walking Max, so there was no one nagging him, no one to tell him to stop being lazy and to go eat something. It was nice, and Logan planned on enjoying it just a little longer.

He'd found that spot again, and he was just about to settle back in for at least another ten minutes of lazing about... when someone said his name.

No, not just someone.

Logan would have recognized that voice anywhere, anytime. He new what it sounded like on film and on the phone, and he knew what it sounded like when the older man was there. Logan knew Aaron Echoll's voice better then anyone else's.

Eyes snapping open, Logan sat up almost instantly, his body tense as he listened. Maybe he'd imagined it... maybe it had been a dream,

But no, there it was again.

"Logan?"

Getting to his feet, Logan slowly walked to the door, peering around it with a worried look. His chest was tight and he was pretty sure he was sweating, but he made sure not to let anything show on his face as he headed outside and looked around. Making his way around to the back of the hut, he could feel his heart pounding in his chest. "Dad?" he said quietly, unsure and uneasy.

And there he was, Aaron Echolls, not a foot away. He had that look on his face, angry and pinched so tight the the lines in his face seemed deeper then usual. He took a step closer and Logan instantly took a step back, right onto someone's foot.

(Aaron isn't really there, you can't see him or hear him. >_> Open to friends only.)

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"'m not worryin'," I insist and lean into him a little. "'s just, if not eatin' makes you see shit that isn't there, you should probably, you know... eat." I flash him a smile, just the barest little lift of one corner of my mouth, and lace our fingers together more comfortably.

"I'm not seeing... whatever," Logan said, Pulling his hand away and shoving it deep in his pocket as he walked.

Wow, way to fucking go, McCormick.

"That's not what I meant. Just- whatever," I sigh, folding my arms over my chest but staying close as I scowl down at my feet.

"I know, it's fine... Look, I'm sorry I'm being so... whatever. I'll feel better after I eat something, alright?" Logan assured Neil, glancing over with an apologetic look.

"I know, okay? It's fine... Just- just quit apologizing," I say, tightening my arms around my chest. Logan usually only apologizes when something's really wrong, so yeah, it's not really making me feel any better. Not that I need him to try and make me feel better or whatever. He's obviously... Hell, I don't know what he is. I probably should've dragged him to the fucking clinic the second I found him bleedin' on the beach. But somehow I doubt that's what this is all about.

I walk close enough that our shoulders brush, and I offer him another half smile.

"You're going to knock me over, walking so close," Logan said quietly, teasing the other boy as lightly as he could manage. He relaxed as they neared the compound though, and he moved ahead to open the door.

"Fine. Didn't know I'd invaded your personal fucking bubble or whatever," I snort, smiling crookedly and following him up the stairs, brushing past him and into the compound.

"I dont' mind you in my space," Logan snorted, following Neil. "I mind you knocking me on my ass."

"Pfft, I was barely fuckin' touching you," I say, reaching back to catch his wrist and dragging him along playfully, if only to get his mind off of whatever the fuck it is he saw out there.

"So, is this one of those times you're expectin' me to cook for you or something?" I ask, arching one eyebrow and letting go of his wrist as we walk into the kitchen.

"Well, if you want me to believe that you love me maybe..." Logan answered with a small smirk.

"Oh really?" I ask, mirroring his smirk with one of my own, "So, what kind of meal's gonna be worthy of your love?"

"Well, I'm damaged goods, right?" Logan smiled, pointing at the bump on his head. "I'm going cheep. How about some grilled cheese?"

"Not any more damaged than me," I point out with a crooked smile, already gatherin' up the stuff to make his stupid sandwich, and wonderin' why the fuck I'm not putting up more of a fuss.

"Well, looks like he's better trained then your mother ever was," came Aaron's voice again, and Logan tensed as he looked over at the table where his father appeared to be sitting.

"Aren't you going to introduce me?"

Logan stayed silent.

"I swear to Christ, this is the last fuckin' time I'm doing this. You need to learn to come in here when someone who knows what the fuck they're doin' is cooking," I smirk, finding a large skillet under the cabinets. I switch on the stove and coat the skillet with butter, throwing in four slices of bread. I miss that pre-sliced cheese in the little wrappers, even if it did taste like shit, especially when I nearly knick myself slicing a block of cheese that came from fuck knows where.

"Hey, pour us some juice or somethin'."

"No," Logan said, but he wasn't talking to Neil. A heartbeat later, he realized what he'd been asked, and he shook his head. "I mean, yeah. Sure. I'll do that."

"You sure you can handle it?" I ask, my tone light and teasing, but the little line of worry's made it's home on my forehead again. I have to stop myself from asking if he's okay, but instead I turn back to the pan and flip the sandwiches over with a spatula I found in one of the drawers.

Logan didn't reply, he just stared at Aaron a moment longer and then headed to the fridge to get the juice out.

I watch him out of the corner of my eye, reaching up to get plates and sliding the sandwiches onto them. He's gone all quiet and I wonder what he's seein', but I can't ask him. 'Cause what fucking good would that do?

"Thanks," I murmur quietly and give him a tight smile, "You want some fruit or somethin'?"

When Logan looked back over at the table, Aaron was gone again. "Uh, no. No thanks."

Switching off the stove, I carry the plates over to the table, purposefully plunking down into the one he was just starin' at and nudging the seat next to me out from under the table with my foot.

Logan stared a moment longer, and then wandered over, sitting down near Neil and looking down at his plate. "Thanks," he said with a soft smile.

Smiling around a mouthful, I reach up and comb my fingers through his hair again, a stupid wordless little gesture I keep finding myself making.

"Yeah, you better like it. It was made with love, or whatever the fuck," I mumble, smirking and reaching for juice that isn't there. Sighing heavily, I stand up and walk over to get the glasses he left on the counter, "Can't even do the one fucking thing I ask you to," I tease, holding out a glass for him and sitting back down.

"Sorry," Logan snorted softly, "Guess I'm just distracted today."

"Yeah, I noticed," I say, my smile genuine and a little worried for a beat, and then sliding into something teasing again, "Eat your sandwich I fucking slaved over." Nudging his foot under the table, I turn back to my plate, catching myself glancing around for something that's obviously not there.

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