Fine Lines
by Angel Monroe
Disclaimer: I gave my soul to God for the book I'm writing. I have nothing left to barter for Veronica Mars. In other words, unfortunately, I don't own it.
A/N: Season 2, after Donut Run. LoVe angstiness. One-shot. Hope you enjoy.
He was used to convincing himself he hated Veronica Mars. It was easy, familiar even, after having done so for over a year. Back then he had taunted her, teased her, blamed her for everything that had gone wrong in his life. Blamed her for Lilly, even, though Lilly herself was the one with the hurricane wake behind her. Not Veronica. Now at least he had a real reason—he could hate her for breaking him.
When she walked into the FBLA classroom alone, the first meeting since Duncan split, he didn't meet her eyes. He didn't want to feel bad for her, as lost and dispirited as he knew she would look, especially since he knew she must have helped him leave. It was a misery of her own making, and yet he knew if he looked into her eyes, he would see the pain there. He would want to both kiss it away and scream at her because she wasn't supposed to love anyone but him. Damn, he hated paradoxes.
She sat next to him, the only empty seat, and when the lights turned low for a slide show he hazarded a glance in her direction. She wasn't looking at the board; she was staring at a picture taped in her notebook.
She and Duncan smiled up at him, and he wanted to punch a wall. Even so, he leaned a little further to see what was taped underneath the picture, and it almost made him laugh despite himself. A fortune cookie.
True love stories never have endings.
She looked up then, saw the way he was staring, and suddenly he remembered that he hated her. He remembered why. Because she broke him, and now she was broken too and it was fitting. He wanted to tell her so, let the words rip through her, but she spoke first.
"Please, Logan, just don't."
It only made him angrier because she had no right to be so sad. She had no right to turn the hate inside him into something softer. She had no right to make him love her again.
"Don't what, Veronica? I was just going to ask if you've heard from your adoring boyfriend lately. Tell me, is it normal for you exes to flee the country? Because I sure missed that boat."
When she flinched he hid my own, knowing deep down that she didn't deserve his malice. She didn't deserve him and, in all ways possible, he had never deserved her. But thinking about it hurt too much and it was easier to hate than to brood.
"Wow, Logan," she bit, and he hated the sound of her voice right then, "you're such a catch"
And that was it. Six tiny words, and every rational thought left him. Game on.
"How about your mom? How's she doing?" he asked without even thinking, and instantly knew what a mistake he'd made. Not only because it was too low a blow for even him, but because he knew exactly what would come next.
"I don't know, Logan. How's yours?"
And he couldn't stand to think of the words coming from her lips. He couldn't breathe just thinking about it.
But they didn't come. The silence stretch between them until he looked up at her again and she stood to leave. Without explanation or apology to Mr. Pope, she picked up her notebook and walked out of the room, her stride steady and her eyes never even drifting in his direction. He didn't follow. He knew he couldn't.
But he wrote her a note, put it in her locker. It felt almost like Lilly all over again, except she wasn't the bitch this time. He was the ass. And he wasn't admitting defeat in a futile relationship, simply admitting that he crossed a line. Three little words, and that was all he could bear.
I'm sorry, Veronica.
After that, he didn't try to convince himself anymore.