A/N: Just a Juligan one-shot, because I had an urge to write them (they're seriously my drug of choice) and I didn't wanna go to bed. And I should look this over, considering I did it in just a little over an hour...but sometimes I like to publish really rough things and see what people think of it. Also, this fic was inspired by CP Coulter answering a question about what would happen if Logan were to run lines with Julian, and I imagine it's set in their sophomore year, a teeny bit before Blaine comes into the picture . But anyway, I'm starting to ramble.
Disclaimer: I am not CP Coulter. If I were CP Coulter, Juligan would rule Dalton and Adam would be banished somewhere far, far, far away. These are not my characters. I am but a humble member of the Coult.
There were times where Logan wanted to just get out of his own head.
Even he knew it was messed up in there—a tornado of thoughts, a hurrican of misery and loneliness and anger. There were really bad days when he found his brain sinking under the bad memories, like the sound of the door slamming as his mother left him, or the sight of his father's face when the senator realized what his son was. Those were the moments when he sought out his piano. The notes, beautiful and crystal clear, reminded Logan of himself—the very best of himself and all that he could be, if he only took a breathe and counted to ten.
But even the prettiest notes failed him sometimes. The notes would not always sing—they would simply echo, enhancing the memories with each cold, impersonal chord. It was, after all, just music, just notes, just a piano. It was not a person.
And that was when he sought out his friends and bothered them. Misery truly loves company. Logan embodied the cliche.
It was one of those days now. A desperate day, which had Logan looking out at the clear blue sky and seeing rain instead. He was lonely and miserable and the music was flat and unfeeling. He was unfeeling.
He was wandering down to Julian's room before he even realized he was moving.
He didn't bother knocking, simply opened the door and stepped in, finding Julian there, sitting on his bed and leaning against the wall, a textbook to his left, a thick 400-paged Murdoch-assigned novel to his right, and a script on his lap.
Logan cleared his throat. "I don't think that's the best way to study."
Julian immediately looked up with a startled hiss. "Damn it, Logan, you scared me. Where'd you come from?"
"My room."
"Great. Go back there," Julian picked up his highlighter and highlighted something in his script. "I'm busy."
"Hmmm...I see that. You ever consider taking a break? It might be good for you," Logan said and ventured further into Julian's room, shutting the door behind him. He went to Julian's bed, purposefully ignoring Julian's glare as he disobeyed the actor's previous instructions.
"I can't take a break. I've got to make up this test and show up to the set with all these lines memorized in the next four days!" Julian exclaimed.
"Well-"
"So I can't get distracted," Julian glared harder. "So leave."
Logan scoffed. He had no intention of doing so. He sat next to Julian and grabbed the script from his hands instead, eyebrows arching as he read the first line over. "'Give me one good reason we shouldn't go out,'" he recited, barely keeping his laugh in.
Julian stared at him. "What are you doing?" He made a grab for the script but Logan was faster and he held it out of Julian's reach.
"Helping you with your lines," Logan grinned. "C'mon. Gimme a reason why we shouldn't go out."
Julian turned red. "Shut up and give me my script, Logan!"
Logan brought the script back down. " 'We'd be good together,'" Logan read. " 'We'd be like those couples you see in the park, ten, twenty—GAH!"
Julian lunged and Logan barely dodged the attack, scrambling up and evacuating the bed. He laughed loudly as Julian sprang after him, and made another grab for it. The two boys wrestled lightly for only a few seconds, until finally Julian had both of Logan's wrists in a tight grip.
"Dude, okay, okay," Logan said, smiling wide at his friend. "But seriously…don't you need someone to run lines with? I swear, I won't make fun of you." Julian raised an eyebrow in doubt and scoffed, yanking the script from Logan's hand.
"C'mon, Jules. I'm offering you help here. This doesn't happen every day!"
Julian eyed him. "Exactly. Why are you even bothering, O Tempestuous one? Don't you have better things to do?"
"Not really," Logan admitted, arms falling limply to his side as Julian finally released him. It was a non-answer, one Julian was clearly displeased with. He turned away. Logan, at a loss for an excuse, surrendered. He sighed, "Jules—please. I…I need to distract myself."
The last thing he wanted was Julian to take pity on him, but even pity was better then getting kicked out by one of his only two friends at Dalton. He couldn't go back to his room, alone with his piano, where his music would fail to save him. He needed someone this time. He watched Julian, a lump forming in his throat as the silence stretched for a few more seconds than normal. And then:
"Fine, fine," Julian rolled his eyes and tossed Logan the script. "Go ahead. Butcher the poor screenwriter's words with your god-awful acting."
The boys went back to the bed, and they sat shoulder-to-shoulder, legs stretched out and all of Julian's school books discarded on the floor. Logan began from the beginning.
" 'Give me one good reason we shouldn't go out. You know we'd be good together. We'd be like those couples you see in the park, ten, twenty years down the road. I bet we'd still hold hands and everything,'" Logan read off and then turned his head slightly so he could watch Julian do his thing, quite curious to see the actor at work.
Julian bit his bottom lip and then the Julian in front of Logan—his friend, the one he knew frontwards and backwards—disappeared.
"Hand holding? You seriously think I'm the type of guy who is going to hold your hand?" Julian said. "You think I'm the type who will go to parks with you?" He turned and looked at Logan, brown eyes dark. "You don't want to go out with me."
The lump in Logan's throat returned and suddenly he couldn't read the lines. He struggled to shove his eyes down and away from Julian's face, but found the words at last. "Of course I do."
"No," Julian's voice was so soft and quietly, secretly, sad, it trembled Logan's heart. "No, you don't."
"I do. I want to do whatever you want to do. I don't have to hold your hand. So tell me the truth, Grant—why don't you want to go out with me? Honest answer."
Once again, their eyes met as Logan looked up from the script, and the air around them seemed to hang, silent and thick. Logan was struggling to breathe and think—who the hell was this? It wasn't Julian, it…it couldn't be. Julian didn't move and talk like this, did not put a lump in his throat—but at the same time, Logan was completely aware that it was Julian. Julian with those brown eyes and Julian with those lips and Julian who was burning in front of him, so attractive and seductive that Logan wanted to split the air apart with a kiss.
But no—no! Hell, no, what was he thinking? Julian was straight. Logan reminded himself of this, screamed it at himself and felt the punch of disappointment in his stomach. Julian was straight. And this sudden and forceful attraction that crackled the air—it was one-sided. And it needed to go away. He would not fall for a straight guy, and especially not his best friend.
It's just his acting, Logan told himself. It's just because he's so good. It's just pretend... this isn't- this can't be real.
"Honest answer? Because you don't go for people like me. And I don't go for people like you," Julian said his line perfectly, his voice snapping Logan to attention once again.
The line rang in his ears loudly and he simply blinked, eyes locked on the script and on those words. At Logan's non-response, Julian huffed and leaned closer, trying to catch a peek at the script.
"Is that right?" Julian demanded. "…Logan, hello? Is that right?"
"…Yeah," Logan murmured and tried as hard as he could to push away any thought of him and Julian being together. It would never happen."Yeah, that's right."