The paragraphs in italics are fragment from Dalton, chapter 26, Hell Night III. I may have altered it ever so slightly - please don't kill me! All awards go to the magnificent CP Coulter, the face of well-written fan fiction.
I hope you enjoy and please remember to keep a pillow with you at all times so you can hug and cry into when necessary.
Tell. Him.
"What makes me so different from him?" Adam screamed, pointing to Logan. "Isn't he like that too? Doesn't he hurt everyone too? But you still—you still—" He couldn't continue.
Kurt's heart stopped. No…no, don't do this…not here…not now…
Adam looked at Julian angrily, aiming the knife. "Tell him."
"No," Julian whispered. "No, please—"
"Tell him why you stayed in this school!" Adam snarled as the blade bit into his cheek. "Tell himwhy you were so desperate to keep him out of this! Tell himwhy I decided to drug him! Tell him why I hate him!"
Logan was breathing hard, staring at the madman with the knife, holding it to his friend's head. "Julian…" he murmured, white as a sheet unnerved.
Kurt shook his head, tears racing to his eyes as he gripped onto Blaine, who held him protectively.
"No, Julian, don't…" Kurt whispered.
Freshman year, Dalton Academy
Logan marched his way down the Stuart dormitory, his gaze set straight ahead, a purposeful glint gleaming in his green eyes and a smile lurking eerily on the corner of his mouth.
It was the weekend. It was raining. It was five past six. On a Sunday morning. On the weekend. In the rain.
But this was John Logan Wright III and he had accidently taken a double fix of his daily caffeine (his medication having lain abandoned on his desk). Needless to say, he was extraordinarily hyper, a sight unseen by many. If he had any say in the matter (which, technically, he shouldn't have), his two best friends were not sleeping in.
He reached the third room from the end, the door of which was already half way open, and, quite literally, he bounced inside. Lying in crumpled masses on the bed were Julian and Derek, both resembling overworked kittens. Julian's feet, lying on his pillow at the head of the bed, were the only part of him that was visible and Derek hanging upside-down off the side of the bed, his head almost touching the floor. The three of them had been up until unholy hours into the early morning, eating an iced birthday cake that they had stolen from Windsor House and complaining to one another about the suffocating workload and cruel teachers (focussing in particular on one Mr Murdoch). After Derek had fallen asleep on the floor, squashing half of the cake, his two friends had tried their best to heave him onto Julian's bed where Julian had then fallen into, unconscious, mere seconds later. Logan had sleepily stumbled his way to the end of the hallway where he had tripped through his own doorway and, as well, fallen asleep on the floor next to his bed. At six o' clock his alarm had gone off, still set on his usual weekday wake up. With reflexes that Dwight would have prayed to all entities for, Logan had jumped up and flung his clock radio into his bookshelf, promptly speeding down to the kitchen by the common room and inhaling all the coffee in his reach. Now that he was well and truly "awake", Logan leaned against Julian's doorway, smiling down at his two friends.
Derek sniffed loudly, deep in his stupor, muttering "Don't trust him, Frodo. He stole your yummy sandwiches" , Julian's unseen head emitting loud snores.
He sighed. They looked so peaceful.
Oh, well.
"GOOD MORNING! TIME TO WAKE UP! D! JULES!" Logan yelled, damaging the perfect-pitch-hearing of nearly all Warblers unlucky enough to have been in the vicinity.
Derek shrieked, instantly waking and tumbling into a heap off the bed and onto the floor.
Groans resonated all throughout the hallway. Two more alarm clocks came flying out of different doorways.
A moan came from the direction of the curled up shape beneath the blankets representing Julian Larson. Trying to find comfort again, the disguised form moved, wriggling and fidgeting and then finally giving up and resting in exactly the same position.
Logan laughed at the two of them, in their drowsy states. Something, that could have only been Julian's head, shot up, still bathed in sheets. Logan presumed that he was being given a death stare and he waved back friendly in return. The head slumped down heavily and a second, rather muffled groan was emitted. Logan thought that it sounded a bit like "I hate you", though with his face so subdued in lethargy and bed dressings, it was just as likely to have been "Nwemerguffablaffle."
"What the hell, Logan?" Derek grunted, sitting himself up against the bed and rubbing his forehead. "How are you even up this early?"
"Magic! Now make way, baby J!"
Julian's head appeared out of the covers at the foot of the bed, his hair sticking out in every odd direction, and looked up groggily. "Wha- no, Logan!"
But it was too late. The fourteen-year-old was already running towards him at full speed. He performed a beautifully timed jump and flung himself onto the mattress, his arms widespread. Having no time to scatter, Julian (who was now completely alert) was thrown at least two feet into the air by the bedsprings.
"Okay…so I'm going to leave you two girls to your business," Derek stood up and yawned, "And I'm going to go down and put some Casey in my coffee- I mean, tired. No! Casey. Argh! Coffee! Yes, coffee. I'm going to make coffee…"
Julian smirked.
"I made a pot of Casey and left it on the kitchen counter." Logan put in, reaching for Julian's pillow.
Derek narrowed his eyes, glaring.
"If you want." The blonde boy shrugged, silently struggling to maintain a straight face.
Julian broke into a fit of laughter behind him.
Derek gave up, turning around and yet, still managing to walk headlong into the doorframe.
It took a good minute longer until Julian and Logan were able to calm themselves down. Breathing heavily, Julian turned to face his friend, both the boys still lying on their sides. "I haven't heard you laugh in a long time."
Logan went quiet, though he didn't seem upset at all. Just thoughtful. He looked up into Julian's eyes and opened his mouth as though to speak but thought the better of it. The silence held through for a while, until-
"Thank you."
Julian raised his eyebrows, hardly believing his ears. "Sorry- what?"
Another pause. Julian continued to stare, curiously. And then Logan grinned.
If he had known better, he would've run, but it was still early and Julian wasn't the one loaded with caffeine. Without any fair warning, Logan's hand snapped up, bringing with it the pillow he had stolen previously and a hyperactivity unknown.
"PILLOW FIGHT!"
Taken once again by surprise, Julian received the full impact of the blow into his face.
"No! Not my face!" He yelped, half giggling. "I need it for my photo-shoots!"
"No one wants to take a photo of your face, J." Logan said, casting the pillow to the side, but with no intentions of release, he immediately continued by viciously attacking Julian's stomach with a bulk of tickles. "You're far too ugly!"
Julian reached out, managing to grab hold of the pillow, he quickly turned the tables. He brought himself up on his knees and promptly began pummelling the other boy. Humouring himself with his best evil laugh (with much appreciation to Casper Twelle, his eccentric vocal coach), Julian bellowed to the almost empty room, "Back, you scoundrel! Back, I say!"
"Oh, shut up you two!"
The two boys looked up to see a very annoyed Derek standing in the hallway, shivering in the thin white t-shirt and crumpled school trousers that he had slept in. Grumbling something unheard (which was still very likely to be about Frodo), he turned his back on them and shuffled away. Once he disappeared there was an audible bang, followed by a pause and the sound a very tired Derek who had just walked into another doorframe.
Climbing off his friend, Julian sank back into the mattress, shoulder to shoulder with Logan, both of them instantly breaking into another fit of giggles.
"Clearly his cup of Casey wasn't strong enough." Logan said as they calmed down.
Julian smiled lightly, closing his eyes as the exhaustion stole back up on him.
Why can't it just be like this all the time? He wondered silently. Why does he always have to lose it so badly?
Across from him, Logan was thinking something similar, looked at his friend from the corner of his eye. I'm sorry, Jules. I'll try.
Author's note:
So this was supposed to be a one-shot, but it turned into an awfully long drabble. I wouldn't even call it a drabble. More like a cascade of falling thoughts which were then all raked into an enormous crate and thrown over the edge of the sensibility cliff, finally landing in the meadow of randomness.
And a tiny hyper over-tired Logan on caffeine having a pillow fight! I'm liking this more and more.
So, as I previously mentioned, when I finally finished writing this all it became far longer than I intended so I'm going to split it up into shorter chapters.
And again, as mentioned, the parts that are in italics are exerts from the actual Dalton story (I may have shortened and changed a little of it – please don't kill me!) by the brilliantly awesome CP Coulter.
I hope you enjoy and please remember to keep a pillow with you at all times so you can hug and cry into when necessary.