This is the first time Logan has really done something like this. He likes to think that it's a normal thing to do—that this is what a therapist would suggest or something like that. It just makes him feel better. That's all. And really, who's fucking business is it besides his own?

The crappy ballpoint pen clatters onto the desk as Logan tosses it aside, lifting the tip of the letter into a comfortable reading position.

So this is what it came to: writing a valentine that he would never in his right mind let see the light of day.

James—

This is the first time I've ever written one of these for a guy but for some reason it doesn't seem so hard. Maybe because it's you. Because you always seem to make things not so awful.

It's Valentine's Day and I don't have a Valentine. Carlos has Alexa and Kendall doesn't give a shit.

And you have Halston.

So I guess things are going great for you and I'm actually really happy for you. Except you're not around as much as you used to be. And that means I get bored easily because that leaves just Kendall and he's been moody as shit lately.

So I guess what I'm trying to say is I miss you.

Fuck it. I'm not happy for you. I'm fucking depressed and just want Halston to go away. But she's here and you're happy so I'll pretend to be happy.

Truth is, we would be way better-off together. You and me. And I'm not going to lie and say I don't think about it all the time. I just know you'd freak out or something and everything would be ruined. But we would be so fucking perfect together I can't even stand it.

I just feel entirely better when you're anywhere near me. Like the whole world could just fucking detonate and I would be fine about it because I know you would be there and we could take it on together.

You mean the most. And you make my chest feel super light and airy and all that sappy shit that happens. I just want to be with you. Is that too much to ask?

I know you're spending Valentine's Day with Halston, but you should stop and think about how perfect it would be if you were spending it with me instead. Because I'll always be waiting here to be your valentine.

3 Logan

A long sigh escapes through Logan's nose as he sits back, letting the letter fall back onto the desk. His dressing room feels oddly warm—to the point of discomfort. Or maybe it's just that ball of energy and anxiety tangling up in his stomach.

"Yo Loganator, is it cool if we leave a little early?" Carlos calls from across the hallway where his own dressing room is, "I gotta stop somewhere to get a card on the way home!"

Logan quickly folds his own card into thirds, making sure to crease with conviction. "Yep, I'm almost ready!"

Ever since taking that spill on his motorcycle, he had started carpooling with Carlos. He's not sure why it ended up being Carlos, but it is what it is and sometimes after a long day of shooting an episode for Season 4, he gladly greets the chauffeur service home.

"'K, I'll be outside." His friend's voice suddenly becomes clearer and louder as his head pops through the crack in his doorway.

Logan does his best not to seem taken aback, choosing to lean casually onto desk, his forearms doing an adequate job of covering the gold envelope that now houses his top secret valentine. "Be right there," he smiles until Carlos is gone. When the coast is clear, he leans back once again and clears his throat in an attempt to assure himself that everything is ok and tomorrow will not be as awful as he thinks it will be.

After gathering up everything he needs to take home for the night, his mind swimming with everything but Valentine's Day related topics, Logan flips the light off, making sure to keep the door unlocked so maintenance can empty his garbage for the night.

It's 2:46 in the morning when Logan's eyes fly open and an incredible sinking feeling dips deep into his stomach.

The letter is still on his desk.

Carlos's car can't pull into his driveway soon enough that morning.

And all Logan can do is drink coffee and tell himself that everything is cool and he's overreacting and it's still going to be sitting on his desk when he walks in because why on Earth would a cleaning guy take his Valentine?

Carlos is twenty minutes late.

God fucking damnit.

Because life is a wicked bitch that constantly likes to fuck Logan over, the first person he sees when walking into work is James. And to make things worse, he's got this smug fucking look plastered all over his face and that can't be good right?

"Moooorning," he hums as Logan walks past with attempted ease.

"You're awfully happy." Maybe if he just pretends like he isn't losing his shit, it won't seem like he is on the outside. "What gives?"

James gives him an incredulous look as he readjusts the bag hanging from his shoulder, which solidifies the fact that he's also just walking in. "Um, it's Valentine's Day."

"He's just happy that he's guaranteed chocolate and sex tonight," Kendall mutters as he passes with a cup of coffee.

The smile on James's face doesn't go away and Logan decides that he would rather go make sure the declaration of his love is still sitting on his desk than think about James and Halston fucking.

It's not there.

Logan moves some papers around—hell he nearly rips his desk apart—and it's not there. At all.

"Fuck," he breathes in, panic starting to get the best of him as his eyes scan around the floor, "Fuck fuck fuck!"

Where could it be? Every possible option starts cycling through Logan's head like a nightmare and he suddenly doesn't feel so good.

"Being assigned the role of Cupid is 500% what I wanted to do today."

Logan jerks toward the door as Kendall's smartass self comes strolling in, eyes resting on the pile of cards that he's shuffling through in his hand. "Where's your diaper?"

"Haaa," the blonde whines, his face scrunching up but the grin becoming far too powerful to be covered up, "Here you go, Romeo. From everyone," He tosses a handful of pink and red cards onto Logan's desk, "Happy Valentine's Day."

That's when the light bulb in Logan's brain flickers on, "Did those get collected this morning?"

"Yep, someone went around and took what they could find so we can just make one big sweep of it."

Fuck. Then his was definitely taken. Logan needs to think fast if he has any chance of getting that damn thing back. "Need any help?"

Kendall waves the request away with a stack of what looks like around ten cards, "Nah, I just have Carlos left."

Of course. "Ok."

"I'm hurt that I didn't get one from you, by the way. I thought what we had was special."

Logan can't help but chuckle at that, the sarcastic pout on his friend's face too much to handle, "Sorry babe, maybe next year."

Kendall shakes his head with more sarcasm as he walks out the door, adding: "Fuck that, I want dinner."

It takes no time for Logan to make his way down the hall and find himself standing outside of James's door. He knocks, not entirely sure just what the hell he's doing yet, but hoping for the best all the same.

When the door swings open, he realizes that he doesn't need to formulate a plan just yet, because James is walking around, continuing to talk on his phone after presenting a welcoming gesture into his room.

"I don't know, probably around six," he says, and all Logan does is immediately saunter his way toward the stupidly immense stack of cards on the pretty boy's desk. "Yeah well I can always just pick you up and we can go from there. …hmm?"

It's incredible how nonchalantly Logan can sift through the pile of cards, a perfectly trained façade of being impressed covering for him. In reality, it would be weird for James not to have this many letters. He is James Maslow, after all.

"Yep. Ok. …yeah I am too. …ok bye."

Logan's eyes lock onto the corner of a gold envelope sticking out of a sea of pink just as James hangs up.

"You know it's almost inappropriate how many I get considering they're from people who work here," he mentions as he falls back onto the couch in the back of the room.

Logan offers a smile, "Right. Because you never do inappropriate things either."

That rouses a chuckle from the man on the couch, "I guess that's true."

"Going out with Halston tonight?" It kills Logan to say it. It really does. But he needs to keep up this front if he doesn't want any suspicions forming.

James adjusts himself on the couch and opens a bottle of water, "Yep-any idea where Rocco's is? I'm driving and have no clue what the fuck that is."

"It's on First Street."

"Oh, I guess I'll know it when I see it."

Logan nods. Speaking of knowing something when he sees it… "While I was snooping I found a card that's Kendall's." Lie. "It probably just got put in the wrong pile." Lie. "I'm headed back anyway so I'll just take it to him." Goddamn, he's a good liar.

But James seems to note the sudden change in topic and tone, and he tilts his head a little bit, eyebrows coming together analytically, "Ok…? Was there a reason you were here besides that?"

Logan doesn't feel like figuring out something clever to say, so he goes with a nonchalant: "Nah, just bumming around."

And then he's out the door, card in hand, his heart pounding in a not so nonchalant way.

It's all he can do not to leap in the air and fist pump when he finally closes the door to his dressing room. He feels like James Bond. What a sneaky fuck he's become.

The relief and pleasure that comes from ripping the card to smithereens satisfies Logan to his bones. It's finally over. Now he doesn't have to worry about any secrets escaping…any guilty loves coming out in the open.

Before he chucks the bits of paper into his trash bin (where it BELONGS), his eyes catch onto a little scribble of blue pen on one of the larger scraps.

But…wait.

He used black pen.

And he definitely doesn't write his a's like that.

And what the fuck this is a girl's handwriting.

This isn't his card at all, it's just stupid girly shit masquerading in a gold envelope almost identical to the one he used.

"Motherfucker," Logan sighs out heatedly, running a hand back through his hair in a not so solid attempt to not freak out.

Can he just catch one break today? Is that alright?

"Hair and makeup in five!" a woman yells through the door that he is now slumped up against, trying not to have a fit.

Nope. He guesses there will be no breaks for him at all.

The first half of shooting the episode feels like it drags on and on. It probably only takes a few hours, but those hours are hours that can be used to prevent disaster.

Because if James reads that letter, all hell will break loose. He'll know everything. He'll know how desperate Logan is-how obsessed. Fuck, he'll read all of that shit about how Halston is no good for him, which is true but this isn't the way to tell someone. Nothing good can come out of James's eyes on that letter. And with every take, Logan has to catch a momentary deep breath to pretend like everything is ok.

During their break, Logan barrels headfirst to the table of food. Because his insides are killing him and he realizes he hasn't actually eaten anything today and it's 3:30.

And suddenly James is keeping his distance from him.

…what does that mean?

Logan doesn't want to automatically jump into paranoia mode, but that's generally where he's been hanging out lately so it's not a far trip.

So he risks it. "Open up all your gross valentines yet?" he teases when he finally catches up to him.

But James doesn't even look at him, "'Bout half way through." His voice is unwavering and stern, and Logan has this sinking feeling that he knows why.

He tries anyway. "Yeah? Any marriage proposals this year—"

"Look, I need some time," James interrupts curtly, picking up speed, "We'll talk later."

And then he's slamming his dressing room door shut right in Logan's face, and this incredible weight settles down inside Logan's chest.

So that's it.

"What gives?" Carlos doesn't sound very happy either, now that he's popped up next to Logan unannounced.

But Logan has to swallow the lump forming in his throat first before uttering, "I…don't know," into the dark wood of the door in front of him.

But he does. It's happened and there's no going back now.

The rest of the episode is pretty shitty. Kendall does a lot of eyebrow raising and the director seems to get pretty irritated with having to do so many takes for one scene.

All Logan wants to do is go home and go to sleep. Maybe when he wakes up things will be different and James won't act like this. Because it won't be Valentine's Day anymore so maybe everything will go back to normal.

It's only until they stop shooting that James makes his way over to Logan, a look of shame fitting strangely on his face.

"Sorry for being such a dick," he says quietly when they finally meet eyes, his hands resting in his back pockets. "Halston got called in tonight. So I'm a little bitter."

Logan's brain doesn't know how to process this information. He doesn't want to say it because it sounds so weak but it slips out all the same. "You're…not mad at me?"

James doesn't seem to notice how cripplingly desperate Logan is hanging onto his words. "Nah, dude. It's just Valentine's Day, ya know? Why call people in to work at night?"

"Yeah…" A sense of relief floods over his body, all of the anxiety that built up evaporating, "I'm sorry." No he's not. He's selfishly overwhelmed with joy that James won't be seeing Halston tonight. Does that make him a bad person? Yep, definitely.

James's tone falters a little bit as he motions for them to start walking toward their dressing rooms so they can finally go home. "Why would I be mad at you?"

Lots of reasons. "I dunno. Just got the feeling."

"Sorry," James glances at the ground almost sheepishly, a small smile dancing up to where the scowl used to be. "This Valentine's Day blows."

"Tell me about it." Logan isn't being overdramatic. He knows very well.

"I'm just gonna throw the other ones away."

That's when his ears perk up, "Other what?"

James looks down at him when they reach his room, "Cards. I don't really wanna read any more. I'm kinda out of the spirit."

This should be sad to hear, but it brings nothing but more relief, "Yeah that's probably a good idea."

"Is Carlos driving you home again?"

"Yep."

"Ok I'll see you tomorrow then."

James flashes a rather endearing smile before disappearing behind his door. It's one of those ones that gives Logan that light airy feeling in his chest, just like he said in his letter.

Which is now being thrown away.

Logan can't help but smile as well, knowing that this atrocity of a day has ended without the final bomb being dropped.

Thank fucking God.

6:30 is way later than Logan wanted to stay, but he actually liked opening his cards. People spent time on them, even if it was a last minute decision, and he didn't want to snub anyone of their time.

There are a few from the crew with silly things jotted down, he even got a Transformers one from Carlos. And of course there's the yearly heart-shaped one from Erin. Without fail, it always lands on his desk, pink ribbon tied at the top and a cursive "Happy Valentine's Day, Boyfriend. Love, Camille."

It only got out of hand once, and even though it wasn't really all that bad, they swore they would never speak of it again.

Logan chuckles to himself, the yellow glow from the desk lamp acting as his only source of light since the sun has gone down.

That's when the telltale creak of his door cries out through the silence, the sudden noise being enough to almost give him a heart attack.

What happens next gets him just at the edge of one.

Because James is there, slumped up against the side of the door frame with his arms crossed.

"Fuck, man. You scared the hell out of me," Logan half chuckles, readjusting the hat on his head.

But James isn't laughing. In fact, he's dead silent, eyes trained on him predatorily.

"…need something?" Logan tries again, the half smirk on his face only a quarter real now.

And then everything comes to a screeching halt, because James uncrosses his arms, revealing what has been there the entire time: a folded piece of paper tucked inside a ripped gold envelope.

Logan freezes.

James speaks slowly and clearly. "What is this?"

It's impossible to gauge his emotion. And Logan physically can't get any words out. All he can do is sit there, eyes no doubt swimming with panic and uncertainty.

"What is this?" Now there's frustration. And something else that's still unreadable.

Logan's heart kicks into double-time.

Fuck. Fuck.

"…I-"

"Is this a joke?"

Everything is happening too fast and too slow at the same time. What does he say? What the fuck does he say?

"I thought you were throwing those out."

Wrong.

"I recognized your handwriting."

Goddamnit.

Logan can't help but rub a hand over his eyes. No no no, this isn't how today is supposed to end. Everything is supposed to be ok and he was never supposed to—

Suddenly the door slams shut and Logan is on his feet before he knows it, his reaction time unexpectedly excellent.

"Is this a joke?" James repeats himself, holding the letter up. Only now it's clear what that other tone is. It's caution. He sounds like he knows he needs to be careful with this. "Logan, is this a joke?"

But what can Logan say to that? His heart is pumping so fucking fast that he can't even think straight. Why would it be a joke? Why would he possibly joke about that? He feels it in every fiber of his being…he lives with it—

"Logan-"

"No."

That slows things way down. And he can't believe he actually just said that. Now there's no going back. It's out and it's there forever.

He can't even bring himself to look at James anymore. He's far too ashamed. There's no doubt in his mind that he's blushing completely red and why does he have to be so fucking stupid—

Suddenly James is in his face, way way way too close and he can't breathe because he knows he's about to get hit. He braces himself and breathes out his nose.

He doesn't get hit. At all. But it feels like all of the air is hit out of his fucking lungs because all of a sudden James's body is pressed up against him and his tongue is in his mouth and it's such an emotional 360 that Logan has no choice but to let out the whine from deep within himself.

Holy fuck.

James tilts his head down just a touch and licks past Logan's lips into his mouth and holy fuck is this actually happening?

They lean away for a second, and Logan is completely and utterly stunned. How is he not yelling at him? "Wh-…I don't get it," he exhales, staring down at how red James's lips are.

James breathes out, his pupils blown with want, "I don't either."

And then they're kissing again, hands grabbing onto hard muscles and into soft hair and the room is spinning as Logan's hat falls to the floor.

But Logan is still confused. He forces himself to pull away, which is so difficult with James all up in his shit because fuck he's hot and this is what he's always wanted. "But-…Halston—"

"Do me a favor and don't say that name right now," James says hurriedly, bending down to pick Logan up so his legs wrap around him.

That works.

James carries him over to the couch and then nearly slams him down into the cushions. Fuck this is real. This is real.

James is straddling him in no time, the pressure of his body so satisfying that it doesn't matter that he's heavy.

"If you're not joking," he breathes almost worriedly, "then I'm not joking."

And that's enough for Logan. Their lips meet again, soft but frantic, and James pulls his shirt over his head. Shit, that's impressive.

"The door's not locked," Logan manages to get out, and almost as if on cue, an uninvited voice calls out from behind it.

"Yo Loganator, time to hit the road!"

Nope. Fuck no.

Logan suddenly realizes the death grip he's got on James's arm. They look at each other silently, trying to gage the other's feelings and what they want.

And Logan knows he wants to stay with James.

"I'll drive him home, man!" James responds with sterling ease. He must have a lot of practice with—

That thought has Logan's eyes lowering a heart doing a nose dive. Oh yeah. There's still Halston.

"Ok, see you guys later!"

When Carlos's voice fades away, Logan can't contain himself.

"Are you only doing this because you don't have Halston right now?" It comes out weak and betrayed, but he honestly doesn't give a fuck.

James's scowl is back, a discontent look slowly taking form, "No. Fuck no, Logan."

"Because I don't want this if I'm just replacing her for the night."

"Hey," he dips his head down, trying to make better eye contact, "I wouldn't do that to you."

But it still kind of hurts, even if it's not true. Because tomorrow he will go back with her and they'll have to pretend like this never happened. And everything Logan wrote in his Valentine will be true again.

"I don't know what's going to happen exactly," James admits, "But I don't want you to think I'd rather be with her."

That doesn't sit very well with Logan, "But you do. Because you are."

James sighs, "Look, I'm just as confused as you are. Believe it or not I've never done this before. But you've always been really fucking important to me, so…"

Logan glances up at him, "So what?"

"I dunno." And then James is chuckling lowly to himself, shaking his head, "Can we get dinner or something?"

Well that came out of nowhere. "Um…sure?" Why?

"Sweet. Straighten yourself up," he smiles, standing up off of Logan's lap and bending down to pick up his shirt, "You're a mess."

Logan stands as well, smoothing down his clothes and running a hand through his hair, "I guess that's what happens when James Maslow molests you."

"Oh ok, I guess you don't want any more then." James has entered teasing mode, and it's impossible not to smile when James has entered teasing mode.

So Logan grins, "I didn't say that."

They gather what they need before heading to the door to leave, and Logan isn't exactly sure where he stands with all of this. But then James turns, hand on the doorknob, and kisses him smoothly, both of their eyes fluttering shut in the process.

"Happy Valentine's Day," he almost whispers, the smile dancing across his lips completely genuine.

Logan feels the warm ball of energy rise up in his chest again. He can tell that it's going to be a good night. No matter what happens.

When they leave, the light flooding through the cracked door shortens until it's just a line gracing the shimmering gold of the envelope on the floor.