Hey, so i thought i would write a multi-chapter Jogan fic! Woo! Basically, Logan is English and is sent to live with Julian in America buy his dad. This chapter is really short but i just wanted to get it up now, i'll start working on the next chapter soon but it is Halloween tonight sooo haha. Hopefully the next chapter will be double this! Oh and sorry for the lack of my baby in this, oops i mean Julian. Enjoy!
If you called Logan Wright considerate, you'd be lying. It took a lot for him to actually care about anything that wasn't centred on 'Me, Myself and I.' and if you manage I'd really like to shake your hand.
Julian Larson, take my hand.
They were sitting in a darkened room, the only source of light being a flickering desk lamp aimed at the collective paper haphazardly chucked on the oak surface. Logan sat with his hands intertwined on his lap, thumbs circling around each other. His dad had awoke him, quite rudely from his dream, to 'have a word.' Of course the father decided to make him wait, and this did nothing for his anger. Logan expected everything at once and being patient never once crossed his agenda.
"You're moving," The older man spoke clearly as he pushed open the door, allowing a short pause as he moved to take the seat on the opposite side of the desk. "I've had enough of your ridiculous behaviour!" He slammed his hand against the white paper. Scrunched up eyes reading along the black text, "Logan has refused to complete any work set this work. One pupil has asked to be moved away from Logan in every lesson as his shameless touching was making him feel ill. Logan failed to follow safety precautions and so the Stuart kitchen erupted in flames. Your son was involved in a nasty fight with student Blaine Anderson!" John snapped in a harsh tone, "I thought you were seeing that faggot?" He hissed the last word, his voice dripping in venom. A pause. Then within the next few seconds Logan had pushed himself off his chair, his hands formed into fists. White knuckles and clenched up jaw.
"You have no right to pretend to care about my life!" He whispered the sentence in a low warning tone.
The father laughed. It was cruel and loud, and it stung Logan's ears. "No, I agree. And I won't have to anymore. Like I said, you're moving."
Logan clutched onto the smooth surface tightly, "No I'm not," he said simply.
When I Wright wants something, he gets it. Unluckily for Logan, his dad had a lot more practice of this.
John reached into his drawer, pulling out a pack and chucking it in front of Logan's hands. "As I am playing the role of the nice father, I've managed to book you somewhere nice."
The response was a sneer from Logan. "In a sewer with the rats? Or even sharing a blanket with a homeless man on the street? Oh please let it be the latter!"
"It's in America. Los Angeles to be precise. I've pulled some strings, though I have no idea why for you, but you'll be staying with the Larson's."
Larson. The name rang a bell in Logan's mind; he'd have to do some more research. He was almost certain they had a younger child, and if he could remember rightly, he was hot.
"They've got a son called Julian. Don't get any ideas, he's straight. Maybe he can sort you out," John said with a tug of his suit, "You'll be staying there for a year and when you get back I expect you to be the perfect Wright. Go pack."
Logan exhaled deeply, scooping up the pieces of paper, pretending to look uninterested. "You're going to regret this," Logan spoke with finality.
Actually, as Logan skimmed through the file his interest grew, he'd always liked a challenge. And this challenge went in the name of Julian Larson.
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