Return to Me (4/8)
Angelus angelus1317@hotmail.com
See first chapter for disclaimer, etc.
Author's Notes: Allright, I've been ignoring this story for awhile, so I'm a bit out of
the loop as to the writing style. Let me try and get it back, and I'll hope that this
chapter doesn't seem too different from the first three. Here goes nothing...
~*~
Max blinked rapidly, forcing herself to stay awake. She had been riding all day
with no rest, and fighting sleep was getting harder by the minute. But Seattle
and Logan were only a few short minutes away - so close she could feel his arms
around her.
The streets gradually became more and more familiar, until finally, she found
herself passing her old apartment. She debated with herself for a few minutes as
to whether she should go up and visit Cindy - if she was even there after all this
time - first, or head straight to Logan's. Guilty as it made her feel, she would
really rather see Logan right now. She kept riding.
The apartment itself looked no different - from the outside, anyway. Fogle
Towers was still one of the nicest buildings in the city. Max parked her bike in its
old spot - next to Logan's Aztec, chained and padlocked to the handle of the
car door.
It was amazing, she marveled - even after all this time, it still looked right. It was
as if she had never been gone.
The sense of deja vu followed her all the way up the stairway to Logan's
penthouse. Everything was the same - from the ancient old man at the front
desk to the annoying elevator music. It even smelled the same.
Almost as if it had been waiting for her.
She wondered if Logan had been waiting for her.
At the door, she paused. Should she knock or pick the lock?
She picked the lock.
And as she walked in, she murmured to herself:
"I'm home."
She had assumed that Logan would be asleep like any normal person would be
at this hour. But there he stood, the outline of his body framed in the pale
moonlight streaming through the curtained window. She stood, frozen in place,
unable to move for fear that she might disrupt this little dreamscape and make
him disappear forever.
He spoke.
"From the day that I first saw you, I was captivated by your breathtaking
beauty. Never had I seen a woman so gorgeous. And to top it off, you were
smart, witty, and fun to be around. Back then, I was blinded and deluded by
my own arrogance; I had always believed that I could get anything I wanted.
I wanted you. And I was determined to have you."
Max was unsure as to whether Logan knew she was in the room or not. He
faced the city outside, never turning around, but spoke as if she were right in
front of him. Never had she heard such romantic, poetic words, much less
directed towards herself. And it was then that every mere shadow of a doubt
disappeared; she loved him unconditionally, no matter what had changed
since she had been gone.
He continued his monologue.
"When they put me in that goddamned wheelchair, you became more than
just a pretty face; you became my friend. And from there, I fell in love with you.
It wasn't hard to do. I tried everything I could to get out of the chair. And
though I told myself that I was only doing it for myself, I knew the truth - it was
all for you. I wanted out so that you would think more of me as a man. I realize
now that I was wrong because, selfish as it sounds, I knew you loved me, too,
chair or no chair. That was just how you were. But I wanted it anyway. And as
soon as I was free, you were gone. Just gone. I should've told you then, but I
didn't. But now you're back. And I'm determined not to let another minute go
by without telling you face-to-face."
He turned to face her then; not just his head, but his whole body. His eyes met
hers.
"I love you, Max Guevara," Logan stated simply. "You are honestly the only
reason I didn't kill myself the second I was back in that chair. I can't live without
you, Max, and I'm don't know how I survived this past year. Please don't ever
leave me again."
He was crying now. Not bawling, but there were tears glistening in the corners
of his eyes. He sounded like a lost little boy, and Max could no longer suppress
the needy, urging desire to reach out and touch him.
She wrapped her arms around Logan's waist and held him close. He stroked her
hair, murmuring over and over again that he loved her.
When his tears had subsided, Max found that her face, as well, was wet. They
were reluctant to break apart. Arms still around one another, they pulled back
only enough so that their eyes met.
"I love you, too," Max whispered. Logan's hand moved to cup her cheek,
drawing her to him for a kiss. Their lips met, briefly, and then they pulled away
once more. Max turned to face the window, and Logan did the same.
Their arms still remained around one another.
And they watched the sun rise on the beginning of a new day and a new life.
Angelus angelus1317@hotmail.com
See first chapter for disclaimer, etc.
Author's Notes: Allright, I've been ignoring this story for awhile, so I'm a bit out of
the loop as to the writing style. Let me try and get it back, and I'll hope that this
chapter doesn't seem too different from the first three. Here goes nothing...
~*~
Max blinked rapidly, forcing herself to stay awake. She had been riding all day
with no rest, and fighting sleep was getting harder by the minute. But Seattle
and Logan were only a few short minutes away - so close she could feel his arms
around her.
The streets gradually became more and more familiar, until finally, she found
herself passing her old apartment. She debated with herself for a few minutes as
to whether she should go up and visit Cindy - if she was even there after all this
time - first, or head straight to Logan's. Guilty as it made her feel, she would
really rather see Logan right now. She kept riding.
The apartment itself looked no different - from the outside, anyway. Fogle
Towers was still one of the nicest buildings in the city. Max parked her bike in its
old spot - next to Logan's Aztec, chained and padlocked to the handle of the
car door.
It was amazing, she marveled - even after all this time, it still looked right. It was
as if she had never been gone.
The sense of deja vu followed her all the way up the stairway to Logan's
penthouse. Everything was the same - from the ancient old man at the front
desk to the annoying elevator music. It even smelled the same.
Almost as if it had been waiting for her.
She wondered if Logan had been waiting for her.
At the door, she paused. Should she knock or pick the lock?
She picked the lock.
And as she walked in, she murmured to herself:
"I'm home."
She had assumed that Logan would be asleep like any normal person would be
at this hour. But there he stood, the outline of his body framed in the pale
moonlight streaming through the curtained window. She stood, frozen in place,
unable to move for fear that she might disrupt this little dreamscape and make
him disappear forever.
He spoke.
"From the day that I first saw you, I was captivated by your breathtaking
beauty. Never had I seen a woman so gorgeous. And to top it off, you were
smart, witty, and fun to be around. Back then, I was blinded and deluded by
my own arrogance; I had always believed that I could get anything I wanted.
I wanted you. And I was determined to have you."
Max was unsure as to whether Logan knew she was in the room or not. He
faced the city outside, never turning around, but spoke as if she were right in
front of him. Never had she heard such romantic, poetic words, much less
directed towards herself. And it was then that every mere shadow of a doubt
disappeared; she loved him unconditionally, no matter what had changed
since she had been gone.
He continued his monologue.
"When they put me in that goddamned wheelchair, you became more than
just a pretty face; you became my friend. And from there, I fell in love with you.
It wasn't hard to do. I tried everything I could to get out of the chair. And
though I told myself that I was only doing it for myself, I knew the truth - it was
all for you. I wanted out so that you would think more of me as a man. I realize
now that I was wrong because, selfish as it sounds, I knew you loved me, too,
chair or no chair. That was just how you were. But I wanted it anyway. And as
soon as I was free, you were gone. Just gone. I should've told you then, but I
didn't. But now you're back. And I'm determined not to let another minute go
by without telling you face-to-face."
He turned to face her then; not just his head, but his whole body. His eyes met
hers.
"I love you, Max Guevara," Logan stated simply. "You are honestly the only
reason I didn't kill myself the second I was back in that chair. I can't live without
you, Max, and I'm don't know how I survived this past year. Please don't ever
leave me again."
He was crying now. Not bawling, but there were tears glistening in the corners
of his eyes. He sounded like a lost little boy, and Max could no longer suppress
the needy, urging desire to reach out and touch him.
She wrapped her arms around Logan's waist and held him close. He stroked her
hair, murmuring over and over again that he loved her.
When his tears had subsided, Max found that her face, as well, was wet. They
were reluctant to break apart. Arms still around one another, they pulled back
only enough so that their eyes met.
"I love you, too," Max whispered. Logan's hand moved to cup her cheek,
drawing her to him for a kiss. Their lips met, briefly, and then they pulled away
once more. Max turned to face the window, and Logan did the same.
Their arms still remained around one another.
And they watched the sun rise on the beginning of a new day and a new life.