Disclaimer: nothing belongs to me.
Double Knotted (Too Tight)
The sun is blazing, and not for the first time, Logan wonders what he's doing here. He's walking as if in slow-motion, and yet, faces blur past him, unrecognizable messes. He feels hands on his hips, hot, familiar, and feels the stares of others. He ignores them, then turns it into a taunt, whipping around and grabbing the back of Duncan's neck with a sweaty hand, pulling lips together in a kiss that's more show than tell. It's enough for either of them, however, and they're back in the hotel room, the windows open for a breath of stale air so that their harsh cries might echo out over the dusty street. "I'm sorry," Duncan says, biting at Logan's neck. He was always a vampire of sorts, only interested in blood. His own flesh and blood.
"For what," Logan says flatly, far more interested in his own physical needs than Duncan's emotional ones.
"Fucking your girlfriend."
"Which one?" Logan's laughing, Duncan's mouth is suddenly down between Logan's thighs, his breath a tickling dance across skin. He thinks about where else that hot mouth has been, who else's thighs those traitorous lips have kissed. Logan bursts past the dam (and the damning) of Duncan's lips, semen sliding in a hot trail down Duncan's throat to his stomach, to mix in with remnants of Lilly and Veronica, a hateful cocktail of lust. "I'm not the fucked-up one here," Logan announces. "They're your sisters."
Duncan sits up, gazing out the window into a mud-colored landscape. "Maybe they're yours, too," he offers. "Who else knows where the mighty Jake Kane has sown his seed. Maybe your mother's a whore, too. Maybe you're my brother. Maybe I've committed the holy trinity of sins."
"Maybe you should shut the fuck up and go and get me more liquor," snaps Logan, and after a long and pensive stare out the window, Duncan obliges. Logan half wishes Duncan were right. That way, his betrayal would make sense. Everyone in Logan's family lets him down, in one way or another. He sinks back into the pillows.
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There was a gash on his head, from being forcibly removed from the guardrail. There were bruises up and down him, tight circles on his stomach from thugs, shapeless lumps on his legs from an over-enthusiastic Felix. Weevil issued them an incincere command to stop, to leave the little bastard alone.
"Did she send you?" Logan snarked, already knowing the answer. "Are you just the little bitch's..." he grinned widely, demonically, blood smearing his teeth, "little bitch?"
Weevil cracked one across Logan's jaw, effectively silencing him.
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Logan awakes, buried as much as he can be in an unforgiving pillow. It's unbearably hot, owing to his roommate's coldblooded nature, and cheap smiles to the nurses that get them to play with the thermostat.
He's not traipsing the Earth with Duncan, staying in sweaty little motel rooms that they both can afford much better than, counting bugs clinging to screens, fucking and drinking and forgetting. He's not making Duncan beg for forgiveness in ways only Duncan can beg. He's here, in a hospital bed, with a broken jaw and unpleasant memories that aren't even his. He's poured over the tabloids, over the E! special with the dramatic reenactment that they must have filmed within the last twenty-four hours. Aaron and Lilly. A forbidden love ending in tragedy by some accounts, a one-way ticket to hell by others. Logan has absorbed so much information about the sordid affair that he can almost pretend like he was there the entire time. He convieniently forgets that he already was, that it was happening under his nose and he never knew. And to think he was worried about Weevil.
His father fucking his girlfriend, he can understand. His girlfriend fucking his father...no, he can understand that, too. This is his life, after all, this giant pit of suckitude.
"Logan."
He knows the voice, it's Duncan, and he turns away. He can see out the window, it's white and pristine and clear. Clean. "Logan, we need to talk." Logan can't talk, he's taking food intravenously while his jaw is wired shut. "I'm sorry." Sorry for what? For fucking Logan like he was last on the list? For not sharing the Kane bloodline with him? No, there is no question, Logan is undeniably an Echolls. Filled with bloodthirsty rage, like his father; indifference to anything that is not immediately his problem, like his sister; a growing desire to drown everything out, like his mother. Whether it's through alcohol or lake water.
An Echolls would pretend none of this had ever happened. Wait until his bruises healed, go back to fucking Duncan, maybe try to win Veronica back if he's feeling particularly suicidal.
Not this time. He is renouncing his link to the Echollses, to the Kanes, to the Marses, to Neptune.
He is done.