Hey y'all!
Look at me, churning out new stories left and right. Please don't yell at me for ignoring Minnesota Memoir.
Though, this was supposed to be out before The Aftermath Came Before You Left, but whatever. You won't be confused.
Happy reading! Enjoy!
This was not a stupid plan, this was not a stupid idea, it didn't matter what Kendall said about it.
It didn't matter he had already brought up a compelling point, it wasn't compelling enough.
We have a week off before the summer tour, and you're not going to spend it with your mom in Minnesota?
Logan's mom had said it was fine, anyway.
Mrs. Knight had been telling him it would be fine, too. That was before Kendall decided to invade the conversation, which was totally inappropriate, it was a private conversation.
Kendall decided to invade the conversation and turn it into an argument.
Not with Logan, but with Mrs. Knight.
Which was strange, because this was entirely Logan's decision, his independent choice.
"I'm a legal adult, Kendall. I'm allowed to make my own decisions," he sighed, knowing that anything and everything he said would do absolutely nothing to alleviate the situation at hand.
"Not stupid ones!" Kendall retorted.
"It's not a stupid decision."
Kendall gaped at him, the most incredulous expression on his face. Logan sighed again, this was not an argument that needed to be had, and he probably wouldn't win it.
"Yes, it is. It makes no sense!"
It did make sense, Kendall was just an idiot.
"I already bought the ticket," Logan countered, standing up from the kitchen table. "So, I'm going to finish packing."
"Cancel your ticket!"
Logan turned towards his bedroom, shrugging. "Can't do that, the flight's at three."
Seven hours from now. He would need to get to the airport in five hours.
"Your flight is at three?"
Logan nodded. "Yes."
He heard Kendall start up another argument with Mrs. Knight.
And he shut the bedroom door.
–
It had been thirty minutes, he agreed with Kendall now, this was stupid.
He was stupid.
Of course, he had already told Camille he was coming. She had already told him she would be there to pick him up from the airport. She had already told her family (a father, a mother, and three brothers) that he was coming. From what he gathered over text conversations, they expected his arrival that night, at nine Pacific Time, after a five hour flight, and a thirty minute drive from the airport to the house.
He couldn't just cancel.
But he couldn't go.
And he hadn't even set foot in the airport yet. That was an issue of its own that he was desperately trying to ignore.
The issue that he couldn't ignore was that, at the present moment, his suitcase was unpacked, contents strewn across the bedroom floor.
He hadn't meant for that to happen.
But he also hadn't meant to lose his raincoat.
Which was also impossible, he knew he hadn't lost it. He had seen it, with his own two functioning eyes, just last night.
And now it had just disappeared.
He thought he had packed it, but he had that little seed of doubt.
That little seed of doubt had henceforth spurred him to unpack his entire suitcase.
It had seemed like a good idea at the time, that way he could see everything he had with him. He didn't have the raincoat, evidently, but that was the purpose of doing what he had done.
The unexpected consequence of this action was that now the entire room was a mess, it was just awful, and he had to repack everything.
But he needed to find that raincoat.
But his room was a mess.
The mess was physically painful to stand in the middle of, to look at.
He stood in the middle of the bedroom, not moving.
His stomach was twisting, he knew this was a stupid idea.
Kendall had been right, Logan had been wrong.
"Logan?" Kendall asked. From behind him, inside the bedroom.
Kendall was seeing all this too.
"Hey," Kendall said. "What are you looking for?"
Logan stared at the empty suitcase.
Kendal knelt down on the floor, picking up some of the discarded clothing. He laid a folded pair of jeans back in the suitcase.
Logan clenched his fists together, "Don't touch anything!"
The urgency in his voice made Kendall drop the jeans. "Logan, are you okay?"
Logan squeezed his eyes shut. He could not look at the suitcase. Not at the messy room. Not at Kendall. "Just—don't touch anything."
"What am I supposed to do? Teleport your clothes into the suitcase?"
Logan exhaled. He felt like something was strangling him. "I got it."
Kendall eyed him, watched him stay frozen in place. "What were you looking for?"
"It's going to rain every single day in Connecticut for the next week."
Kendall could put the pieces together. Really, he wanted to point out that he was most definitely right, that if Logan couldn't even pack a suitcase, there was no way he could handle LAX. He figured Logan knew that too.
He didn't say any of that. He just filled in the blank Logan left him. "A raincoat?"
"Yeah."
Kendall made his way through the minefield of thrown clothing, to the closet. He had seen Logan's raincoat too, just yesterday. He pulled it out of the back of the closet.
He hands it to Logan, not saying a word.
Logan visibly relaxes for a total time of five seconds. Then, he's back to staring at the suitcase.
"I have to repack," he says.
So he helps Logan repack.
"I can drive you to the airport tomorrow, if you want."
Logan nodded.
Kendall zipped up the suitcase.
—
"You don't need to wear the sunglasses in the car, you know," Kendall told him from the drivers seat.
Logan strapped in his seatbelt. "It's bright out, anyway."
"What's your excuse for the hat?"
He shrugged. "It's cold out."
"It's Los Angeles."
"And I'll be in Connecticut," Logan retorted.
"It's summer, Logan. It's not going to be cold in Connecticut."
"Have you ever been to Connecticut?"
"No, but—"
"Exactly."
Kendall drove without commentary on the hat.
That was, until they got to the unloading zone of the airport.
Kendall got out first, opening the trunk for Logan's suitcase. Logan got out second.
His logic: the faster he can get in, the faster he can get out.
He knows this isn't exactly true, his flight could be delayed for weather conditions, or the lines could be extremely long, or they could just stay on the runway for an undetermined amount of time.
Actually, he realized, it didn't matter how fast he got in.
It only mattered that everything went according to plan.
"Logan!" Kendall exclaimed. "Are you coming?"
"Yeah," he said. He took the suitcase from Kendall, extending the handle, pulling it behind him.
"Text when you land," Kendall said. "Have fun with Camille. Use protection."
Logan cringed. "This is a public place, Kendall."
Kendall rolled his eyes. "That reminds me, don't go at it with Camille in public places!"
"Kendall."
Kendall only grinned at him.
Logan tugged at his suitcase. "Bye, Kendall."
"Bye, Logan."
Logan didn't move for a few seconds. He sighed.
It's just an airport, it's not the end of the world.
Kendall drove off.
The airport was not the end of the world.
Logan stepped inside.
—
He thought he would've been lucky.
With few issues, he had managed to weave through the mobs of loud, loud, people to the check in desk.
He did not have the chance to check in his suitcase, but this had turned out far better than he intended—it meant no baggage claim to deal with later.
This was good luck.
Security was not.
He had thoroughly emptied his pockets of everything. There was no metal in his pockets, nothing could set off the metal detectors.
So then how did he end up setting them off?
Everyone is yelling for him to not continue forward, but it all feels jumbled and confusing, how everyone is yelling sir, sir when it could also definitely be another sir.
It was not. It was him, it was him, Logan Mitchell, whose hat and sunglasses had fallen off, he realized. He could not get recognized here, he would not allow it.
He was pulled aside by security.
"I'm just going to pat you down," the man told him, speaking in a gruff voice.
Logan inhaled, nodded, his body rigid, and did not let this breath go.
Not until the security guard stopped. Logan took this as an invitation to move along to the regular line.
A chorus of loud sir(s) followed from behind him. He had done something wrong, he turned back to the security guard.
His palms were dusted with this strange brush. He was told to stand and wait for a few minutes.
He was off schedule, if he missed his flight he was totally screwed. He waited. Logan was released.
Back to the regular line.
He thought he would be lucky enough to avoid more issues. After all, what was worse than being derailed at security?
Wandering around the airport, looking for a gate.
Which he found.
But he got derailed again, a voice crackling over the loudspeaker sound system. Crackling, unintelligible speech. Logan tries to listen, but it's too late to decipher whatever the person said, they've already switched to Spanish.
He's not as bad as he used to be at Spanish, he could pick out a few words.
But this was not Sylvia Garcia, this was some rushed lady talking over a broken sound system in a loud, loud airport.
He doesn't understand what's going on, people are grumbling, moving along. Children are being dragged by their parents. Somewhere else. Everyone is moving, Logan doesn't know how to avoid this movement. It's a swirling whirlwind of movement, he hates it, how all the loud, loud people with the loud, loud suitcases hurry past him.
He sits down, he's knocked over anyway into a seat.
He sits down and takes out his phone.
It's only one-thirty, he has time to figure this out.
He waits for the swarm of people and loudness to pass him.
There's some airport personnel stationed in the corner, Logan can see them.
He approaches, pulling out his boarding pass, gripping it tightly.
"Excuse me?"
The airport personnel person looks up. "Yes?"
Logan stares down at his boarding pass. The airport personnel person waits.
A suitcase slams to the floor, Logan restrains himself from jumping up in surprise.
It's not his fault the sound is echoing in his ears, completely rendering his mouth, his voice useless.
All he can hear is that slam, that's all he can focus on.
Logan hands over the boarding pass.
"Connecticut," the airport personnel muses. "Your gate was changed. Didn't you hear? 23B."
The airport personnel hands the boarding pass back.
And Logan's already had so many mishaps, he didn't have the mental energy to deal with any others.
Boarding is fine, though he's stuck in the line right next to a screaming child.
He booked a window seat, he knows that, he can only ever sit in a window seat, he knew he booked one. He even made himself double check, and Kendall triple check it before he drove him up here.
He knew for an absolute fact he had a window seat.
20A.
He knew this, he had memorized it, he knew it.
He lifts his suitcase over his head, into the overhead bins. He shuts the bin, and ducks into the seats.
He's right where he's supposed to be, 20A, but there's this little kid sitting there, and another kid in the aisle seat.
There's two grown adults that Logan assumes are the kids parents, but he can't have an argument over a seat right now. So he fits himself into the aisle seat, and starts to read to calm himself down.
He got through the airport, he should be proud of himself, he's fine.
"Mister?" one of the kids is poking him.
Logan does not want to look up.
"Mister?" the kid insists.
"I don't think he speaks English." the other kid says.
"Why would he be going to Connecticut if he doesn't speak English?"
"Maybe he's going to Mexico."
"From Connecticut?"
All Logan wants to do is read his book. "I speak English."
The kid in the aisle seat leans towards the kid in the window seat. "He doesn't speak very good English."
"Maybe he's really Mexican."
"He doesn't sound Mexican."
"What does he sound like?"
"He sounds like a robot."
Logan closes his eyes. These kids can't be older than eight and ten, he's not about to get mad at an eight and ten year old. He's going to relax, he might even sleep.
He needs to sleep, so he doesn't cry when Camille picks him up from the airport.
But he can't, because the two kids are sucking lollipops, and at the moment, it's the worst sound he's ever heard.
That, and the engines for takeoff.
He pretends not to notice how the kids stare at him when he flinches.
And his eyes close.
There's no way he can sleep.
—
Logan was right, he doesn't.
His suitcase nearly falls on his head as he gets it from the overhead bins.
It keeps getting stuck in the middle of the aisle, which he keeps apologizing for, but nobody seems to care.
His shoelace narrowly escapes getting caught in the escalator.
His sunglasses and hat have been gone for hours, he knows there's a gaggle of teen girls that just turned around and gasped at him.
His phone is dead.
And he doesn't know where Camille is.
He doesn't even care, he needs to get out immediately.
But everyone is moving so slowly, and talking so fast.
He can't see Camille anywhere.
Maybe he told her he was arriving later than he did. She probably wasn't even here, maybe she wouldn't be here for hours.
Maybe he would have to sit alone in a crowded, loud airport to wait for her.
He just needs her to get here, he doesn't care if he falls over when she runs at him, he doesn't care, he just needs to get out, he just needs to see her, and he just needs to kiss her.
Camille is lucky she's the only person in the world who could tackle him to the ground in an airport and he wouldn't have a meltdown over it.
"Logan!"
He's going to be fine. She's right there, she's running at him. How she manages to do so with such speed and efficiency in a crowded airport is beyond him, beyond all laws of physics and velocity and motion. He doesn't care.
She wrapped her arms around him, they're spinning, dizzy, in the airport.
And she's kissing him, and he's kissing back, and for right now, right here, he's fine.
Camille pulls away, she untangles from the embrace after however much time, and Logan is not fine again.
He can hear everything, he's focused and unfocused on everything, he tries to focus on Camille.
"How are you?" she asks.
The worst question.
"Better," he says. "I'm with you now."
Camille smiles at him, kissing him again, and for another blissful moment, he's not going to have a meltdown in the middle of an airport.
But she pulls away again.
He grabs her hand, it's easier to focus on her that way.
She squeezes his hand in return, it's absolutely the best thing.
The doors to the airport open in front of them, and close behind them.
They're out.
—
Unexpected.
He cannot deal with any more unexpected things.
He physically cannot.
And yet he finds him sitting in the window seat of a car that probably isn't Camille's, it might be her mother's, her mother is driving. One of her brothers is in the front seat.
"Camille," Logan whispers as he buckles his seatbelt.
She squeezes his hand again. "The house is only thirty minutes from here."
He is not going to have a meltdown in the car, he won't let it happen.
But Camille's mother, Barbara, has too many questions.
And Camille's brother, Michael, keeps staring at him.
Camille squeezes his hand tighter.
Barbara pulls up to the house.
Logan opens the car door, stepping out.
Camille follows after him, she immediately takes his hand again. "You'll be fine."
"I really don't think so."
So that's the first chapter, second chapter will maybe be up tomorrow, sorry if this sucks, hope it doesn't!