Chapter 18!

Nothing could kill his mood more than waking up in the hospital.

It's like waking up mid flight on an airplane. But worse, because at least the airplane had to land.

He never knew when he would get to leave the hospital once he was there.

"What time is it?" he murmured, reaching for his phone. Which, last night, he had placed beside his bed.

And this morning, it wasn't there.

It was in his mother's hands.

"Mom."

She fumbled with it for a second, then nearly dropped it. Caught it.

"I didn't think you'd be awake yet, Logan. How are you feeling?"

Bad, horrible, aching, dying.

But saying that doesn't really mean anything to him anyway, it's just become something to accept.

"Fine. What are you doing with my phone?"

He finds himself getting unreasonably angry at her easy response:

"Camille had sent you some messages. They were just on the first screen. And they just came up, too, I wasn't—"

And Logan asks for his phone back, and reads those messages. He wouldn't mind hanging out after she's done today on set, he wants to, he really does. He just doesn't really understand why she'd want to hang out with him.

He's not a good boyfriend.

He knows that, he kicked her out.

But he just really wants to get out of the hospital. This would be a good way to do it.

And he could apologize.

"Logan, I was talking with Dr. Jones earlier."

He didn't look up from his phone screen. "And what torture does he want to put me through now?"

His mother sighed. "It's not torture, honey."

"What is it, then?"

"He recommended we start you on physical therapy. And new medication. For seizure prevention."

Fantastic.

He could ignore the physical therapy remark for now. He didn't see the point, he already couldn't move, it's not like physical therapy would help.

New medication wouldn't help either. He was already swallowing eleven pills a day. And they did nothing, as far as he was concerned.

"I already had a seizure. And they'll probably keep happening. There's no point."

His mother's sigh is heavy. Like she's annoyed at him and how could she possibly be annoyed at him, she can't be annoyed at him, it's not his fault that he has a disease that he hates.

It's her genetics. Or his dad's. But it doesn't matter.

It's still her fault.

"You're not starting physical therapy today. Today we get to go home. But you are getting new medication."

And Logan only says, fine, because it's not like he can do anything about it.

His mother pushes the walker towards him.

"Let me help you with the braces, honey. Then we get to leave."

"I don't need help."

"I know you don't. But we get out faster."

Logan nods at her. He wants to think, at least to himself, that he doesn't need help, that it doesn't cause him excruciating pain to reach and bend over and slip the braces on.

But it hurts. It hurts so much.

So his mother slips on his braces for him. And his shoes. And tied the laces, too.

And she kisses him on the forehead and helps him stand.

And then they're out.

He can breathe something other than the suffocating, sick and sterile hospital air.

—————

It will never not be humiliating parading down the street with a walker.

It will never not be humiliating watching Kendall look at him like the way he is now.

And honestly, he'd rather not be here, watching Kendall watch him. But he has to, because his mother is at work, and there's no alternative.

He wishes there was.

And then the door opens, and he prays that it's Katie, because that makes sense. She could be done with school for today. Logan didn't know what time it was anymore, but he could be right.

He also didn't know if she had actually started school.

He didn't know what day it was.

"Hey, Logan."

He was right, it's Katie.

"Hey, Katie."

"How was the hospital?"

And he'll never answer that. So, he deflects.

"How was school?"

And for once, she lets him.

"I didn't have school, Logan."

But it's not successful, and now he's panicking because he forgot what day it was and he should know what day it is.

"What day is it?"

And Katie seems mildly worried as he tells him it's August eleventh. He nods. He knew he knew that.

And he tells her that, because maybe it's not convincing enough.

"What were you doing, then?"

She shrugs. "I'm going to mow Mrs. Majcowski's lawn. She doesn't trust you guys to do it anymore."

Logan actually manages to laugh. "She shouldn't. Though I doubt we'll be going back to LA this time."

That joke that isn't really a joke was funnier in his head.

Katie only says, "Logan."

And Logan holds his hands up in defense. "What? I thought it was funny."

Well, maybe it wasn't so much funny as it was ironic and depressing.

"How was the hospital?"

Well that of all things was certainly not funny.

Instead he deflects the conversation again. "Can I come with you? I'm really bored."

Katie stares at him for a second. She's not convinced he could even mow a lawn and maybe he couldn't. But he needed to do something.

And then she stops staring at him, her expression changes, and why is it like this with everyone? Why are they all so sympathetic?

He shouldn't be able to get what he wanted. But he will.

Because Katie sighs. A sympathetic sigh.

"Fine. You get ten percent of the cut."

Ten percent was generous for her.

He hated how everyone was being now. But he followed her out of the house, at least his time would be occupied until he could see Camille.

He wouldn't be bored anymore.

—————

It's impossible to be bored in the case of a runaway lawnmower, he's discovered.

This shouldn't be possible. Because Katie is doing one side of the yard with the manual lawnmower, the one that actually requires work.

And he's sitting on his. He was. It's the fancy machine type that you drive.

He was sitting on it. He should not be chasing it.

But he is, because he fell off.

And then he fell. On the ground. Perfectly incapable of chasing the lawnmower.

And he tries to get back up, he really does. He doesn't need Katie to see him like this.

But of course, she sees him.

And she says "Logan!"

Running over, trying to help him up. She's stronger than him now, it seems like. He can't even push himself up.

She does that for him.

"Maybe you should go home."

"Maybe you should catch the lawnmower."

"Yeah. I will. You should go home."

"Katie—"

"You should."

"Don't tell me what to do."

"Why, because you're older? You're acting stupid. I'm calling you out."

"I'm not acting stupid."

"Fine. Sit there and watch then."

She goes back to the lawn. The runaway lawnmower wasn't even moving that fast. She climbs up on it and turns it off.

It stops.

He's too slow to catch a slow lawnmower designed for elderly decrepit people,

He's too slow, and too weak.

And it's only August.

This shouldn't be happening.

—————

"I'm sorry."

He should be saying it first. But he isn't, she does.

Camille is apologizing when it's really all his fault.

He is a terrible boyfriend.

"No, Camille. I'm sorry."

They're trying this again, this whole date thing.

Sitting on the couch together, close. Or, they should be sitting. Camille is standing, apologizing. When really she shouldn't be. They should be sitting now. Re-doing this date.

"Why are you sorry? I was stupid. You could've died."

He's not going to get angry at her. He's really trying not to. He knows she's concerned. That makes sense. Everyone is concerned. They want him alive.

This is a good thing. He shouldn't be mad about their concern.

And he really hopes she can't tell that he's still mad about it.

"You were not the stupid one. I kicked you out."

"Because—"

He honestly can't listen to her go back on him like this. This is not fair. She was the one thinking right before.

Is everyone really so sympathetic that they'll just change their minds over anything now?

Katie was going to give him ten percent of what she earned today. That was sympathetic. He couldn't get a job.

And Camille was changing sides now. Even though she had been right when she was mad at him and he knew that now. That was sympathetic.

The second half of that word is pathetic.

And he is so, so, so pathetic.

"Because why, Camille? I kicked you out because I was mad at you and I shouldn't have been. And I'm sorry."

She looks at him. With an expression he can't place.

And she says, "I love you. Don't be sorry."

But he is sorry. And he is pathetic. And he is a bad boyfriend.

"Hey."

She looks at him. Kisses him. Holds him.

"Hey."

And it doesn't matter that he sucks. He's okay.

"I love you, Logan."

They'll be okay.

"I love you too."