(no subject)
There was a lot going on on the island that evening. From a small party to an auction that Jack had mysteriously declined to participate in (something that left Logan more unsettled than he liked to admit). However, tonight Logan planned on attending neither.
It had been a long time since he'd found himself up on the compound roof, a joint between his lips as he stood on the ledge and stared down at the people as they came and went in the dark, oblivious to his presence. Laughing, he stretched his arms out, posing like some sort of god, and then wobbled as he struggled to keep his balance and not slip and break his neck.
Felix's body had turned up nearly a month ago, but only now did Logan find himself feeling the effects of having his past dragged back up and shoved in his face. He'd tried talking about it with Jack, and for a while he'd convinced himself that it had been enough. That the other man really could wash away all that suffering and stupidity with a rough touch and calm words. ...But life didn't work that way. You didn't wake up one morning with all the guilt and pain long gone, and no one could wash away the pain and the suffering for you. There were no magic words or miracle cures, and he knew now that the only cure was time- Or enough pot that he forgot what was so awful in the first place.
He teetered again, taking a step back and stumbling. In a rare streak of luck, he fell backwards onto his ass, rather than forward and off the building. Which was just as well, somehow he doubted House would be eager to patch him up this time if he landed on his head. Still all he did was laugh, taking another long pull on the joint as he settled in, one foot dangling over the side of the building as he rubbed his head and closed his eyes. The laughter slowly faded into something sadder though, and a moment later he was stubbing out the joint as he took a deep breath and tried to keep his emotions pushed down where they belonged.
God he needed a drink, or at least another joint.
(Not the best time to meet him to be honest, but open to all. Friends are very welcome.)
It had been a long time since he'd found himself up on the compound roof, a joint between his lips as he stood on the ledge and stared down at the people as they came and went in the dark, oblivious to his presence. Laughing, he stretched his arms out, posing like some sort of god, and then wobbled as he struggled to keep his balance and not slip and break his neck.
Felix's body had turned up nearly a month ago, but only now did Logan find himself feeling the effects of having his past dragged back up and shoved in his face. He'd tried talking about it with Jack, and for a while he'd convinced himself that it had been enough. That the other man really could wash away all that suffering and stupidity with a rough touch and calm words. ...But life didn't work that way. You didn't wake up one morning with all the guilt and pain long gone, and no one could wash away the pain and the suffering for you. There were no magic words or miracle cures, and he knew now that the only cure was time- Or enough pot that he forgot what was so awful in the first place.
He teetered again, taking a step back and stumbling. In a rare streak of luck, he fell backwards onto his ass, rather than forward and off the building. Which was just as well, somehow he doubted House would be eager to patch him up this time if he landed on his head. Still all he did was laugh, taking another long pull on the joint as he settled in, one foot dangling over the side of the building as he rubbed his head and closed his eyes. The laughter slowly faded into something sadder though, and a moment later he was stubbing out the joint as he took a deep breath and tried to keep his emotions pushed down where they belonged.
God he needed a drink, or at least another joint.
(Not the best time to meet him to be honest, but open to all. Friends are very welcome.)