Post by Logan Bishop on Sept 16, 2010 0:53:36 GMT -6
logan bishop
we're going down, down in an earlier round
and sugar, we're going down swinging
i'll be your number one with a bullet
a loaded god complex, cock it and pull it
He didn’t remember the last time he slept.
Logan Bishop was sitting on a dirty bench in the Shaks with a cup of coffee in his hands that had remained untouched for most of the morning. He really doubted if drinking coffee was a wonderful idea right now anyway; his was jittery and wired enough as it was. This was it, he kept telling himself. This was the moment he’d waited two years for. Why he had gone to rehab and stopped catching as many highs as he could. Why he had decided to move back to California instead of staying in New York, where he was about as far away from all this as he could be. Away from all the drama and the pain of his childhood incased in the memories that he tried to avoid. But, something he was coming to realize was that he needed to do this. It was funny how the things you needed the most sometimes were centered on the things that you absolutely hated. It was similar to the way that you could crave sugar when you were on a hardcore diet. But, Logan would be kidding himself if he said that this wasn’t something that he wanted and needed to do. It was like…Destiny or something.
‘Log, you’re losing it, pal.’ He thought irritably, finally taking a drink out of the cup in his hand. The liquid burned as it went down his throat, but it seemed to bring him back down to earth. The reality of the situation was that he’d been sitting out here on this very bench for three days straight. Which was about all the time he’d been in Valkyrie again anyway. Since he’d been back, Logan had done almost nothing but sit down the street from this godforsaken house and watch life continue on without him. He’d been kidding himself to think that all the problems that the front door hid would just go away when he left California. But at sixteen, that’s exactly what he thought. He told himself over and over that Cole and his mother would be just fine. After all, he was the bane of his father’s existence anyway, so with him gone, the beatings and accusations left too, right? Logan laughed at himself now whenever he remembered thinking this. What a joke. He’d seen at his mother’s funeral two years before how things really were at home. Cole had done a shitty job hiding bruises underneath his suit and Logan had seen them from his recess at the service. Logan had gone back to New York wondering just what had happened after his swift departure. He asked around with his family that he had stayed connected to and learned about his mother’s attempted suicide and about her final illness.
From then on, it was like a tornado swept through Logan’s life. He signed up for rehab the next week and committed himself to a huge change. He decided then and there to do what he had to do to go back and help Cole. He finished rehab, got clean, went to therapy, and got his shit squared away best he could. Even after all this preparation, people told him to stay away for a while. Let Cole deal with the death of his mother on his own time. So, he waited. And waited. And waited. He spent a year and a half more in New York, figuring out how to take care of himself in a way that could be actually beneficial instead of self destructive. Not that it had actually worked for the most part, but he’d gotten too impatient to stay in New York anymore. So, he packed up everything he had, which, granted, wasn’t all that much and skipped town as fast as he could go for California. With some money he saved up, he bought a small, shitty apartment in the Shaks down the street from his old house. That was two and a half days ago. And now, here he was on a fucking bench in the snow, too chicken to get off his ass and go into the house to see his brother.
What was that his therapist was always telling him? Oh. Believe. ‘You have to believe in it, Logan, or it will never turn out the way that you want it to.’ That mantra was burned into his brain one session after another in a cheesy, clichéd British accent. But was it really true? Could just believing in something make it magically appear the way you always hoped it would? Could thinking the right thoughts make Cole forgive him and his father suddenly not be a jackass? Maybe his father would just die instead. Yeah, that would probably be a better ending to his happy-crappy little fantasy. Logan rolled his eyes at himself and took another giant drink of his coffee to steady his racing mind. He sighed, a thick mist forming in front of his eyes for a moment. He watched as it floated away and ended up seeing the one person he really would have rather not seen. His father was leaving the house and walking down the street in the opposite direction. Logan looked down at the watch on his wrist. Sure enough, 9:45. His dad left the house like clockwork at the same time every day. Now, officially, Logan had no reason to not just walk up to the door and knock.
So, of course, Logan sat on his bench for another hour or so until his coffee was way too cold to drink anymore and after he finished most of the crossword from the daily newspaper. After staring at the door for fifteen or twenty more minutes, Logan made himself stand, move across the street, and walk up the familiar steps. He took a moment to think about what he believed would happen. He believed in his heart of hearts that he wanted Cole to accept him back into his life. He believed that they could be a family again. Part of him also believed this was a load of shit. Regardless of all this, he raised his fist and knocked three times, holding his breath while he waited for someone to answer.
status: FINISHED! <3
words:1,045
tagged: anna,bby.
time:8 a.m. - 10 a.m.
clothes:clicky!
notes: soooo excited!
