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He doesn't wear his age on his skin or in his bones. His muscles don't sag and his body doesn't scar. He smokes with impunity, drinks without getting drunk, and practices self-harm on a level no one else can touch and still live.
But he wears his age.
The weight of Logan's years is written on something deeper than his bones: it's in his soul, it drags down through his heart and mind. There's a loneliness aching so deep inside him as he watches the X-Men die around him that finally he finds a way to end it all.
Relief.