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When James walked into apartment 2-J, Logan didn't even notice the taller teen walking up to him on the couch until he shook him a bit. He was too focused on staring aimlessly at the wall, all thoughts devoid from his brain—a strange experience for him.
“Hello? Earth to Logan?” James tried, sitting next to him and poking his shoulder. Logan didn't respond. He kept his eyes fixated on the wall. “C’mon, man,” James said. “There's no way that wall is as easy on the eyes as my pretty face.” Logan could practically hear the smirk on James' face. Usually, he would humor him with an eye roll, but not this time.
Logan bit his lip and turned to his friends. “James?” Logan began. He didn't quite know what he wanted to say.
“Dude, seriously, what's wrong?” James furrowed a brow, increasingly concerned by his friend's tone and eyes, which seemed devoid of any nameable emotion.
“My dad died,” Logan said plainly. James' eyes widened as Logan continued. “My dad died, and I feel nothing.” He ran a hand from his face. “Nothing at all.”
Silently and slowly, he leaned his head against Logan’s shoulder, unsure of what else he could do to show his friend comfort in his stunned state. In turn, Logan pressed his cheek to the crown of James' head and sighed. “I’m sorry, Lo,” was all James could offer. And they stayed like that for a long while before Logan’s shoulders shook. Instinctually—so immediate it almost startled Logan—James wrapped his arms around him until Logan’s face was buried in his chest.
“I hate him,” Logan choked out, yet he couldn't find the energy for tears. “I hate him so much. I used to…I used to wish he would just drop dead, and now he has, and I feel so evil because I don't feel bad at all. I'm relieved. The thought of him dying alone in a prison cell doesn't bother me at all. Isn't that awful?”
“No,” James answered, calm and stern. “He was terrible to you.”
“My mom got mad at me when she told me,” Logan whispered as James combed a hand through his hair.
“Why?” James asked.
“I was kind of a dick on the phone. She was sobbing, and I wanted to help her calm down, but I didn’t know how, and then she got upset because I was taking it ‘too well,’” Logan explained. “She said…” Logan took a breath. “I mean, I get she is just stressed and sad and I shouldn't take the things she said personally, but she called me cruel and said she couldn't believe me. And I just blew up on her. She needed comfort, and I yelled at her while she was already down.”
“Lo, she shouldn't have said that to—” James began before Logan cut him off.
“How am I any better than him?”
James halted his fingers in Logan's hair, shocked. “Is—is that a genuine question?” Logan's lack of response was all the answer James needed. “C’mon, you are way too smart to be asking questions like that.” He said softly.
“I said some really mean things,” Logan answered.
“Hortense,” Joanna sobbed. “This is your father we’re talking about. Show a little more respect!” Her saddened voice turned angry.
“I’m just in shock,” Logan partially lied. He was certainly in shock, but that had very little to do with his reaction. “It hasn’t hit me yet.”
“I'm your mother. I can tell when you’re full of shit.” She sniffled, her voice growing colder. “I don't want to fight with you right now.”
“I'm not trying to start a fight with you, mom.” He wished this wasn’t a FaceTime call. If anything were going to make him cry, it wasn’t the news. It would be his mother's face, glaring daggers at him as tears ran down her cheeks.
“Then why are you being so cruel! He's dead! Honestly, I can’t believe you.” Above all else, she sounded disappointed.
“Mom…” His brain began to space out. He could hear words coming from his mother, but he was no longer processing any of it.
But she kept going and going and going until Logan just couldn’t take it anymore.
“Why should I mourn the man who made us miserable!” His voice boomed, watching as his mother's eyes widened in what could almost be described as horror. “You thought I would cry over an abusive drunk who would beat the shit out of us? That expectation is what’s cruel.” Logan knew he should stop talking, bite his tongue, apologize, or do anything but continue, but he just couldn't hold back. “If you lack the self-respect to care that he would hit you, that’s on you, but at least care that that grown-ass man would pummel your son—”
She hung up, and Logan stared at the wall for who knew how long until James entered the apartment.
Logan pushed away from James' embrace as he explained. “I don't even necessarily disagree with what I said, but I know I regret it.” Logan looked James in the eye. “Tell me I'm not a bad person.”
“You're not,” James said confidently. “Not by any means.”
“I don't want to be mad at my mom for being sad. Her husband died. It’s only natural. But he hurt me so bad. I'm sure she cares, but it doesn't feel like it.” He slumped against the couch cushion. “I need to head home in a few days. I just know it’s going to be awkward. Mom said you guys can come if you want.” Logan said, looking down.
“We’ll go for you. Not him. Honestly, I'm not a big fan of the guy.” James assured.
Logan cracked an exhausted smile. “Me neither.” Logan began to bounce his knee. “I want to cry.” He confessed. “It’ll make me feel better, but I just can’t.”
“Wanna watch WALL-E? That always wells you up.” James suggested with the hint of a smirk.
Logan nodded and leaned back against James. “Yeah, that’d be nice.”