Is there a hero somewhere, someone who appears and saves the day
Someone who holds out a hand and turns back time
Is there a hero somewhere, someone who will never walk away
Who doesn't turn a blind eye to a crime
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“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Christ. Scott.
“What does it look like? I’m taking her out of here.”
“Logan…” Shut up, shut up. Shut up!
“I’m taking her, and that’s final.”
“Is that a healthy attitude?” Right. Just because you’re touchable doesn’t mean that I’m going to turn in to some sort of pervert and molest you. You know that. Scott and everybody else should know that.
“I promised to take her to see the snow. See you in a week, Scooter!”

It’ll take a couple of days. Cross the border and reach my cabin. The one Xavier’s merry crew doesn’t know about. Couple days, and it’ll be just the two of us, and all the fucking snow you could ever want to.

You’re pretty quiet. I don’t mind. We get along just fine. We don’t have to fill silence with idle chitchat. We’re comfortable. You know I’m not very talkative. I think you like that in me. I have seen how you get around your friends sometimes. At the end of the day, when everything’s said, and they just keep repeating themselves. You have that expression on your face. The same I can see from the mirror almost every day. The one that is shouting and screaming for silence. This little trip will do both of us good.

I pull over to a truck stop and check that you’re comfortable. I could go and get us some coffee, but you looked exhausted earlier. I let you sleep, and keep on driving. I’m not really hungry myself either.

Have to stop in the morning. Get some breakfast. You don’t want anything. I order just a sandwich. I can eat while I drive. Small cup of coffee, and a cigar after it. Funny. At the mansion everybody kept nagging at me if I dared to smoke. You don’t seem to mind. Once you told me you liked the scent of it. Must be me in your head talking.

Road ends. We have to ditch the truck and walk last kilometers. You love the snow, but I think it’s little too deep; you fucking drown in it or something. I pick you up. Can’t help wondering how small and delicate your body is under all those clothes you still keep piling on you. You weigh next to nothing.

It’s already night when we reach the cabin. You’re sleeping. I take off your coat, boots and gloves and lay you on my bed. You can sleep there. I’ll take the couch. You can sleep in on the morning. I have some things to take care of.

It’s close to noon, and it’s getting dark outside already. I’ll light the fire to the fireplace, and we sit in front of it. You lean your head on my shoulder while I brush your hair. It’s like fucking silk, so smooth and shiny. You never got rid of those streaks. They look good on you. But I have told that to you thousand times already. I wish I could stay here forever. Just you, me, snow and fire. But I promised to Scott. One week. Three days already gone.

We wake up early. I help you to get dressed and we go to front porch. You would like to make snow angels, maybe build a snowman but you think it’s childish. Maybe it is. Maybe it isn’t. But who the hell cares?

It’s getting cold. I should go. Go and leave you. It was part of the deal. I bring you here and let you go. How the hell did you manage to make me promise something like that, huh? You’re too good. You always knew what buttons to push.

Well, no use to linger any longer than it’s necessary. Truth to be told, you’re starting to reek. I can’t turn back time, no matter how hard I wished for it. But I’ll go back and take care of those bastards who took you away from me. After it’s done, I’ll come and see you. Bring you their heads.