***
Stout ale, stale cigars, and beaten leather drifted around my head like a fog. Eyes, dark and hidden like the water in the bottom of a barrel, stared into my brain. I recalled his hands, rough and brittle, and the way he reached for me without fear. Poison skin never scared him, and his touch was the only one that didn’t petrify me.
“Didn’t know where else to look for ya, kid.”
The tough façade had departed, vanished. His worn face drooped with lack of rest. The leather jacket hung from his hand, clutched like an old sack. Gravity weighed upon his ancient shoulders. Was it the man I’d known? Was it the man I’d loved? My breath died away and I had difficulty recovering from its loss.
“Logan.”
Everything crumbled. My belongings fell from my shoulder and spilled onto the shimmering floor. All that I had been holding so tightly fell away, and tears boiled my corneas, falling like drops of acid down my face. I imagined how easy it would be to melt into those arms, how simple it would be to fall apart. Betrayal lingered like an angry parent, wagging its finger in my face.
He opened his mouth to speak, but I couldn’t hear the words. There was nothing he could say that could shake the feeling of loss, resentment, and pain. I struggled to push away the image of his arms tightly around my shoulders. I ripped apart the mental polaroids of his misplaced delicacy. My world was dark for several heartbeats before I realized I’d closed my eyes.
“Don’t leave me.”
Slivers of hair fell over my face as his fingers brushed over my scalp. His rough mouth stroked my forehead, leaving a light kiss. Briefly, he traced the apple of my cheek, so light a graze that it barely affected him. Vaguely, it occurred to me to take a breath and a sigh rushed over my lips.
“I’m done lookin’ for me, kid. Now I’m only lookin’ for you.”
He stooped to lift my pack from the floor, and tossed it over his shoulder. The jacket he placed around me, providing me with the alluring scent of his journey. The ache in his eyes refused to disappear, but the arrogant smirk returned to his face. A hand slid into my glove, tight and strong.
***
End.
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