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Logan would say the words he needed to hear. Even if just for one night, he praised his work and sincerely admired his adventures and the way he seemed to know how to get himself out of all sorts of tricky situations. He spoke from the heart and hoped Sammy could tell his comments were genuine.
Their night went on, with both of them attempting to keep the conversation casual and light. But hard as they tried, at some point after dinner, Sammy had opened up and told Logan all about his parents. Retelling the story of how they had rejected him, after he had come out to them, almost made Logan cry.
He couldn't help but think about his little girl Jordan. He couldn’t possibly imagine telling her to move out if she had told him something of this magnitude about herself. Logan couldn’t think that there was anything his child could have ever confided in him, that would have made him simply check out of her life.
Even though Sammy told him all about James and his loving parents, who had not hesitated to take him in, Logan felt he was trying hard in some way to reassure him that period of his life had not been entirely grim and heartbreaking. Logan had not pressed him further, not wanting to upset him again. However, he was certain, that Sammy’s experience wouldn't have been any more pleasant than his own. The fact that they shared this similar burden of grief made him hold the other man, just a little bit deeper in his heart.
He couldn't even imaginewhat Sammy had gone through entirely on his own at such a young age. Suddenly, he didn’t seem as flaky, eccentric, and quirky as he had appeared at first. Right then, Logan could see just a man fighting for his own sanity and trying to look and stay strong and independent.
From what he could gather, James had been a very important presence in his life, and so were his parents – David and Blake. Sammy could have simply allowed them to adopt him in a way, at least as far as finances were concerned. He could have easily chosen to live in the same luxury James did, but he clearly had opted for his independence and had fully embraced his own path in life.
His friendship with James had remained intact, and he told Logan about many of their exploits together. That certainly made him feel about one hundred years old. He couldn’t remember the last time he had gone out with Dave or his brother, or any of his other friends. Everything Sammy spoke about just made him think of living, enjoying things, and being able to experience life without overthinking every single step he took from the moment he opened his eyes in the morning.
“James sounds like a good time.” He chuckled at the end of one particularly rowdy story, about James and Sammy celebrating his twenty-first birthday in Vegas and pretty much recreating the movie trilogy –The Hangover– over the course of one long weekend.
Sammy grinned. “He’s a lot of fun to be around, as long as he’s not chasing after his latest obsession or getting back together with his crazy ex-girlfriend Danika.”
“The car in the ditch is his, right?” Logan gave him a teasing look.
“Yes.” Sammy nodded. “And I promise you, he would have known something like that would happen. I’m not the best driver. Stereotype not intended.” He pointed at his face and chuckled at his own joke, alluding to his Japanese heritage. Logan couldn’t help but grin.
Sammy went on to say, “I think this is why our friendship has survived for so long. The way we both are – I’m a bit flaky and whimsical and he’s impulsive and obsessive. We just make sense to each other.” He chuckled. “Like, if I call him at one in the morning, and tell him I want to get a tattoo, he’ll just get into his car and come get one with me.”
Logan laughed. “Is that how you got those?” He pointed to his hips and blushed a bit because he knew he shouldn’t have been checking him out last night, but he was curious, and they were talking so why not just ask. He didn’t have any ink, but he wouldn’t mind getting some in the future.
Sammy just grinned excitedly, jumped up and pulled his sweats lower to his mid-hip and lifted his hoodie. The move startled Logan as they had been sitting very close to each other on the couch, facing one another. Now he was practically facing the crotch of Sammy’s black high cut boxer briefs. However, his eyes were quickly drawn to the intricate colorful designs of dragons, tigers, coy fish, samurais, and swords. It was almost like a mural of traditional Japanese designs taking the space from his waist all the way down to his knees on both legs. Sammy turned and Logan could see the design was covering most of his ass and thighs as well, leaving only a narrow strip of creamy skin on the inside, leading up to his groin.
It was such a massive, complicated piece, there was no way not to admire the craftsmanship of the tattoo artist. The dark and deep colors were in stark contrast to his flawless skin. The designs looked so masculine, aggressive and powerful, he was struck out a little bit at his own ignorance, as to why should the choice in design surprise him. Just because Sammy liked wearing eyeliner didn’t mean that everything about him was feminine. In fact, there was so much more about him Logan enjoyed discovering with every passing moment they shared together.
Sammy turned around waddling, as his sweats were pooling down his ankles. He was showing off the rest of the intricate design, and of course Logan was well aware he was supposed to pay attention to the tattoo and not the curve of his ass, or the dimples on the small of his back, but he couldn’t help it.
Logan looked up to meet Sammy’s eyes as he was eyeing him over his shoulder grinning. “This wasn’t exactly a one-in-the-morning job, but I was in Japan for six months, shooting for various tattoo conventions and ended up completely obsessed with the style. Do you like it?”
“It looks amazing,” Logan mumbled and pulled away slightly as not to look like he was drooling over Sammy’s perfect ass. He was, but still, he scolded himself that he should keep his pervy thoughts to himself.
Sammy chuckled. “James was going to get one but chickened out at the last moment. He did however apply cream on my ass for a week, while my skin healed.”
He pulled his sweats back up and plopped on the couch next to Logan, facing him once more. His cheeks were slightly flushed, his eyes sparkled, and his smile simply brightened the room. Logan felt the impossible pull this man had on him. He so desperately wanted to give in, reach for Sammy and…What?
Sammy was chatting away, “Yeah, James wasn’t a fan of that part of the healing process.”
Logan chuckled. He couldn’t help but think about Dave. Would his friend apply thick paste all over his ass if need be? Probably. Logan had the sudden urge to talk about him, but he quickly snuffed it out. Talking about Dave would open the door to other important details of his life, and he didn’t want Sammy to put himself second tonight.
He asked him about his apartment in New York instead and laughed when Sammy went into excruciating detail about how small it was, and how Sammy had to be very creative to come up with places to store his equipment and personal belongings.
Sammy told him that although he didn’t really have a lot of concrete goals for the future, he really hoped to have a studio of his own at some point. A large bright space filled with natural light, where he could work and experiment with other forms of creativity – like painting, sketching and even writing. Logan could visualize the perfect dimensions for the space Sammy was describing.
He felt a small tug of joy, noticing Sammy wasn’t in a hurry to end their conversation even though the night had advanced. They went on talking about anything and everything until late in the evening. Around midnight, Logan reluctantly said goodnight and dragged himself upstairs. For the first time in months, he fought his heavy eyelids, trying to stay awake so he could remember everything about Sammy, committing his image and the sound of his voice to memory.
* * *
He feltthe impossible pressure on his chest and gasped for air. The phantom smell of smoke and gasoline invading his senses.
This isn’t real.
His hands were frozen to his sides, and he couldn’t move. Morpheus was whining next to him, trying to comfort him, but in his panic, he had simply forgotten how to breathe. The impression of heavy weight on his chest and the pain in his legs felt so real there was no reasoning with his brain, that he wasn’t hurt or in danger. Morpheus barked, then whined, then nudged him again, but it was no use. He was paralyzed from the overwhelming sensations and couldn’t calm himself down enough to resume his normal breathing.
Moments later, he could hear someone running up the stairs and then a knock on his door.
