July 17, 2021—Seattle, Washington—Four Months Later #5
Logan froze completely as Adrian clung to him, face buried in his back. Adrian’s arms tightened, holding on desperately, fearing that if he loosened, Logan might walk through that door and never come back, like this time would be the moment when Logan would just disappear from his life.
“I didn’t mean it,” Adrian continued, his voice trembling as he struggled to breathe through tears, cries, and hiccups. “I didn’t mean any of it. I’m sorry.”
Logan could feel the tears soaking through his shirt, could feel the way Adrian’s hands trembled as they clung to him, the desperation pouring out of him in uneven breaths. “I don’t know why I said it. Please don’t go, Lo. I love you so fucking much. I’m so grateful for you. I’m sorry.”
Something cracked open in Logan’s chest. He sucked in a breath, sharp and ragged, his throat burning as emotion pressed up hard behind his ribs. His hand found Adrian’s, fingers sliding over his skin, gentle at first, then gripping tight.
A small, broken sound slipped from his throat.
He didn’t even know what it was—a cry, a gasp—as he turned in Adrian’s arms and pulled him in with everything he had, crashing into him with such force it knocked the breath out of both of them.
He embraced Adrian’s fragile frame, clutching him so tightly it felt like Logan’s heart was holding him, not just his arms.
Adrian clung back just as hard. His fingers dug into Logan’s back, desperate, trembling. Like he didn’t believe this was real. Like he still expected to be left.
“I missed you,” Logan choked out, his lips pressed against Adrian’s temple. His voice was hoarse, cracked open, his breath shivering between the words. “I missed you so fucking much.”
Adrian made a sound—not quite a sob, not quite anything—just raw feeling caught in his throat. And then he just held him. Held onto him like Logan was the only thing in the world not slipping through his fingers.
“Me too,” he breathed, barely audible. “The thought of you… it’s the only thing that makes being here bearable.”
His hands, still frail but warm, skimmed the back of Logan’s neck, fingertips tracing the shape of him like it was a map—familiar, grounding, something real in a world that felt increasingly fading at the edges.
“But it’s been so long, Lo,” he whispered. “And it looks like it’s gonna be even longer.”
Logan didn’t flinch. He only tightened his arms around Adrian’s waist, steady, unwavering, like he was trying to hold the pieces together with nothing but touch and breath.
And then, in a voice so small it nearly disappeared—
“I keep waiting for you to go.”
Logan’s hand brushed softly against the back of Adrian’s neck, a gentle and rhythmic caress before his fingers glided upward, curling around the soft edge of the knit cap.
Adrian had three of these beloved caps. Logan got them for him as gifts from a special place where he had paid a handsome sum for their quality.
Adrian cherished them deeply, especially the gray one, which was his favorite.
“It reminds me of the color of your eyes,” Adrian had said, as if it were obvious.
Little did he know, those words made Logan’s heart skip a beat and the sky change color as he breathed them into existence.
“Why would I go?” Logan whispered, his breath warm against Adrian’s skin.
Adrian let out a bitter, hollow laugh. “Look at me,” he said, and Logan could feel the ache in every syllable. “I’m a joke compared to who I used to be. Stuck in this hospital, in this body that barely works. Why would you stay? That’s the real question. You have more reasons to go than to stay.”
Logan exhaled, a sound full of frustration and disbelief. “You are so damn stupid sometimes.”
Adrian flinched, not from the words, but from how gently they were said. And then Logan’s hand was on his cheek, reverent, slow, like he was touching something sacred. Not a body ravaged by sickness. Not a fading man. But Adrian.
“You’re my reason to stay,” Logan said, and his voice wasn’t soft now—it was raw, threaded with something fierce and unshakeable.
“You don’t get it, do you? I love you. Even when I’m gone, even when I’m buried in meetings or flying across the country, I’m counting the seconds until I can come back to you.
Because I have you to come back to. You are my home, Adrian.
You were my home ever since we met, and you always will be. ”
Adrian shuddered, unable to hold back the tears. Logan’s thumb slid across his cheek, warm and steady, and the look in his eyes—that look of undiluted love—shattered whatever defenses Adrian had left.
It was too much. Too much to be seen like this. Too much to be loved like this.
But it was real. And he held onto it.
“It’s like you don’t understand how much I need you,” Logan said, his voice fraying at the edges, his thumb catching a tear before it could fall. “How much I want you. If this—if this is what we have to go through to be together, then so be it.”
Adrian could only nod. He didn’t trust his voice.
Didn’t trust the flood behind it. But Logan wasn’t done.
He reached out, fingers curling under Adrian’s chin, lifting his face with a tenderness that made something in Adrian’s chest shatter.
Their eyes met—molten whisky and aching silver—and Logan’s voice broke as he whispered, “Tell me you didn’t mean it.
The part about not wanting the treatments.
Tell me you want them. Tell me they’re going to give us a future together. ”
His voice cracked on the last word, and Adrian saw it, saw the shimmer in Logan’s eyes, the tears clinging there, refusing to fall.
“A future with a house,” Logan whispered, barely breathing now.
“With kids. With surfing and sitting on the beach at night. With going to sleep together, waking up next to each other. Old and gray. Tell me.”
And Adrian let out a sound that barely escaped his throat—small, cracked, helpless—and nodded, another tear slipping down his cheek. “I want it,” he muttered, and his voice was nothing more than breath. “I want all of it.”
Logan exhaled and pressed his forehead to Adrian’s, their skin burning with shared heat, shared fear, shared everything. His hands trembled slightly as he cupped Adrian’s face, thumbs brushing against damp cheeks.
“Ad…” Logan breathed.
Adrian lifted one hand, weak but certain, and laid it flat against Logan’s chest, right over the heart that had carried him through the worst of this.
The beat was strong, steady, real. “Of course you’re my equal,” Logan murmured, as if it were the simplest truth in the world. “I love you so damn much, Adrian.”
Adrian swallowed, his throat thick, his eyes closing against the pressure behind them. “I love you too,” he said, his voice tender, small. And then, softer still—”You are the best thing in my life.”
Something in Logan’s face changed. A flicker of light, of breath, of release.
Adrian watched it happen—watched the weight lift from his shoulders, watched the shadows leave his eyes.
And for that moment, for that breath, Adrian understood exactly why he had said yes to the treatments.
Not for himself. For him. For Logan, who deserved all of it—life, love, a future.
Even if Adrian didn’t know how much of it he could give, he would give every second he had left.
So he pulled him closer. Pressed their foreheads together, then their lips. The kiss was slow. Gentle. Nothing frantic or desperate—just them. Soft and sure. The kind of kiss you fall into, not because you’re trying to fix anything, but because it’s the only way to be close.
“How are you feeling?” Logan whispered, his lips brushing over Adrian’s.
“Fine,” Adrian lied, and let his head fall against Logan’s shoulder, the weight of exhaustion tugging at his body again.
“Liar,” Logan murmured, pressing a kiss to his cheek. The words were playful, but soft, woven through with care, with knowing. He didn’t pull away.
Instead, Logan helped him shift toward the small half-couch tucked beside the bed.
Adrian’s limbs were heavy, muscles aching from the weight of standing too long in one emotional place.
But he didn’t want to let go of Logan. Not even for a second.
So when Logan sat beside him, Adrian curled into him instinctively, resting his head on Logan’s chest, letting the steady rise and fall anchor him.
Letting the warmth sink deep into his bones.
Then Logan reached out and plucked Adrian’s gray knit cap from his head. Before Adrian could protest, Logan tugged it over his own head, pulling it down until it hugged his curls snugly.
“How do I look?” Logan asked, lips twitching, trying for cocky but landing somewhere between adorable and utterly transparent.
Adrian just stared. “Sinfully hot,” he whispered, voice soft, gaze open in a way it hadn’t been in days. “It complements your eyes.”
Logan chuckled. His nose brushed Adrian’s cheek, followed by a kiss so sweet it made Adrian’s heart squeeze. “I’ve heard it before,” he muttered, trying to sound smug, but Adrian could hear the love beneath the teasing, the relief threading every word.
And for the first time in days, Adrian felt safe.
He leaned into Logan, his body finally relaxing, his breathing evening out.
Logan began to talk about his work, about deals he’d closed, people he’d met, boardroom politics, and stubborn executives and late-night hotel check-ins, and Adrian just listened.
Not to the words so much as the voice. That familiar, steady cadence.
That quiet strength. He let it wash over him like warm water.
His eyes were half-lidded now, his fingers curled lightly around Logan’s hand, not gripping—just resting. Anchoring. “You’re so damn smart,” Adrian murmured, a small smile playing on his lips. “It’s kind of unfair, really.”
Logan smirked, gently squeezing his hand. “Oh, I know.”