July 17, 2021—Seattle, Washington—Four Months Later #7
Logan didn’t answer. He just kissed him.
Deep and slow, holding Adrian’s face with one hand, cupping the back of his neck with the other.
It wasn’t rushed.
It wasn’t desperate.
It was them.
When they pulled apart, Logan rested his forehead against Adrian’s for a moment before sighing. “I’m going to get us something to drink and try to find Dr. Tierney. You rest for a while, okay? You look exhausted.”
Adrian gave a small nod, though Logan could still see the exhaustion dragging at his features, the way his body seemed too heavy even as he stood there, even as he smiled.
But he didn’t argue.
He just kissed Adrian’s fingers before letting him go.
And then Logan was gone.
Adrian eased back into bed, sinking into the mattress and trying to relax despite the persistent, dull pain deep within his bones.
His head pulsated with a throbbing ache.
His stomach churned uncomfortably in that familiar, subtle way that never quite led to vomiting but remained constant.
Every movement felt heavier, with his limbs weak and uncooperative.
None of it was new. He closed his eyes, feeling exhausted and vaguely unwell in that all-encompassing manner—an unnameable sensation, while the sterile smell of antiseptic and clean linen filled the room. He allowed himself to drift into sleep.
Then, the door creaked open.
A smile flickered across his lips. That must be Logan, he thought to himself. Maybe he forgot his jacket, or he wanted to speak to me about something Dr. Tierney mentioned.
But the air shifted.
The presence in the doorway was different. He felt it before he saw it.
Adrian lifted his gaze, and the smile vanished.
A stranger stood before him, tall and commanding, dark eyes holding something unreadable—something Adrian couldn’t name but felt immediately in his chest. His hair, jet black, was slicked back, save for a few rebellious strands that fell over his forehead, blending with the dark stubble lining his jaw.
His face was a perfect study of sharp angles and smooth arrogance, but there was something softer in his expression, something that made the air feel heavier.
The man tilted his head, a smirk curling his lips, but his eyes seemed insightful as they gazed upon Adrian. “Adrian?” The voice was smooth, even, yet laced with something restrained—curiosity, maybe. Or something else.
Adrian’s stomach twisted.
“Yeah.” His voice came out quieter than he intended.
The man stepped forward, his presence stretching into the space between them.
“I’m Zack.”
The name landed like a quiet explosion in Adrian’s chest.
The ‘Zack.’
The ghost that had lingered between him and Logan, the man who had filled the void Adrian left behind, the one who had touched Logan when he could not, held him when Adrian had become nothing but a painful memory.
Something dark curled in his gut.
Adrian sat up slowly, ignoring the ache in his limbs, straightening as Zack’s eyes raked over him, not cruelly, not possessively, but assessing.
And fuck.
Zack was hot. Unfairly so.
He exuded a kind of effortless sensuality, like someone who knew exactly what to say, how to move, how to make the world tilt in his favor. He was built strong, broad-shouldered, like he could carry the weight of the world on his back and still walk with that quiet, unshaken confidence.
This was the man Logan had turned to.
And now, he was standing in front of Adrian, watching him, measuring him.
The air between them felt electric—charged with something undefined.
Adrian swallowed, forcing himself to push past the sudden, unwelcome awareness in his chest. He shouldn’t be thinking about how the dim hospital light cast soft shadows on Zack’s face, or how the loose strands of his hair made him look like he’d just stepped out of a storm.
No.
This was Logan’s ghost.
Adrian clenched his jaw, pushing past the exhaustion, the wariness, the sickness that looped around his ribs like a snake.
He was dying.
He could feel it, creeping in slowly, curling its fingers around his breath, his energy, his strength.
The chemotherapy had stolen so much already—his hair, his appetite, the weight he had once carried effortlessly.
The poison ran through his veins like fire, burning away the sickness, but also burning away him.
He had spent months drifting between pain and hope, between defiance and despair. Some days, he felt strong enough to fight. Other days, the thought of surrender felt like a quiet mercy.
But Logan... Logan made it impossible to let go.
And now, Zack was here.
Adrian took a slow breath, leveling his gaze.
“I… hah.” Zack exhaled sharply. He shifted his weight, his dark eyes flickering with something Adrian couldn’t quite place. “Logan told me about you… about the cancer. You already know that. I just—” He hesitated, rubbing his shoulder. “I wanted to check how you’re feeling.”
Adrian studied him, the way he took a small step backward, as if unsure whether to stay or go.
“Fine, I guess.” He shrugged, forcing the words out, though they felt hollow. His gaze lingered on Zack for a second too long before he pulled it away. It was too hard—too painful—seeing him and knowing that Logan had chosen this man when he left.
Zack let out a quiet breath, a smirk curling the corner of his mouth, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I figure Logan must’ve mentioned me, based on how you haven’t even asked who the hell I am.” He bit the inside of his cheek, watching Adrian with careful precision.
“He did.” Adrian nodded, his voice calm, but there was a storm beneath the surface.
Silence stretched between them, thin and fragile.
“So…” Zack cleared his throat. “How are you, really? Are you going to be okay?”
Adrian swallowed. He had expected the question. What he hadn’t expected was the concern in Zack’s voice. It softened the edges of something sharp inside him.
“I’m not sure,” Adrian confessed. The truth tasted strange on his tongue, unfamiliar. He wanted to ask Zack if he was here to check how long Logan would be tied to him, but something in Zack’s face made him stop. There was no jealousy, no hidden motive, just quiet, steady worry.
Zack’s expression faltered. His face dropped.
“How’s he dealing with it?” Zack asked, his voice softer now, almost fragile.
“Better than me.” Adrian tried to smile, but it barely made it past his lips. “Logan will be back soon.”
The silence between them thickened, pressing into the room like a held breath.
Adrian let out a slow exhale. “You’re worried about him, aren’t you?”
Zack nodded, his jaw tensing. “When he told me last night, I started feeling—” He stopped, looking away for a moment before turning back, his eyes darker than before. “I was terrified. That’s why I’m here. I needed to see how you’re doing.”
Adrian frowned slightly, but Zack continued before he could respond.
“I saw him without you, Adrian. And it wasn’t just hard—it was unbearable.” Zack’s voice was raw now, stripped of the cool detachment he had carried before. He leaned against the wall, exhaling like he was trying to steady himself.
“He drank.” Zack shook his head, staring at the floor for a second before looking up again. “A lot. More than I could keep track of. I don’t know if he ever told you, but… he was just… gone. Checked out. He wasn’t living. He wasn’t even surviving.”
Adrian’s breath hitched.
He had known Logan suffered. He had known Logan was broken. But hearing it from Zack, from someone who had witnessed Logan when Adrian couldn’t… it made the reality of it insufferable.
“He’ll be fine,” Adrian murmured, though the words barely held weight. They sounded weak even to his own ears. More for himself than for Zack. “Logan… he knows it’s a possibility.”
Zack remained silent for a moment, simply staring with an unreadable expression.
But Adrian knew what he was thinking.
Zack didn’t believe him.
Because Logan wouldn’t be fine.
And in truth, neither would Adrian if the roles were reversed.
The atmosphere between them had taken a more delicate and tentative shape.
The bitterness, silent rivalry, and envy seemed to dissolve, leaving a space filled with muted vulnerability.
They were just two men standing in the wreckage of Logan’s heart, both holding pieces of him, neither knowing what to do with them.
Finally, Adrian spoke. “Thank you, Zack.”
Zack’s dark brows furrowed slightly. “For what?”
Adrian let out a breath, a small, tired smile breaking through the weight of everything. “For sending him to me.”
Zack blinked, as if the words caught him off guard.
“If it weren’t for you, Logan wouldn’t have come.
” Adrian’s voice was quieter now, tinged with something almost like reverence.
“I needed him. I have needed him for so long. And I think, on some level, I was always waiting—praying—for him to come back.” He met Zack’s gaze, holding it with a sincerity that made his own chest ache. “You granted me my biggest wish.”
For a long time, Zack didn’t move, didn’t speak.
“No problem,” Zack finally murmured, but his smirk, usually laced with arrogance, was different this time, softer, touched with sadness.
Then, the door creaked open.
Logan stepped in, the scent of coffee and the crinkling sound of crisp paper bags trailing behind him. In one hand, he carried a large brown bag, in the other, a cardboard tray with two steaming cups. He stopped dead in his tracks.
His eyes flickered from Adrian to Zack, and the air in the room shifted.
Logan swallowed. His heart pounded.
“Zack?” Logan’s voice wavered slightly. “Hey. What are you doing here?” He felt his face grow hot, an involuntary blush creeping up his neck as he glanced between Adrian and Zack, his stomach twisting.
Zack stuffed his hands into his jeans pocket, his fingers moving restlessly, fumbling with something unseen. Then, as if shaking himself out of it, he let out a breath and spoke.