Chapter 6 #9
Logan dragged his hand across the board, water dripping from his fingertips.
The ocean still thundered around him, but inside he was quiet, still, undone.
He did not know it then, but it was a truth that would find him in time: the sea was only the second greatest love of his life.
And soon, he would lose them both. He would be left dry upon a land that had forgotten its colors, standing beneath a sunless sky, a wanderer in a desert of his own making.
He would be surrounded by concrete and silence—silence heavy with words almost understood, syllables that brushed against meaning only to slip away, elusive as shadows in the dark.
The night had already settled in by the time they made it back to their little cabin. It looked the same; the air still carried the scent of sea and sunscreen. Their clothes were draped over a random chair, and there was another stack of clean clothes from when they had taken them to the laundry.
They dropped their bags by the door and leaned their boards against the window, still wet and streaked with salt, facing the ocean.
It had been a long day. Not exactly easy, Logan had spent it among people he didn’t know, catching fragments of stories that weren’t his, and watching Adrian’s ex hover nearby, always angling for his attention.
But even with that, it was a good day. The waves at Pacifico had been incredible.
They’d surfed until sunset and ate with the small crowd of surfers they met.
Things progressed smoothly despite just having met that morning, with shared laughter and beers circulating.
Numbers were exchanged, and casual plans were set.
Logan stepped into the cramped kitchenette, grabbed a cold beer from the fridge, and took a long swig. “Want one?” he asked Adrian.
“No, thanks,” Adrian replied absently, hunched over his phone, shoulders drawn tight as if to brace against some invisible current.
Logan’s mind still reeled from the afternoon’s undertow of unease—those moments when Itay’s hands skimmed over Adrian as lightly as foam over a breaking wave.
Now, Logan found himself with an odd, irrational fantasy: that Adrian might wash himself in scalding water until every trace of another man’s touch was carried away.
The memory clung to him like seaweed tangled around an ankle, impossible to shake loose.
Outside, the ocean breathed gently against the shore, its rhythm soft and steady like the heartbeat of the island.
But inside Logan, a storm was beginning to gather.
The quiet between them was fragile, hanging by a thread, until Adrian lifted his head and spoke.
His voice was soft, almost hesitant. “They’re going to some party tonight.
Supposed to be a decent club, good music. ”
The casual mention of ‘they’ twisted something in Logan’s gut.
He didn’t need to ask who, it was probably the same group as today.
He saw Adrian in that imagined darkness, moving to the music, sweat and strobe lights catching the curve of his neck and Itay right there next to him, his hands on Adrian’s body, trying to reclaim him.
He imagined the shared laughter echoing under the hum of low lights and bass.
The thought alone dimmed everything around him; the colors in the room seemed to fade, as if dusk had fallen too early, and the world had dulled to a grayscale hum.
Logan sat still, muscles tight beneath sunburned skin.
The day had been too much—too many people, too many voices, too many eyes on him that didn’t quite welcome.
While he’d smiled and made small talk, a part of him had remained just out of reach, floating somewhere beyond the circle.
He had planned to unwind tonight, to lie in the hush of evening beside Adrian and find peace in stillness, to go over their plans for tomorrow and the upcoming days, to get a nice dinner from a local place, and maybe walk around.
But now, the idea of another night surrounded by the same people made something inside him recoil.
The air felt heavier now. The pulse in Logan’s temples beat slow and deliberate, a steady thrum of frustration and ache.
“Will Itay be there?” Logan asked, trying to keep his voice level, though the syllables tasted of bitterness. Adrian lowered his gaze.
“I think he might.”
“So… you’re planning to spend the evening with your ex, basically?” Logan’s words were as hard as rocks near a break line.
“It’s not like that—” Adrian began, his tone gentle, uncertain.
“Don’t,” Logan said, stepping back, increasing the space in their tiny cabin as if he could carve out a cove of safety for himself.
“He was all over you today, clinging like a lost puppy, pleading for every drop of your attention.” Logan’s voice trembled with the strain of holding back something deeper—something he didn’t dare name.
He felt raw as an open wound and exposed as shoreline at low tide.
“You said,” Logan began, forcing himself to meet Adrian’s eyes. “You said you’d explain about him.”
“I did. But… I don’t have much time and I…
I don’t want to leave it hanging.” Adrian drew closer, trying to close the space that now felt wider than any ocean.
“Let’s just say for now, that we broke up for a reason, and I do not want him.
” Adrian’s words were firm, each one spoken with intention, hoping Logan would understand what he hadn’t fully voiced.
“Of course you’re going,” Logan said, a hollow smile on his face. “I am not going. Have fun.”
“Please come, we’ll have fun, I promise.
I will talk to Dean—” Adrian’s voice trembled slightly, as if he could sense quiet tension seeping into the spaces he’d begun to associate with safety and happiness, the ones that, now, could be referred to in short as “Logan.” “He’s just upset because, to him, I abandoned him for someone new.
And… I have been through so much with him, so he is hurt, he is hurt because I decided I would rather be alone than with him, and suddenly… here you are.”
“Sounds too co-dependent for just friendships,” Logan muttered.
“Logan… I am 25 years old and I have been to no less than 4 wars…” Adrian paused, as if tasting old memories. “And Dean and Tom have been with me through all of it. That is why we are close. And I have known Dean since I was a boy. To him, I abandon him for you.”
Adrian let the words settle. He knew Logan was stubborn, that once he made up his mind, it was as solid as a reef holding its ground against the tide.
Without another word, Adrian headed for the shower. When he finished, he returned to find Logan sitting in the same spot, staring into the darkness outside, the distant hush of waves coloring the silence.
“What will you be doing tonight?” Adrian asked softly, tugging jeans shorts from his duffel bag.
“Donno,” Logan murmured, voice distant.
Adrian sensed Logan’s anger like a tension in the air, but he didn’t push it.
He understood he couldn’t just ignore his old friends after such a long separation.
Meeting them here, so close, was a rare chance.
As he pulled on a black shirt, he caught Logan’s eyes flick toward him, reflecting confusion and something else Adrian couldn’t name.
“Lo, I must go,” Adrian said, his voice low, almost pleading. “I really have to go.”
“Got it,” Logan said, voice tight. He rose and slipped into the bathroom, turning on the water. The sound of it running over tile and porcelain filled the cabin, washing over the silence Adrian left behind.
Adrian laced up his shoes and tied back his long hair.
Stepping outside, he closed the cabin’s door gently, feeling the weight in his chest like heavy water pressing against his lungs.
Beyond the door, the night and the shoreline waited, unchanged, as he walked away with the surf’s quiet rhythm trailing behind him.
Logan pushed out of the cabin into the humid Philippine evening, fresh from the shower, sweat already beading again as he went looking for food and quiet.
He’d become accustomed to Adrian’s constant presence over the past month—waking up to his face every morning, sharing every meal, feeling the gentle warmth of his company at all times.
Now that Adrian was off somewhere else, with his ex of all people, Logan felt the absence like a hollow space that did not sit right with him.
After dinner, he found himself drawn to the shoreline.
The sky above was nearly colorless in the darkness, and the ocean moved steadily before him, its surface reflecting distant lights.
Logan sat at the edge of the water, cool foam washing over his toes, and tried to sort through the tangled feelings twisting inside his chest. Tried to sort through the feelings he had spent too long pretending not to understand.
For weeks, he had told himself this was friendship.
He had convinced himself that what he felt for Adrian was just the product of proximity, of long days and nights spent chasing waves and sharing quiet moments beneath the sun.
But he knew better now.
It had taken root in him, deeper than he had ever intended—reshaping him, changing the way he moved through the world.
Adrian was not just someone he cared about.
He was the gravity that anchored Logan, the presence he sought out in every moment, the breath he counted without even realizing.
It was terrifying how much he had come to need him.
And yet, Adrian had left him tonight.
Somewhere, in this very moment, Adrian was sitting in a dimly lit club, laughter spilling between drinks, voices low beneath the hum of music.
Somewhere, Adrian was with Itay.
Itay.