November 10, 2020—Seattle, Washington—Two Years Later #3
When it was over, Logan collapsed into the mattress, his breath ragged, his mind still miles away. Zack’s voice broke through, soft and teasing, but Logan didn’t hear it, didn’t process the words. He was staring at the ceiling, his heart pounding, his body spent, yet he felt hollow, untethered.
They lay side by side, their bodies slick with sweat and their breathing uneven, Zack turned to him. “Logan, stay,” he said softly, his eyes locked onto Logan’s silver gaze.
“I can’t—” Logan began, but Zack interrupted him.
“Come on. You look wrecked. You need sleep, man. I’ll wake you in a couple of hours, I promise.” His hand brushed against Logan’s, a gesture as simple as it was firm. Without waiting for an answer, Zack reached over and flicked off the light, deciding for both of them.
Logan lay there, staring at the darkness, his mind fighting to resist the quiet that crept in. But his body betrayed him, and his eyes closed despite himself. Just for a little while, he told himself. Just for now.
When Logan opened his eyes, the faint light of dawn painted the room in muted hues of gray and gold.
Zack was sitting at the edge of the bed, freshly showered, his damp hair curling slightly at the edges, dressed in a clean T-shirt and jeans.
He looked at Logan with a quiet smile, his easy confidence softening as the morning light brushed against him.
Logan rubbed his eyes, his limbs heavy with the weight of interrupted sleep. He stretched, offering Zack a lopsided, groggy smile. “Morning?”
“Yup. Kind of,” Zack said, checking the time on his phone. “It’s 7 a.m. Just finished cleaning the bar,” he added with a playful wink. “Totally worth it.”
Logan huffed a small laugh and shook his head. “So, you’re going to sleep while I go to work? Great.”
“Like always,” Zack teased, smirking. For a moment, they sat in a companionable silence, the weight of the day not yet pressing on them. Then Zack’s expression shifted, softening as his voice dipped lower. “Happy birthday, Logan.”
The words struck Logan like a low, dull ache in his chest. Right. The twelfth. He sighed deeply, the date settling heavily over him like a shroud.
“Thanks,” he murmured, his voice flat. “How’d you know?”
“When you’re drunk, you get really chatty,” Zack replied, grinning, clearly pleased with himself.
Logan flushed slightly, shaking his head at the thought.
But his mind was already drifting elsewhere.
Instinctively, his gaze fell to his wrist, searching for the familiar weight, the thin thread and charm of his lifesaver bracelet.
It was an unconscious ritual, one he’d performed a thousand times, especially on days like today…
days when he needed grounding, when the ache of memory throbbed louder than usual.
But it wasn’t there.
Logan froze, his breath catching sharply in his throat. His wrist was bare. The discolored band of skin where the bracelet had sat for years stared back at him, stark and unforgiving. A scar of absence.
He stared at it for several long, still seconds, his mind refusing to catch up, his body going cold.
Then the panic came—flooding him like a rising tide, crashing into every corner of his being.
He bolted upright, nearly tripping over himself as he stumbled out of bed, his movements frantic and jerky.
“Where is it?” The words barely escaped his lips, rasping and thin as he tore through the room, grabbing at his clothes, his hands shaking so violently he couldn’t focus.
He flipped through pockets, tossed shirts and jeans to the floor, scattering them without thought.
He ripped the blanket off the bed, shaking it loose, his breath coming in shallow gasps. The bracelet wasn’t there.
Adrian.
Logan could see him, as clear as if it had just happened.
Adrian, standing on the shore, his face lined with fear, his eyes wild, his hands trembling as they pulled Logan from the waves.
The taste of saltwater still burned in Logan’s throat, the sting of the sea clinging to his skin, but it was Adrian who breathed life into him again, who coaxed his heart to beat and his lungs to expand.
Adrian’s voice rang in his ears, steady yet tinged with panic, calling him back from the brink, saying words in a language Logan did not know.
And then, that moment—the moment—when Adrian’s hands trembled for an entirely different reason.
When he untied the thin, weathered bracelet from his wrist, the charm dangling between his fingers.
Adrian had laid the bracelet on the sand between Logan’s knees, his hands shaky with nerves, his expression raw, unguarded.
Logan had picked it up, clumsy fingers fumbling around the fragile thread, and looked up in confusion.
But Adrian’s gaze held him captive, his eyes carrying a quiet certainty that felt older than the storm that had brought them together.
From the first glance, Adrian had known.
The storm had called them to the depths, introducing their fates, and the ocean, merciful for once, had granted them both a second chance to see the shore.
The bracelet had been a mark of that promise; a silent vow Adrian couldn’t yet put into words.
It was the most sacred thing he owned, tied to the memory of a mother who had loved the sea, a mother who had passed her hope and protection onto her son.
And Adrian, with the reckless generosity of someone who already loved, had given it to Logan.
To guard him. To remind him of the life he had been spared.
The memory tightened around Logan’s neck now, suffocating him, leaving him drowning once more, but this time, there was no hand pulling him back to shore.
His wrist was bare, and the loss felt unbearable, like the flow had swept away not just the bracelet but Adrian himself—his voice, his touch, his quiet courage.
Logan stumbled, his breath hitching in his throat, his body trembling as he clutched the air where the bracelet should have been.
The charm, the thread, the silent promise, it was gone.
And with it, it felt like everything that had ever tethered him to who he truly was had been stripped away, leaving only an empty shell, adrift in a sea of his own making.
Logan’s knees buckled slightly, but he caught himself on the edge of the bed, his hands clutching at the sheets as though they might give him answers. His chest heaved, the edges of the room blurring as tears pricked his eyes.
“Lo, Lo!” Zack’s voice broke through the chaos, sharp and concerned. He was standing now, watching Logan with wide, wary eyes.
Logan snapped his gaze up to meet Zack’s, and Zack recoiled slightly at the feral look in his eyes.
Logan’s face was pale, his expression wild, manic.
His body trembled as he clutched a crumpled shirt in one hand, his knuckles white with the effort.
“Where?” he demanded, his voice cracking.
The word wasn’t a question; it was a plea, raw and jagged. “Where is it?”
“Logan—” Zack tried, stepping forward cautiously, his hands up like he was trying to calm a wild animal.
“Where?!” Logan shouted, his voice shattering in the stillness of the morning. He looked unhinged, a man unraveling thread by thread, the desperation pouring out of him in waves. His fingers dug into the fabric in his hands, his grip so tight it seemed as if letting go might shatter him completely.
“Where?!” Logan roared, his voice splitting the fragile stillness of the early morning, a sound torn from somewhere deep within him. “Where is the bracelet, Zack? Did you take it off? Because I sure as hell didn’t take it off myself!”
His movements were frantic, uncoordinated, as he rifled through his pants pockets before tossing them to the floor in frustration.
He snatched his suit jacket next, his hands trembling so violently that the fabric slipped from his grip.
His mind was a storm, circling one word, one name, over and over: Adrian.
His heart ached, screamed for the man he had loved with everything he had. Please. Please. Please.
“I just cleaned the bar, I think I saw it when I swept the floor, but I didn’t think much of it, so I threw it…
” Zack’s voice was hesitant, stumbling over the confession.
He reached for something on the counter, fumbling for an olive branch.
“I’m sorry, but hey, I got you a present.
” He held up a bracelet, its thread a similar style but with a charm shaped like an anchor. “I thought you’d like—”
“You threw it?!” Logan bellowed, cutting Zack off.
His voice cracked under the weight of his fury and disbelief.
“How dare you! It must’ve fallen, and I didn’t notice, and you—you—you—you just threw it away?
!” Logan was shaking, wheezing, his breath a distant memory as he struggled to utter words that sounded like desperate gasps from a dying man.
Saliva betrayed him, spilling from his trembling lips as he tried to form the fragile sounds.
Meanwhile, his heart hammered fiercely within his chest, as if on the brink of surrender to the ever-present waves crashing through his mind.
His anger transcended mere frustration; it morphed into a maelstrom of desperation, grief, and guilt, intricately woven into a tangled knot that he could no longer contain.
He could sense the delicate thread of his sanity stretching ever thinner, teetering on the brink of breaking.
I lost Adrian’s bracelet. The thought echoed through his mind like a haunting mantra, intensifying with each repetition.
I lost it because I was too busy having sex with another man.