Chapter Text
“Now explain to me again about this ‘natural talent?’” Percy questioned as they all settled at a table. They had decided to go to the nearby country club for dinner: it was large, doubled as a weird rich hangout, but it was supposed to have some good food, with a nice eating area.
“I told you, not natural,” Finn retorted, rolling his eyes, “My grandparents lived next to a track up in Maine. Me and Alex would race all the time when we were up there for the summers.”
Focus, focus, focus, Finn’s mind screamed at him as Percy kept talking. God, Finn couldn’t stop thinking about Logan, his mouth, his hands, the fire in his lips. It didn’t help that Logan was now pressed up against him in the tight booth.
A waitress came up to get their drinks, and soon the conversation moved on from the racing. Finn could feel Logan beside him, reaching his hands up constantly to mess with his hat. It drove Finn wild, but he kept his eyes anywhere but Logan. He couldn’t look.
Something, something, simmered inside of him; he couldn't name what, though. It got stronger every time Logan elbowed him, or threw his hand around his shoulder, or simply acted like everything was normal. Like Finn couldn’t still feel Logan’s hand in his hair and his teeth and tongue. It hurt, this game of pretend they were both playing.
Finn realized he was completely zoned out. He risked a glance beside him to see Logan looking up, talking to someone with a smile. It was muffled, Finn couldn’t hear a thing. He chewed on his lip, worrying. Someone set something in front of him, and Logan nudged Finn, pointing towards the front of the table. That’s when the ringing started.
It was like it had been that day he got his concussion: silence, and then loud screeching bouncing off his skull. Finn gave his order through gritted teeth forcing a tight smile up at the waiter. When she left, Finn pressed his fingers to his temples, trying to rub away the sound.
Finn felt Logan stiffen beside him. Fuck, Finn may be able to hide it from most people, but not Logan. Finn pressed his eyes closed tightly, shaking his head in a second attempt to get rid of the sound. Finn felt eyes on him, then a warm hand between his shoulder blades. He tensed suddenly and the hand pulled away.
“Mon Rouge, are you-” Logan’s voice cut through the ringing.
The simmering reached its boiling point. Finn’s eyes snapped open, shooting up to meet Logan’s eyes. They widened, brows still furrowed in concern. “Can I talk to you for a minute, Tremz?” Finn regretted his words the minute he said them. It had come out harsh and clipped.
“Ouais,” Logan breathed, and Finn was stepping out of the booth, walking too fast towards an entryway that led further into the club. He didn’t look back to see if Logan was following him. He weaved his way through the tables, and heard Logan shout something to the rest of the boys. Finn took a sharp left into the entryway, turning into some dimly lit hallway. He sped down it, like he was trying to out race the high pitched sound in his head. He saw a staircase and practically ran up it.
“Finn! Where are you going?” Logan whisper-yelled harshly behind him.
They entered another hallway. Finn didn’t answer Logan, instead stopping suddenly and pushing open a random door. It was dark, only a fraction of blue light coming from the window. Finn could make out the shape of a table in the middle of the room, then sticks hanging on the wall next to rows after rows of books. Billiards, Finn noted through the ringing. He’d led them to an old billiards room.
Finn was breathing hard as clutched the sharp edge of the table to steady the violently spinning world. Someone stepped into the room with him, shutting the door.
“Lock it,” Finn hissed, staring down hard at the dark felt of the table.
“Quoi?” Logan responded.
“I said lock it, Ten!” Finn’s voice raised, pushing out of his chest with more force than Finn had meant.
There was a click as the lock turned and the bolt slid into place. Pain flared in the base of his skull, making Finn bite down on his tongue until the coppery taste of blood filled his mouth. Heat burned on his lips, the same place Logan had kissed.
“What’s going on, Harz?” Logan pressed, “Did you hit your head while driving? You-”
“Why are you not acknowledging it?” Finn cut him off, finally spinning to face him fully. There was anger in his voice, and Finn realized that’s what the feeling was. A boiling rage burning in his chest.
Logan was bathed in blue, green eyes turning cerulean in the light, and he was breathing hard, chest rising and falling quickly. He stood like a burning pyre on the other side of the room, blazing and blinding in front of Finn. It was beautiful and horrifyingly deadly.
But they were so far apart, feet stretching miles between them. A thought crossed Finn’s mind as he watched Logan’s face morph from worry to confusion, then to realization, dread, then worst of all to fear. Maybe they had to be separate, a stormy sea could never touch a forest fire for both to survive.
“Reconnaître quoi?” Logan whispered.
“I DON’T SPEAK FUCKING FRENCH, LOGAN!” Finn cried, tears starting to pinprick the backs of his eyes.
“Acknowledge what?” Logan asked, breaking his gaze from Finn.
It crushed Finn. The words ripped through his soul, tearing his heart to shreds. The boiling ocean inside him raged violently, and pain spiked through his head. The ringing worsened, as if it too were trying to drown out the words.
“YOU-” He began, but stopped. Finn’s mouth worked, trying to find words to describe it. Instead, he took a deep breath, trying to keep his voice under control, but it still came out strained, “won’t even admit it? Twice, Tremz. In the car you- and now you act like-” pain flared again, “like nothing happened?” Finn leaned back against the table, finding his legs unable to hold him.
Then silence. And, God, that was even worse. It let everything catch up: the sinking weight in his gut, the lack of air in his lungs, the screech in his ears, and mostly the pounding pain in the back of his head. He wanted to curl in on himself just to make it stop.
Finn pressed his hands to his temples again, closing his eyes to block out the world. “Shit, Lo,” He breathed, everything but pain dissipating from his voice.
Suddenly there was a calloused hand on his, and warm breath fanning across his lips. Finn tensed, but kept his eyes shut tight. If he looked, it might not be real. Finn needed this to be real.
Burning lips pressed gently, hesitantly, against Finn’s. It was like a fire had been lit deep within his chest, a match striking and lighting bright and hot. Brighter and brighter it burned every second, coursing through his veins making his blood sing Logan. Warmth radiated through Finn, pushing out everything, every ounce of pain, every ringing screech, every trace of fear. It made Finn shiver, goosebumps rising on his arms. He needed to touch, he needed to feel, he needed-
The heat disappeared, and cold came crashing back into Finn. He snapped his eyes open to see Logan stepping back, head down. No. Absolutely not. Finn needed more.
“I-” Logan started.
“What is it you French people say? Nom?” Finn asked, not letting Logan say a word.
Logan looked up in confusion, “Non?”
“Non.” Finn said forcefully, then surged forward off the table and crashed their mouths together. Logan gasped a little underneath him, but his hands went up around Finn’s neck, winding their way into Finn’s hair. This time it wasn’t a small flame, but a cascading blaze that scorched every inch of him, setting his nerves alight.
Finn’s arms wrapped desperately around Logan’s waist, pulling him closer. His mouth moved frantically against Logan’s, pushing until he was almost leaning over him. Logan made a noise deep in his throat as Finn nipped at his bottom lip, then opened his mouth for Finn’s tongue to slip inside carefully.
Finn’s chest started to burn, and he pulled away for a moment, pressing their foreheads together and breathing hard. Logan pressed tighter, like when they scored in the rink.
“Logan, fuck,” Finn groaned, then pressed their lips back together again. It was addicting, the way Logan felt under him. His waist, the corded muscle that shifted and went pliant under his grip. His smell, the dark cologne mingling with sweat and something Finn could only describe as Logan. His hands, tangled in Finn’s hair and pulling, making blood roar in his ears. His lips, the way they locked onto his, sending heat through Finn.
Logan made another noise that short circuited Finn’s brain, then broke away. Finn chased his mouth until Logan ducked and attached to Finn’s neck. One of Finn’s hands came up to push Logan closer between his shoulder blades. Finn’s knees threatened to give out again as Logan’s teeth scraped Finn’s skin, so he just held on tighter, feeling Logan’s hands tighten, too.
It was just the two of them in the middle of the room. Leaning onto each other with nothing else for support. Holding onto each other like the world was about to end. There was no wall to rely on, no alcohol to blame it on, not like the first time. This was just them. They couldn’t pretend, not anymore, that this was an accident, a fluke, a mistake.
Logan pulled back and Finn kissed him again, softer this time. They stayed like that: mouths pressed together and fitted against one another. The room was dark, but felt like it was filled with light. Like Logan was burning bright enough to single handedly push out the darkness. Finn loved that light, that fire.
He loved how it made him feel. He loved how Logan made him feel. Finn loved Logan, all of him. He had since the minute they met. He would love him in any life, under any circumstances. Finn thought while moving softly against Logan’s mouth, hope glaring in his chest, that maybe Logan loved him, too.
Forest fire and stormy sea, a cruel part of Finn’s mind echoed, and then Logan was stepping away. It had to end, Finn knew, but not yet, so Finn chased him, pressing one last tight kiss to his mouth.
All the heat from Logan’s body disappeared except where it burned on his lips. When Finn pulled back one last time, opening his eyes finally to see Logan, it was bone chillingly cold and darkness swallowed everything but Logan.
Logan was breathing hard in front of him, and Finn could feel his own heart beat rapidly. Logan’s cheeks were red, his mouth was glistening and kiss swollen. His expression was guarded again, they way they had been all night since the car. It broke Finn’s heart.
They were tantalizingly close, so much so that if Finn were to just lean down again, it wouldn’t be over. One of his hands was still on Logan’s waist until he drew it away. Logan caught his hand before it was even fully off. Finn desperately needed to look away, but he couldn’t tear his gaze from Logan’s blazing eyes.
Logan swallowed, bringing one hand up to rest on Finn’s cheek. His long fingers brushed the skin of his jaw. Finn’s breath caught.
“Because we can’t,” Logan answered, hopelessness evident in his voice.
Finn closed his eyes, then nodded. He pulled his hand away from Logan’s and pushed his other hand off Finn’s face.
Finally, he stepped back fully into the darkness, and pushed past Logan to cross the room to the door. He slid the bolt and cracked the door open. Finn would have left, but he had to see him one last time, when they could not pretend for one more second. So instead he glanced back over his shoulder.
Logan hadn’t taken a step, just turned to watch Finn go. Standing like a burning pyre, so far away, and still not far enough. It took all of Finn’s willpower to slip past the door into the hallway and leave Logan standing alone in the room.