winterwolf0100

Logan gasped and let go, turning and bolting into the woods.

“Alright…” Logan said quietly, walking past him and opening the door. He began to walk out into the sun, then suddenly turned and yanked the man’s arm into the sun.

“No, I didn’t. That’s the front door, right?” He asked, pointing to the door behind the man.

Logan paused, then said, “Nothing. Just leaving.”

Logan froze, his fingers hovered over the book. He swirled around when he heard noise, like whoever this person-- if they even were that-- was coming back.

Logan watched him, waiting for him to leave before he stood and turned around. He wasn’t going to leave, not until he figured out what had actually happened. He looked ...

Logan said softly, “I’m sure I can find my way out.” Something was seriously wrong here, but he couldn’t figure out what he was missing.

Logan paused, then said carefully, “No, nothing wrong. I was just wondering.” He turned away, hoping to to avoid anything being shown on his face.

Logan’s eyes narrowed. Carry him? He hadn’t been injured enough to be carried. “You carried me?” He asked suspiciously.

Logan looked down at himself. Something felt like it was missing. Some piece of information.

Logan frowned. “You took me because I was injured?”

“Took me,” he repeated. “Why?”

Logan blinked, not so subtly moving away from him. “Who are you?”

Logan, after the first full night of sleep in weeks, is sat up on the couch trying to remember what happened. Where was he? How had he gotten here?

Logan nodded off to sleep.