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user name: nick
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[extent]

It'd be better for you. It's not about me.

( it sort of is about nick, a lot of the time, and he's more acutely aware of that now than ever. and it's not like nick doesn't adore attention, but the kind he wants is the silly, frivolous, light-hearted stuff. not an aching heart and being held up again, because all that work he's tried to do to be better has gotten flushed down the toilet, again.

and it's not like people don't tell nick that they love him. he hears it a lot, just about daily these days, and that's one hell of a change from the life he's leading back home — from the one he was living six months ago, even. but nick has always felt--less sure, of whatever this situation is with logan. on the good days, it's just an undefined thing and that's all it needs to be. on the bad days, it's nick fighting to convince himself that it's not all one-sided, that the feelings there are mutual, that it's something tangible and not just misery compounded.

so it's significant, to say the least, that logan says it first. )

I'd rather it be hard and still have you. ( he shrugs minutely, like the casual gesture will throw some of the weight off the sentence, and tips his face in towards logan's. enough that he can feel his lips against the side of his face.

he remembers the conversation after his memories came bleeding back into focus, and being so embarrassed at the idea of admitting to having feelings. he's too tired to be embarrassed now, just closes his eyes as he leans in. ) I love you. I'm pretty sure I have for a while. I just...all this shit, you know. I don't want you to feel obligated to fix me, because we got tangled up together.

[snikthatch]

I know.

[ Whether that's a response to Nick's admission of feelings or his regret, he'll leave it up to him to decide, since it's really both. He murmurs the words against the curve of Nick's jaw, tucking his head a little to take a breath of his scent right over his pulse point. Wolfish, the ultimate gesture of trust, teeth against another's bared throat where the smallest movement could spell disaster.

Logan stays there for a second or two, cataloguing the sensory memory, then lifts his head again, fingers stroking the downy hair on the nape of Nick's neck. ]

I don't wanna fix you. I don't think I could. [ There's sympathy in his tone that undercuts the harshness of his words, the voice of long experience. ] But I can be there while you try. Or when it doesn't go so well. If you want me to be.