(no subject)
There was no reason for the mood Logan was in. No event leading up to it or shocking revelation. Nothing exceptionally bad or good had happened to effect his mood or stir up memories or emotions. Nothing. He'd just been thinking about things too much again, letting stupid memories claw at him until he felt sick. The journal worked and all, but the after effects sort of sucked. Writing meant remembering, and remembering brought nothing but pain and anger and... a million other feelings that he just really didn't want to deal with.
It was late, but he'd headed to the compound anyway, taking the longest shower he could bare to take under scalding hot water, and then dressed himself in clean clothes. Apparently even the clothes box felt bad enough for him to not give him shit, offering up a pair of light denim shorts and a plain white shirt.
Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, he stared at himself, eyes focusing on his nose. He'd broken it... or rather his father had broken it for him when he was young, seven or so, and though the plastic surgeon had done a pretty decent job, Logan could still see the difference. Moving closer, he ran his finger over the bridge, wincing at the memory of pain. It was stupid to dwell on something that had happened so long ago, he knew it was, but sometimes it was hard to let go.
(He was nagging me with his emo angst, and I figured I best let him get it out his system before he starts proposing to people and raving on about dinosaurs again... Open to all, though I really wouldn't blame you for not wanting to deal with the angst. Late tags welcome as I know it's late.)
It was late, but he'd headed to the compound anyway, taking the longest shower he could bare to take under scalding hot water, and then dressed himself in clean clothes. Apparently even the clothes box felt bad enough for him to not give him shit, offering up a pair of light denim shorts and a plain white shirt.
Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, he stared at himself, eyes focusing on his nose. He'd broken it... or rather his father had broken it for him when he was young, seven or so, and though the plastic surgeon had done a pretty decent job, Logan could still see the difference. Moving closer, he ran his finger over the bridge, wincing at the memory of pain. It was stupid to dwell on something that had happened so long ago, he knew it was, but sometimes it was hard to let go.
(He was nagging me with his emo angst, and I figured I best let him get it out his system before he starts proposing to people and raving on about dinosaurs again... Open to all, though I really wouldn't blame you for not wanting to deal with the angst. Late tags welcome as I know it's late.)