#people are more understanding if you are a shakey little doe of a teenage girl

[edith-is-a-cat]

im scared every time we go eat at my job cause my boss had things to say to my parents and i dont know if i had gotten better or not i have no idea if i changed from being a sucky teenager to a less sucky teenager and i wonder if i had done anything wrong aaaaaa but the food is really good and i want a barbacoa quesadilla and but augh

[toxiclovergirl]

Cruel World

*after being with Coriolanus for almost 8 years, you thought the trauma from the hunger games would go away but it never did*

i was 16 when i was chosen to fight in the Hunger Games. i was just a little girl, against an arena of teenagers bigger than me who wanted to kill me. i couldn’t comprehend the fact that it was my destiny to fight in the games. all until I met Coriolanus. 

Coryo was chosen as my mentor, i didn’t really understand what that meant until he explained it to me in full detail. he was going to help me win the games, and he had so much courage that he was positive i could win. i was just a small girl, not a very intimidating one, but i sure was fast. 

“wear something red, so we can match. i’m sure Tigris can find you something,” Coriolanus says to me as i rip through our closet which we share. tonight we have a gala, nothing that i am involved with, but i have to go anyways. 

“hmmm okay,” i stare at every dress that is hanging from the rack, i’m not very partial to red anymore, so there is nothing. i could just have Tigris pick me up something from the dress store down the street? i look over to Coriolanus as he tries on different button up tops in his mirror, even though we all know he’s going to pick the same white one he always does. 

i walk over to the dresser that stands in the open closet, clothing i rarely wear is kept in here. i’m not one to throw things away, especially clothes i know that i could pass down to someone. it is the district in me that never throws anything away. 

dresses and skirts i wore after the games fill these drawers, clothes i thought suited me but didn’t at all. 

i get to the bottom of the drawer and my heart sinks to the bottom of my stomach when i realize what it is. the dress i wore to the reaping, the same dress i was forced to wear during the games since they didn’t want to give me another change of clothes. i pull it out and hold it in my hands which begin to shake, just at the mere thought of being in that arena again. 

the once crimson color looks more like burgundy from the stained dirt and blood that was covered in it. i forgot that i even put it in there. 

“is that what you’re wearing?” Coryo asks me. 

does he not remember? he was with me for the entirety of the games, how can’t he remember this is what i was wearing? i remember the side his hair was parted to and the color of his socks. Coriolanus was all i could focus on during that time. 

“n-no,” i silently begin to cry, thinking about my young self, fending for herself to stay alive, all while people watched for their entertainment. 

“where is Tigris?” i ask him, my voice shakey. 

“she must be at her studio, is everything alright?” 

“yes, i just need to see her,”

“the gala is in two hours, how will you have enough time to get ready?” my back still faces him but his worried voice comes closer to where i stand. 

“darling is everything okay?” his hand rests at the bottom of my back, while his head rests at the crook of my neck to kiss it gently. 

“yes, just emotional is all,” i tell him honestly without telling him exactly why. i think if i say how i’m truly feeling out loud i won’t be able to pull myself together for the gala. 

“do you want me to call Tigris? she can drop off a dress for you,” his large hands begin to rub my back, as his hot breath lingers next to my cheek. 

“yes… please. i have nothing to wear,” i drop the dress i was holding back into the drawer, my hands still shaking. 

Coryo pauses behind me, not speaking, but just breathing against me. 

“is that the dress you wore? in the games?” he walks to the side of me to hold the dress and observe it. 

all i can do is nod my head as i watch him hold it out in front of him. 

“Jesus, no wonder you’re upset my darling, i’m so sorry. i didn’t realize what it was until now,” he gently sets it back down before he’s engulfing his long arms around my entire body. i continue to cry into his chest, probably destroying his shirt with my tears, but i don’t think he cares. 

“why don’t we stay here tonight?”

“what? no no Coryo this is important for you, we need to go,” i say with my cheek flat against his chest. 

“y/n i am the president of Panem, i can do anything i want. and i’d rather stay home with you. why don’t we have some dinner and wine?” he backs up from me to watch my face. 

“are you sure?”

“yes, i am sure,” 

[purplebenjy]

2005-Part 1

“I’m not going to know how to talk to them.”

He’s pacing in front of the couch, Darling following his every turn. Benjy’s been muttering to himself on and off in Gujarti for the past ten minutes or so, meaning Cass could still continue to read whatever incredibly thick and dense book he was reading. It was supposedly fiction, and not assigned reading and therefore ‘for fun’ and Benjy didn’t understand how he was able to fit that in on top of grad school work, nor what the hell the story was supposed to be about even though Cass had patiently explained it at least three times.

Saying something in English, however, gains his boyfriend’s attention. Benjy hears the book thud close but he doesn’t stop moving.

“I’m not gonna go.”

“You are gonna go. You’ve been talking about this and been so excited for the past two weeks.”

Benjy stops to face Cass, taking a moment to let himself admire the view. His hair was short enough that it was curling around his forehead and over the tops of his ears-he needed a hair cut, but he was letting it go back to his natural color, which Benjy loved almost as much as he loved Cass. His newly acquired wire glasses were perched on the end of his nose and they magnified his eyes-Benjy could see the little crease when he smiled. He was wearing a white and blue striped shirt that Benjy had bought him cause he thought it made him look like a pirate with black jeans. He’d painted his nails yellow the night before, but, as usual, all Benjy can do is stare at his lip piercing.

“Benj.”

He looks into his boyfriend’s eyes and sighs.

“Don’t give me that sexy professor look, you know it works on me.”

Cass raises his eyebrows at him.

“The disappointed ‘I can’t believe you’re joking about that’ look works on me too, Cassie.”

“You’re deflecting.”

Benjy whines closes the short distance to the couch, replacing the book with himself on Cass’s lap.

“Maybe.”

“Not maybe.”

He presses his face into the front of Cass’s shoulder and sighs.

“What if they don’t like me?”

“Wanna try that again and look at me? Perhaps looking at me and not muffled?”

“No.”

“Benj.”

“Don’t Benj me.” He says, sitting up and tracing the shell of his ear.

“It worked.”

“Didn’t.”

Cass catches his hand and pulls Benjy into a kiss. He feels himself relax against Cass’s touch, letting out a sigh.

“What if they don’t like me?”

Cass smiles at him softly.

“I don’t think that’s humanly possible.”

“I’m being serious.”

Cass shifts on the beanbag, causing them both to sink in more.

“I am too. Speaking as a former teen admitted against his will in a psych ward, I would’ve liked you.”

Benjy smiles. He’d been feeling stuck the past couple of months since graduation-the agents who had shown interest in his work at his showcase hadn’t had time to meet with him yet-though he had a few voicemails insisting they’d make some time for him in the next couple of months. He’d vented about it at group, talked about how he was trying not to be so hard on himself and not let this be any sort of ‘proof’ to what Forest had said about Benjy not being able to find success on his own. Bernie, their facilitator, had pulled him aside after to tell him about the art therapy volunteer program at the same hospital that ran their program. After a background check that was shockingly clean, he was all set up to teach patients painting skills, giving them something to do while in recovery, a positive outlet. His first session was today, and he’d specifically requested teenagers, for a lot of reasons but the main one was currently wrapping his arms around Benjy’s waist.

“What if I don’t know what to say?”

“Hasn’t happened yet.”

Benjy laughs softly and brings their lips together for another kiss. He doesn’t have to leave for another hour and he’s had his stuff packed since he’d woken up that morning. He presses himself against Cass’s chest and closes his eyes, only opening them when he hears the sound of a page turning.

“Are you reading right now? While I’m moping?”

“You’re not moping out loud.”

“Hmm.”

He tries and fails to glare at Cass’s smile.

“Can I uh, ask you one more question and then I’ll leave you alone?”

Cass pushes his glasses up on his nose and Benjy reaches up for another kiss before he responds.

“That’s not true, but sure.”

He looks away from his boyfriend, his attention drawn to the faint scars he can see at the top of Cass’s forearms.

“It’s pretty stupid-”

“I guarantee it’s not.”

“Is it scary? To be there?”

Cass nods slowly, his eyes looking up and away like he always did when he was thinking.

“Like to visit? Or to be there?”

“Both, I guess.” Benjy says, shifting so he can properly trace the lines on Cass’s arms. “I feel like a coward for even asking.”

“Benj.”

He doesn’t have to say anything else, he rarely does.

“Okay, not a coward just...I don’t know. I wanna be prepared, I guess.”

Cass nods again.

“Yes, it’s scary. Not like those movies I make you watch it’s more...jarring I think would be the better word. Cause there’s sick people all around you and they’ll all kind of look like it. With the scrubs or gowns or sweats they’ve got on. And it was scary to be there, obviously but…” He taps lightly three times on the back of Benjy’s hand.

“It’s also a place that makes people better. And it’s obviously a good one if they’re doing something like this-once I realized that, at least kind of, it made it a little less scary. Some of the kids you’re gonna be with might be there, some of them might be scared--and some of them probably aren’t gonna care. That’s where I was for a lot of it, Benj. Just kind of...there, I guess, until they got me talking to Kevin and stuff…”

Cass trails off and Benjy bends forward to kiss some of the scars on his left arm.

“I’m glad you’re here, baby.”

Cass smiles at him, lifting his head slightly and cupping his face with his right hand.

“Me too. “

~

The staff had been almost too friendly and enthusiastic, chattering away about how they’ve been trying to find someone who fit to do this for a long time. Benjy made small talk easily, but couldn’t really focus, a little too worried about how it was going to go.

“And I’ll be in there, just in case anyone needs assistance-and truthfully because I’d like to pick up a thing or two, too.” Benjy smiles at that, reading the name ‘Dorcas’ on the nurse’s ID tag. She leaves him to set up, telling him he’s going to have three patients plus herself. He puts a few pieces of the weird paperboard canvas they’d told him to buy (no staples) and a bunch of non toxic paints at each of the little tables they’d set out. He smiles to himself at the rickety old easel someone (probably Dorcas) had put out for him, and decides to use it instead of his travel one. He puts his bags in the corner of the room closest to him and waits, rocking back and forth on his heels. He’d turned in his cellphone at the front desk, and he was too jittery to try to text right now anyway. He grabs one of the soft lead pencils he’d set out and starts sketching, instantly relaxing and almost calm by the time Dorcas and her patients came in. The first was a teenage girl with long, dirty, blonde hair, so thin Benjy could see her ribs through her grey sweatshirt. She shot him a shakey smile and sat down at the first table, right beside Dorcas who reached over and gave her a hand a squeeze as soon as she sat down herself. The second was a boy who was only a little taller than Benjy with very dark circles under his eyes and a weird sort of shuffle walk, he didn’t look up when he entered the room and sat at the middle table. The third was a girl who looked absolutely and totally average-a big shock of curly brown hair that went down to her shoulders-frizzy but well cared for. She had poked thumb holes through her sweatshirt sleeves and had them pulled up to her knuckles-she already looked bored and raised her eyebrows skeptically at Benjy’s set up before sliding into a seat at the back table. Four pairs of eyes were on him now, and Benjy takes a breath before grinning at them.

“Hi, uh, you probably already know why you’re here, but-I’m Benjy. I...Bernie, who i think some of you know, he’s helped me to get better, he’s helped me a lot, but um, nothing’s really helped me feel better like painting has.”

“Not even meds?”

The girl in the back has a glint in her eyes that makes Dorcas frown and turn around, but Benjy laughs.

“Fair enough. Almost nothing has made me better than painting. That work for you?”

She shrugs. Benjy continues.

“Art uh, it’s actually helped a lot of people for a long time. Which sounds like I’m making it up, but I promise I’m not. I’m not really good at talking in front of people really but…”

He shuffles some stuff around on his easel and turns it to them, showing them a print of Starry Night.

“Vincent Van Gogh was an impressionist painter--that was a period of art in the 1870s and 1880s-a fucking long time ago-I probably shouldn’t swear, huh?”

Dorcas kind of shrugs and Benjy laughs.

“Well anyway, Vincent struggled for a really long time but there’s evidence through letters and stuff that he wrote when he was around that painting made him feel better. He’s considered one of the best artists ever, and he did a lot of his work when he was in hospitals to get better. I don’t know if any of you guys care about that, but I thought it was pretty neat. So-uh, one of the styles in Vincent’s time period was to like, make a bigger picture out of little shapes. Like dots or squares. That’s what I thought we could try to today but uh, for me, the best part of painting is you can do whatever you want. So let’s just go-”

He catches himself before he says ‘go nuts’. Nice one, Benjy.

“Let’s just go-”

“Van Gogh?” The girl in the back pipes up. Benjy laughs.

“Sure. Paint whatever you want. Just kind of...let it out, you know? You can paint what you’re feeling, you can paint something you want, something you think is cool, something you hate...it’s literally always up to you, you know? You’re in control of what you make. I always liked that.”

He pulls his own table over to everyone else’s and starts setting up.

“I think we’ll just kind of sit here and make shit-if that’s okay with you guys?”

Dorcas, the boy and the blonde girl both nod and Benjy smiles. The girl in back already has a paint brush out and is getting to work.

“I’m gonna do that impressionist thing I was talking about, if anyone wants to do it with me.If you have any questions just ask.”

“I have one.”

Curly girl dips her brush into the black and makes eye contact with him.

“Shoot.”

“What fucked you up?”

“Deena!” Dorcas turns around in her chair, obviously pissed, but Benjy laughs, dipping his brush into the blue and speaking as he starts to do a background wash.

“No, no, it’s okay. Really. I was in a very emotionally and physically abusive relationship when I was nineteen. I was able to get out-which I’m very grateful for-but the person I was involved with was in a position of authority over me and it was incredibly damaging and stressful.”

Benjy starts mixing a purple and glances up at Deena. She addresses her canvas as she speaks.

“So you got beaten up by a girl?”

“Sorry about her.” The blonde girl speaks in an impossibly soft yet somehow fierce voice. “She’s attention starved.”

“You’re not supposed to bring up shit we talk about in group, Katie.”

“You’re also not supposed to make someone else share their story if they don’t want to.” Katie retorts, a flash of fire appearing in her expression. She holds up her canvas to show Benjy, she’s made a tiny sun out of yellow dots.

“Is that okay?”

He smiles.

“That’s great, Katie. But you don’t have to show me, I’m not grading you or anything-if you like it then it’s perfect.”

She nods, her lips tight as she scruntizes her work and then dips her brush back into the yellow.

“And to answer your question, Deena. No, I wasn’t beaten up by a girl-though that does happen, anyone can be abusive. But my abuser was in fact another man.”

“It was?”

The boy looks up for the first time really, his whole demeanor changing and making Benjy’s heart break in half at the wonder in his voice. Benjy nods.

“Yeah. He wasn’t great, but my new boyfriend is.”

“And your parents are cool with it?”

Benjy bites on the inside of his cheek and takes a breath, looking down at the paint so he doesn’t have the wrong reaction.

“Mine are but...Cass’s weren’t as cool. My mom’s the coolest person in the world, actually, so pretty hard to beat. But, you know, Cass and I kind of made our own family. It was hard for him for a little bit but he’s uh-I mean not to toot my own horn, but I’m pretty amazing and I think I make him happy.”

He glances over at Dorcas, who seems only to be concerned with the boy, not reacting at all to Benjy outing himself. He should’ve figured as much given that he knew Bernie from a support group for LGBTQA victims of partner violence, but still. It was nice to know he could be as much as himself as he wanted to.

“That’s good.” The boy says quietly, picking up his paintbrush for the first time. They play with the paint for another fifteen minutes or so, just making small talk which mostly consisted of Deena asking a variety of personal and art related questions.

“Okay I’m gonna come around and see if I can give you any tips. I’m hardly an expert-”

“Whoa.” The boy, who Benjy knew was named RJ, was staring at the painting on Benjy’s table. It was a portrait loosely based on Cass, per usual, but he was all different shades of purple triangles. “You didn’t tell us you were good.”

Benjy laughs.

“Good is relative.”

“I’m not impressed.”

“Thanks, Deena.”

He encourages Katie to be a little looser with her strokes, guiding her hand into a more flowing motion as she paints a sea scape. Dorcas had a canvas completely covered in red spots that she told Benjy was either a fire or a tomato fight. He showed her how to try to make shading. RJ had just painted a bunch of triangles fitting together, all impossibly small and not colored in. Benj had given him a half assed explanation of color theory and moved back to Deena. He had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. Her entire canvas was covered in penises with angel wings on them. When she glances up, a big grin on her face, Benjy tries to keep his face neutral.

“You said to paint what we wanted.”

“Interesting interpretation. Are you going for a realistic rendering or do you want it to be more cartoonish?”

He sees surprise cross her face. Benjy guessed she was waiting for him to lose his patience, to tell her she was being innapropriate, get mad at her for not taking it seriously. He smiles pleasantly at her-waiting for her response.

“Um...what do you think?”

Benjy shrugs. “Doesn’t matter what I think. It’s not my painting. I can show you how to do both.”

Deena blinks down at them.

“I say cartoony cause it’s a little-”

“Ridiculous?” Benjy says, his smile growing. Deena laughs for the first time, and Benjy almost thinks he hears embarrassment in her voice.

“Yeah.”

“I like it, it’s hilarious. And even if it’s ridiculous, if it makes you feel good to paint it, who gives a shit, right? If you make the lines a little bolder on one end and then have it taper off towards the other, you can kind of give them a little like, comic book-y effect, do you wanna try?”

He watches her try and nods.

“Good, now do that however many times you’ve uh, made one of those.”

“There’s sixty-nine of them.”

“Ah, yes, of course.”

Deena laughs again. Benjy glances up at Dorcas and finds actual surprise on her face which leads him to believe that this isn’t a side to Deena seen all of the time.

“Don’t get paint on your sleeves, or I mean do. Everything I own is covered in paint.”

“I don’t think I technically own this.”

Deena rolls up her sleeves and Benjy is glad she’s focused on her painting so she can’t see the change in his face he knows is there. The bandages up her arms are white save for almost perfect lines of rust red at three places on her wrists.

“You’re doing great, D.” Benjy says, keeping his voice even as he swallows against the emotion in his throat. Deena whips her head up at him.

“Did you just call me D?”

“Oh-yeah, sorry. I won’t if you don’t want me to. My family has a thing with nicknames-”

She smiles at him, a real smile. A sad smile. A scared smile.

“No, it’s ok. My family does too. That’s what my parents call me. I like it.”

“It suits you.” Benjy says, watching her work.

“Cause I’m a dick?”

Benjy laughs.

“Not what I was going for, but sure. Sure.”

Their hour passes quickly, and when they’re done, Dorcas promises to be right back after she takes Katie to her room. Rj nods at him, holding his painting close to his chest. Deena pulls her sweatshirt sleeves down and marches to the front of the room, presenting Benjy with the flying dicks.

“Here. Something to remember me by.”

Benjy laughs.

“Well first of all, you’re fairly unforgettable. Second of all, I’m coming back next week.”

Deena’s face lights up.

“Really?”

“Yeah I mean if y’all want me back-”

“We do.” Deena actually blushes, realizing how quickly she’d spoken. She pushes the painting at him again.

“I still want you to have it.”

“I can’t take it until you sign it, dude. A true artist always signs it.”

“Oh good call, it’s gonna be worth millions some day.”

Deena takes the pencil Benjy’s holding and scribbles something in the corner before pressing the painting and pencil back into his hands.

“See you next week.”

She smiles at him again before stomping out of the room, picking at the sleeve of her sweatshirt. Benjy looks down at the hastily scribbled “D” with a little heart next to it and smiles.

“I’m really glad you were here, Deena.”

He’s not sure if she hears him at first, until she turns around and flips him the bird. Benjy watches her dissapear down the hall and then waits for Dorcas, looking down at the flying dicks and very glad he was there too.

[marshmallowatheart]

To All The Boys I've Loved Before (Part 13)

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12)

It's easy to get lost in the essence of Logan Echolls, especially when you're snuggled in his arms.

Veronica's relaxed against him, she listens to the conversation and quips in a remark from time to time and when she does, she feels Logan's chest vibrate in laughs and it sends ripples of warmth through her.

She ignores everything past her line of sight and she's got her head focused on the crowd of boys around them.

Next Friday, she's got a soccer game and that's unexpectedly become a line of topic.

When she's asked about the game, she says, "Got a good feeling." They're playing Pan High and she doesn't want to jinx it but she's feeling confident about the game.

"So, boyfriend," she says, bringing his attention to her. "Are you gonna be cheering me on?"

Logan grins - full-blown and toothy - and his eyes are bright with amusement. "Damn straight. The whole crowd will know that Logan Echolls is Veronica Mars' biggest fan. So you know I'll be expecting a goal dedication."

The boys roar at that, excited and teasing like teenage boys are and she laughs, fully and without any reservation. "You know it, babe," she nudges him playfully and winks.

It feels good being wrapped in the arms of Logan Echolls, joking around with the guys and being relaxed. The problem she has is that she doesn't know where's the line between real or fake. And there's the lingering words of Duncan in her mind, coated with her own knowledge that they wouldn't be here if they didn't have reasons - reasons that have nothing to do with liking each other.

--vm--

Logan suggests getting something to eat before taking her home and she shrugs, agreeing because she has time to kill before her curfew and she’s not one to say no to food easily. And well, Logan’s good company but she’s not going to inflate his ego anymore than it already is.

“God, you were amazing tonight. The guys loved you,” Logan says, leaning back on the leather booth and sipping on his chocolate milkshake. “And Lilly was pissed.”

It feels kind of surreal knowing that she’s able to make Lilly Kane jealous - except it’s not really her rather it’s the fact that Logan Echolls is with someone else - still it’s a feeling she’s unfamiliar with but admittedly kinda likes.

“In hindsight, maybe we shouldn’t have pissed her off the day before I have to spend an afternoon with her," she groans as thoughts of the worse possible ways tomorrow could play out fill her mind.

“Veronica Mars, are you saying you’re afraid of Lilly Kane?” His brow arches because he knows Veronica Mars can be a deadly force if she wants to be.

“Well, if she’s so pissed, she’ll certainly be difficult to deal with and honestly I’d rather not deal with her at all.”

His brows furrow and he’s staring at her, considering and intense. “What happened with you guys? You use to be connected to the hip.”

She looks at him like he’s fallen from another planet. “Are you really asking me that?” He gives her a pointed look and she shakes her head, disbelieving. “You’ve had her for all these years and never asked her but you’re asking me?” She huffs.

“High school happened, Logan," she says like it's a known fact. She's thought through the reasons Lilly and her weren't friends before. Puberty. Zip codes. Haves and have nots. And she realised that between 7th and 8th grade the only thing that had changed was Lilly.

"Lilly changed and I didn’t," she gives the only explanation she knows but Logan's looking at her like that's not quite right and she doesn't really know what to feel about it all but she's gone through too much in life to care about people that didn't care about her. "I don’t know. It’s not like we’ve had conversations about it.”

“It was just weird, is all,” he shrugs. He remembers them back when they were kids; happily skipping around, giggling against each others ears whispering secrets and declaring best friends forever.

”Not really,” she grumbles, picking up a french fry and nibbling on it - she wishes that the conversation about Lilly Kane would end.

He's still staring at her like he's trying to figure her out and she wants to just put her head in the hole so he can't attempt to read her thoughts. "Can I ask you a question?"

It's unsettling when someone asks to ask you question. It's nerve-wrecking when the person is Logan Echolls and he's staring at her with deep intensity.

"O-kay," she lets out as casually as she can.

"Why haven't you ever had a boyfriend?"

She stills for a second because it's another conversation she doesn't really know how to have but Logan's still staring at her, awaiting answers that she doesn't really know how to give and she kinda wants to go back to talking about Lilly again.

"I don't know. I guess no one's ever liked me like that," she shrugs and as the words come out, he's already looking at her like she's ridiculous.

"I know that's a lie because I know for a fact Casey Gant asked you to Homecoming last year and you said no."

"Wow, Logan," she blows out. "You know stalking is a criminal offense." His eyes are narrowed on her and she shrugs off his defense. "Casey probably only asked me out to get back to Ashley."

"I'm pretty sure he was into you," he says matter-of-factly. "And I've been hanging out with you, Veronica," his words are softer and deliberate. He's peering closer to her and she feels like he can see into her soul. "I know the only reason you haven't had a boyfriend is by choice."

She feels her heartbeat quicken, her cheeks feel hotter and Logan's not backing away. She doesn't know what it is about Logan Echolls that makes her feel like running away and running to him all at the same time.

She doesn't know what makes her confide in him exactly but she feels safe enough to do so, she feels like he won't judge her.

"I can't control how I feel about people but I can control how I deal with it," she takes a breath, trying to figure out how to explain this all. "You know it feels nice to like someone but it's scary," she softly admits, it's been a long time since she's let herself feel so vulnerable and open to someone other than her family. "Because the more people I let into my life, the more people can just walk right out."

“Like your mom, right?”

It’s a sore subject, one she doesn’t really like to discuss but the whole town knows that the sherrif’s drunk wife fled town leaving him and three little girls behind.

“Yeah," she whispers and nods her head because her whisper is so soft she's not sure he's heard her.

He's silent for a moment, considering and she wonders if he'll let it go now.

“You ever think that you’re better off?” his voice is deep and raw and she looks at him in surprise. She's used to sympathetic apologies and pittiful glaces but she’s never been asked that before.

He lets out a breath, like he's fighting wars with himself. “I always felt that way about my father," he admits, he's surprised at himself for saying it but he lets himself for once.

Veronica didn't know much about Logan's family. She knew what everyone knew; Aaron and Lynn Echolls were Hollywood royalty. He'd cheated on her and during Lynn's Christmas party Aaron Echolls had been stabbed by a psychotic waitress who'd claimed betrayal.

He swallows, like this is hard to talk about but he still wants to talk about it. "He was so fucked up, Veronica. The things he did," he staggers, it's harder to breath when he talks about his father like this. "But I still felt grief for him despite it all. And then it felt like we were better after he was gone," he lets out a shakey breath, he's letting it all out for the first time and then he kinda feels like shit because Veronica doesn't know the monster that Aaron Echolls was.

“I just felt like maybe you'd understand 'cause of your mom. I know it’s not the same thing but -”

“I get it,” she nods, a small appreciative smile on her lips and he instantly feels better - it's been a year and he hasn't said a thing about it to anyone else before and she's sitting across a booth with a soft smile, understanding the demons he doesn't know how to face.

He lets out a breath, a light chuckle. “You say you're scared of commitment and relationships, but you don't seem to be afraid to be with me."

She tilts her head and Logan could very well get lost in her eyes. “Well, there's no reason to be.”

“Yeah? Why's that?” the words flow out of him easily but her answer is something he's desperate to know. It's been awhile since he's expected something from anyone, he wants her to say that he's an exception to the messed up rule her mother created when she left - or something along the lines of how she can trust him. Because he trusts her, so much more than he'd ever wanted to let himself trust anybody.

"Because we're just pretending."

Everything disappears after that. She says it so plainly but it feels like she's standing on his heart and doesn't even know it.

She's not wrong. They are pretending. But everything they've said to each other, that hasn't been fake, he knows it. He wishes she realised it too.

“Right, of course," he bobs his head like he knew that answer all along. "We should get you home, don't want the sheriff getting out his shotgun, do we?"

She feels a heavy ache in her the pits of her stomach, it's not physical pain just the feeling that something is wrong. She doesn't know why she feels like she'd said the wrong thing the moment it was out of her mouth because it's something she's had to remind herself of constantly. It's the way Logan looks at her that makes her wish she'd said something different because even though she knows it was the right answer, it wasn't the whole truth but she doesn't know if she can handle Logan knowing that yet.