Getting one's car wrecked sucks. Especially if, like Norm, one depended on it to get to and from work and various other places inside and outside the city. Not to mention if the car was damaged beyond repair and a replacement simply wasn't an option.

So, Norm was taking the bus to and from work now. Also, walking a lot, because he hadn't bought a pass for the bus and sometimes he just didn't have change on hand for the fare.

Like tonight, for example.

The tallish, gangly young man was trudging home, carrying a satchel full of documents that were important only if they went missing (much like himself, in his opinion). He wasn't much to look at - dressed like every other office-building wage-slave in this city. The only area where he varied from the pattern was his hair - the red-black dye had finally faded from it, leaving it a warm, crimson-tinted shade of dark gray. He hadn't given up on spiking it, though, having found that he rather liked the style.

His breath misted from his lips, in puffs that came in time with his footsteps. Salt was spread on the sidewalks in anticipation of that night's freezing rain, and Norman's footsteps could be heard from quite a ways away, if anyone were listening.

Old habits die very, very hard.

Logan was ghosting around the city, his footfall reminiscent of hushed whispers as his boots tenderly touched sidewalk. He was careful in his steps, as if a poor OCD victim who dreaded the thought of a misstep. With Logan, there was no such thing as a misstep.

Black-clad, eerie, skeletal, and pasty white against long black hair, he was harsh on especially weary eyes. There was a faint jingle to his walk, as if little sleigh bells were ringing in the cool night air, but it was hard to hear.

Footsteps, tentatively placed one after the other, lead him to a familiar looking face.

When you think nobody's listening... always remember that Logan can hear you.

Logan trailed Norman, the hardly audible jingle of his pants not forgotten nor ignored.

He was waiting for Norman to notice him.

Norm was rather absorbed in his thoughts, but not so much that he wouldn't notice an out-of-place sound. That jingling noise was unfamiliar, and persistent,...but with what he's been through, he sure as hell was not going to turn around and look. He was not going to let whoever it is know that he was aware of them.

Just keep walking,.. and maybe you'll make it home safe.

Not that home was safe - not at all. If it weren't for the fact that he needed to sleep, he wouldn't go home at all. His best friend's psychotic sister (who lived in the same apartment building as he did) had as good as promised to do him serious bodily harm, and he was being stalked by a kid who'd attacked him on the beach this summer.

He'd been seriously considering moving the hell out of this crazy city, but... he couldn't afford to move, or quit his job. It was becoming seriously tempting to do it anyway, though. Just up and leave while he still had the chance.

Logan's whispery footsteps followed closely behind Norman's, his breath a ghost of white against the harsh winter air.

One, two, three. One, two, three. He was counting footsteps to a beat in his head, but they weren't his. They belonged to the lanky man known as Norman.

Nonplussed by the fact Norman was seemingly ignoring him, his gate increased, drawing him closer, as if a magnet.

They do say opposites attract.

Oh god, they're getting closer...

He didn't even know who it was yet, and still he was near to panic. Norm was torn between speeding up to match the pace of the person following him, or else running flat-out and praying he'd be able to get away. His grip tightened on the strap of his satchel as he bounced back and forth between his options.

After a few seconds of feverish debate, he launched into motion.
He'd decided to run.

I dare say I don't blame him.

The faint jingling increased in volume, rapidly becoming a rather frantic-sounding jingle-jangle against his dark pants. His steps on the concrete of the pavement, even as he ran, refused to get any louder. The only noticeable change was the pattern; it became a soft pitter-patter, as if rain were gently falling from the sky.

He had yet to speak Norman's name, and already he shied away like a frightened deer.

Disappointing?

Don't look back, don't look back..., Norm commanded, though it was by now obvious that he'd noticed he was being followed. It was silly to keep up the pretense, but while he wanted to know how close his pursuer was, he didn't want to know who it was.

He hoped it was only a mugger.

A plain ol' mugging would be nice for a change.

A mugger would be pleasant compared to Logan.

Touch, touch, touch, went Logan's feet against pavement. And, suddenly, there was a persence right on Norman's tail, and a hand on his shoulder. Real, authentic, flesh-and-bone hand.

"Stop." His tone breathy, whispery... he'd already run out of breath.

What you're supposed to do when confronted, according to 'the authorities', is give the attacker whatever they want, and then, if you're lucky enough to be intact afterwards, contact said authorities.

Norm didn't attend that lecture, apparently.

He wrenched away, blindly swinging a fist at what he assumed was head level for his pursuer.

"Let go of me!"

Logan didn't hold on very long afterwards, fingers wrenching themselves away from Norman's shoulder in turn, body recoiling back from where Norman stood.

He hissed through his teeth, hand drawn up to cover his face.
"Jesus... christ, Norm."

He was still panting.

Upon hearing his name, Norm turned to look, and ("Fuck, it's you!") froze.

His brain was screaming at him to run, and he was planning on it. Yeah. He was going to run really fast, and he was going to get away and,...

That hadn't worked before, and wouldn't work now. He knew by now there was no escape, and his legs didn't seem to want to work anyway.

He'd expected the reaction. He'd received a similar one by Keye when he spotted him in the park.

"That hurt," his tone would've suggested possible punishment, if not for the dull whine mingled with his voice. When blindly swinging, Norm had struck him in the face. His fingers spread apart so that he could see, and eventually his hand was carelessly dropped to the side.

Logan didn't even move an inch.

Logan complaining about being hurt by Norm?
The irony of this was lost on Norman at the moment, but maybe later, in some twisted way, he'll find it funny and laugh.

Not wanting to turn his back on the boy, but not wanting to face him either, Norm shuffled so he was sideways, and slightly hunched over. He watched him from the corners of his eyes, gaze flicking between Logan and the surroundings. Why wasn't there ever anyone around to help when they were needed, Norm would like to know.

"...say something?"

The boy wasn't exactly sure what he wanted out of this meeting. His lips pursed slightly. He squinted. He wasn't exactly sure what to say to use as a cover. Norm wouldn't believe him if he claimed to not have ill intentions.

Logan appeared sick. He was squinting, because, maybe Norman's face didn't look as familiar as he thought it would.

It was dizzying.

Norm was, in some corner of his mind, glad that Logan looked/was ill.
He deserved to be ill, and worse.

Said corner of his mind was far removed from the rest of it, however, and there was no trace of satisfaction in Norm's expression. Just fear, just apprehension. Just a flicker here and there as he went over everything the boy had done to him.

"F-f,...f... Fuck you, kid."
Those were supposed to be his,...we'll call it a parting shot. In case Logan decided to take this opportunity to finally kill him.

His pretty pink lips twisted into a wry smile. "Don't flatter yourself, Norman. I don't do those kind of favors anymore."

Despite his confidence, he shivered. It was freezing, the air around them cold enough to pierce his lungs.

The young man fixed him with a sullen glare.

"Favors? Right."
Glaaare.
"Look, whatever you came for? Get it the fuck over with already. I'm... tired of waiting."
Norm, feeling himself come unhinged, raised a hand to his neck and drew a finger across it, a rather wild look in his eye overwhelming the fear.

"One little cut, s'all it takes. Do it already. I'm tired,... I'm tired of this."

He laughed to cover over the other emotions that begged him to leak onto his face. Those two were sadness and gut-wrenching guilt. He looked away from Norman's face and they seemed to waver a bit, but refused go away.

"Don't try and sound brave, Norman. Because I know you're afraid."

His gaze flicked to Norman again, eyes of piercing blue staring at him.

"You can be done being tired."

"Good. You kept me waiting long enough."

He turned to face the boy, even stepping towards him. Logan was right - he was afraid. His terror was actually pulsing out through the ground under his feet. Terror, and exhaustion, and sadness, and hate - hate directed at himself, oddly enough, not at Logan.

Go on. Go on and do it. I'll never go through with it myself.

"What are you waiting for?" he demanded, his voice shaking.

"I think you're misunderstanding."

He crossed his arms over his chest, frowning.

"See, I'm going to miss you, Norm." He filled the space between them and touched a hand on Norman's shoulder.

He leaned forward on his toes, tilting his head up to whisper in Norman's ear, "No more visits."

Norm eyed the hand, but didn't pull away.

His initial feelings were relief, then regret, ...then disbelief.

"Bullshit," he said fiercely. "Like you would stop."

Logan didn't blame him. "I would," he whispered. "Leave you all alone."

Pause.

Then, said more quietly, "unless you don't want me to stop." But it was a bluff.

"You must think I'm stupid. Like hell you will!" Norm snarled, giving Logan a shove and looking very upset.

"No. More. Games! ... I told you, cut the crap! Will you just fucking get it over with already?!"

"I'm not playing games with you," Logan offered a hiss back, sneering.

He fell back a little bit from being shoved, but managed to regain his footing.

"I am trying to tell you not to be fucking afraid. I am leaving you the fuck alone."

Norm stared.

"Do you honestly expect me to believe that?!" he snapped, his voice growing more shrill every second. "After... everything, you'll just leave me alone. Right. Right. So I'll think, Hey! I'm safe, no more you! And then you'll show up when I'm I'm not expecting it and - and do I don't know the fuck what. Yeah. You're really trustworthy."

"You don't have to throw a hissy fit in front of the whole world, Norm. You're gonna wake babies up with that voice of yours."

Snarl.

"I'm not your girlfriend, so you can stop yelling at me as if I am."

Now he was just acting haughty.

"Can't you just accept the fact that I am out of your life and, I don't know, be glad for just one damn second? Seriously!

"No, as a matter of fact I can't! What do you think?!"

Logan's lack of aggressive action was making Norm braver, or at least less afraid.

"We were getting along so well," he said sarcastically. "Why would you quit now?"

It was a good thing this just looked like a lover's spat, wasn't it?

"Because I need to. I have to stop! I... I..."

You're frustrating him, Norm.

There has never been an eyebrow raised so skeptically as Norm's was just then.

"Yyyeah. Right. Let me guess, someone's out to kill you for a change, and you want to be sorry and repentant when they do, so when they kill you you won't go to hell. 'S that it?"

The sarcasm-o-meter has offically been overloaded.

Logan's lips curled, revealing sharp white teeth.

"Don't make me laugh."

He stepped forward and grabbed Norman's shirt.

"I'm doing you a favor. Don't be a fucking ass."

"That's not a favor. Never having a moment's security thanks to you is not a favor."

He still didn't believe him, see - he thought Logan was playing mind games.

An actual favor would be you making this end. For real.
Norm needed, or thought he needed, Logan to end it all for him. Enough of the pain, the memories, even the emptiness. Death would be peace, he assumed, but he was too afraid to do it himself.

"Oh, Norman." Hiss.

"Poor, pitiful, lost-your-faith Norman," sarcasm leaked through his pretty voice, his tone venomous.

"Just shut up and accept things once in a while."

He pulled him downwards, courtesy of his shirt, leaned forward on his tiptoes, and kissed him on the mouth.

He pulled away and his heels fell back to the ground.

"Just remember me bye, is all I'm asking..." he whispered, his face turning hurt and angry.

Norm very deliberately wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve, but said nothing.

Just glared.

A lot.

Logan didn't glare back. All the anger dissolved from expression, and he looked sad. He looked shamelessly human.

"Nice seeing you."

He turned and left, jingling faintly, his footsteps still near-silent whispers.