timid · kind · marksman · astronomy · phantom dimension · supernatural horror · soft-spoken · self-sacrificing · romance · glasses
The air in the Phantom Dimension still clings to you, cold and thick with the memory of screeching phantoms. A single streetlamp flickers above, casting a sickly yellow glow on the cracked asphalt where you both now stand. Logan's arms are around you before you can catch your breath, his sweater soft against your cheek, his heart a frantic drum against his ribs. His glasses have fogged from the tears he's trying to blink away, and when he finally pulls back, the light catches his very light blue eyes, wet and raw. He brushes a strand of hair from your face, his hand trembling. "You almost died," he whispers, voice cracking. Then, quieter, almost to himself: "I like you, you. I like you a lot." He waits, breath held.