This isn't a new story. This is a rather old one that I'm just now uploading to FF. It's already completed so we don't have to worry about updating and my attention being taken away from other stories so yah. It's just something to share with you all.
There wasn't a single day that went that Logan Mitchell wouldn't look up into the big blue sky and wondered what life would be like if he walked in the shoes of someone else. He always wondered if somewhere, someone was living the life he wanted to be living, always thinking that maybe he shouldn't have been born the son of a librarian and a real estate agent, the baby of two elder siblings. He wondered and fantasized what it would be like to become more than who he was now, maybe someone famous, maybe someone well-respected, a leader of society. But those little dreams of his would always be shut down by his own mind and with a blush on his cheeks, a shake of his head saying no, this was who he was meant to be.
Just a normal, quiet boy.
But he wouldn't want to change for the world.
Logan was not of tall stature like the other boys at his school. His legs short while the others towered over him to speak to the prettiest girls in school, their eyes looking through Logan. His skin was fair, flushed red at the slightly embarrassing or nerve-wracking moments the boy so often faced, and only flushed more when his heart began to thud in his chest whenever he passed by the table of popular students and wondered if someway, somehow he was in their peripheral vision. Or if he was just an unnoticeable blur, he wasn't sure.
It was when he was fifteen that he needed glasses to read, that inner feeling of self-worth lowering whenever he had to tug on the thick black framed spectacles to read aloud a passage and slump in his seat afterwards in embarrassment. It was when he was sixteen when Logan needed to have braces placed on his teeth, just for a year or so to give him some even white teeth. But the horrid embarrassment of smiling to someone, talking and letting the rows of teeth be shown with some garish metal wire going across them made Logan almost keep his lips shut for most of Junior year, only speaking when absolutely no other option was allowed.
Beauty was farthest from Logan's mind whenever he looked into the mirror and tried to smile, his lips uncomfortable and his mouth in pain, his cheeks rosy and eyes a mud brown.
Seventeen, Logan had the braces taken off and was able to get more subtle frames. He bulked up in muscle, just a bit but still rather scrawny and mousy. His quiet demeanor remained, sticking to his studies and his tests and homework in the library, instead of sitting outside listening about what someone was doing with who, and who those people were going to fight, and how many friends did that person have. Logan could count on his fingers how many people he considered close to him, but still not close enough to talk to each other over the phone or invite each other out to go to different places and hang out. Logan wasn't even sure if he exchanged words with these acquaintances through the halls of the bland and grey high school. High school itself was just a blur, no eventful moments, no wonderful memories, no faces Logan held onto.
Well, there was one.
Logan was quiet, he was shy, and he was in love. But it wasn't with the girls that neglected him, that ignored his presence with a swift flip of their long hair and smells of sweet bubble-gum soaps lingering in the tresses. It was with that one boy on the cross country team, tall and lean with a bright smile, greatly contrasting against his tanned skin. Logan couldn't remember the boy's name now, a repressed memory most likely but for sure remembered the countless times he sat at a desk in the library, not working on algorithms, but drawing the boy's name over and over again in different styles. He often tried to just confirm his sexuality, Logan always trying to stare at a girl longer than needed, and tried to muster up nerves to talk to one. Homosexuality wouldn't be attractive to that boy on the cross country team, Logan already had that presence of a boring, timid wallflower, but gay as well? Not at all, it wasn't going to work at all. He tried to sound like he knew what he was talking about when he had the chance to talk to the boy after he was done with practice, talk about the cute girls in their class, the funny ones down in choir, the easy and slutty ones by the bathrooms and the shy ones in the library.
Turned out shy was just the boy's type.
The talks grew into conversations over the phone, conversations over some popcorn and feet propped up on the old coffee table in Logan's living room, conversations while the boy took Logan out to join him in his morning jogs. And every time Logan tried to be subtle about his sexuality, slowly letting it slip by that he wasn't as eagerly into girls as he tried to make himself out to be. Tried to be slow, tried not to scare him away, because those conversations and those moments were just so amazing to Logan, his heart never beating as when he was around the boy and seeing him smile at him so bright. Logan felt. . .loved. Like he was cared for, and someone enjoyed having him around for the person he truly was, not based on how he looked.
On one late night, with Logan's parents out for the evening at some fancy concert and Logan having permission to invite the boy over to keep him company, the two boys were on the couch spending their time together as usual was when the question was popped. When the boy mentioned how he was curious about boys and if it would be nice to date a boy instead of dating a girl. The boy took Logan's chin and brought the boy close to him, kissing him gently to see if a boy would taste as good as a girl and his tongue licked and nipped all along Logan's lips and the wet contours of Logan's mouth. His fingers were all over Logan's skin, touching the boy and hands roaming over his stomach, over his chest and legs, the boy's curiosity and interest and desire growing more into just a simple kiss. And Logan didn't want him to stop at all, letting the boy unbutton his shirt, take off his pants and underwear, kiss each other and let mouths roam each other's bodies and Logan's lips brushing against places his lips never been before, heart beating fast with excitement and body shaking in nerves and in the boy's arms.
That was where Logan lost his virginity, on his living room couch with body aching, red and small traces of blood on his thighs.
Logan's parents never found out about what their son did when they weren't looking, and Logan still doesn't think they ever will. There was no trace of it, no evidence and the boy gone home before they could catch the two of them together and catch the goodbye kiss Logan received on his lips. Though his body ached and he had a troubled gait, Logan slept well that night with a smile on his face and happy dreams about him and the boy together. Love maybe? Logan wasn't sure but there was something there and he didn't want to ever let it go. Someone actually thought of him more than just some nobody. He mattered to someone, he mattered.
That was all Logan really wanted, to matter.
Monday morning came and Logan got up bright and early, hair brushed and teeth bright white. His clothes were clean and well kept, shoes unscuffed and eyes happy when he left for school, determined to find the boy and ask for them to go steady. They were friends, now that they slept together, it's only fair for them to go to the next level and be official. His heart thudded at the thought of having a boyfriend, someone to walk down the halls with and eat lunch with and get to go behind the trees in the quad for a quick little kissing session just like everyone else had. His smile was growing brighter and brighter, his step lighter and lighter like he was walking on air, nothing was going to go wrong!
Then Logan saw the boy by the lockers, a small petite girl in his arms and softly kissing her as he held her against his locker door, trapped in their own world and not even noticing how Logan stopped dead in his tracks and his heart felt like it was being squeezed too tight for him to breath. Of course. . .the boy was curious, not serious. And Logan turned away, quickly walking away from the two teens by the locker with eyes kept down for the rest of the day. No one ever found out Logan and him slept together, Logan certainly not saying anything out of humiliation for himself to give his body away so easily, and the boy not saying anything possibly to make sure the impression of him being gay for even one night never came out. Logan was alone, Logan was plain, and every time he looked in the mirror his fingernails went to his cheeks to give a light scratch, wishing that somehow that boy could see in Logan what he saw in that girl. Why? Why wasn't he good enough? Good enough to be asked out on a date, good enough to want to hang around with, good enough to be cool and popular and everyone's best friend?
Why couldn't he just be someone else?
The cars were loud, honking and horns blaring left and right as he exited from the train station, taking his first breath of New York City air that flowed through his nose and exited through his mouth. Twenty two now, all on his own with everything left behind back home. His grip on the two suitcases he brought with him tightened as he took in a deep breath and made his first few quick paced steps down the street to the agency. Hopefully he wasn't late. He already knew that he couldn't stop by the penthouse complex to drop off his things, he didn't know what kind of person he had to deal with at the modeling agency and for one thing didn't want to disappoint them with tardiness.
His heart thudded. Three weeks ago he was carrying flapjacks and pouring coffee for some obnoxious, some pleasant patrons in a rusty old diner close by his home, not expecting much to happen to him other than maybe a surprisingly large tip. And one of the women he was serving was there in Dallas for a business trip with skin dark and eyes bright and kind while he poured her coffee and took her order. Most of the times when Logan came to check on her before her food was ready, the woman would stare up into his face and study him, Logan feel self\-conscious and silently wishing the woman wouldn't look at him that way whenever he was trying to get her sugar or cream. By the time he delivered her breakfast meal, she asked him to sit down and talk, Logan not sure why until she introduced herself.
"Hello, my name is Kelly Wainwright, agent for Rocque?" she asked and Logan only gave a slow nod of his head, looking around to make sure his boss didn't see him taking a break when it wasn't time. She gave a small smile, "Don't worry, I told your boss I wanted to talk to you. . .may I ask what your name is?"
Logan turned back, facing the woman with a small blush as he averted his eyes down to her freshly manicured nails, staring at the white tips of her nails as he mumbled, "Logan. Logan Mitchell."
"Logan Mitchell. . .you're very handsome, Logan Mitchell," she complimented and Logan looked up at her with bright and surprised eyes, not sure of what to say to that and only looked down at the table again.
"Oh. . .thank you."
"You must get that a lot though."
"Actually, no miss. . .it's been a while since I've heard that from someone other than my own family members." Ms. Wainwright looked almost surprised by that fact, her eyebrow raising as she took her toast and had a bite.
"Is that so?" she asked when she swallowed, "I wouldn't think so. You have very nice eyes and a gorgeous smile."
"Oh. . .well, I did had braces when I was younger. . .and well, I'm wearing clear contacts so maybe it enhances my eyes-"
"I guessed maybe contacts, but if you say they're clear, then they are a very beautiful shade of brown. . .and those dimples of yours," she gave a small smile accompanied with a laugh, "simply darling."
Logan blushed, giving a sheepish smile and no doubt those darling dimples of his were showing in his cheeks. She reached out a hand to hold onto Logan's, eyes holding now business and professionalism. "Tell me, have you ever thought about modeling?"
Logan's eyes widened. Modeling? Of course he hasn't thought about something like that, deeming himself to be too short, too homely, too not model to be a model, and his lips let out an embarrassed laugh. "No, no of course not. I can't possibly be a model."
"Well why can't you?" she asked and Logan bit his lower lip. Clearly if she didn't see it already, it would be difficult to explain to her just what were his reasons. Logan took in a small breath, "Well. . .I'm too short to be a model."
"Oh that's a silly reason, Rocque has a good selection of petite models for both men and women."
"I'm too homely."
"Homely? Not at all. You have a freshness about you, unfabricated, a natural handsomeness if I do say so myself, and I know my boss will absolutely love to see you in person."
Logan bit his lower lip, looking down at her hand clenched tight around his own and the daring contrast between the black and white skin. Logan then looked up into her eyes, looking for maybe the tell-tale signs that this was a joke or a dream, but there was none, only smiling kindness. "I'm in town looking for new models and interns, and maybe if you're interested, you can come out to Manhattan and-"
"Manhattan? New York?" Logan asked astonished and she gave a grin.
"On a free trip, all expenses paid."
"I. . .I. . ." Logan took in another breath in shock, going to New York to be a model. He didn't think this was real, this had to be some sort of joke, some sort of prank someone was playing on him and shook his head, "Well, what if your boss doesn't think I'm good enough."
"Well then. . .you come home, I suppose. . .but you don't know that. Why not try and see what happens?"
"I'm not so sure about throwing caution to the wind," Logan said with a small sigh and Ms. Wainwright gave a small sigh herself, releasing Logan's hand to dig into her purse and pulled out a business card to hand to the brunette.
"Throwing caution to the wind and just jumping in to see what happens is all what life is about, Mr. Mitchell. Call me if you change your mind, I'll be here for three days." She moved to take her fork and knife to cut a piece of the stack of pancakes drizzled with syrup and powdered sugar, Logan looking down at the card held gingerly between his fingers and got up to continue tending to the other tables. She left a rather hefty tip, maybe to sway him to call, but Logan just wasn't sure about what was going to happen to him. Not like he had family out there, not like he'll know anyone out there. . .what if things don't go right?. . .
A blaring horn shook Logan out of his thoughts, quickly rushing across the street with his suitcases lugging right behind him. There were so many people on the street, not one of them planning to step aside first for Logan, so he had to maneuver and twist and turn around all of the people walking at the same pace or faster. Sometimes he had to jump out of the way to just narrowly avoid being ran over by a bike, only looking over his shoulder at the cyclist to give an irritated glare for maybe two seconds before hurrying down the street in the direction of the agency.
Three blocks away from the agency and the crowd was starting to thin, more room for Logan to briskly walk down the street without having to quickly jump in the gutter or something like that. His arms were growing sore from having to carry all these things, his face was starting to grow peachy red and shining from sweat from the sun shining bright overhead. Nevertheless, he continued to walk. He was almost there, and he'll be able to set down his things hopefully in the lobby, Logan passing by a large complex building before he slowed and paused. He turned to his left, perched on the arm of an old wooden bench was a blond idly strumming a guitar, the music floating from the strings melodious and Logan feeling like all of the other sounds of New York were being blocked out while the notes flowed into his ears.
The long fingers moved up and down the fretboard, back and forth over the strings while the blond tapped his foot on the bench's seat, his Vans dirty and scuffed and like he's worn them all his life. His clothes weren't any better, ripped blue jeans with a dirty red plaid shirt and scruffy navy blue beanie on top of the dirty blond locks. His face was clean though, perfectly smooth skin, and Logan's eyes were drinking up every little part of the blond man's facial contours. His nose, his lips, his cheeks and when he smiled at the music, those dimples. Logan was just standing there, watching him as he played while some people passed by him and very few people dropped some coins or a dollar in the guitar case open and in front of the bench while he continued to play.
Then the blond glanced up, maybe perhaps noticing someone was standing there watching him, and Logan saw how bright and beautiful those bottle green eyes of his were, staring at him as his fingers continued to move along the guitar's neck and strings. The eyes looked amazed, intrigued, and Logan found himself beginning to blush at the guitarist's intense stare, heart beginning to thud when he saw the corner of the man's mouth tip up in a crooked smile. The melody changed from that of an upbeat little tune to something slower, something softer and beautiful. Logan watched his face, the guitarist watching his own and it was like they were the only people that were even there, just them and the music.
Logan blinked, heart jumping in his chest from another loud horn blare, and he glanced down the street. He needed to get to the agency, he couldn't waste any more time! Logan shook his head, turning and beginning to hurry down the street but stopped. He glanced back over his shoulder at the guitarist, the man still looking at him and still giving him a playful little smile as Logan glanced down at the ground before back at his face. He gave a small gulp, hastily putting down one of his suitcases to dig in his pocket and fish out two dollars. He gripped the handle of his suitcase again with money being crumpled in his palm as he turned on his heel again to walk back to the guitarist and drop the money inside the open case.
But as soon as Logan drew near and was ready to wriggle the money out of his full hand to fall into the case, the guitarist's foot kicked the top of the case closed before Logan could even blink.
Logan looked at the man confused, the blond still giving him that crooked little smile as his eyes scanned over Logan's bewildered expression. "Keep the money, baby. I don't want it," the blond said, adjusting the guitar strap around his shoulders.
Logan blushed, 'Baby'? He straightened his posture, giving a small huff.
"And just who are you calling, 'baby'?"
"You of course. And put that money away before you get robbed, you're already a walking target for any thugs or bums out here," he said and Logan placed down his suitcase to stuff the money back into his pocket before grabbing it again. The blond raised an eyebrow, "What are you doing carrying around those things anyway? Don't you know how to get yourself a taxi?"
"Oh no, hold on." He stroked his chin, those bright eyes of his looking Logan over and his smile was starting to grow bigger. "Not from around here, I see."
Logan looked down, "Is it obvious?"
"Kinda, baby," he said with a laugh, light and happy and Logan blushed harder.
"Stop calling me that!" he snapped and the guitarist shook his head, giving his knee a little slap before standing up and moving around the case to pop it open and stick his guitar inside.
"I like it for you, it suits you," he replied, crouching down to close the lid and start putting on the locks. Logan gave a little pout.
"How do you know it suits me when you don't even know me?"
"Hmm, good point." He looked over his shoulder up at Logan before standing up straight and giving a sly little smile, "Maybe we should start getting to know each other then, huh?" Logan looked down the street, he needed to get to the agency right now, he didn't have time for. . .whatever this was supposed to be or whatever the blond was trying to make it to be. He began to step away, glancing down the street every couple of seconds as he gave the guitarist a sorry little smile.
"I-I'm sorry but I don't have time to talk, I have somewhere to be," Logan said and began to walk down the street even faster than ever. A hand was on his shoulder a few seconds, "Hold on a second, baby. I'm not trying to scare you away," the guitarist's voice cooed out and Logan glanced over to see him walking along side by side with guitar case in his hands. Logan sighed, "I wasn't saying you were, but I need to be on my way."
"Let's start with names first?" he said with a chipper little smile, and Logan turned to look at what was in front of him. He could see the Rocque Studio Agency down the street on the corner right by the set of bistros and the bookstore just like Ms. Wainwright had told him over the phone before he left. Just a few more blocks and- "Okay, I see when I'm not wanted." Logan glanced up, seeing the blond turning around and he bit his lower lip.
"Wait! Wait!" he called out and the blond stopped, turning to walk and catch back up to Logan as the brunette gave a small sigh, "I'm sorry, really I am. I'm just in a really big hurry, and I don't have time to talk to you."
"You're talking to me now, aren't you?"
"Well. . .yes. . .but like, have a proper conversation."
"Wasn't asking for a proper conversation, baby. Just your name," he said with a little wink of the eye and Logan looked away with shy eyes glancing down at the dirty pavement.
". . .Logan. Logan Mitchell."
"Okay then. Logan Mitchell, where you from?" the blond asked and Logan looked up at him with a raised eyebrow.
"Hold it, we said names first. I don't know yours," he said sharply and the blond gave a chuckle.
"You're pretty quick, baby."
"You know my name now, stop calling me 'baby'," Logan said with a frown and the blond gave a sorry little pout before a sigh and shake of the head.
"My name is Kendall."
"Kendall. . ."
"Just Kendall," the guitarist said and Logan cocked his head to the side in confusion.
"I've never met someone with no last name before."
"Oh, I got a last name. Just don't. . .really like what stuff came with it," Kendall murmured and Logan looked the man up and down with a confused expression as they came to a stoplight and waited for it to turn green for them to cross. Kendall shook his head, "Enough about my name, where you from?"
"Texas," Logan said simply and Kendall gave a low whistle, those bottle green eyes wide in surprise as the light turned green and the two walked across the street.
"Texas? That's a long way from here. What're you doing here, visiting family?" Kendall asked and Logan shook his head.
"Here for hopefully a job."
"Why not get a job back home in Texas?" Kendall asked and Logan sighed.
"It's special and I have to be here. . .plus, I. . .well I just. . .wanted to come here. I mean, I've never been to New York before, it's exciting!"
"That so?" Kendall asked and Logan gave a more than needed eager nod. What the real reason was for Logan leaving was too personal, too close for him to be just blabbering about to anyone. Especially someone he just met a few minutes ago. They were approaching the agency and Logan figured he might only be a few minutes late, hoping that it wouldn't be anything serious or a problem. ". . .What kind of job are you here for?"
Logan sucked in a small breath, shyness creeping into his chest as his fingers gripped even tighter on the leather straps of his suitcases. "Well. . .I'm hoping that I can get the chance to be a model. At Rocque?"
Kendall said nothing to that, shaking his head and giving a scoff that Logan frowned at. "What was that for?"
"Didn't know I was walking beside a future Barbie," the blond said, tone snide, and Logan looked at the blond in surprise at the sudden change. Kendall's face was stiff and irritated, Logan not understanding what for or why but his lips were turning into a frown himself.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Logan questioned and Kendall rolled his eyes.
"If you're smart, which I'm pretty sure you are, you'd get yourself on the next plane flight back to Texas," Kendall said sharply, and Logan stopped, the two only a few feet away from the door to look the blond in the eye.
"Excuse me? I'm not going back to Texas just because you have a problem with what I'm trying to do, who do you think you are?"
"You're not right to be working for Rocque, you got that? Just go home-"
"No! I'm not going home! I'm going right in there and there's nothing you can do!" Logan shouted, storming away, but Kendall grabbed onto his shoulder again roughly and Logan twisted in his grasp, turning to glare at the blond man. Kendall was looking at him with a mixed expression, almost worried and almost cynical, and Logan gave a growl. "Thanks for the welcome to New York," the brunette hissed and Kendall frowned.
"I'm warning you, Rocque is bad. Real bad."
"And what do you know about it? You don't look like you're one of their models," Logan snapped and Kendall's eyebrows furrowed.
"I have to go, I have an appointment that I can't be late for," Logan said, turning on his heel and walking away from the blond and going through the silvery glass spinning door. The lobby was amazing, large and white with sparkling marble tile floors and lavish red couches looking like they came out from the future. No one was seated in them, only one person sitting behind the receptionist's desk and Logan gave a small gulp. He hoped he didn't miss anything important and only hoped that he wasn't going to be in trouble.
Logan gave one glance out through the glass door, not seeing Kendall lingering by and only figured the blond must have left. He gave a small hmph. What would some scruffy and dirty blond know about modeling anyways?. . .Not like he was an expert on the ordeal but he wasn't going around telling people that they weren't good enough for this. His heart shook, he thought he was going to be getting away from that feeling, those fears that he hoped stayed in Texas, and that he could start an entire new life out here. He was good enough, he was.
He wasn't ever going to go back, he wasn't ever going to go back to the way he once was.