Connection

The cold air clung to Logan as he trudged home, his breath puffing in small clouds with each step. His jacket wasn't warm enough, but he didn't care. The solitude of the walk gave him a chance to gather his thoughts, free from the concerned glances and endless questions he'd surely get from his friends. They cared, but sometimes it was too much.

By the time he reached home, the warm glow of the lights spilling out from the windows felt inviting. He opened the door to the comforting aroma of spices and roasted meat wafting through the air. His grandparents sat at the kitchen table, sharing a meal together

"Logan, agóri mou," his grandmother called out, her voice soft and loving. "You're home! Come, sit with us. I made pastitsio—it's your favorite."

The table was a feast of Greek comfort food: pastitsio, a baked pasta dish layered with seasoned ground beef, noodles, and creamy béchamel; a side of dolmades, stuffed grape leaves filled with rice and herbs; and a crisp Greek salad topped with chunks of feta and olives.

His grandfather turned in his chair, nodding at Logan with a small smile. "Come eat, paidi mou. You look like you've had a long day."

Logan hesitated, his fingers tightening around the strap of his bag. "I'm not hungry, yiayia, pappous, but thank you."

His grandmother frowned, standing to fill a plate anyway. "Nonsense. You need to eat. You're a growing boy!"

"Your yiayia's right," his grandfather added. "Come now, don't make us eat all this alone."

With a resigned sigh, Logan finally gave in. "Alright, fine." He placed his bag down and sat at the table, the warm food smelling even better up close.

As he began eating, his grandmother's voice broke through the quiet. "The school called today, Logan," she said, her tone casual but curious. "They said you missed your sixth class. Where were you?"

Logan's stomach tightened, but he kept his face neutral. "Oh, I was with the counselor," he replied smoothly. "We were just talking about classes and stuff."

His grandparents exchanged glances but didn't press further. "As long as everything's alright," his grandfather said, taking another bite of pastitsio.

Logan nodded, forcing a small smile. "Everything's fine."

Despite the tension in his chest, the food was delicious, and it managed to soothe him, if only for a moment. Once he finished, he helped clear the table before retreating to his room.

Logan shut the door behind him, the silence of his room wrapping around him like a blanket. He dropped his bag to the floor and sat on his bed, staring at his phone on the nightstand. His heart raced as he reached for it.

His mind drifted to Tyler, as it had been doing all day. The texts Tyler had sent still played in his mind, the sincerity of the words hitting him harder each time he replayed them. He had left Tyler on read all day, avoiding the inevitable, but now he knew he couldn't keep doing that. It wasn't fair to either of them.

Logan held his phone, staring at the screen. He opened Tyler's texts again, rereading them. Every word felt heavy, full of raw emotion. He couldn't leave Tyler on read forever—it wasn't fair. What was the right thing to say? How could he explain what he was feeling when he barely understood it himself

Taking a deep breath, Logan started typing.

You:
Hey, I'm sorry for not replying sooner. I've just been .. overwhelmed. Thanks for standing up for me, Tyler. You're a good friend.

Logan hesitated, rereading the message a dozen times. His heart pounded in his chest, but he forced himself to hit send before he could overthink it anymore.

The message sent, and Logan placed his phone face down on his bed, his stomach twisting in knots. There was no going back now. He had finally said what he felt—or at least part of it. Now all he could do was wait.

He placed his phone down on the charger, the faint hum of the device filling the quiet room. Though the sting of the rumors swirling around school lingered in his chest, there was a strange warmth beneath it all. Tyler had defended him today. Tyler had stood up for him.

The thought alone made his cheeks heat up, and before he could stop himself, a faint, almost shy smile spread across his face. He caught his reflection in the mirror across the room and quickly shook his head, brushing the feeling aside. "Get a grip," he muttered to himself.

Still, as much as he tried to focus on something else, the memory of Tyler's bruised face and angry, protective voice kept replaying in his mind. Logan groaned quietly, burying his face in his hands for a moment before standing up. "Enough," he said softly, trying to regain control of his emotions.

Deciding he needed to clear his head, Logan grabbed his favorite set of pajamas from the drawer—an astronaut-themed pair that screamed "geeky and nerdy," but he didn't care. They were comfortable, and he was home. His grandparents wouldn't judge him; they never did.

He padded into the bathroom, closing the door behind him as the day's events weighed on his shoulders. The sound of the shower turning on filled the small space, the hot water quickly fogging up the mirror. Logan stepped in, letting the warmth soothe his muscles.

As he stood under the spray, he let his thoughts wander, no longer fighting the images of Tyler that came to mind. The way Tyler had looked at him in the hallway, the messages he'd sent, and the way his voice had cracked with emotion as he defended him—every memory made Logan's chest tighten in a way that was both confusing and exhilarating.

"Maybe." he whispered to himself, the water dripping down his face. "Maybe I do like Tyler."

The words hung in the air, barely audible over the sound of the shower, but they felt heavier than anything he'd admitted to himself before. Logan closed his eyes, his heart pounding in time with the water hitting the tiles.