"Life is like a fucking game of Russian Roulette," he told her, his bottle of vodka resting between his legs. They were bare and covered by a sheet and the alcohol hadn't made him warm, he would have noticed the goosebumps that were forming on his legs. "Every day you're just pulling the trigger... And then someday-- BAM!" He banged his fist against the headboard. He had expected her to jump and he was surprised when she didn't. "Bam," he continued lamely. "A bullet fucking bites you in the ass."
Logan took another drink. He needed to be drunk. He didn't feel whole when he was sober.
She looked at him, clearly amused by his raving. Her legs were curled up to her chest underneath the sheets, her golden hair spilling over her bare shoulder. Her lips used to glitter with pink shimmer, but now it was a dul sheen smeared across her cheek. He had a sinking feeling that he would have found that attractive even if he was sober.
"Pessimist," she accused, her voice chiming with laughter and silver bells. It reminded him of Lilly even though she was really nothing like Lilly. She just laughed all the time and lived much more than he or any other human being ever could. And sometimes he thought that she had Lilly's eyes.
Logan took a very long drink.
"I've earned the right to make such a judgment," he countered. He wondered if it would have been clever without the slurring or if he was just losing his touch.
She tossed her hair, light blue eyes (which had no green in them. None. They only looked greener when he was sober, and the vodka was curing that optical illusion quite nicely) glittering. "What's happened to you, Jaded Boy?"
It was the fifth nickname she'd come up with since he'd picked her up, but it was by far the least offensive and the most fitting. "I had a girlfriend."
"Ooh," she said, nodding in mock understanding. "It all makes sense now. She break your heart?"
"She fucked my father," he corrected. The bitterness in his voice might have been thick enough for her to taste if he hadn't turned away, the bottle resting on his lips. "And then he killed her. Then he tried to kill my next girlfriend when she found out about it."
She stared, her barely pink lips hanging agape. She was sympathetic, and she probably wanted to hug him. But Logan hadn't been huggable for quite some time. It was in her best interest to sit on her hands.
He was about to take another drink when she took the bottle away from him.
"What the--"
"You don't have the monopoly on tragedy, Jaded Boy," she said, her voice full of steel and wisdom and softness. "It doesn't mean there's a bullet in the chamber."
He darkened and said, "And what happened to you? What happened to you that was so horrible but you can still have hope?"
Then she stopped smiling and he wondered if maybe the world was ending.
"I died," she said simply, everything about her frighteningly serious for a moment. There was something in those two words that hinted at more. Some terror had come round to her and she should have been as angry and hateful and fucked up as he was. But he could tell that she was living and at times happy.
Logan stared. He briefly felt the urge to kiss her hard and make sure she was still there. He wanted to ask her if she'd seen Lilly.
He took his bottle back.
"So the bullet's already come 'round for you," he said, lifting the bottle in toast. "I drink to your death, Mademoiselle."
But he wasn't. He was drinking to his own death, praying that the bullet would be in the next round.
