The fire crackled softly, casting flickering shadows over Logan's face. He sat with his arms over his knees, staring at the flames, lost in thought. Jean peeked at him from beneath the coat he'd given her.
The silence between them wasn't sharp anymore… it felt heavy, as if it carried too much weight; neither of them had the strength to lift.
Then Logan spoke.
"You know… when I was in university… I never told my parents about the bullying."
Jean didn't respond, but she didn't look away either.
"They loved me too much. I couldn't bring myself to tell them that their son was being shoved into lockers, or having his clothes torn up, or getting humiliated in front of everyone." His voice wasn't bitter… it was calm, like someone recalling old bruises that still ached in the rain.
Jean watched him closely, uncertain if she should say anything. But he kept talking.
