In Aden’s dreams, the boy he knew ran freely through a warm home with loving parents. Aden stood outside this bubble that provided sanctuary for the little family, but he was all the more happy for it. Logan was safe, tucked away from the curse that had plagued these old souls for centuries.

But that was the illusion, wasn’t it? Shattered by the broken and bloody and bruised man that wore agony and famine like a comfortable robe. Logan had never found happiness. He’d found only pain; traumas Aden didn’t even like thinking about for too long.

“Logan.”

The name was but a breath, quiet like a timid prayer.

As though it heard, Aden’s subconscious sent an illusion running toward him, those familiar birthmarks a brilliant rust-red under a sun that wasn’t there. Still, Aden threw open his arms, gasping in pleasant surprise when he felt Logan’s weight falling into him. Unlike when Aden had pulled his shivering frame from the alley, here, Logan was warm. He was full of a light devoid of the man who’d stumbled out of Aden’s apartment like death was upon him. That light curled around him and the heat grew, and grew, and….

Where are you? Why haven’t you found me?

Aden’s eyes flew open at the fading sound of the whispered voice. His throat scraped with a rough dryness and his lungs felt as though he’d been breathing in wood smoke directly from the campfire. Logan’s warmth from the dream followed Aden, and suddenly, every inch of his skin felt as though it’d been set ablaze.

Through the pain and confusion came an angry, screeching sound. Any other moment, Aden knew he’d revel in that distress, but he knew even without the bird telling him that Logan was in danger.

He’s nestled within flames! They’re killing him—I can feel them fading!

If Aden didn’t already think he’d descended the stairs quicker than he ever had, he definitely didn’t think he’d ever made it to his car faster than that. All that while the blur of his earlier evening endeavors should have hindered his ability to do any of it.

Logically, he knew it was the bird guiding their every move as Aden’s car slipped quietly into the depths of the city. Neon painted streaks that Aden only barely acknowledged as billowing smoke breathing through the breaks between upper city and lower city kept him transfixed on his destination. Surrounding every entrance and exit to the lower levels were a mix of mobile triage centers, ambulances, and fire engines—specialty crawler units entering and exiting various sections before delivering each evacuee to their safer destinations. Wailing sirens only screamed louder the closer he got, but they still couldn’t drown out the deafening thoughts thundering through his head.

What had happened?

Is he okay?

He can’t be dead, the bird would’ve known!

Fuck! Why is it so GOD DAMN HOT!

And then, Aden’s eyes finally landed on a familiar mop of black hair and those two unmistakable birthmarks wrapped around his neck. The paramedics already had Logan strapped onto a gurney as they quickly assessed the angry red burns over his legs, arms, and forehead. Aden didn’t bother being polite about where he parked before sprinting out of the car towards the ambulance that Logan was now being loaded in to.

“Aden?” a distantly familiar voice spoke up behind him. “Holy crap, it’s been forever! What has you out here?”

A jolt skittered over Aden’s skin as he realized the man approaching him wore a familiar smile and a badge of the Blue Fields Police Department on his chest. And the closer he got, the deeper his frown became.

“Are you drunk?” the officer asked, his dark eyes darting from Aden’s car back to Aden. “Tell me, please tell me, you aren’t drunk.”

Aden shook his head. “I’m not,” he answered, the steadiness of his voice surprising even him.

The bulky man let out a relieved sigh. “Good. But, just so you’re aware, you smell like—”

“Tony,” Aden interrupted in a panic, “where are they taking him-what hospital?”

Tony blinked, momentarily taken aback. He turned to where Aden pointed just as the ambulance shut its doors. Without skipping a beat, he pulled a little notebook from his pocket and jotted down a number.

“You know the guy?” he asked as he wrote. “What're the odds of that?”

“You’ll help me?”

Tony turned to Aden and flashed the written number. “What do you think I wrote the number down for? Yes, of course I’ll help you.”

“…Really?” Aden hesitantly questioned.

There was a sad, forlorn glimmer in Tony’s eyes, high-school memories likely flashing through his head as he replied, “That look in your eyes? You only ever showed that kind of deep worry when you talked about him… It is him, isn’t it?”

Aden nodded, a sudden guilty knot twisting his intestines. There were a plethora of things Aden wasn’t proud of, and hurting Tony the way he had was rather high on that list. And, yet…here Tony was. Reliable as he always had been despite the sadness in his eyes.

“I’m so, so sorry,” Aden apologized, his heart clenching.

Empathy lit Tony’s expression as he smiled and said, “There’s nothin’ to be sorry about. I know how much you loved him. I think I always knew, really. And, in that way, I was just as much at fault as you were.”

“But—”

“I could have ended it. Should have. But I didn’t, and that’s on me,” Tony said, though he didn’t dwell on the subject any longer. “Go park your car like you aren’t a complete nimrod and meet me back at that cruiser right there.”

Aden followed the direction of Tony’s finger and quietly nodded his head. By the shift of his tone, the officer no longer wanted to continue any conversation regarding their past. Aden respected that and rushed to move his car. Despite trembling hands, Aden managed the task in under a minute and joined Tony in his squat, two-door cruiser in about as much time.

They didn’t talk much as night bled into a technicolor day of bright neon lights bouncing throughout the glass of the high-rises. On and on they went, all the way up into the low-hanging fog of the night—and even then, their mesmerizing brilliance bloomed behind the silky clouds like blurred fireworks. Usually, the watercolor cityscape under the deep indigo sky brought a stillness to Aden’s mind, a moment of quiet and serenity he rarely had. He craved the feeling, reveled in it when he found it.

Not tonight. Tonight, he could be only tense.

“Was it arson?” Aden finally let the question simmering at the tip of his tongue boil over. He had to know.

“Hmm?” Tony hummed, seemingly having been snapped out of his thoughts as the question registered in his head. “Oh, uh… it’s an ongoing investigation so we technically don’t know.”

“Technically?”

“Well, obviously we all have our theories, so when most of them align, we get to having ideas,” Tony answered, though Aden could tell the officer was dodging his question as best as he could.

Their relationship may not have lasted very long, but Aden knew when Tony was hiding something for his sake. And, by the look on Tony’s face, he was aware of that.

Tony let out a heavy sigh. “We don’t think it was arson…Aden, listen, I-I don’t know if I should say anything. You’ve been…searching for so long. I don’t want you to, uh, I don’t know…I don’t want you to be disappointed.”

Aden could feel his anger building. “Tony. Just tell me.”

Tony shook his head, but Aden knew he’d give him the answers he sought. “We responded to a shots-fired a little over an hour ago. By the time we got there, an explosion had occurred that we weren’t informed about.”

“A bomb?”

“…No. We don’t think so. There were sets of propane tanks in between the two buildings.”

“People still use propane?” Aden asked with surprise.

Tony let out a dark chuckle. “The undercity doesn’t get the luxury to choose what they can afford. Most of these businesses lay below apartment complexes because the number of impoverished continues to grow.

“But that’s not what we’re talking about,” Tony abruptly changed the course of the conversation. “We think there was a firefight in the building next door. The place is a known hangout for criminals—mostly drug dealers—so it wouldn’t be surprising if someone got a little trigger-happy. At some point, a stray bullet struck the tanks.”

None of that aligned with the weird way Tony had acted before delivering the information Aden had asked for. There was more. “What does that have to do with Logan? Why were you acting so cagey? Nothing that you’ve said warranted it, so what aren’t you telling me?”

Tony’s brows furrowed. “Nearby citizens pulled seventeen people out of the first floor before the police arrived, and we were able to assist another twelve before BFFD arrived. They were the ones who found him. He…Aden, he was so far under the influence, he barely flinched from the burns he had.”

Aden knew about Logan’s drug abuse, even though he had a hard time accepting it. Accepting it meant accepting Aden’s critical mistake and the self-loathing that was only reinforced by how agonized Logan always looked, how pained he must have always felt.

….Am I the reason he almost died tonight? Was it our reunion?

No, it was your abandonment, the bird hissed in response.

And, for the first time, Aden wholeheartedly agreed.

“Irvin was the one who found him and pulled him from the rubble. He was surprised Logan was even coherent considering how much smoke must’ve been in his lungs, not to mention the lack of shock despite some of those burns. They were pretty bad,” Tony continued while Aden’s psyche only grew more chaotic. Had to have been noticeable considering Tony’s follow-up, “He’ll be fine, Aden. Granted, his recovery time might take a while—again, they were pretty nasty burns, and that smoke needs to clear out—but he’ll live. And that’s what matters,” Tony broke his gaze from the road for the briefest moment, “right?”

Aden wasn’t able to answer as his nerves began to mirror the hum of the green neon that spelled out Kellington 8th Block Hospital came into sight. The massive, bold letters rode just beneath the fog, though the tower itself disappeared above the mist. Its eerie green settled like miasmic poison within the vapors. Aden tried not to think of all the foreboding thoughts that the name and color brought with it.

At the center of the bowed building, Tony brought the cruiser to a slow and gentle stop. Too slow, too gentle. But as soon as he shifted into park and the doors unlocked, Aden bolted, sprinting toward the emergency room entrance. Even the sliding doors seemed to spite Aden in the slow way they slid open, and Tony shouted words that Aden couldn’t decipher over the roar of panic in his head.

“I’m here to see a young male—uh, a young adult—black hair, dark eyes. Umm, about 5'6"”. Burn victim. Couldn’t have arrived more than ten, fifteen minutes ago? His name is Logan.” Words spilled incoherently from Aden’s mouth so quickly and suddenly that the registrar only blinked at the sudden influx of information.

“Well, um…what was the name again, sir?”

“Logan.”

She typed the name in with dainty fingers and then looked back up expectantly. “Okay,” she begins patiently, “and last name?”

Aden thinks on that for a moment. It seemed like Logan never truly found a home, so it was likely he still carried the Kellington name—legally anyways. “As far as I know, it should be Kellington. It’s been a…while since I saw him last so—”

The registrar let out a singsong chuckle that she quickly covered with her hand. “Sorry, that was a little unprofessional. But I have to ask, is this a prank?”