Night crept into the shed and covered the evidence of Logan’s realization. His face was burning, his pulse had quickened, and he just didn’t know if he could be around Dakota when he was like this. 

The painting was a reminder. Even though he couldn’t see it in the dark, he knew it was there. He didn’t know how he felt about it. Firstly, he was shellshocked. He never would have guessed that Dakota could capture such beauty from a person like him. Or that Dakota could even look past their history and still make something like it. Secondly, he didn’t know if he wanted to ever see it again. It was almost like looking at who he could have been—if he’d been born a different person.

The ideal expectations made him feel inferior. He didn’t need help in that department. He’d been feeling it since forever when he was around Dakota, but he hadn’t realized what it was until now. He had to look under all the anger at their two different lives to see that they weren’t so different at all. In fact, Logan thought they were more alike than they weren’t.

Still, painting was like looking into a different dimension. There was something more at stake than just proving himself to be a better person. Now he had to prove himself to be even more than that if he were to live up to Dakota’s standards.

Logan reeled at the horrifying thought. He walked to the door of the shed as Dakota cleaned up. He hadn’t noticed that he’d gotten so close to it until Dakota tapped one of the brushes loudly in the cleaning cup.

“Where are you going? Come help me.”

Dakota’s demands had become increasingly common and vocal. He was no longer fearful to set Logan off nor did he think Logan was going to refuse. Even now, when Logan was going through a crises, he couldn’t refuse the other boy. 

He went to the table and started dipping the dirty brushes into the water. The table wasn’t big enough to keep a far distance from Dakota. Each time they moved to grab another brush or to dry a clean one off, their elbows would brush one another.

Another thing Logan learned about Dakota was that he was left handed. It had shamed him to find that he hadn’t even known such a simple fact. If he would have just paid attention and saw past his prejudice, he would have known it a long time ago. There were too many other things, simple facts, he could have discovered if he hadn’t closed himself off to the possibility of being Dakota’s friend.

The silence was awkward for him, but Dakota didn’t seem to feel it. When Logan looked over, Dakota cleaned the brushes efficiently with a small smile. 

Logan paused. His hand slacked on the brush and it fell to the table. 

“Careful,” Dakota said, reaching for the brush at the same time Logan did. 

Logan yanked his hand away like he’d been burned. 

Dakota snorted. “Jeez. Why are you so jumpy all of a sudden?”

“I’m not,” Logan denied. He finished the brush he was cleaning. “Are we almost done?”

After all that he’d done to stay by Dakota’s side for as long as possible, he wanted to leave as soon as possible. Deep down he knew he should do as much as he could while he had the chance, but he couldn’t bring himself to delude himself—some part of himself had unconsciously been attaching himself to Dakota because he liked him. 

It was weird.

Dakota slowed, drying the same brush long after it was already dry. “I don’t want to go home.”

The pain in Logan’s throat was like someone had stabbed a pin clean through it. His breaths were short as he did the opposite of what he’d been trying to do. 

“We don’t have to.”

Logan chased off any bugs that might be hiding in the grass by kicking through it. He’d managed to find a spot by one of the nearest windmills that wasn’t too high. He lied down first to test it and then waved for Dakota to lay near him.

Except Dakota didn’t just lay near him or next to him, he laid right beside Logan, close enough their their arms—and part of their legs—touched. 

Logan held his breath. He was still as he gazed up at the sky, trying to focus on the stars that would have usually been enough to take his breath away—if he could breathe at all that is.

Dakota was none-the-wiser to the turmoil Logan was in. He laid back and looked up at the sky with a calmness that Logan was proud to say he could feel while Dakota was with him. If it had been the old Logan laying here with Dakota, the other boy would have been running for the hills.

Though it wasn’t at all funny, the thought pulled at his lips. He didn’t fight it much. He didn’t need to hide himself when he was with Dakota. Which made holding back his feelings so hard.

He sighed, wondering what he was going to do. But that was an easy answer. He wasn’t going to do anything. He was going to stay by Dakota’s side as much as possible. He would make sure that Dakota had the best possible chance of having a wonderful life. 

Dakota was going to live well past that stupid high school reunion.

The sky was mostly clear, giving them the perfect view of the stars. He didn’t know if it could get better than this. It was a stark contrast to the night he came out here and left town. That day was only a couple days a way—a thing that wasn’t going to happen. He didn’t want to run away anymore. He wasn’t sure what was going to happen in the future, whether he would try to get into trade school or something, but he knew he didn’t want to be too far from Dakota.

If that was possible.

He frowned at himself, eyes wandering far into the distance until he wasn’t looking at the stars anymore. 

The things he was thinking weren’t right. He needed a clear distance between him and Dakota. Even more now than before.

A warm arm stretching above him pulled him back out of his thoughts. Dakota turned over, his smile just as warm as the hand inching dangerously close to Logan’s cheek. 

“Tell me something, Logan,” Dakota whispered.

All the talk about putting distance between them floated away. Logan could breath again, but his heart hadn’t stopped fluttering. 

“What?” He whispered back. No one was here. No one could hear them, yet they whispered as if someone would disrupt their world. 

“Something no one knows.” His eyes had darkened, yet Logan had memorized the color. Dakota inched closer as if they weren’t close enough already. 

Logan held still, too scared that this moment would be gone in a second. As if time would snatch it away. “I’ve…I’ve died before.”

Shame washed him. For so long he’d been trying prove himself to be the strongest, but he’d only ever proved himself to be the weakest. He couldn’t face his problems and had instead run away again. 

He lowered his head, not wanting to see disappointment on Dakota’s face. 

Instead of asking what he meant or saying how ridiculous that sounded, Dakota’s hand softly brushed over Logan’s face. His fingertips, so warm that Logan could have mistaken them for the rays of the sun, kissed over his cheeks. They drifted nearly to Logan’s mouth, but they stilled. 

Dakota leaned closer, sealing them into a bubble where only the two of them existed. His eyes drooped, almost falling completely closed. His breaths had evened and his body was more relaxed than when he was caught up in painting.

“Is that why you were wet that day?” Logan felt like he’d been stabbed. “You tried to jump off the bridge, didn’t you?”

Dakota giggled. “I thought about doing that too. I think I will one day. There’s no one who cares if I disappear. No one will remember me anyway.”

He slumped against Logan, face pressed on top of his shoulder. “Maybe I’ll become an angel and someone will fall in love with me.”

Logan’s throat went tight. He held still, afraid of disturbing Dakota, afraid of disrupting this moment. But really, on the inside, he was bubbling up with so many emotions that he didn’t know what to quell first. There was his anger that was easy to recognize. How dare Dakota say that no one would care? How could he say that when Logan was right here?

Worst of all was Logan’s agony. He’d been sad sometimes, hurt when his dad hit him or when Kylie just turned away from the abuse. He’d even been disappointed when his friends made it obvious that they wouldn’t care if he left tomorrow. 

Out of everything he’d ever felt, the pain in his chest that after everything he’d done, how much time they’d spent together, Dakota would still choose to kill himself.

Logan alone wasn’t good enough to stay alive for.

His eyes burned as he couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. They came streaming out faster than he could wipe them. He let them fall, burning his cheeks as they made their way down to his neck and shirt. His vision went blurry and he couldn’t keep his eyes open. He tried to hold as still as possible, but the shaking in his shoulders was incontrollable. Everything hurt. His head, his chest, his skin where Dakota was still pressed against him.

Through it all, he craved Dakota’s touch. As much as it hurt him, he needed it or else he feared he would really break down.