“Right. Conservative Christian and thinks it’s a sin.”
I’m surprised he remembers our conversation over tacos. “Yeah. Exactly.” I’m not comfortable with the spotlight on me, so I shift it to him. “What about you? Did your parents accept that you’re bisexual?” He’d told me how the industry rejected him, but he never spoke about his parents.
“I don’t know if my mom accepted me. We never spoke about it. She has to know by now, right? My dad—not as much,” Logan says. “But not because he thinks it’s wrong. He was more concerned about the money. If I was going to lose out on work because I’m bi, if people wouldn’t want to support his productions because of me, that kind of shit.”
“Your dad didn’t accept you, too, but you’re not ashamed of being bi.”
“No, I’m not,” Logan says. “I spent too much energy not giving a fuck to care about something like that.”
And that—yes, that’s what I’m jealous of, what I wish I could figure out for myself.
“What’re you going to do?” he asks me.
“About what?”
“The scenes with you and me.”
My entire body burns. My throat closes up. “I think I was kind of hoping that those scenes would help me, actually,” I say. “Help me work through the shame, I mean.”
“It’s funny that Riley’s struggling with the same shit,” he says.
“That’s another reason why I was excited for the role. I hoped that Riley figuring out how to let go of his shame would help me figure out how to get rid of mine, too.”
“Acting as therapy. Wouldn’t be the first time.”
He eyes me, as if he’s started to imagine the scene, specifically, that he’d mentioned—as if maybe he’s considering suggesting that we practice that scene after all, to help me shake the shame and the obvious nerves beforehand. I hope I don’t regret telling him the truth. I hope he won’t use this against me.
“I should try to get some sleep,” he says.
“Oh.” I’m surprised—rehearsing with another actor can last hours sometimes—but I don’t want to push and ask him to stay. “Okay. Thanks for coming over to help.” My smile is genuine this time. “You really can be kind when you want to be, you know? You’re not as much of a jerk as you want people to believe.” It’s just another role he’s playing. I shouldn’t be judgmental. We’re all playing roles, aren’t we?
“You should post that up on socials. Get people to think you’re actually in love with me.”
“Why do you put on this act so much?” I ask him as I walk him to the door.
“How do you know it’s an act? Maybe this is who I really am.”
“You don’t show this kinder side of you to the public. It’s like you don’t want people to know you can be nice sometimes.”
He gives a flippant smirk that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Daddy issues, I guess.” He walks out, door closing behind him.
Notes of Amy Tanner (Confidential)
Patient: Logan Gray
Age: 25
Diagnosis: CPTSD
Logan told me about a memory of his father in today’s session.
Jameson Gray held an industry event at his home for the celebration of the release of a film. Logan was ten years old at the time. Logan has mentioned several times now that he had no peers his own age unless he worked with them on set. He never learned how to create genuine, meaningful friendships from a young age, or learned how to feel trust in others, perhaps due to a lack of healthy familial foundation.
At this event, Logan made the mistake of dropping a glass. It shattered and grabbed the attention of several partygoers. Logan was embarrassed and afraid of his father’s reaction. Jameson Gray showed an appropriate amount of affection and assurance to Logan in that moment, which was rare for his father. Logan recounted that this was one of his happiest moments in his childhood, to see his father laugh at a mistake he had made, and put a loving, assuring hand on his son’s shoulder. Logan remembered that he was rarely hugged or kissed by his parents. Logan had not yet learned to expect his father’s consistent cruelty as Jameson steered him away from the mess and to the privacy of Logan’s bedroom. Jameson verbally abused Logan for, quote, humiliating his father. Logan remembers many of the words used: piece of shit, idiot, ungrateful. Logan tells me blithely that he believed he was lucky, then, because his father never physically abused him. Logan still holds to a thought process that his father’s abuse was “not as bad as it could be.”
Perfection was expected of Logan from an early age. He rebelled against this need for perfection as he grew older and realized that nothing he did could earn his father’s love or approval. Logan has since come to expect a certain level of hostility which, unfortunately, so much of the world has often obliged.
Logan’s growing self-awareness for the connections of these traumatic events to his current behaviors is promising, and I have already begun to observe a great deal of improvement in the level of distrust he shows me, the staff, and the other clients. He still struggles with emotional distance, which is unusual after having been a patient here for a little over a year now.
archiveofourown.org
Love in the Club
uwuhearts99
Summary:
Mattie Cole and Logan Gray can’t keep their hands to themselves.
Notes:
Hear me out. Phillip Desmond is SO EFFING HOT. And Matthew Cole and Logan Gray are of course the secret hottie couple of the century. So please, enjoy this blessing that the creativity gods have bestowed upon me.
Chapter 2: The Posh Englishwolf
Phillip Desmond did not often go to the club. He was too posh for something so low class. However, the throbbing between his legs took over like an animalistic desire he could not control. He could practically smell the scent of Matthew Cole. The pheromones called to him like sweet nectar. It was a secret he had to hide, that he was an actor by day and an Alpha werewolf by night.
He walked into the club of pulsing lights. He saw Mattie at once. Mattie was dancing in the center of the floor, hands in the air and shirt off. The wretched Logan Gray was with him. Phillip knew that he needed to have Mattie to himself, whatever it would take.
Phillip pushed his way past the crowds until he finally stopped beside Mattie. He breathed in the intoxicating scent that overtook him, rushing through his blood and making his groin harden. He knew only one thing that would help.
“Matthew Cole,” Phillip said. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”
Logan Gray was always jealous and protective of his boyfriend, since the first moment they’d had sex on this very dance floor. He cleared his throat. “Excuse me,” he said loudly, “but who are you?”
Phillip sneered. “I am the man who is going to take your mate away from you.”
Logan