♥︎ || 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 [Ozzgan Oneshot]
Pairing: Logan Mitchell x Ozzie Clark
Characters: Logan (Hortense) Mitchell, Ozzie Clark, Ms. Collins, Kendall Donald Knight, James Diamond, Carlos Garcia, Heather Fox, (The Mention Of) Lucy Stone & Buddha Bob
Content Warnings: Pining, Fluff, Comfort, BL, Depictions of Murderous Intent & Weaponry (I swear it makes sense in context), Internalized Homophobia, Coming To Terms With Sexuality, (Implied) Anger Issues
Word Count: 8,765
Yes, the title comes from the Mint Condition song. I'm a huge 90s R&B fan. Also, please note that in this scenario Logan and Camille stayed broken up after Big Time Girlfriends (S2E3). I've also made Heather Fox an actress in addition to her canon occupation as a model because I feel it fits this narrative better. You can also read this on AO3!
Hope you enjoy, @clericallyinsane. I'll tag you again when I post part 2! :)
With gentle, meticulous strokes of his Ticonderoga pencil, Ozzie accented the margins of his notebook with Logan's initials. He felt silly for the way his cheeks grew fuzzy and warm when stringing that otherwise trivial pair of letters together across the paper like fairy lights. Somehow, Logan's name found itself etched into the pages of Ozzie's notes nearly every day, each scribble bolder and more intricate than the last. His notebook was a gallery that put his innermost feelings on display in several miniature works of art. But he was its one and only visitor, the only person to admire the beauty of each piece and the craftsmanship put into bringing them to life. Gazing upon them was bittersweet in that way; adoring them in silence and solitude. Despite that, Ozzie was pleasantly content. This was one of the few things in his world that was meant just for him, and no one could take that away.
"If you divide two hundred and seventy by five, the coefficient is fifty four!" Logan proclaimed, his hand raised to the ceiling as he blurted out the answer before Ms. Collins could choose between him and Carlos to be called on. Carlos lowered his hand back to his desk, glaring at Logan as if to burn a hole through his head while Ms. Collins had her back turned to them.
"You're such a know-it-all," Carlos grumbled with his arms crossed and a childish pout muddying his expression.
"I'd say it takes one to know one, but in your case, I guess not," Logan quipped with the smuggest grin money could buy.
"Are you calling me dumb?" Carlos hissed, pride wounded and feelings hurt.
"Hey, your words, not mine," Logan replied as he raised his hand in dismissal and turned away from Carlos' ever-sharpening gaze.
"You take that back!" Carlos barked as he prepared to leap out of his seat with a raised fist aimed at Logan.
"Never!" Logan shouted like a battle cry as he braced himself for impact.
"Boys!" Ms. Collins roared as she turned to face the pair of troublemakers in her midst. "Do I need to separate you two again?"
"No, Ms. Collins," Logan and Carlos responded in unison, petrified by the intensity of Ms. Collins' narrow-eyed stare.
"Good, remain seated and keep your hands to yourselves," Ms. Collins ordered sternly, punctuating her words with the sharp snap of her pointer against the chalkboard.
"Yes, Ms. Collins," Logan and Carlos said simultaneously, heads lowered and hands at their sides.
They continued to make silently crude gestures at one another right under Ms. Collins' nose, sticking out their tongues, pointing their thumbs down, and glaring with eyes that clashed like swords on the battlefield of the classroom to express levels of pettiness no other student dared to embody. They were more alike than they cared to admit, but school was hardly the time or place to make that remark.
To Ozzie, Logan was the perfect little know-it-all, even if he came off as rude or obnoxious at times. He gazed at the brainiac before him, chin in hand and heart beating steadily, watching as the light hit his eyes just right whenever he solved a problem quicker than anyone else and shot his hand up as if it'd break off if Ms. Collins didn't call on him the second he raised it. Determination and enthusiasm twinkled in the starry skies of his irises, putting golden hour to shame with how brightly they glowed.
Before Ozzie knew it, he started sketching the luminescent picture of Logan's beaming face in the corner of his notebook. From the glimmer of his eyes to the curl of his smile, Ozzie captured every last feature as if to commit them to memory in the event that he might not ever see something this radiant again. His eyes flickered between Logan and the image of him on paper that neared completion. For one more fleeting moment, that overachieving, sweater vest-wearing, sideways smirk-having nerd was the only other person in the room. That was until the sound of Ms. Collins' voice pierced through Ozzie's bubble and popped him back to reality, leaving his thoughts scattered across the floor.
"Ozzie?" Ms. Collins called out from the front of the classroom.
"Huh?" Ozzie uttered hazily, dropping his pencil to his notebook and looking ahead with wide-eyed confusion.
"Can you tell me what the coefficient of this equation would be?" Ms. Collins asked in reiteration.
Ozzie zeroed in on the board to catch himself up to speed. He noticed that ninety had already been subtracted on both sides of the equation, leaving three-x equals ninety to be solved. With what little time he had left before being exposed for his lack of attention, Ozzie divided the numbers in his head one digit at a time until he reached the solution. "Uh, thirty…?" he answered, void of confidence or certainty despite having done the work.
"Correct! Good job," Ms. Collins praised, celebrating Ozzie's small academic triumph with an appreciative smile.
The school bell rang upon Ms. Collins' response, signaling everyone of the end of class and the school day. Students immediately rose from their seats, shoveled their belongings into their bags, and headed for the door. "Don't forget to grab a worksheet on your way out, everyone!" Ms. Collins warned. "They're due at the end of the week for review!"
Ozzie rose to his feet, hurled his backpack onto his shoulder, and retrieved a geometry worksheet on his way out the door. As he stepped out of the classroom, he saw Logan chatting with his friends in the heart of the lobby—nodding, laughing, and occasionally grimacing, but undeniably happy nonetheless. That same intoxicating glow in his eyes illuminated the room enough to outmatch California sunshine. He looked so in his element, so free to feel and express what he pleased. Ozzie often wondered if Logan ever felt that way around him—safe, comfortable, at home. So often that the thought of it distracted him from his surroundings entirely.
"Uhh…" A nameless student murmured as they fruitlessly tried reaching around Ozzie.
"What're you lookin' at?" Ozzie snapped, staring daggers at the student beside him for pulling him out of his daze with their presence.
"I'm just… trying to get to the vending machine," The nameless student squeaked nervously while pointing directly behind Ozzie.
"Oh, sorry," Ozzie muttered apologetically as he stepped out of the way.
Logan and his friends dispersed to their individual activities, leaving Ozzie with minimal time to gaze at Logan or even approach him if he had the guts to. Ozzie hurried to his side without much thought, crying, "Logan, wait up!"
Just as Logan reached the elevator, he turned around to investigate the voice that called out to him with a sense of urgency he couldn't ignore. But worry and confusion melted away like Minnesotan snow in the bloom of spring once he faced the one it belonged to. "Oh, hey, Ozzie," Logan waved casually, his smile warm and inviting. "What's up?"
"I, uh…" Ozzie fumbled his words the moment Logan faced him. He paused briefly, staring blankly while his thoughts raced to catch up with the rest of him. "I was wondering if I could come over to yours to… study."
"Again? That'll be the third time this week," Logan commented with the curl of his brow.
"Yeah, well, I just wanna get a head start on the worksheet," Ozzie explained while holding up his blank geometry worksheet.
"Oh, good thinking!" Logan praised with the upward point of his forefinger. "We'll have this done in no time, meanwhile everyone else'll be racing to get it done at the last minute."
"Cool, so, when are you free?" Ozzie inquired, nervously looping his eyes in a circle to avoid Logan's gaze in the case of a potential rejection.
"I'm not doing anything currently. How's now?" Logan proposed with the shrug of his shoulders.
"Great," Ozzie grinned while outstretching his hand.
"Ozzie, w-wait!" Logan cried with his arms bent over his chest as Ozzie effortlessly threw him over his shoulder. He wriggled and squirmed in the other's grasp, but abstained from kicking and thrashing to avoid hurting him. Once the ensnared brainiac realized his efforts at escape were thwarted from the start, he surrendered with a defeated huff and let his limbs fall where they may. "If you're gonna carry me, can you at least do it in a way that looks less like you're trying to kidnap me?"
"Okay," Ozzie obliged, lowering Logan from his shoulder to cradle him in his arms like a princess once locked away in a tower and now rescued from the dragon's keep by her knight in shining armor. "How's this?"
"Uh…" Logan's voice fled to the back of his throat, leaving only his eyes to speak for him. But as wide open as they appeared, they, too, failed to relay any message Ozzie could read. He was still, silent, stewing in feelings he couldn't quite articulate. Blood rushed to his cheeks, crashing onto the shoreline of his face like rolling waves and splashing a reddish pink hue onto his skin as physical evidence of the daze Ozzie unwittingly caught him in. "Y'know what, let's just stick with the first one…"
"Suit yourself," Ozzie chuckled lightly as he hurled Logan back onto his shoulder and carried him into the nearest vacant elevator.
The ride upstairs was brief and quiet aside from the flustered mumblings that slithered past Logan's lips into the atmosphere. The double doors to the elevator opened with a monotone ding, granting Logan and Ozzie entry to the second floor hallway. The wandering eyes of passersby lingered on their way to apartment 2J and caused Logan to shield the upper half of his face to avoid their curious gazes. With any shred of mercy Ozzie had left, he spared Logan any further embarrassment by pushing open the door to the apartment and lowering him to the floor.
"Y'know you don't have to carry me every time you come over to study, right?" Logan croaked in distress as he shook the red out of his face and flattened the creases of his sweater vest. "I'm perfectly capable of walking to my own apartment."
"Sorry, force of habit," Ozzie looked down and scratched the back of his neck.
"Well…" Logan mulled over the circumstances, tucking his hands under his arms and hardening his gaze in thought. This tendency of Ozzie's wasn't particularly harmful, and it hadn't truly bothered him before, but something about being held in a position where their eyes could not only meet but lock in an inescapable stare felt conflictingly foreign. It stirred a myriad of feelings within Logan he never thought possible and made a dizzying cocktail of his insides. As flustered as he was, it still wasn't enough to fully deter him. "Maybe just give me a heads-up next time."
"Sure," Ozzie nodded as he took a seat at the table and lowered his backpack to the floor.
"You want a snack or anything?" Logan inquired while pointing his thumb back at the refrigerator.
"No thanks, I packed my walnuts," Ozzie replied as he fished a bag of walnuts out from his backpack.
"Are you sure? 'Cause I really don't think you should be—" Logan trailed off at the sound of a spine-chilling crack.
A walnut split into bite-sized pieces upon being thrust against Ozzie's forehead by the force of his palm. "They're my favorite," he insisted while crunching on each piece one by one.
On the cusp of a sunken-hearted sigh, Logan softened his gaze on the spiky-haired boy before him with a look of endearment in its purest form. But beneath that was a deep-seated worry for the habits and mannerisms that still lingered past the forming of their bond. He grew to admire Ozzie for his powerful personality that differed greatly from his own, but some attributes proved to be more harmful than good. "I know they're you're favorite, Oz, but don't you think the way you eat them is a little dangerous?" Logan queried as he stepped toward the table and gently laid his hand atop Ozzie's shoulder.
"You only call me that when you're worried about me," Ozzie remarked, his voice as soft as it was solemn. His focus flickered back and forth between the sincerity in Logan's eyes and the caress of his hand.
"I am worried about you," Logan declared as he sat down beside Ozzie. "Cracking open walnuts on your head may seem harmless and a tad intimidating, but sustaining blunt impact this frequently, even in small doses, can't possibly do you any good."
"I didn't think you cared that much," Ozzie said with a pleasant mixture of surprise and appreciation.
"Well, I do. Very much so," Logan affirmed with a forward tilt of his head. "That's why I'm going to crack open your walnuts for you."
"On your head?" Ozzie queried while pointing upward.
"No, 'cause then I'll just faint," Logan grimaced in embarrassment. "Instead, I'll show you how to do it safely."
"Be my guest," Ozzie leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms over his chest, and gestured for Logan to proceed with very little faith in his success.
"Gladly," Logan replied determinedly with his typical right-sided smirk.
He took a walnut out from the plastic bag atop Ozzie's notebook and tapped it against the edge of the table in hopes that its shell would crack like an egg. It remained unscathed, however, and left him to stew in the nerve-wracking silence of failure. The quest-bound brainiac continued tapping it against the table harder and harder after each failed attempt until a stray giggle pulled him out of focus.
"Sorry, keep going," Ozzie encouraged, cupping his hand over his mouth.
"Maybe I should try something else," Logan thought out loud, racking his brain for any other approach to take. He decided to hold the walnut between both palms and press them together in the world's most forceful prayer hands. His features sharpened, his skin reddened, and his voice rumbled with every ounce of might he possessed in his greatest bout of physical exertion yet. But try as he may, no amount of force could pry open the walnut's titanium-like shell.
Logan dropped the walnut to the table, letting his arms fall at his sides as he fought to catch his breath. "This is a lot harder than I thought…" he huffed, his voice hoarse with weakness.
"Not like you have some gadget that could do it for you," Ozzie commented passively as he leaned his head into his hand.
"Maybe I can invent one!" Logan perked up, revitalized by inspiration. He leaped out of his chair and excitedly scoured the apartment for spare parts. "Do you have any scrap metal by any chance?"
"Why would I have scrap metal?" Ozzie asked, his eyes creasing with confusion.
"You're right, you wouldn't have that. I'll just ask Buddha Bob!" Logan proclaimed as he dropped everything and marched toward the door.
"Where are you going? We're supposed to be working on the worksheet," Ozzie warned, looking at Logan over his shoulder with no clue how things spiraled out of control so quickly.
"Right, the worksheet!" Logan yipped, his foot dragging against the floor like the screech of a tire as he ground to a halt. "Sorry about that, I don't usually get this carried away."
"And here I thought I was the crazy one," Ozzie shook his head in disbelief.
"Hey, I'm not crazy! I'm just… ambitious," Logan rebutted as he made his way back to the table. "Let's get started, shall we?"
"Sure thing, partner," Ozzie chuckled, emphasizing the final word with a grin that mimicked the warmth of Logan's from every time he'd been met with it.
Logan returned the gesture, smiling warmly as he retrieved his geometry worksheet and writing supplies. He found great solace in Ozzie's presence, camaraderie, and their constant bettering of one another. "I've gotta say I'm really impressed with the progress you've made these past few weeks," Logan remarked proudly while sifting through his pencil case. "It's almost like you don't even need my help anymore."
"No!" Ozzie blurted out, stretching his hands out over the table. "I mean, you're such a great help. I've only done better in class because of you."
"Please, you're the one putting in the work to do better, and your grades clearly reflect that," Logan refuted confidently as he stared at living proof of his claim.
"They're not that much better than they used to be," Ozzie countered, combating Logan's confidence with uncertainty. "I still get pretty confused when it comes to numbers and stuff."
"Then let's take a look at your notes to review," Logan suggested while reaching across the table for Ozzie's notebook.
"N-No!" Ozzie squeaked as he scooped up his notebook in a panic and held it flush against his chest. "My handwriting's pretty sloppy, you probably wouldn't even be able to read it."
"I've seen your handwriting, Ozzie, and frankly it's neater than mine," Logan reassured, reaching for Ozzie's notes once more.
"Stop!" Ozzie cried as he sprang to his feet and clung to his notes like something priceless and fragile. "Let's just focus on the worksheet!"
"Okay, just calm down," Logan implored with his hands raised in defense. "Why are you acting so weird?"
"I'm not acting weird, I just don't want you touching my stuff!" Ozzie hissed, his teeth like fangs as he spat out his words in an eerily venomous tone.
"But we have to look at your notes to help you learn," Logan rationalized with the hope of quelling the storm within Ozzie that started to brew at catastrophic measures. "It's not like I haven't seen them before. Why is this only now a problem?"
"Because it is, okay? Now, drop it!" Ozzie roared as he threw down his notebook in a fit of shame-ridden rage.
"I'm gonna buy Lucy some flowers," James declared from the down the hall, excitedly strutting with every step. "D'you think she'd like peonies?"
"Yeah, especially if they're red like her highlights. They'd be perfect," Carlos affirmed happily. "D'you think she'd like chocolates?"
"Who wouldn't? But you'd better get the dark kind so they match her mystique," James suggested while emphasizing his final word with the slow, dramatic wave of his hands.
"Ooh, good call!" Carlos nodded while pushing open the door to apartment 2J.
"Remind me again why the two of you are asking her out at the same—" Kendall trailed off as he, James, and Carlos were caught under Ozzie's fiery, incandescent gaze. His eyes narrowed at them as if to individually burn them alive and leave their charred remains to linger like litter.
"Woah!" Kendall, James, and Carlos shouted in unison, each boy cowering within their own grasp.
"Hey… Ozzie," Kendall waved awkwardly, his lips curling downward in his feeble attempt to smile.
"You're not gonna, like, beat us up, are you?" James winced while stifling the urge to shield his precious face from harm.
"'Cause we can just come back later if you're busy," Carlos chuckled weakly as he donned his hockey helmet and braced for impact.
Ozzie scowled at the way Big Time Rush trembled before him like defenseless prey at the mercy of the apex predator. In his attempt to mask his true feelings and the embarrassment he felt for harboring them, Ozzie failed to recognize that his loss of temper had reduced him to the spiky-haired menace he was once widely regarded as. He loosened his muscles upon that realization and released Big Time Rush from the wrath of his gaze if he held them up by their collars. "Don't bother, I'm outta here," Ozzie huffed as he grabbed his backpack and stormed out of the apartment.
"Ozzie, wait!" Logan cried with his hand outstretched as he quickly followed after Ozzie and watched him leave from the doorway.
"Did something happen here?" Kendall inquired with furrowed brows.
"Yeah, 'cause why'd he look so angry just now?" James queried while brushing his bangs out of his eyes.
"Angrier than normal…" Carlos added while nervously fiddling with his wristwatch.
"I don't know what happened," Logan frowned as he stepped back into the apartment and worriedly paced around the room. "We sat down to get started on our worksheets, but he got all bent out of shape when I reached for his notebook, and now he just stormed out."
"Y'mean that notebook?" Carlos asked while pointing toward the floor.
"He must've left it behind," Kendall surmised as he retrieved Ozzie's notebook and handed it to Logan.
"I don't understand why he got so upset. I mean, I know he said he isn't very good with numbers, but what about math could possibly make him so—" Logan flipped through the numerous pages filled with the mathematical teachings of Ms. Collins just as he expected. He continued skimming the contents of the notebook, but the more he looked, the more he noticed a common pattern that figuratively and literally filled in the blanks. Hearts of all sizes surrounded his initials in the margins, and vividly drawn pictures of his face filled in the empty spaces. "—mad…?"
"I'm noticing a distinct lack of math here," James remarked in observation.
"These doodles don't look half bad," Kendall commented with a pleasantly surprised shrug. "The eyes are drawn especially well."
"Wait, is that supposed to be you?" Carlos gasped as he pressed his forefinger against the page of today's lesson.
Logan squinted at the supposed picture of him in the bottom corner of the page, but failed to see the resemblance. "No, it can't be," he shook his head in disagreement.
"Isn't that the sweater vest you're wearing?" James pointed out while smirking at Logan's painfully ordinary choice of fashion.
"A lot of people wear this sweater vest," Logan disputed, mildly offended by the laughter in James' tone.
"Well, isn't that your name underneath?" Carlos mentioned as he lowered his finger on the page.
"Logan Mitchell's a fairly common name," Logan rebutted with a nearly audible hitch in his voice.
"Dude, your initials are literally surrounded by hearts all over the margins!" Kendall firmly gestured his hand all around the page with eyes that begged Logan to make the connection in his mind sooner rather than later.
"Maybe he really likes Liberty Mutual!" Logan rationalized, or at least attempted to. "They provide excellent customer support after all."
Kendall, James, and Carlos hung their heads low in defeat from Logan failing to read the signs staring him in the face. He was living proof that even geniuses had their moments of stupidity, but his friends couldn't afford to dwell on his oblivious nature for too long.
"Don't you see what this means?" James whined in query.
"That Ozzie's a talented artist…?" Logan winced with his shoulders raised.
"No!" James squawked in annoyance. "Well, yes, but that's not the point."
"But he is really talented," Carlos chimed in, nodding confidently.
"The point is he has a crush on you, Logan," Kendall warned solemnly. "And, from the looks of things, he's got it bad."
Logan glanced down at Ozzie's notes, his eyes widening at the number of times his name had been written in the curliest cursive he'd ever seen with hearts to dot the I's in Mitchell. But looking past the countless hearts sprinkled across the margins and the way Ozzie carefully crafted the flecks of gold in his eyes as if to capture a ray of their light for himself, Logan saw undeniable proof of hard work. He marveled at such concise bullet points and neatly organized diagrams. That combined with Ozzie's ever-improving performance in class could only mean that their frequent study sessions were mere excuses to be around one another outside of school.
"Oh, no," Logan croaked in realization, meeting the gazes of his friends with a look of shock and an irrepressible need to make things right.
- ' ♥︎ ' -
A fair-skinned girl with jet black waves of hair that whisked behind her like the silhouette of her shadow scurried into the night. She ran for her life through a dark and desolate forest, trees nearly reaching the sky and shrouded in thick bushels of pine leaves that led her in circles. Whisperings of bone-chilling threats breezed into the atmosphere and ghosted against the girl's ears to run goosebumps all across her skin. She clasped her hands over her ears to avoid the sound, but the more she tightened her grip, the louder the sound became.
A masked, chainsaw-wielding, cold-blooded killer stepped out from the shadows, causing the girl to turn toward him in a wide-eyed daze of terror. She stared at the killer like a deer in headlights and used what little fight she had left in her to shout, "S-Stay away! Don't come any closer!" as she backed herself up against the trunk of a tree with nowhere else to run.
The killer drew nearer, breathing heavily and slowly through his blood-splattered mask while carefully bracing both hands on his frighteningly rusty chainsaw. The girl trembled before him, each limb quaking individually as if to run away before giving the killer the chance to slice them off her body. "Please… don't hurt me," she implored, her aquamarine eyes glassy with the last tears she'll ever cry.
"Shh, it's okay, don't worry. With eyes like yours, you're far too pretty to be seen crying," The killer cooed while brushing his leather-gloved thumb across the girl's cheek to dry her tears. Despite shielding his face from his soon-to-be victim and the world, his cruel, sadistic grin was as evident as the moon was pale. The stretch of his lips and grit of his teeth could be heard through every word. "But when I'm through with you, you won't feel a thing. I guarantee it."
The killer raised his chainsaw above his head, prompting the girl to shriek with everything her lungs had to give as he curled his fingers around the choke and pulled the starter cord with all his might. But to both of their surprise, the chain failed to spin. He continued pulling the cord to avoid awkward silence and sullying the fear of the moment, but the chainsaw wouldn't so much as rumble no matter what he did.
"Cut!" The director cried out of frame.
Heather and Ozzie looked beyond the set to address the director and the production crew that stared at them with blank, soulless stares. Then they looked toward each other, wordlessly sending signals back and forth while the issue onset was quickly assessed by a crew member.
"What's wrong with this thing? Did you prime it?" The director asked, white-knuckling his copy of the script and mercifully sparing everyone from the wrath of his gaze with his aviator sunglasses.
"I think so…" The timid crew member said while trying to locate the bulb of the chainsaw.
"I can't do anything with an 'I think so,' it's either yes or no," The director hissed, pressing his fingertips against his forehead to ward off a stress-induced headache that threatened to ensue.
"Y-Yes!" The crew member yipped in reply as he took the chainsaw from Ozzie and felt around for anything that felt familiar.
"What are you doing? Use the chain brake first if you're going to do it manually!" The director instructed with waning patience. "No, no, no! Set the choke to full position, and then pull the cord! Do you even know what you're doing?"
The director leaped out of his chair and marched onset, shoving the crew member aside to assess the chainsaw in his stead. "Give me that before you kill someone with your recklessness!" The director spat venomously. "You're this close to risking me another lawsuit."
While the crew member scuttled back among the others, the director engaged the chain break of the chainsaw, set the choke to full position, and finessed the starter cord with a firm yank. The cutting chain thankfully began to spin, causing the rest of the machine to whir to life after immediately disengaging the choke. He laughed triumphantly and pulled the starter cord once more to power down the chainsaw and hand it back to Ozzie for him to wield safely.
"There you go, kid. Now, try that again from your last line," The director ordered as he returned to his seat. "Aaaaand action!"
Heather gave Ozzie the green light to proceed with a nod and assumed the role of her character just as she did moments ago. Ozzie gripped the chainsaw with both hands, preparing to swing it above his head and let it rattle as he said, "But when I'm through with you, you… uh… line?" His voice cracked with an awkward hitch, causing it to flee to the back of his throat while the director glared at him with the fury of a soldier at war.
"You won't feel a thing," The director informed monotonously through his megaphone while leading his chin onto his palm.
"Right, sorry," Ozzie cleared his throat.
"Again!" The director commanded sharply.
"When I'm through with you, you won't…" Ozzie managed to say before being reduced to mush by the look in Heather's eyes. What he saw wasn't fear or dread, though he was plenty familiar with what such feelings looked like on other people. He didn't even see the blue-green color of her eyes as they stared at him with the silencing panic of her character. In her place was Logan and the expression he wore as he stormed out of his apartment. The confusion and disappointment in his eyes took hold, warping the color of Heather's until they became the beautiful hickory brown that Ozzie not only fell for, but now haunt him with the feelings of disgrace flickering within them.
"Cut, cut, cut!" The director shouted while waving his hand to cease all filming and production. "What is going on here? You knew your line just a minute ago!"
"I… I think I just need a minute," Ozzie mumbled with a nervous lump in his throat.
"What? Speak up!" The director squawked through his megaphone.
"I said I need a minute!" Ozzie yelled with a mighty roar that silenced everyone on and offset.
"Everyone, take five," The director groaned while he slumped in his chair.
People dispersed from their posts, production lights flickered out, and sound equipment withdrew as Ozzie tore off his mask and dragged his feet offset. His phone buzzed in his back pocket, causing him widen his eyes at his notification wall once he fished it out and flipped it open. Eleven missed calls, twenty eight unanswered messages, all sent by the one boy who likely spent every last credit he owned trying to reach him. Ozzie's heart tightened in his chest at the frowny face emoticons that punctuated Logan's texts. He clasped his phone shut to spare himself the anguish of ever having to look upon them with shame and regret.
"Hey, what's wrong?" Heather asked politely while gently tapping Ozzie on the shoulder.
"Huh?" Ozzie uttered while turning to face Heather. "Oh, hey. It's nothing, honestly."
"Really? 'Cause that 'nothing' seems to be keeping you from being a scary, psycho killer," Heather remarked in observation, her arms crossed and head tilted.
"I can be scary whenever I want, I'm just not in the mood right now," Ozzie declared, his brows furrowed and fists clenched.
"I'm not asking you to be scary, I'm asking you to be honest," Heather reiterated sincerely. "So, what's wrong? Is this about a boy?"
"What are you, my mom?" Ozzie scoffed in disbelief.
"No, I just happen to be someone who's concerned about their friend 'cause he's been so in his head all day, and I'm worried that if he doesn't solve his problem soon, he might stay there," Heather explained as she reached for Ozzie's shoulder, rubbed slow, comforting circles atop his army jacket, and turned him toward her. "So, tell me, what's wrong?"
"It's Logan," Ozzie answered begrudgingly. "He's been blowing up my phone for hours trying to reach me."
"What's so bad about that? I thought you liked him," Heather questioned confusedly.
"Trust me, I do," Ozzie affirmed with utmost certainty. "But I freaked out on him the other day during one of our study sessions and walked out on him."
"Because…?" Heather urged Ozzie to continue with the roll of her hand.
"Because he reached for my notebook," Ozzie huffed in reply.
"And you didn't want him to see your many, many elaborate drawings of him?" Heather continued on Ozzie's behalf.
"D'you have to phrase it like that?" Ozzie groaned in embarrassment,
"Sorry, sorry," Heather raised her hands in apology. "But is it really that bad if he sees them?"
"Yes, 'cause then he'll know how I really feel about him!" Ozzie cried on the precipice of a downward spiral. "What if he's disgusted with me? What if he stops talking to me? What if he tells his friends and suddenly I'm the laughing stock of the Palm Woods? I wouldn't be able to handle that, I can only be so tough!"
"He wouldn't do that to you. You've always had such nice things to say about him," Heather assured as she soothingly stroked Ozzie's arm. "You're always gushing about how he constantly fusses over you and how he remembers the littlest details about you. In fact, just the other day you came to me with the biggest smile on your face talking about how he'd never do anything to hurt you."
"But that can all change. I don't know what I'd do if I lost him 'cause of this," Ozzie croaked, his voice hitching with disappointment and worry.
"Well, if you keep shutting him out, you're definitely going to lose him," Heather forewarned solemnly.
"I know that!" Ozzie barked, immediately regretting his tone of voice and lowering himself to the floor. He hated the way he sounded when he was stressed—bitter, aggressive, out of control—all things he'd been ruthlessly labeled as and have driven countless people away. But Logan was unlike the others. He wasn't afraid, disgusted, or disturbed by Ozzie. He looked past these deterrents when no one else dared to share a passing glance and stuck by him through his struggles. To be deprived of his kindness and the comfort of his presence would be a devastating loss. "I'm really scared, Heather."
"It's okay to be scared, Ozzie," Heather sympathized, kneeling at Ozzie's side and urging him to meet her gaze. "But sometimes you have to take a deep breath and do things even when they're scary,"
"You sound a lot like him right now," Ozzie sighed wistfully. The buzz of his phone suddenly caught his and Heather's focus, beckoning their eyes to his pocket where a new notification lay in wait for Ozzie's attention.
"Well, speak of the devil," Heather chuckled in surprise. "Wait, that is him, right?"
"Yeah, that's definitely him," Ozzie answered as he flipped open is phone and noticed another unanswered text from the boy who single-handedly stole his heart and his sanity. Logan's plea for just a moment of Ozzie's time tugged at his heart strings almost as if to snap them in half and leave him to bleed out all that went unspoken.
"See? That's a sign!" Heather squeaked in rejoice, happily clasping her hands together and smiling triumphantly. "Whether or not Logan likes you back, I'm sure he wants you to be a part of his life as much as you want him to be a part of yours. He wouldn't still be reaching out if he didn't, and no amount of drawings or lovey-dovey doodles is going to change that."
"I guess you're right," Ozzie said, comforted by clarity.
"Of course I'm right, silly," Heather nudged Ozzie in the shoulder and helped him back to his feet. "Now, how about we wrap up this scene and grab some lunch? 'Cause I'm starving."
"Sounds like plan," Ozzie nodded in understanding.
- ' ♥︎ ' -
The school bell rang overhead, putting a sudden stop to Ms. Collins' lesson and dismissing her students en masse. With their bags fully packed and free time just out of reach, everyone rushed out of the classroom to greet the afternoon with activities of leisure and adventure.
Logan stood among his friends whose voices filled the Palm Woods lobby like water fills a glass with an amalgamation of ideas on how to pass the time until the evening. But try as he may, he couldn't focus on a single word that spewed forth and sought to beckon his attention toward the rest of Big Time Rush. He looked over his shoulder at Ozzie who'd been loitering at the end of the of the room where the elevators met the hallway. His eyes lingered there for a moment, watching Ozzie lose himself in thought. He was certain there were countless things running through his mind despite his stone-cold silence, all of which he wished to learn and absorb in hopes to break down Ozzie's walls and reignite their bond. But Logan lingered for too long, and their eyes met in an awkward clash of gazes that caused them both to turn away.
"Yo, Logan!" Kendall called out from the door. "You coming?"
"Huh?" Logan muttered hazily, blinking back to reality.
"I don't think he was paying attention," James remarked in a gossipy whisper as he leaned toward Kendall.
"We're going to the park to play some field hockey," Kendall reiterated to catch Logan up to speed. "You in?"
"Please say yes so we can get there before someone else takes all the good sports equipment," Carlos pleaded with his hands clasped in prayer.
"Actually, I think I'm gonna hang back awhile. There's something important I've gotta take care of," Logan declared as he glanced over his shoulder to give Ozzie for another good look.
Kendall, James, and Carlos stepped closer, looking past Logan to see living proof of his unfinished business. They swallowed thickly in fear of what lay in wait for their genius friend, but it was clear from the certainty flickering in Logan's eyes and the sincerity that glowed around him as he looked toward Ozzie that his mind was made up. No amount of convincing or slight fearmongering could deter him from making things right.
"Good luck, buddy," Kendall said as he delivered a firm pat to Logan's shoulder.
"You're gonna need it…" James grimaced, his brows curling with worry.
"If you die, I'm taking your laptop!" Carlos proclaimed in anticipation.
"Thanks, guys, I feel so reassured," Logan replied sarcastically, one hand on each strap of his gingham Jansport backpack. "But this is something I have to do. I'll catch up with you later, okay?"
Kendall, James, and Carlos nodded in understanding, waved goodbye, and fled the lobby to the Palm Woods Park. Logan turned toward the elevators in their absence, sucked in a sharp breath, and marched in Ozzie's direction before second thoughts could steer him away.
"Hey, Ozzie," Logan greeted while awkwardly plunging his hands into his pockets. "Would you maybe wanna come over and study?"
"Nah, I think I've got a handle on things," Ozzie shook his head in refusal.
"I have no doubt that you do. So much so that…" Logan paused, nervously stroking his arm. "Maybe you've been pretending to need my help just to spend time with me?"
"What are you talking about?" Ozzie spat as he narrowed his eyes at Logan and lowered his arms from his chest.
"Listen, you know I'm always happy to help if you really need it," Logan cautioned with his hands raised. "But you don't have to dumb yourself down just to be near me."
"I'm not dumbing myself down, I'm legitimately struggling!" Ozzie hissed in retort.
"Yes, but not as much as you used to. You've made a lot of improvement lately; the proof is all in your notes," Logan countered, easing into the conversation more and letting his nerves fizzle out. "Which are very lovely, by the way. I'm flattered."
"You looked at my notes?!" Ozzie barked, his fists clenched with the fury of betrayal.
"I know you didn't want me to, and I'm sorry for going against your wishes, but there's definitely something to be said about them," Logan explained apologetically.
"Drop it, Logan, I am not talking to you about this!" Ozzie grumbled, angrily turning his back on Logan.
"Intimidate me all you want, Ozzie, but I'm not scared of you, and I doubt you want me to be," Logan declared, desperately clinging to hope for both his and Ozzie's sakes.
"I'm not trying to intimidate you! I just..." Ozzie surrendered to the conflicting feelings brewing within him, unspoken or otherwise. He grew tired of being angry and distant. He'd exhausted that side of himself until his walls came tumbling down whether he wanted them to or not. "I don't want you to make fun of me for how I feel, or worse, stop talking to me altogether."
"That'll never happen. You know I think you're awesome, and I love having you around," Logan reassured wholeheartedly as he reached for Ozzie's shoulder and urged their eyes to meet. "But if we're gonna stay friends, we have to learn to talk to each other, even when it's difficult."
"You're right, I'm sorry," Ozzie sighed, letting go of everything that kept him at arm's length. "Mind if we take this someplace else?"
"Sure thing, partner," Logan grinned, emphasizing the last word with a nudge to the arm.
Together, Logan and Ozzie left the Palm Woods lobby and headed for the park. They strolled alongside one another, basking in the ambience—the warmth of the sun's afternoon glow, the melodious chirps and tweets of avian life, the chitchat of idle residents lazing about the grounds, and the laughter of passersby engaging in physical activity. The scenery was relaxing, picturesque, everything it needed to be to one at ease.
Logan and Ozzie sat beside one another on a nearby park bench, but neither one dared to start the conversation. They held their breaths, awkwardly glancing at each other from the side as they both silently worked up the courage to speak.
"Look, I want you to know that you don't have to be ashamed or embarrassed about what I saw," Logan began, gently chipping away at the silence. "Like I said, I'm really flattered, and honestly a little impressed."
"You are?" Ozzie uttered in surprise.
"Are you kidding? Your art is extraordinary! It's like I was looking at a mirror!" Logan praised enthusiastically, his eyes glimmering with excitement akin to the several pictures of him in Ozzie's notebook. "When did you pick up drawing anyway?"
"After Ms. Collins saw our rooftop model for the science fair, she suggested that I take up art to 'channel my energy into something creative'," Ozzie answered, curling his fingers in air quotes. "So, she gave me a few resources to get started, and things just kinda picked up from there."
"That's amazing! And to think you've gotten so good at it in such little time," Logan beamed joyously. "Would you mind drawing me again sometime? I really like the way you captured my eyes."
"You noticed that, huh?" Ozzie cracked a begrudged grin. "I guess I wouldn't mind if that's what you really want."
"I do, I really do," Logan insisted warmly, eyes sparkling in the glow of the sun and hands unwittingly wrapped around Ozzie's arm.
"Then consider it done," Ozzie obliged without a second thought.
Logan and Ozzie looked at one another with kindred smiles of relief and gratitude. They were so distracted by the weights lifted from their chests and the solace of each other's presence that they'd yet to realize the space diminishing between them. But after one quick glance downward, Logan and Ozzie immediately averted their gazes from one another and leaned toward opposite sides of the bench.
"So… what do we do now?" Ozzie asked awkwardly, fighting the urge to clutch the area on his sleeve where Logan's hands had been.
"What d'you mean?" Logan turned his head ever so slightly back to Ozzie.
"You must know by now that I like you," Ozzie reiterated.
"Right," Logan nodded pensively. "I've never had another guy like me before. This is new."
"It's kinda new for me, too," Ozzie confessed, nervously scratching the back of his neck. "Do you at least like me back?"
"I dunno. I mean, I think you're just amazing. You inspire me with how much you've changed since we became project partners. You're unlike anyone I've ever met. You're strong, bold, fierce—all the things I wish I was," Logan professed earnestly, his signature sideways smile finding its way back to the surface of his face and into Ozzie's heart. "But you're also thoughtful, sweet, and evidently very creative. There's a lot more to you than meets the eye."
"No one's ever said that about me before," Ozzie remarked in a voice just above a whisper, breathless from the sincerity of Logan's profession.
"But most importantly, you make me happy. I like how you look at me from across the classroom when you think I'm not looking, and I like how you only smile with your teeth when I'm around. I like how your jacket sometimes smells like vanilla, and how good you are at stopping my thoughts from spiraling, and how you lift me into your arms as if I weigh nothing, and— " Logan stopped himself, gasping in realization with a look of wide-eyed shock. "Oh, my gosh, maybe I do like you."
"You look like you're freaking out," Ozzie commented with growing concern.
"I am freaking out!" Logan yipped in reply as he rose to his feet and braced his hands onto either side of his head. "I-I've gotta run some tests!"
"Tests? What're you talking about?" Ozzie stood from the bench, his features sharpening in a dizzying mixture of confusion and worry.
"Whenever I run into any problems with love, I conduct these love science experiments, and the data usually calms my nerves," Logan explained frantically, gesturing madly with his hands. "Would you mind hooking me up to an EKG?"
"I'm not doing that," Ozzie refused sternly.
"You're right, I'll just do it myself," Logan threw down his hand as he began retreating to the Palm Woods building.
"We're not done here, Logan!" Ozzie exclaimed as he caught Logan by the wrist, immediately regretting the tone of his voice and the firmness of his grasp after. He then loosened his grip, slowly drifting down to Logan's fingers and releasing him entirely to grant him the opportunity of choice. "Just… please sit back down. Let me help you through this."
"Okay," Logan nodded, allowing himself to be led back to the bench and into Ozzie's space.
"I want you to really think about this for a moment and answer me honestly," Ozzie said, his hands hovering over Logan's shoulders but never fully committing to the touch. "Do you like me?"
Logan sat with his thoughts for a moment, joining them with the feelings he'd not yet recognized and allowing them to take form in his mind. He replayed all his most significant encounters with Ozzie, the ones that made his heart flutter and his smile beam. It was odd to sort out his feelings without the help of a machine. The very thought of it was quite foreign to Logan, but the more he mulled things over, the clearer his answer became. "I do," he confessed wholeheartedly. "I really, really do."
"Really?" Ozzie replied, his voice hitching with excitement. "So, what now? Do we go somewhere? Do something?"
"I wouldn't mind spending some alone time with you," Logan hummed contentedly. "We could hit the arcade, grab a bite to eat, and even catch a movie if you want."
"Y'mean like a date?" Ozzie blinked rapidly in query.
"Yeah, like a date," Logan affirmed as he scooted toward Ozzie ever so slightly. "Would you want to go on a date with me?"
Ozzie's eyes stapled open wide, and his heart somersaulted in his chest upon noticing Logan drawing near. Their pinkies were a mere hairsbreadth away, inching closer and closer in silence and persevering through the uncertainty of the moment until they linked together like the ends of a ribbon tying the knot to a perfect bow. Ozzie looked up at Logan, overwhelmed by the urge to make a bigger gesture, one that would solidify his answer but not scare Logan off in the process. He swallowed thickly, leaned in closely, and placed a gentle kiss atop Logan's cheek that tingled with the lingering impression it left on his skin. "I would," Ozzie responded softly.
"Woah," Logan uttered breathlessly, hovering his hand over his cheek where Ozzie just kissed. "I can't believe that worked."
"What, have you never asked anyone out before?" Ozzie scoffed absentmindedly.
"Not by myself. I usually have James nearby in times like this to better my chances," Logan clarified as though it were a common practice to have a friend accompany you to pursue someone romantically.
"Is he… coming with us?" Ozzie inquired with the hope that the answer was no.
"Gosh, I hope not. That'd be weird," Logan cringed at the thought of his first date with Ozzie being dictated by any friend of his.
"You're weird, Logan," Ozzie shook his head with a faint smirk.
"Hey!" Logan squeaked in mild offense.
"But in a good way," Ozzie affirmed, slowly bringing his hand over Logan's and gently holding it within his grasp. "It suits you."
Logan glanced down at their hands, gasping lightly from a mixture of excitement and surprise. Everything in him sang with cheek-reddening, heart-fluttering, skin-tingling joy he couldn't even begin to articulate. He not only lost himself in the feeling of Ozzie's touch—gentle, warm, and inviting, just as he'd always imagined—but the infectious look of pure, unadulterated, widespread happiness that brought Ozzie's face to life like never before. There was a certain shine to him, one that not even the California sun could cast with it's almighty glow. It testified to this moment in time being everything Ozzie could've hoped for. Together, he and Logan relished in the romance that blossomed between them and would hopefully one day bloom into something truly magical. But their moment of solace was cut short by Kendall abruptly springing out from the grass, hockey stick in hand and battle cry on the tip of his tongue.
"Kendall?" Logan and Ozzie peeped in unison.
"Oh, hey, Logan. Hey, Ozzie," Kendall greeted, waving with one hand while clutching his hockey stick with the other, "You almost done here? 'Cause James and Carlos are kinda kicking my butt right now, and I could really use a partner."
"Actually, I think I'm gonna stick with Ozzie a little longer, if that's oka—" Logan trailed off as James suddenly leaped into view and tackled Kendall to the ground with a mighty clash
"Oh!" Carlos cried, cupping his hands around his mouth to amplify his voice as he hurried over. "Diamond tackles Knight down to the ice, and the crowd goes wild!"
"Is he okay?" Ozzie inquired while pointing down at Kendall.
"Yeah, I wouldn't worry too much," Logan assured confidently. "We do this all the time."
"Get off me, your cologne is making my eyes sting!" Kendall turned his head toward the pavement while wriggling beneath James to get away.
"Hey, don't ask to play field hockey if you don't wanna risk mixing the smell of dew with Barracuda cosmetics," James warned as he rolled off of Kendall and helped him to his feet.
"But do you have to put so much on?" Kendall whined in complaint.
"Obviously! I'm offended you even asked," James crossed his arms and donned his typical childish, lip-quivering pout.
"Dude, you're wearing a whole bottle of the stuff!" Kendall retorted in growing frustration.
"Am not!" James cried, defending both his honor and pride.
"Are too!" Kendall hissed, throwing down his hockey stick to gesture angrily with his hands.
"Am not!" James squawked, his hair flying madly through his face as his head bounced with every word.
"Uh, guys?" Carlos peeped, the sound of his voice unfortunately falling on deaf ears and being drowned out by Kendall and James' verbal spar.
"Like I said, all the time," Logan repeated, punctuating his words with a defeated sigh from having a picture-perfect moment sullied by ill-timed petty squabbling.
