Strangers | John Logan
Part1: Sunday Mornings
She forgot all their memories.
He remembered enough for both of them.
Summary: John Logan and his bug have been together for four years. They've been through all the ups and downs of a relationship, long distance, insecurities, career changes etc. life is finally starting to make sense, they're engaged living with their fur baby Moose and both working jobs that let them take time out for each other. Until a car accident takes it all away from them and now, John Logan is just a stranger from college.
Pairing: john logan x fiance!reader
Warnings: car accident, mentions of blood, injuries, trauma. this is just plain sad, also cliffhanger.
Word Count: 3.3k (assuming)
💌: I love a good amnesia trope and there is nothing more left to say. I'll drop a new part every Wednesday! I'll be making a taglist for this, comment your @ if you want to be added! Also pls give me some suggestions for the upcoming plot, I'm clueless now, ENJOY (not)
If someone asked John Logan what his favourite sound in the world was, he wouldn't even have to think of the answer. He already knew.
It was laughter. Your laughter to be precise.
It drifted into the bedroom just after eight am on a rainy Sunday morning, followed by the clang of a metal hitting the kitchen floor.
‘Fucking hell, man’ you groaned.
Logan smiled before he even opened his eyes, he had been up for a while, enjoying your banter with Moose in the kitchen. And then, boom, another loud clatter followed by another loud dramatic sigh.
‘I'm choosing to believe nobody saw that except you, Moose.’
He buried his face deeper into his pillow, laughing at her antics. ‘Unfortunately bug,’ he called sleepily, ‘I heard everything’
‘Go back to sleep, you're annoying. And for your kind information, I've got this.’
‘You've said that three times in the last 20 minutes.’
‘I mean it this time, John'
Logan laughed so loud, knowing you were gonna psych out soon, dragging a hand down his face before climbing out of bed. Rain tapped softly against the bedroom windows, turning the apartment quaint and cozy. The smell of coffee drifting down the hallway.
He found you standing barefoot in the kitchen, wearing one of his oversized hoodies and fuzzy socks that didn't match. He saw you balancing on your tiptoes, trying to reach the top shelf with a spatula because, for reasons Logan had never understood, you had refused to use the step stool you owned.
He leaned against the doorway and folded his arms. ‘Need a hand, baby?’
‘They invented step stools for exactly this reason y’know’
‘They also invented tall boyfriends for exactly this reason, now make yourself useful caveman’
‘I feel so appreciated’, he said pretending to be a fairy, both hands under his chin and one leg bent backwards.
‘You should, now get to work’ and you didn't need to tell him again, without another word, he walked over and slipped one arm around your waist. You let out a long, patient sigh, a warning as most would interpret it.
‘But I'm just following your orders and making myself useful, work you know?’
You rolled her eyes toward the ceiling, another sigh.
‘You wake up every morning and purposefully make me choose violence’
‘I wake up every morning and choose you’ You turned your head just enough to look at him, ‘Damn baby, i gotta hand it to you, that was smooth'
‘For my aunt Janine, you idiot'
He grinned, ‘You haven't left yet, so I'm taking that as a good sign’
You laughed ‘you never know dumdum, I gotta keep you on your toes'
'gotta?', you looked at him for a moment before your expression softened.
‘Liar liar pants on fire bug. You're obsessed with me.’
He finally reached up, grabbed the pancake mix, setting it on the counter.
Sunday mornings belonged to them, it was their day. No school. No practice. No kids. No meetings. No alarms. No wedding planning. Just breakfast, Moose and the two of them.
You insisted having pancakes made by him for breakfast despite overwhelming evidence that he had absolutely no business operating a frying pan in your presence. You insisted on supervising despite overwhelming evidence that your presence made him significantly worse.
‘You flipped it too early’
‘It is still wet and liquidy’
‘It will become one with the floor if you try to flip it. John, don't.’ As if on cue, the pancake folded in half midair before splattering spectacularly onto the tiles.
Moose, their three year old baby beagle, appeared from nowhere like gandalf and slurped it up like a vacuum, his tail wagging furiously.
‘I served breakfast to Moose’ and Moose happily devoured the evidence.
You laughed so hard, doubling over the counter. Logan watched you with such admiration in his eyes, forgetting the task at hand and you caught him staring.
‘What? You staring again’
‘Nothing and I am not staring, it's called appreciating, look it up’
‘You're making that face’
‘The one where you're thinking something’
‘And? Come on, out with it’
He shrugged, ‘I get to wake up to this every day, just counting my blessings’
‘You baby bug and your little baby Moose’
You shook your head with a laugh, ‘You're unbelievably cheesy’
‘I know, Johnny’ her smile grew wider, softer.
‘I still don't understand what I did to deserve you’, Logan said, crossing the kitchen in two steps, cupping your face with his hands, he kissed your forehead.
By eleven, the apartment had transformed from peaceful to absolute chaos. The front door flew open without so much as a knock.
‘Nobody panic! Daddy Dean hath arrived’, Dean announced his arrival loudly, ‘I'm here, I'm here’
Logan didn't even look up from the stove, ‘You know normal people ring the bell’
‘I have a key for a reason’
‘You abuse having a key and that's soon about to change’
‘I reject that accusation and you will be hearing from my lawyer’
Allie followed him inside carrying two paper bags from the bakery, ‘You two started arguing before I even made it through the door, reaching new heights every time’
‘It's tradition’ Dean replied.
A minute later Garrett and Hannah arrived carrying flowers that Hannah immediately admitted she bought for herself and only decided to bring because she forgot they were coming to brunch. Tucker came in holding two containers full of delicious food for everyone.
The apartment is filled with overlapping conversations with Moose running laps around the living room greeting everyone like they hadn't seen him in years instead of last Tuesday.
Logan stood over the stove trying not to burn anything while Dean repeatedly stole strips of bacon off the cooling plate.
‘Seriously? Stop it’ Logan smacked his hand away with a spatula, ‘You're such a child, go help out with the girls’
‘I contribute emotionally and you love me’ he said, stealing another strip of bacon.
‘The only thing you're contributing to is my grocery bill.’
Across the room, you and Allie sat cross-legged on the rug surrounded by wedding magazines, color swatches, and fabric samples. Hannah leaned over one of the magazines as Garrett and Tucker sat on the couch, immersed with the match playing in front of them on mute.
‘Please don't choose beige, it is not timeless, don't bullshit me with that’ Allie practically shouted.
‘but it is timeless!’ you protested
‘It's oatmeal’, Hannah chimed in, that unhelpful little idiot.
Logan smiled to himself, eavesdropping on your conversation from the kitchen.
Every Sunday looked like this for the lot of you. It was loud, messy and comfortable, it was home. He's broken out of his thoughts as he hears you call for him.
‘Johnny boy!’ he looked over and saw you holding up two invitation samples. ‘Help me settle something babe’, he walked over, wiping his hands on a dish towel.
‘What's up, bug?’ You showed him two nearly identical cards.
‘Ivory or cream? I think I'm leaning towards Ivory’
He stared at you as if you grew two heads, ‘Am I tripping or are they both literally the same.’
The girls groaned collectively, ‘Not again! They're completely different. When you boys learn, goddamn’
‘The difference is between a warm white and a cold white’
Logan looked helplessly toward Garrett, ‘Back me up, G’
Garrett looked up from his phone, took one look and declared, ‘They're definitely different’ clearly not seeing a difference.
Logan narrowed his eyes, ‘Traitor’
‘Okay, moving on, what about napkins? Are we thinking blue or white?’
Logan looked at the samples and then looked at you, ‘I honestly don't care’
You frowned dramatically, ‘So you're telling me you don't care about our wedding?’, the room fell silent.
‘I care about the wedding bug, of course I do. I just don't care what color the napkins are’ he said stepping closer to you.
You folded your arms, ‘So what do you care about?’, clearly mad.
He smiled, he knew you were annoyed by his answer, ‘I only care about you walking down the aisle towards me’
The room fell completely silent, Dean was the first to react, groaning ‘Oh, fuck off, How have you gotten even worse?’
Logan never looked away from you, ‘I've been waiting to marry you since the day you finally agreed to go out with me.’
Heat rushed to your cheeks, embarrassed, warming him, ‘Looggaaannnn’
‘So excuse me, if the napkins are purple, blue, green, or have cartoon dinosaurs on them’, he gently squeezed your hand, ‘I'm still going to think it's the best day of my life’
Hannah dramatically wiped an imaginary tear. Dean being Dean, gagged, ‘I'm suddenly nauseous’, throwing a cushion at Logan, ‘You two are insufferable’
‘I cannot believe you said that in front of everyone’
‘That you have, johnny boy’
He leaned down, ‘So,’ you looked up at him as he continued, ‘Blue napkins?’
‘No’, you smiled, ‘I really don't’
‘Ugh, get a room. Logan, get help’
By early evening the apartment had emptied again, the dishwasher humming quietly in the background. Rain pattered tiny streaks across the glass balcony doors.
Moose snored loudly on the living room rug, one paw twitching in a dream.
Logan found you curled up beneath a blanket with a book you clearly were not focused on. He tried to snuggle beside you and you didn't even look up from the book
Instead, you shifted automatically until your head rested against his shoulder.
Neither of you spoke for a while, sitting in comfortable silence. You could spend hours like this.
‘Baby, you've planned ninety-eight percent of it already, what are you worried about?’
‘What if something goes wrong?’
Logan pretended to think, purposefully making a confused face with his hand on his chin, tapping.
‘The flowers might wilt before the reception even begins’
‘The cake could collapse’, he laughed, ‘I knew you'd make fun of me’
‘I'm not making fun of you bug, but none of those things matter’
She tilted her head, for a second Logan saw where Moose gets his reactions from and it's evident from your look, ‘They don't?’
He took your hand, gently rubbing his thumb over the engagement ring, ‘No. They don't’ and he smiled, ‘You will still be there, by my side, as my wife and I'll be your husband. So no bug, the flowers wilting, rain, collapsed cakes or relatives do not matter.’
You looked at him for a long moment, this is the man you wanted to marry and there was no sliver of doubt in that, how did you get so lucky?
‘I can't wait to marry you Logie’
His chest tightened with happiness so complete it almost scared him. He kissed the top of your head, breathing you in.
So yeah, Sunday mornings, afternoons and evenings were theirs all together.
Later that evening they drove to their favorite little diner by the lake, the older waitress already knew their order.
Two burgers. One basket of fries. Extra fried pickles. One chocolate milkshake. Two straws. Yeah you guys were cliche like that, what about it?
‘You know’ Logan said as you stole another bite from his burger, ‘you could've just ordered your own in the same flavour bug, you do this everytime’
You chewed thoughtfully, ‘I could, but I always like yours better baby’ and took another big bite from his burger.
He sighed dramatically, ‘I keep falling for the same trick, my fiance is a thief’
‘You love me stealing your burger, don't lie’
The rain had grown heavier by the time they left, the windshield wipers swept back and forth in a steady rhythm, streetlights blurring into long golden streaks against the wet pavement.
You took a big yawn, eyes drooping. You have work tomorrow, Logan has to be up early for his coach duties and it was already very late.
‘Sleep bug, I'll carry you home’ Logan said seeing you struggle to keep your eyes open.
‘I'm trying’ but within minutes you had drifted off. Without opening your eyes, you reached across the center console, searching for Logan's hand. He smiled before lacing his fingers through yours. It was instinctive, both of you were used to holding hands while driving, never driving without it.
He lifted your hand, kissing your knuckles as you smiled at the familiar feeling of warmth.
Logan looked at you for the briefest second, whispering ‘my sweet girl’
And then, the whole world shifted upside down, it happened so fast, Logan couldn't control anything. A blinding pair of headlights cut through the storm, the horns blaring, just as Logan's eyes snapped forward, he served to save the car from any impact, but it didn't happen as he wanted it to. It felt as if time had stopped, his eyes snapping to yours, metal twisting, glass flying everywhere and a sharp pain in his shoulder as the airbags deployed, the car flipping towards the divider and he couldn't do anything but watch as he lost consciousness.
He woke with a jolt, his whole body felt as if it was on fire, his hands trembling unconsciously, uncontrollably. His first coherent thought wasn't about himself.
His head turned sharply toward the passenger seat, against his will it felt as if his head would fall off as soon as he turned. You were slumped against the deployed side airbag, unnaturally still, blood dripping from your head, strands of hair hiding a part of your bloodied face, and the hand that had been holding his only moments earlier rested limply in your lap.
His heart stopped, ‘No. No. No. No’ The words barely escaped him. He reached across the ruined center console, ignoring the pain shooting through his shoulder 'y/n? bug?' he tried to shout.
His fingers brushed yours. Cold, missing their usual warmth.
Fear surged through every inch of him, his entire world narrowed to the woman in the passenger seat, his everything, his reason for living, you.
To the engagement ring still shining on your finger.
To the unbearable silence where your voice should have been.
He reached for you again, fingertips barely grazing yours as tears blurred his vision and darkness engulfed him completely.
Logan woke to the sound of a heart monitor beeping.
He didn't remember how long he listened to the sound, trying to wake up as the noise drilled into the fog inside his head, until he forced his eyes open.
His shoulder felt like it had been torn from its socket, his ribs protested every breath, his forearm felt stuck. There was dried blood on his face, and the room smelled overwhelmingly of disinfectant.
And then, the memories came rushing back. The rain, the car, the headlights, the accident, the blood, you.
Garrett noticed him stirring, ‘Logan?’
His mouth was so dry, his voice cracked, ‘y/n’
Garrett rushed out of the room to call whoever was available.
‘We're going to ask you a few questions first sir. Please calm down’ the nurse told him calmly, as she made him drink some water.
‘Where is she? Is she okay?’, he asked, looking at the nurse as if the answer would decide his fate.
The hesitation lasted more than a second and that terrified him, ‘Please tell me that she's okay?’ his eyes brimming with tears of fear and pain and when the nurse didn't reply, he turned to his best friend, ‘G?’
Garrett didn't know how to reply to his question. To be honest, he himself was too scared to ask. He was scared that Logan would wake up and immediately ask him about you and he didn't have it in him to look at him and tell him that his fiance was not okay. So he chose the easy route of ignorance.
‘She survived the accident’, he let out a breath he didn't even realise he was holding, letting the tears accumulated in his eyes, fall. Survived. Not ‘she's okay’ or ‘she's awake’. Just Survived.
Logan tried to sit up in his hospital bed, pain exploding through his shoulders and chest, landing back where was positioned in the first place ‘I need to see her, please let me see her’
‘That's my fiance, please, please just let me see if she's okay.’ His voice cracked. ‘I need to see her’
The nurse exchanged a glance with Garrett and the doctor who had entered a whole back, before nodding.
‘Son, we will take you to her as soon as we've made sure that you're okay to see her. She's not alone, her mother is there with her. You need to be strong for yourself before you try to become strong for her’ Dr. Sullivan was a man of experience.
Hearing that Logan immediately sat still. He let them poke and prod, take his vitals, examine and do all the tests required, waiting patiently.
Those fourty five minutes felt longer than an eternity. Logan was restless, anxious, and so scared of what was to come. He wanted to hold your hand again, he had to make sure that it was warm, he wanted to erase that image of you in his head, bloodied and lifeless in front of him, because of him.
He wanted to see you for himself, cry probably, have you in front of him.
The first thing John realized when he tried to sit up from the hospital bed was that breathing was now a luxury. Pain exploded through his ribs so sharply that his vision blurred, a strangled grunt escaping him before he could stop it, ‘Holy fuck’
Dr Sullivan had clearly told him he had three fractured ribs, a dislocated shoulder they had to put back into place, and twenty stitches running along his forearm where glass had torn through flesh.
His left arm, now, rested heavily in a navy sling, completely useless; even the thought of moving hurt. Every instinct told him to brace himself with it, but the slightest twitch sent a lightning bolt through his shoulder.
‘Easy, man’ Garrett was already at his side, one hand hovering near his back, as if waiting for Logan's trust fall into his bed, ‘You don't have to prove anything right now. You know that right?’
Logan ignored him as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed instead, the movement itself left him dizzy, the room started to sway, his stomach in knots as his heartbeat pounded painfully against his broken ribs. He had to shut his eyes and wait for the nausea to pass.
Garrett watched him like a hawk, ‘You gonna pass out on me?’
‘You look like you're about to, stubborn motherfucker’
‘I'm not passing out, ’ Logan shot him a glare which lacked its usual bite.
With a quiet groan, he pushed himself upright, and his knees nearly gave up on him. Garrett's hand shot out, gripping his good arm. ‘I've got you’
‘I don't need any-’, his ribs seized in pain the moment he tried to straighten up and the sentence dissolved into a quiet hiss as he leaned completely on Garrett. Garrett didn't say I told you so, he simply kept his hand there until Logan found his balance.
It should've felt safe, instead, it felt like he was walking towards a verdict. He took small, careful steps, wincing at every other change, it sent a dull vibration through his chest. His shoulder throbbed relentlessly beneath the sling, while the stitches along his forearm pulled tight beneath the bandages whenever he moved too quickly.
After walking barely twenty feet, Logan was huffing as if he had run a 5k at an inhuman pace, which made his ribs hurt, feeling pure agony.
Garrett slowed his pace to match Logan's step, ‘We should stop, take some rest, you're clearly in no condition to do this Logan’
‘Logan, stop being stubborn’
‘No, G’, his voice cracked more from exhaustion than determination, ‘I need to see her, you get that?’
‘Let me at least get you a wheelchair? You would be far more comfortable in that’
Logan didn't reply, just kept walking, slowly and steadily.
Garrett remained quiet, silence settling between them, the only sound was of Logan's uneven breathing. Until Garrett slowed to stop, ‘We're here, man’
