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The story you are about to read was written by Diana, TheMechanicsOfLiving

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"I really don't want it," Logan said, turning the cup in his hand once or twice before giving it back to him. Remy looked at him for a moment before setting the glass on the table in front of him and staring Logan's profile.

"What are you afraid of?" his voice echoed called into the void. His voice bounced off the inside of his skull as he tried to fumble for my answer.

"I'm don't want to do something stupid," Logan supplied as an answer while staring into the contents of the drink, "Plus, one of us has to drive home,"

"One drink will not make you drunk," Remy replied, causing me to look at him before tapping the side of his head, " unless you take something really strong, you didn't eat anything beforehand, and/or you're a serious lightweight. Try again, this time using Roman's possible minor in psychology,"

"When you drink, you're supposed to be happy for a while," Logan responded, staring coldly into the glass, "I feel like if I drink one shot of this concocted happiness, I'll always want more and more and more of it until my body can't take it anymore."

"Why?"

"I don't remember what happy feels like," he replied solemnly.

Remy looked at him, unsure of where Logan was going with his conversation, which made him sigh even heavier in response and begin to clean the water draining down the outside of the cup and onto the table with the sleeve of his jacket.

"Don't get me wrong, I had an amazing childhood. I had parents who genuinely cared about me and my future, a group of friends who stood by me, and I never had to worry about the basic necessities every person needs. I can't really tell you what happened since then. I suppose little things kept adding up until it took too much energy to force being happy anymore. Now, it's like remembering what sunshine feels like. You don't quite remember how it made you feel, but you know it must've felt warm,"

Remy hums in response as downing his drink and flags down the waitress, "An interesting theory, kid, but I can't say I agree with all of it. I think everyone feels shades of happy every once and awhile. It's just a lot of people don't know how to recognize happiness as you grow. Any other reasons?"

" I don't think so," Logan replied.

The waitress and Remy talked back and forth for a moment, partaking in light conversation before moving on to grab the check. Remy takes off his glasses, tucks them into the inside pocket of his leather jacket, and fixes him with a look that makes Logan take a gulp of air and his stomach twists itself into knots as he waits for what Remy's going to say.

"Then the real question is," Remy said dully, drumming his fingers on the table, "Are you going to drink that drink or not?"

Logan look down on it quizzically, drawing sketches into the fog of the glass as he debates his options.
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