pretty boy, the hundred

chapter five

( the ground )
third point of view

LOGAN STRUGGLED TO KEEP HIS EYES OPEN AS HE SAT HUNCHED AGAINST THE DROP SHIP LADDER, GUARDING IT AS HE DESPERATELY TRIED TO KEEP HIMSELF UP RIGHT.

Jasper screams and Oliver's occasional loud grunts had kept most of the camp up majority of the night, resulting in half the camp looking miserable.

The sun was setting slightly and delinquents were finally starting to quiet down as did both injured boys.

Logan was glad, all night he had dealt with peoples comments and threats, their threats mostly being directed towards Jasper. He couldn't help but understand them on some extent, though he could feel his patience diminishing as the night ventured on and their words got cruder.

A few hours had gone by and people had started going about their days, trying their best to ignore Jasper and Oliver. Logan had managed to get about an hours sleep, switching with places with Wells so he could go take a nap in their shared tent.

Peeling the flap of his tent aside, Logan stepped out squinting slightly at the harshness of the sun glaring down on the camp.

Yawning he walked towards the drop ship, careful not to trip over the various stones and logs scattered amongst the camps floor. He smirked slightly at a few girls who scampered away their faces flushed red.

Successfully making it into the drop ship with out a tumble, he climbed the ladder to second floor, wincing as the hatchet made funny sound, goosebumps erupting upon his arms.

Logan paused as all eyes shifted to him, taking notice of the pure frustration settled upon nearly every persons face in the room.

"What's going on?" He questioned, pulling himself fully out of the hatch.

No one said anything, their eyes drifting down towards Logan's exposed chest and torso. His jeans sat low enough on his hips that's his full lower stomach was all on show, exposing his very visible v-line to everyone.

Logan took notice of everyone's stared and followed their gazes.
It seems in his tired state he had forgotten to put on a shirt.

"That would explain why it's so cold in here." He muttered before he shrugged, placing himself next to Clarke in between both injured boys.

"I need some fresh air." Clarke coughed awkwardly, standing abruptly as she shielded her red face, scampering down the hatch.

"What's her problem." Logan asked, confusion clear on his face.

Octavia let out a laugh as she gripped both Jaspers and Oliver's hands, taking a quick glance at Monty and Wells who also look confused.

"Boys." She sighed, rolling her eyes, before wringing out a wet cloth and placing it against Jaspers forehead. She grabbed another and handed it to Logan, implying for him to do the same.

He sat there for a few moments, staring down at his bestfriends lifeless looking body. His pale sweaty face was void of its usual pink rosy tint and his usual blonde unruly hair was now matted and dirty with blood.

His vision blurred with tears, a lump he knew all too well forming in his throat. Standing, Logan cleared his throat, trying to rid of the horrible lump. Noticing he had attracted everyone's attention he decided to make his leave.