Logan didn’t have an answer, and the silence that followed said more than words could. He felt it too... the bone-deep fear, the creeping hopelessness. The thought of his mother’s worried face, wondering every day if her son was dead or alive.
"I hate not knowing," Jean said. "I hate that I can’t do anything. I hate..." Her voice broke. "I just hate this so much."
Without thinking, Logan reached out and took her hand... rough against rough, worn against worn. "You’re not alone," he said, quietly. "You still have , whether you like it or not."
Jean pull her hand away.
"You say I’m not alone," she muttered, voice low. "But half the ti, it feels like you don’t even care."
Logan turned toward her, brows furrowed. "What are you talking about?"
"You act like this is just another ga, Logan! Like it’s just another challenge for you to win!" Her voice rose with every word. "Do you even care if we never get out of here?"
He stared at her, stunned. "Of course I care! Why the hell do you think I’ve been killing boars and catching ducks and building shelters?"
"No, you’re just distracting yourself," Jean snapped. "You don’t feel anything! Not fear. Not grief. Not even hope. You just... exist. Like a cold, heartless machine!"
Logan clenched his jaw. "You think I’m heartless?"
"You haven’t even cried once! Not when we almost died. Not when we were starving. Not even when you thought we missed a rescue signal!" She stood, pacing now. "God, it’s like your mother raised a robot!"
The mont the words slipped out, she froze.
Logan shot to his feet. "What did you just say?"
Jean’s eyes widened, realizing what she’d done but it was too late.
"Don’t you dare bring my mother into this."
"I... Logan..." she tried to speak, to undo it, but he cut her off.
"You think I don’t care? You have no idea how many nights I’ve stayed awake thinking about her. About how she’d be starving herself sick, praying for a sign that I’m alive. But you? You just run your mouth like pain is sothing only you get to feel."
Jean’s throat tightened. "I didn’t an..."
"No, you did. Because you don’t think anyone else could possibly be suffering as much as you are." His eyes burned into her. "You say you’re scared? So am I. I just don’t collapse every ti the fear creeps in."
Silence fell like a slap to the face.
Jean looked away, biting her lip hard to stop the tears from coming. Logan stood there, chest heaving.
He hated how her words dug deep.
Jean’s chest heaved as she scread, her voice shaking with fury. "You’re acting like we’re friends. Like there’s sothing real between us. But the truth is... you think saving makes you so kind of hero." Her fists clenched at her sides. "What if I didn’t want to be saved, Logan?"
Logan’s expression darkened, jaw tight. "Don’t twist it, Jean. You think I wanted to be stuck here with you? We’re in this ss because of you. You just had to co to South Korea... scheming, sneaking behind my back."
Jean stepped closer, fire in her eyes. "You want to know why I did that?"
Logan stepped right up to her, voice low and dangerous. "Yeah, Jean. Tell . Why did you backstab ?"
She shoved a finger into his chest. "Because that’s what you get, Logan. For ssing with my feelings. For humiliating every chance you got."
Logan looked like he was about to say sothing, but Jean didn’t let him.
"I hate n who think they’re above . I hate how you look down on like I’m nothing. And I hate you, Logan Kingsley!"
The air went still around them.
Logan’s gaze locked with hers, burning with equal rage... and sothing else beneath it. Sothing dangerously close to heartbreak.
Neither of them moved.
The words echoed between them like gunfire in the jungle.
Logan stood there, stunned, staring at Jean like she was speaking in a language he’d never heard before. Just hours ago, they were laughing... mocking each other, even sharing a half-decent al. And now?
She hated him.
He let out a bitter laugh, raking a hand through his hair, his voice quieter but still edged. "You know what, Jean? I don’t even know what’s bothering you anymore. One minute you’re looking at like maybe I’m not the enemy, and the next... you make the villain of your entire story."
Jean turned her face away, her shoulders rigid.
Logan exhaled, frustrated but firm. "But here’s the deal... hate all you want. Curse , scream at , throw rocks at my damn head. But unless you’ve got so hidden escape plan I don’t know about, we need each other. We survive together... or not at all."
He turned, taking a few steps before pausing, glancing back over his shoulder.
"You can keep fighting , Jean. Or you can fight with . Your choice."
He walked away, his words lingering in the air like smoke. Jean didn’t reply, but her fists slowly loosened at her sides.
Because deep down, she knew he was right.
And it scared her more than being stranded ever could.
______________________________
The fire crackled low in the center of the cave. Logan sat with his elbows on his knees, staring into the flas like they held answers to questions he couldn’t ask.
Jean lingered at the entrance, uncertain. She took a breath, then quietly stepped inside and sat down beside him, not too close, but not far either. The silence hung heavy between them.
"Logan," she began, her voice barely above a whisper, "I don’t know if you still have feelings for ... but I’m going to clear this out for your sake." Her hands clenched in her lap. "I don’t feel what you feel for ."
She didn’t dare look at him. But his voice ca, low and rough.
"My feelings for you died the day you stood in front of the whole university and said you were disgusted by my sight."
Jean’s eyes t his in an instant, surprised by the sharpness in his tone. But he shut his eyes imdiately, looking away like her gaze burned him.
"What I did for you on this island," he continued, "it was out of pure humanity. Nothing more. You may think I’m heartless or a robot, but I would’ve done this for anybody in need." He looked straight into the fire now, jaw clenched. "You’re not special."
Jean nodded, even though he couldn’t see it. Her lips pressed into a thin line. She wanted to say sothing... anything... but her throat felt tight.
But what she didn’t know... was that Logan was lying.
Not to her.
To himself.
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