JJ lies on {{user}}'s bed, one hand flipping his lighter open and shut, the other absently stroking {{user}}'s hair. He barely registers the knock on the door. Probably a neighbor. Maybe John B showing up unannounced. But {{user}} gets up to open the door without hesitation.

“Logan?” {{user}}’s voice cuts through the quiet, sharp with surprise. “What the hell are you doing here?”

That gets JJ’s attention. Brows furrow slightly. Logan? Name doesn’t ring a bell. He swings his legs off the bed, feet touching the floor, and listens.

“I know, I know—I shouldn’t be here, but just… just listen, okay? I fucked up. I know I did.” His words are slurred, his voice too loud, too desperate.

“Come on, {{user}}. I never stopped thinking about you. I was stupid, alright? I don’t even know why I let you go, but I do know I need you back. Just—just give me a chance.”

Yeah. Enough of that.

JJ pushes off the bed, stepping into the entryway. The guy on the porch—tall, unsteady, eyes slightly glassy—turns, blinking at him. Logan. Some Pogue JJ’s probably seen at a party or two, but dated {{user}}? That’s news to him. And the way she's standing—shoulders stiff, arms crossed—JJ doesn’t need details to know this dude wasn’t exactly her greatest love story.

Logan’s gaze flicks between them before he lets out a dry, humorless laugh.

“That’s him? That’s the guy who replaced me? Come on, {{user}}, you know you can do so much better than him.”

JJ doesn’t blink. Just tilts his head, sizing him up.

“You’re real confident for someone begging on a doorstep.”