Leave it All

Aon

"Good morning, class!"

"Good morning, Mr. Metcalf."

The Wildwood, New Jersey, coastal breeze blew softly through the window, rustling Logan's chestnut brown hair, a stray strand blowing momentarily across his eyes. He brushed it back into place and picked up a Dry Erase Marker. "Alrighty, I want everyone to log onto their computers and open Google Docs."

The students cheered excitedly, their ecstatic chatter filling the room with warmth. People said he was the best teacher in New Jersey, and this was exactly why. He seemed to be the only person in the world who could get a group of 24 5th Graders excited to read and write.

"Settle down, please. I don't have anything planned for this class period, so what I want you to do is write a short story. It can be about anything, so long as it reflects yourself and your struggles." The assignment would be a reasonable test of their abilities, as well as introduce themselves to him further. It was like hitting two birds with one stone. "Anything you don't finish today will be done as homework, and it will be due on the 27th, in two weeks. Any questions?"

"How long can this be?"

Oh, yes. Darius Mosley, the foster kid who transferred to Glenwood Elementary over Winter Break. It wasn't often that you saw any expression from him at all: average grades, low participation, disinterest in activities... The list went on and on. But it seemed he could be reached through writing, and Logan was eager to milk his sudden interest for all it was worth.

To be honest, the kid got under his skin a little, in a good way. He felt the need to tuck him under his wing, nurture him in a sense. Come to think of it, maybe he should be a father one day...

Nah. Kids can be stressful sometimes.

"Great question, Mr. Mosley. I'd like it to be at least 5 pages, but there is no limit. Knock yourself out, guys."

~

426 West Burk Avenue.

Home sweet home.

Logan carelessly tossed his Columbia jacket and briefcase onto the living room couch, humming a familiar Maroon 5 tune under his breath as he pranced to the kitchen, grabbed an apple, and began loading the dishwasher with the burnt remains of his boyfriend Briar's attempt at cooking a romantic pancake breakfast. Ottens Harbour shimmered in the stunning majesty of the mid-afternoon sun, crowded with boats and burly men carting cargo back and forth.

Briar is hotter, Logan remarked, tossing a dish tab into the machine and closing it before taking a bite of his apple and making his way down the hall to his bedroom. He and Briar had planned a date night that night, hiking through the Belleplain State Forest to their special clearing where they first met, one eating a picnic lunch and the other conducting field research. It wasn't quite love at first sight, but it was enough to make them go back to that magical spot weekly.

No, it was love at second sight, after Logan had clumsily fallen into a frigid pond and Briar carried him to his Subaru Crosstrek, cuddling with him in the backseat to keep him warm as they waited for help to arrive and get his dumbass hypothermic self to the hospital.

Briar was all Logan could think about as he excitedly got ready, singing in the shower and dressing as cutesy as he could in hiking clothes. The familiar hum of Briar's Subaru blazed on the horizon like a victory trump shortly after 5:30, as usual, and Logan was sitting pretty on the sectional as his keys jangled in the door.

"Hey, babe," Briar sighed softly, an exhausted smile lighting up his pale, freckled face. They kissed and he led Logan back to their bedroom, admiring his boyfriend for a second before slipping into the bathroom to freshen up and change.