The vectors continued battering against the heavy doors, although it was noticeably less frantic than before. Some of them may have realized it was no use, given that it barely budged against their assault. I chose to ignore the noise, and so did everyone else. At least the walls were thick enough to drown them out, and with a full belly, I began to relax.

The Chapter House was two stories high, connected to the cloister and the cathedral's small library with a full kitchen, a sitting room, a prayer room, and a small meeting room below. There were ten rooms upstairs, separated into two groups of five; one group of rooms were for the priests and other men working in the building barred by a locked door while the other rooms were on the right hall for the nuns. Each of the halls had bathrooms. With the master keys, we unlocked the doors and slept in separate rooms.

Margot stitched my hand like a professional. I had to take antibiotics as well as a large swig of whiskey to numb the pain. Natalie ate in her room, and I didn't see Logan for dinner, probably having that talk he had promised her earlier. Bobby didn't show up as well, barricading himself in his room instead, and Margot was kind enough to give him a couple of cans of food for dinner while the others didn't even want to deal with him. Joe was now awake, back in his old, jovial self. We put all our food and supplies in one of the unoccupied bedrooms, a room that once belonged to a priest named ARTHUR from the door's sign.

I crashed into one of the bedrooms at the priests' wing of the second floor. Back in the nave, we slept next to each other in makeshift cots and bedrolls—all that safety in numbers working for our peace of mind—so sleeping alone in separate bedrooms felt like I was standing naked on the stage with many eyes watching my every move.

A light knock on the door roused me out of the bed just as my eyes started to weigh. Forcing myself to cross the short gap between the bed and the door, I opened it annoyingly to find Logan, his backpack slung loosely on his shoulders.

I instinctively stepped behind the door and stuck my head out. I was only wearing underwear and a thin white shirt. The gas and heater were still running across the city, so it was a bit warm in the Chapter House, hence my state of undress.

"Is it my turn with the watch?" I asked him.

"Um, no. Luke is still doing that. Yousef won't relieve him until midnight."

I looked at the clock hanging by the wall above the bed. It was barely eight, and yet it was pitch black outside already. "Oh. Well, do you need anything?"

Logan peered into the room, nervously shifted on the spot. "Mind if I crash in here for the night?"

I stiffened. Logan caught it right away, and he took a step back, running a hand past his hair, glanced timidly on his feet for a second, tried to form the words he was going to say to me.

"I broke up with Nat," he said finally.

I stood silent for a moment, staring at him. No tears came, or something close to it for that matter, though I didn't expect for him to be calm about it.

He glanced away, not meeting my eyes. "She left me back there. I asked her for a reason, and she mumbled something about being worse in a fight and that I can handle it all by myself." Logan scoffed. "Funny thing is, I told her that if she were in my shoes, I'd go through hell to save her, you know?"

It took me a second to respond, nodding. "So...how is she—"

"She didn't take it well."

"Oh."

"Yeah. She's crying in her room right now and even begged me to reconsider—"

"And did you?"

Logan paused. "I thought it might not be a good idea, you know? To stay in there and be all, well, close. If it's no bother at all, we can share your room."

"I only have a single bed," I said, widening the gap on the door to reveal the small, narrow bed propped against the wall.

Logan shrugged. "I can sleep on the floor. I still have the bedroll, and it's surprisingly comfy."

I didn't know why, but I stuck my head out of the doorway and looked at the other rooms, which were all shut.

Logan took the hint. "I can ask the others if you don't want to. But Aria wants to be left alone right now, and Joe has his son with him. Miguel has Daniel to take care of, and I don't know much about the others, so..."

"No, no, it's not that...Come in."

I flicked the lights on. It didn't matter if people could see it from outside since the windows looked out onto the cloister, a secluded area of the church, and was hidden by the looming cathedral walls, out of sight from the streets. Logan hesitated for a split second before coming in.

I ran to the bed, barefooted. I cursed quietly that a boy just saw me wearing a pair of very short boxer briefs hugging my butt and crotch like a clamp, and a thin yellow shirt that you could practically make out my nipples jutting out from embarrassment like a fucking cell tower, and then a small mound of "love handles" wrapped around my waist. No, not flattering at all. Worse of all, it was Logan who saw all of it.

I jumped into the bed and quickly put the covers over me, hiding the blood rushing onto my cheeks.

Logan tried to hide the smile behind his pursed lips, and my cheeks reddened even more. He unrolled the bedroll on the space next to the bed. I asked him if he wanted to sleep on the bed instead, and I could take his place on the floor, but he refused. Once the bedroll was ready and prepped, Logan walked back to the light switch and flicked it off. Moonlight streamed from the window, filling the room.

Logan took off his jacket, and then his shirt, leaving anything barely to the imagination.

It was only for a split second, but I saw it. The twining cords of hard lean muscle from years of football, bulging arms still developing and filling, chest like walls of a shield covered in a small fuzz of hair that matched the stubble on his face, and his abdomen prominently displaying his forming six-pack that ended on deep V-shape grooves that formed his hips...

I turned to the other side of my bed and looked away, pulling the covers to the top of my head. A split second was already too much time to gawk at someone half-naked and even ludicrous that the body belonged to Logan, someone who had tormented me all through high school and who once used to be my best friend.

What the fuck was going on with me? I mentally slapped my head, felt the inappropriate rush below my thighs. Oh, not now. Not now!

His jeans came off, the belt unbuckling, and then the rustle as he climbed into his bedroll, heard the familiar sound of its zipper closing and Logan's huffs and small grunts in the darkness.

"Good night," Logan said.

"Good night," I whispered.

I didn't know how long I was lying on the bed, still as the dead, afraid to turn around and face Logan. Even though I am on the bed, it was low enough that I could see his features. Just drop three inches by taking out the pegs of the bed, and I would be on the floor right next to him. I tried counting sheep, and it didn't work. I started counting backward from a hundred, and still, my brain was fully awake. I thought about relieving Luke downstairs and be on the watch instead, but I could already see it would take a toll on me the next day not having that much-needed rest after what happened in the school. Between awkwardness or being tired for the rest of tomorrow, I chose the former.

"Bren?" A whisper jolted me awake. "You awake?"

"Hm?" I grunted back.

"Couldn't sleep?"

"No."

"Yeah. Me too."

Silence.

"Thinking?" He asked again.

"Yeah. Thinking."

"What are you thinking about?"

"Things."

"Like what?"

I sighed, holding my tongue.

"Er...it's okay if you don't want to talk about it."

I turned around to the other side of the bed, facing him. "Oh, I do, it's no bother. It's just that—with everything else that's going on—it's enough to turn anyone a little crazy. I'm kind of surprised we haven't yet."

"Yeah, I know. Though, it's no thanks to you. I don't know how you do it, man."

"What do you mean?"

"Like you know exactly what to do."

"Bullshit. I have no idea half of what I'm doing."

"You pulling my leg?"

"I mean it. Got lucky, I suppose."

"Shit. If that's you half-assing everything, then I could only imagine what you can do if you do know."

"I guess I'll take that as a compliment?"

"Hm. The old man still teaches you well then?"

"You know my dad."

"Mr. Watts still pushing you with those things?"

"Yup. Like he always does."

Logan went quiet for a second. I couldn't read his expression from where I was lying as I had to scoot a little closer, and I had no intention of doing that. I would look like a total creep, plus I didn't want to see his half-naked body even though he was all covered up.

"I think this is the most appropriate time to say this," Logan started.

"Say what?" I asked.

"Knowing that you save not only my life but others as well, and more than once for that matter—"

"What are you on about?"

Logan propped himself up on his elbows and stared at me angrily. "Christ, will you let me finish? I'm trying to apologize to you. You owe me one."

"Since when?"

"Since the stairwell and I almost sacrificed my shit for all you three jackasses. That one."

"Oh."

"Yes. Really. Now, may I?"

I gulped, gave him a little gesture that he had the floor.

"Okay. Well. I'm sorry for all the crap I did back then."

I realized what he was doing, and I rolled my eyes. "Logan, you don't even have to—"

"Look. I'm a jerk. I know I am a jerk. You and I...we were close once. I know that. It's just fucking high school and all the bullshit that comes with it. Then you came out, and it's like a dam got loose. Hell, I didn't know what to do, but maybe I did know, but I didn't want to. I should have been your friend. A friend doesn't ghost you when you're having a hard time; much else add more to it by being an asshole."

"Well, you did more than that."

"Exactly. And I'm sorry about that. Even with those things stacked up before shit hit the fan, you still had the guts to save us. You could've gone on and escaped the city, but you didn't. That means something to me."

"Um...thanks for that, Logan."

"Yeah. No problem. So, I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry."

I was never good at this, or what my mom would call a heart-to-heart. Feelings would get conflicted, and still, this apology wouldn't instantly put a full tourniquet over the emotional wounds inflicted by Logan and his goons. This would only be like covering a bullet hole with a band-aid. But it was a start nevertheless.

I turned to look at him once again, saw the longing for an answer behind his eyes, and for a second there, I thought that it wouldn't ever mend the tension between the two of us. It wouldn't erase four years of torment through high school and all the things that he and his goons did to me. But then again, we were on the edge of the end of the world. It wouldn't be a bad idea to mend bridges instead of burning them.

"I—I accept," I said finally.

"Does this mean we're good?"

"Depends on the interpretation," I said, chuckling.

"No. Seriously. Are we good?"

"Yeah. We're good."

Logan smiled and laid back down on his bedroll again.

"Of all the people I'm stuck with at the end of the world, I had no idea it's going to be Bren fucking Watts with a strapped shotgun."

I smiled, and for the first time since New York went to hell, it was nice to have a mountain lifted off of your shoulders for once, and I relished it.