His After The Heartbreak (BL)
Chapter 209: I Want Tyler

Chapter 209: I Want Tyler

Chapter 209 - I Want Tyler

LOGAN’S POV

My father didn’t wait another second.

The moment those words came out of my mouth—"No, I’m not okay. I feel like dying"—he rushed forward and pulled me into a hug. It wasn’t the kind of hug you give someone when they’re just sad. No—it was the kind of hug that holds your broken pieces together. The kind that says: I’m here. I’ve got you. I won’t let you fall apart alone.

"What happened?" he whispered, his voice shaking a little. "Why are you crying like this, Logan? Please... talk to me. What is it?"

I held onto him tightly. My arms wrapped around his back like he was the last thing keeping me grounded. I tried to speak, but the words got stuck. My throat felt like it was closing up.

"You’re going to call me stupid..." I mumbled. "If I tell you what happened, you’ll think I’m stupid."

He pulled back just a little, just enough to look into my eyes.

"Logan," he said firmly, but gently. "If I call you stupid, then I’m the most heartless man alive. I swear to you—I won’t say anything like that. I just want to understand. Please."

I hesitated. Then I nodded slowly.

"It’s Tyler," I whispered. "Dad... it’s about Tyler."

His face shifted, confusion creasing his forehead. "Tyler? My best friends son right? The same Tyler that spent the night in your room?"

I nodded again, but this time the tears came faster, heavier.

"I loved him, Dad," I choked out. "I didn’t plan to. I didn’t mean for it to happen. But I loved him so much. And I thought... I thought maybe he felt something too."

He just held me tighter. Waiting.

"I kissed him. And he didn’t push me away. He held me back, Dad. He kissed me like... like he wanted it too. He told me things. He looked into my eyes like I meant something."

My voice cracked. My chest was burning again.

"But now... he told me not to talk to him again. He said he’s not attracted to me. That I should stay away."

I broke down mid-sentence. My knees gave out again, but Dad held me up. My whole body was shaking with sobs I couldn’t control.

"Why, Logan?" he asked softly. "I’m not understanding what’s happening."

"Please, just stop crying for a second so I can hear you better," he pleaded. "Please, son."

"I can’t!" I cried out. "I can’t stop crying! I’m hurt, Dad! I’m so hurt and heartbroken I feel like I can’t even breathe!"

He held me by the shoulders, steadying me. Then he looked down, saw a tissue box lying on the floor, bent quickly and picked it up. He pulled out one piece and started wiping my face gently.

"Please," he whispered again. "Please stop crying, son. I’m here. I’m listening. Just breathe. I’ve got you."

He was wiping my tears with slow hands, almost like he was scared I’d break into smaller pieces.

I nodded slowly. "Okay... okay, don’t wipe anymore. I’m done crying," I said with a shaky breath.

He nodded too and slowly moved the tissue away from my face.

But the second it left my skin—like a switch—I burst into another wave of tears, harder this time.

"What did I do?" I screamed through the tears. "Why does he hate me so much? What did I do that made him push me away like that?"

"Logan—" he tried, but I kept crying.

"What’s so wrong with me, Dad?!" I shouted, holding my chest again. "Why doesn’t he want me anymore? Why can’t he just talk to me?"

My father sighed and pulled me in again. His voice was soft but serious.

"Listen to me, son. Don’t you break down over Tyler. I know it hurts—I know it feels like your heart’s been ripped out—but this isn’t the end. There are other boys out there. Boys who would die for you. Boys who would never want anybody else but you."

I was crying so hard I could barely hear him.

"There are so many fish in the river," he added. "You’ll find someone who sees you and never lets go."

I shook my head violently.

"No!" I said, my voice thick with tears. "I don’t want other fish! I only want Tyler!"

He held my face with both hands now, wiping more tears, his eyes starting to water too from seeing me like that.

"You don’t understand," I whispered. "I don’t want anyone else. Just him."

He opened his mouth to say something—but the door creaked open.

We both turned.

It was my little sister.

She stood in the doorway in her bunny pajamas, holding her stuffed animal, her eyes wide with confusion.

"Logan...?" she asked softly. "Why are you crying like that?"

Dad pointed at me, his voice low and gentle but serious. "See? Even your sister is seeing you like this. It’s going to make her sad too. Please, son. Please stop crying. Just breathe. Then we can talk more about what Tyler did."

But I didn’t even look at her.

I turned my face back into Dad’s chest and said one more time—through heavy sobs, wet cheeks, and a breaking heart—

"I don’t care if she sees me cry. I don’t care about anything right now. I just want Tyler."

"Okay, Logan. I understand," Dad said quietly. "I’m not going to beg you to stop crying. I’m not going to sweet-talk you either. But please... just stop crying."

He pleaded with me, but I didn’t even answer him.

I couldn’t.

I was hurt.

I was in pain.

I was in deep, unbearable pain and regret. The kind that makes your chest feel like it’s being crushed from the inside out.

"Leave me alone, Dad," I muttered through my tears. "Leave me..."

"I hate him. I fucking hate that bastard," I spat out, not even caring how wild I sounded. My face was soaked. My throat burned from screaming and crying. "I hate him so much... I don’t even want to see him again."

Dad tried to lift me off the ground, but I didn’t let him. I went limp on purpose. My body was heavy, and I didn’t want to be touched. I didn’t want to be moved.

"Dad, leave me here. Don’t lift me up. I want to be here," I said in a low, shaking voice, still crying.

He didn’t listen.

He wasn’t having it.

He grabbed me with a strong grip and lifted me anyway, carrying me to the bed like I weighed nothing. I tried to push him away, but my arms were weak. I was weak.

He placed me gently on the bed and knelt beside me, brushing the hair from my forehead. His voice was softer now, calmer.

"I’m not going to ask you to tell me what happened anymore," he said. "Because I can see it hurts you too much."

I turned my face away.

"But Logan..." he continued. "What I will ask you to do... is to suck it up. I know it hurts, but don’t let it break you."

I looked at him, eyes bloodshot, face swollen from crying.

"Tyler doesn’t deserve those expensive tears of yours," he added firmly. "He doesn’t deserve it."

I blinked, still hurting, but trying to make sense of his words.

"Are you trying to make me feel better?" I asked hoarsely, my voice raw.

He shook his head. "No, Logan. I’m not. I’m just telling you the truth. Tyler doesn’t deserve those tears. He’s a jerk. And you... you’re going to find someone better."

I nodded slowly, still feeling sad... still feeling hollow inside. But there was a small flicker of something inside me. Maybe strength. Maybe pride. Maybe rage.

I wiped my face again with the back of my hand.

"Yes," I whispered. "Tyler doesn’t deserve my tears."

He doesn’t want me, right?

Then I don’t want him either.

I said it to myself quietly, trying to believe it.

Dad stood up and pointed toward the bathroom.

"Don’t lie down, Logan," he said. "Go to the bathroom. Freshen up. We’re going to show that boy exactly what he fumbled."

I stared at him, confused.

"What do you mean?"

"We’re going to his mom’s hospital," he said with a small, sharp smile. "And when we get there, you’re going to act like he means nothing to you. Like he was nothing."

My heart skipped.

My eyes widened.

Was he serious?

"Now stand up. Go freshen up," he repeated.

I hesitated.

But he didn’t give me time to resist. He grabbed my hand, pulled me off the bed, and pushed me toward the bathroom. Before I could argue, he locked the door behind me.

I stood there for a second, breathing heavily, staring at the mirror.

My eyes were red. My hair was a mess. My lips were dry and cracked.

I looked like a ghost of myself.

I closed my eyes and slowly took off my clothes.

I turned on the shower, letting the cold water hit my skin.

Then I heard a knock on the door.

"Logan," Dad called. "The address is still on your phone, right?"

"What?"

"I can’t find it. It looks like he deleted it after his dad sent it."