Cocking a brow, Logan lowered his eyes to focus on her hand that was clenched into a fist once again, and momentarily awaited the much deserved slap into reality. More than fearing that raised fist was anticipation. It reminded him that she was all about action, too. That's what attracted him to her in the first place. She was just sharing with him, another aspect of her expressions... he would view the slight violent outbreak as a positive thing. It was just her way of doing things, and he loved even that. Logan had hated what he had become. A prison. It was words like these that he couldn't believe her when she told him to be honest. He was bringing her down. Perhaps the guilt trip was a subconscious method of her staying with him, but these concerns were more than just efforts to tether her down. They were genuine fears. Because the possibility of losing her was never a viable fear before, he was able to show her his true self without hesitation. The possibility was now more present than ever. Doubt followed, traced, and hovered over his every move. He had to be careful. He couldn't lose her again. The self-loathing process only came after she had left him, and he had lost everything. The self-loathing gave him a reason to wake up every morning... to prove himself wrong. The self-loathing made him vulnerable and emotional. The self-loathing was what kept him sane. The opposite of self-loathing was getting that ego going again. Raise himself up onto that pedestal. She said she wanted him to identify with his faults... to be real... and what if this self-mourning was his attempt at being vulnerable? Did he screw it up again? She didn't understand the constant battle of his trying to decipher what she truly wanted, what was right and wrong, All paradoxes. Enigmas. He wanted to defend his actions but words could no longer be misused. Words were too detrimental... too risky... she could hold him to them if they were the wrong ones used. So he bit his tongue till he tasted the irony [pun intended =)] of it all.
Everything with her used to be so easy, so natural, but then again, he hadn't a clue that everything was wrong. This is what they meant when opposites clashed -- their relationship was meant to be innately powerful, explosive, and toxic even.
Elusive time started to slow down as if he were experiencing the high trip of his life. Eyes widened, and every thought, emotion, and issue at hand disappeared. None of that mattered anymore. He noticed her frantic. Her posture stiffen. Her magnetic attraction to that picture. Her eagerness to leave that room. No doubt he sensed that familiar lump growing in her throat. Interrupting her words. It couldn't have been. She would have told him. All sensual qualities of his surroundings ceased to exist for that moment of realization. Time had passed for her to maybe get away. He couldn't let her get away. This time, he needed answers. He could hear the haunting bloodthirsty screams and dozens of feet of the other team's defense line stampeding towards him, and so he did the only thing he knew how in that situation: he ran for his life, for her, for the truth.