Who: Logan and Angus Wood (Played by Jori!) What: Disappointed parent Where: The Wood Family home When: Lol uhhh IDK a few days ago, I guess Rating: Eh. PG13 for language and stuff
So here he was, just like Oliver had bloody well asked, and so far, this was just as much of a disaster as Logan thought it would be. He had been at his parents almost an hour, spoken with his mum, packed away some leftovers to take home because 'he didn't look like he was eating enough' and now he was just sitting at a table, staring at Angus. Both of them were far too stubborn to do this, and he tried to tell Oliver this, but he just didn't want to listen.
His tea was already cold, and frankly, he just wanted to go home. In his mind, there was no fixing this. His Da was always going to be pissed at him, and that was that.
"Alright well, I have to go get ready for filming tomorrow. So if this is just the way it's going to be, I should go."
***
Why on Nessie's sodding wet bollocks did the rest of the family constantly insist that he - Angus Wood - talk to his youngest child who clearly didn't want to talk to him? The lad had abandoned a very lucrative career, abandoned a family legacy and worse: caused Angus to have to endure a few laughs at Logan's profession down at the pub.
So here they sat, staring each other down over the familiar scrubbed wooden table, both scowling and clutching at the cold tea. His wife was right, Logan looked much thinner. Lack of physical work made the body into a twig. Maybe he'd gotten into drugs; after all wasn't that what all these actors seemed to do to pass their time beyond shagging each other?
"Didn't think you actors woke up early." He grunted, taking a gulp of tea. "Thought you just lazed about in your dressing rooms until you need to shout a few lines at each other."
***
His father's comment, as per usual, caused Logan's jaw to twitch. Clutching tightly at his glass, he gave his father a long stare, debating if he was actually going to engage, but that's what he was supposed to be here for, right?
"You don't know a single thing about what I do on a day to day basis, and I'd hate to ruin your obviously warped reality of me. Not like you'd listen or care if I told you about it anyway, Da, so what's the point? I'm not Oliver, and it's not Quidditch, so let's be realistic - It's not like you really care." Sighing he ran a hand through his hair. "Look I promised to come here for his sake anyway. Can we just grin and bare it and say we tried for his sake?" Mostly because Logan would get the blame if somehow, Angus got it in his head that Logan's new profession would throw off his golden child in any way...
***
Another grunt, followed by the draining of his cup.
"I know yer thin, boy. Yer worrying yer ma. Dinnae pay you enough for food? And don't bring yer brother into this!" Angus snapped. Logan always retreated behind subtly insulting Oliver when he'd done nothing to deserve it. Angus hated it when they were small and sure as hell hated it now. If Logan had actually tried he wouldn't be so jealous of Oliver.
Lumbering up from the table and standing at how impressive 6'6" height, Angus poured himself more tea in silence. The tea had cooled, requiring the use of his wand to light a fire under the kettle.
"At the very least Oliver can support himself with his career." The dark blue eyes lingered momentarily on the neatly wrapped care package Penny had put together.
***
Logan couldn't help but actually laugh at that. Was his father really questioning what he was making right now? Because while the show may have been new, considering it's popularity already and the hours that went into bringing a show together, he was ALREADY making more than he did as a reserve.
"Look, can you just come out with it already? I'm tired of beating around the bush. Say it, Da. You don't respect my career, you think I'm a fuck up, and I've let you down. The sooner you get it out in the open the easier we can both move on. And you do realize I make more now than I did at any point over the last decade, correct? I also work my arse off at this job, though I'm sure you won't want to see that. But it's not 'sleeping until noon and shouting lines at each other'. It's work, Da. Exhausting, hard, but incredibly rewarding work. And I'm bloody happy, something I haven't been for years. Does that even matter to you? Or does it not make a difference, because I'm not on a broom anymore and therefore, don't matter?"
***
Merlin Logan always fussed. He cried so much as a baby and threw dramatic temper tantrums as a child; Angus should have known the boy wouldn't have it in him to make a proper athlete. Maybe he should have taken a desk job like Eddie? Perhaps this ridiculous acting business would have never happened had Logan focused elsewhere in the Quidditch world.
"Quit yer whingin'! Fookin' 'ell. You'll win that bleedin Oscar if you keep up those dramatics." Angus glowered at Logan, his eyes smoldering with anger. "Don't think I don't know about your muggle acting. Logan Smith. Given me the boak." A sad shake dark blond hair matching the color of Logan's followed. "He says you're good though, your brother."
***
Logan wasn't under any illusions. He knew that no matter how much he did, or how hard he tried, his father just... Well, he was impossible. It wasn't totally his fault. He was an old fashioned Scot, with his ways set and a passion for Quidditch. Nothing else mattered much besides the way he saw things. But knowing that didn't make it any easier...
"Hope I do, Da. Sort of a pretty high honor," he shot back sarcastically with an eye roll, considering cleaning up his tea and getting a move on. He had a script to look over, after all.
And as much as he wanted to make another comment and assure Angus he really did know nothing about it, because he wouldn't even attempt to learn, or see that it required skill, Logan just didn't have the patience. Instead, he clung to his final comment, sighing, and running a hand over his face. "Yeah well, Oliver is right. I am good at it. And I thought I was supposed to follow my talent, Da."
***
The kettle whistled a cheerful note that clashed with the tension between father and son. Angus removed the tea and poured the freshly warmed liquid into his cup, scoffing at the idea of winning a trophy for pretending to be someone else and that a spoiled 'celebrity' would mean more than the hard work and physical (not to mention mental) demands of the Quidditch cup. He'd read the muggle gossip rags a time or two or out of curiosity: actors were spoiled, rich babies.
"You had a career!" Angus roared, the majestic beard twitching with annoyance. "You left it to play pretend! You had talent you just didn't fookin' try! You'd rather bang on about yer brother getting 'special treatment' and all that haver. At least Oliver tried. You..." He looked over the table, voice full of disappointment. "You just threw it all away."
"Oh Angus, really." Penelope's admonishing voice called out from the hall, gaining volume as she neared the kitchen. "Shut yer geggy! He says he's happy!"
"I'd be bloody chuffed too if I played dress up all day meself!" Angus countered, waving a hand at Logan. "Look at 'im! He's shrank! Eddie is more sturdy than him!"
***
Logan was tired of this. So fucking tired he almost couldn’t bare it. Running a hand over his face again, he sighed, standing up, readying himself to leave because, just as he had predicted, this was a total waste of time. His happiness didn’t matter to his father, all that mattered was Quidditch, and the family legacy. And since Logan was no longer involved in that, he began to feel like he always had growing up – the spare son.
“Look Da,” he said seriously as he zipped up his coat. “I know you’ll never understand. All you’ve ever understood is your stubborn, traditional ways. And I accept that, you’re old fashioned, I get it. But at this point in my life, I’ll never live up to what you want me to be, and I’m tired of trying. I’m sorry I’m a disappointment, I’m sorry that Quidditch just wasn’t my calling. And I know you’ll never really hear or understand what I’m saying, because you refuse, but Quidditch isn’t all there is. There are other ways to live, other ways to be happy. And yeah, I was good at the game, but I didn’t have the passion that Oliver did. And I’m sorry for that too. Maybe it was because I knew, deep down, no matter what I did, I’d never be him, your golden child, the one you were proud of more than anyone else. Even if you won’t admit it. Even if you’ll deny it now. And that’s fine. Over my lifetime, I learned to accept my position and who I was in this family in comparison to Eddie and Oliver. Or maybe it was because I truly never found a love for it when I got older, I just did it because it was what I knew, what was expected of me and I hated the idea of letting you down. But look,” he paused, shifting on his feet and running a hand through his hair, “I’m 30, Da. I realized that I can’t spend my entire life living out someone else’s expectation of me, someone else’s dream. I want to be more than that, and I want to make my own name for myself, not live in your footsteps, or Oliver’s. I just want to be me. I like acting, and I’m really, really good at it. And I know you’ll never believe it, but it’s really fucking hard, Da. I literally become someone else, I work all hours of the day and night, I have to maintain peak physical condition while sometimes messing with my mental, if it means a benefit to the job. Directors are fucking demanding, more so than any fucking Quidditch captain, and just like in Quidditch, you never know if you’re going to win or lose. Everything is a gamble, and your success depends on your talent, your performance and your hard work.”
Sighing he gave his dad a sad look. “I came here because Oliver wanted me to. But I see now that it isn’t going to make a difference. You’re always going to look at me and see a disappointment and honestly that hurts too fucking much. Call me dramatic all you fucking want, Da. That’s fine. But that’s how I really feel. If this is how it’s going to continue to be, then there’s not really a place for me around here anymore.”
He took a breath, shaking his head one more time. “I should go.”
***
Penelope and Angus' bickering died in the wake of their son's monologue. Twice Angus tried to butt in, only to receive a shushing from his wife who looked very formidable with a long needle meant for stitching thick fabric clutched in her hand.
"Oh, Logan," Penny sniffled, her large blue eyes welling with tears. She moved forward, thinking her youngest has finished his speech, only to pause and press her free hand to her mouth. "Please don't go!" She cried, stepping forward while Angus stood as still as a statue, considering. "Logan we never thought of you as a spare," Penny pleaded, tears pouring down her cheeks. "You've always been my baby boy and I've always been so proud of you."
Angus shifted uncomfortably, staring at the scene before him and dropping his gaze with a sigh. "Ah fook".
*** Logan didn’t mean to hurt anyone, especially not his mum, but he didn’t regret what he said. It needed to be fucking said, so that maybe, Angus would understand what it felt like to be his son. Now that wasn’t to say Logan didn’t love his parents. That didn’t mean he went without ever, or that he didn’t grow up in a fulfilling household. But his point still stood regarding everything else. Someone could grow up with everything they needed, but still be made to feel unimportant.
He couldn’t look at either his mum or his da as he stood there, staring at the ground as his mum moved closer, clearly distressed. He felt bad, but he didn’t know what to do from here. He was at a loss.
“Pretty sure you’re the only one then, mum,” he finally managed quietly.
***
With shaking hands, Penelope adjusted her son's zipper, trying to stem her tears. How had she neglected her baby boy so much? How had she been such a terrible mother to cause her son such pain?
"Angus!" She suddenly roared, seeming to grow a foot taller with rage. "I told you over and over you were always too hard on Logan! And now look!" She waved I'm his direction, needle narrowly missing Logan's jacket. "He's miserable! He's not going to come home!"
Again, Angus shuffled uncomfortably, averting his eyes from Penelope and Logan. Of course he loved all his children, but Logan had always been the difficult one. He'd tried to bond with his youngest but there always seemed to be a disconnect between them, which grew into a sort of rift as time went on. Now they stood on opposite sides of a canyon.
"Logan, I dinnae mean tae". He scratched his sandy blond head. "I know I pushed you but I thought I was pushing you to be the best you could be."
***
"Mum... mum, it's fine," he mumbled, as Penny's reaction grew stronger and stronger. Logan had an inkling that his mother was going to start blaming herself, but he didn't know what to say at this point to stem that fear. Really... she had been involved the entire time, right? Then again, Angus and his fucking attitude was his own problem.. "It doesn't even matter at this point." Which he truly believed. After all, it had been 30 years, he didn't expect anything at all to change at this point.
"No da," he said, looking at him seriously, "You were pushing me to be the best at what you wanted me to be. Nothing else."
***
Of course Penny felt guilty: she'd seen Angus' preferential treatment of Oliver over the rest of her children. Naturally, she protested, but often simply gave in as her husband was an infinitely stubborn man. Now the time she feared finally came and she was powerless to stop it.
"Logan, all our family is and has been was Quidditch." Angus sighed heavily. "Can you really blame me for pushing you into what I ken was right? You always had yer head in the clouds."
Penelope, sniffling greatly, hurried over to the care package she'd made to give it to Logan. If this was the last time she'd see him at the very least he could go home with good food; she didn't fully trust these catering people to cook good, hearty food.
***
"Da... what's so bloody wrong with change? I understood loving Quidditch when I was younger, because it's all I knew. But when I got older.. hell, it didn't take much to see I'd lost interest. But you.. and Oliver, you just kept pushing. Did you honestly think that forcing me into something- really, guilting me into something - would really change anything?" Because maybe he did. And that would be one thing, but just the fact he knew his father saw it, and didn't care? That's what pissed him off, even to this day.
When his mother hurried back over to him, he couldn't help the guilt that clenched at his stomach. He knew she was beating herself up over this, it was no secret. But he was at a loss of what to say to make it better.
"Look, I love you both. Always have, always will. But if you want me to come back, this shite has got to stop. I just want your support, and the constant bashing of what I love doesn't make me feel like I have that." He looked at Angus squarely for that one.
***
"Why do you always bring your brother into these things?" Angus snapped. "That's what rages me. Instead of whinging all the damn time he simply did what he felt was right." How had he raised such a wimp of a son? Logan was more a Hufflepuff than a Ravenclaw, and certainly no Gryffindor. "Stop hiding behind Oliver and show me what you're actually made of."
Maybe Logan wouldn't be a Quidditch star, hell, perhaps that had been evident all along, but at least he could try to be something beyond a whining child.
"And we want you to come back." Penny said quietly. "I actually really like the show." She glared at Angus as though daring him to object. "I dinnae want to see you through the telly only. Neither does your eejit of a father. And I know we both want you to be you, not what you ken you have to be."
*** “Sorry, forgot I couldn’t take his name in vain,” Logan glowered, running a hand through his hair, his anger spiking again. Fuck, he was over this. “Forgot that any mention of him that isn’t positive is heresy in this household. My bad.” Yeah, he was poking a sleeping bear, but he honestly didn’t give a shit right now.
“And you know what dad, I’m trying to show you what I’m made of. What I’m capable of. But you’re to god damn blind to see it. Or honestly, you don’t really care. Because you have your genius daughter and your all star son. I’ll just go back to doing what I was doing and maybe one day you’ll actually give a damn. Guess we’ll have to see.”
Looking then at his mom he hugged her, shaking his head when she mentioned him coming around. It would be difficult, that was for sure. As was apparent right now, since neither him nor his father seemed to have reached a resolution at this point. “Yeah well, that’s probably true for you, mum.” He told her, kissing her on the cheek. “We’ll do lunch soon, yeah? Outside of the house though, if that’s alright.” Because he honestly couldn’t be here anymore. “I love you.”
Letting go of his mom he glared at his father for a moment before nodding in his direction. “Angus.”