“She’s my ex-girlfriend.” Logan shifted in the hotel couch uncomfortably.
“She’s mine, too.” Duncan sat with his arms folded, staring straight ahead.
It's a stand-off, one she’d taze them both for, but really the conversation’s been brewing for some time, and had taken off like an awkward match to emotional kindling. Logan’s still in love with her, they both know that much; he hasn't tried to hide it, not even from Kendall, not like she cares. There’s some of it he can shrug off as wounded pride, being dumped and all. But the feeling in his chest isn’t all wounded pride, it isn’t all resentment, as nice as that is to cling to and cozy up to at night. Some of it just is that he’s still in love with her. That every time he drinks he lets himself miss her. That every five foot blonde he walks by should be her, running back to him. But Duncan? Maybe Duncan, once he glossed over the personal tragedy and gross parental triangle implications….could he still be in love with Veronica, too?
“You don’t even know her.” Dramatic, sure, but doesn’t Duncan know Logan’s origins better than anyone? Dramatic’s in his genes, and pining - no, not pining, lusting, no- pining over Veronica is something Logan’s sure he’s earned, and he’s not quite convinced Duncan really has. But the sentiment rang true to both of them in the silence, in a
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But he vehemently disagreed that meant-to-be’s were meant to be easy. And puzzle pieces? If there’s one thing Logan knows, it’s Veronica Mars’ edges. Some he’d helped carve, while Duncan had stood silent, pretending the world was the same as it always had been. Logan didn’t believe in that kind of easy at all. Anything too good to be true had to be faked or bought or manufactured or fixed; even when things were hard, Logan clung to the hope that she’d never faked it, never fixed any of herself, never smoothed her edges to fit