He’s Hurting Me Pt 9
part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10
Summary: Logan begins to get worried when Patton ditched both him and Roman, without even a text. He knows something’s wrong, so he finally goes to see him. Desperate to help.
This chapter is freaking long guys, honestly I’m sorry. They’re usually like 1500 words... this is over 5000... I got a bit carried away.
Warnings: Lots of talk about abuse, violence, sexual abuse, cuts/scars, panic attacks
Part 9
Logan wasn’t mad when Patton didn’t show up for coffee the next day. He’d tapped his fingers repeatedly on the table, checked his watch, messaged him. Nothing. He called him. Nothing. That wasn’t odd, Patton often forgot to charge his phone, or turn it on, or even answer. Never on purpose, it just slipped his mind as his phone wasn’t that important to him, he was the opposite of Roman and Virgil in that respect. What was odd, wasn’t Patton blowing him off. It had happened so many times by now, something would come up last minute, something usually to do with Mike. What was odd, was Patton not notifying him before. Patton was the kindest, sweetest person Logan had ever met, and he’d never want Logan to waste his valuable time, sitting alone, upset and embarrassed in a coffee shop, he’d have told him as soon as possible. But Logan wasn’t mad that Patton had just left him, in the coffee shop, by himself.
Logan wasn’t mad when Patton did the same to Roman. The following Monday, Roman sat alone, waiting for his friend to appear. But he never showed up. Roman tried calling him, but nothing. Defeated, he’d messaged Logan and left, picking up an extra ice coffee for Virgil on his way out. Logan felt a familiar feeling bubbling up in him again, pulsing through him. But Logan wasn’t mad, not at all.
Logan wasn’t mad when he discovered Patton hadn’t been at work for that past week. It was Thursday by the time Logan managed to get to the cafe before it closed. It was coming up to exam season and Logan had been desperately grading essays, homework, extra revision, and trying to help each student individually, trying to find ways to explain things better for them. He’d been desperate to see Patton, but by the time he’d left the school, it was already too late. Thankfully, come Thursday he’d only had to briefly explain red shift to a student after class, then he was free to go. He’d usually have lessons to plan, but not tonight. He rushed to his car and made his way to the café, he’d practically sprinted to the door, swinging it open in a dramatic Roman-esque fashion. There only were a few customers, most of them being students, happily chatting and sipping coffee in the comfortable café. Thomas, Patton’s older brother, was casually wiping down the deep brown counter, he looked up through his fringe, grinning brightly when he saw Logan.
“Hey, Logan!” He smiled that bright smile the Sanders’ seemed to possess, an infectiously beautiful smile. “What can I do for you?”
“Salutations, Thomas. I was actually looking for your brother.”
“Oh.” Thomas seemed very confused, tilting his head the smallest bit to the side. “He’s-um, he’s not been in. For the whole week. Mike called up and told me he was ill.”
Breath caught in Logan’s throat, it took everything in him to keep his voice level and face emotionless. “Mike told you?”
“Well, yeah, is something wrong?” Thomas asked, putting down the cloth and standing up straight, concern lacing his voice.
“I’m not sure.” Logan replied honestly. “I’ll stop by his on my way home. Don’t worry about it Thomas, I’ll text you when I see him.” He turned to leave.
“Alright, take care of him Logan.” Thomas replied, eyebrows still knitted together in concern, posture still straight as a blade.
“I will.”
Logan wasn’t mad. Logan was terrified. Patton hated missing work, he loved that café too much, and he loved spending time with Thomas. Patton would come in deathly pale, barely able to stay on his feet, and Thomas would have to call Virgil, or even on the occasion they were free, Roman and Logan, to force Patton home. Something didn’t feel right. The teacher wasn’t one to panic easily, and certainly wasn’t one to jump to conclusions, but he was sure there was something deeply wrong going on, and it made him feel physically sick. The thought of Patton; sweet, wonderful Patton, getting hurt in any way, seemed so unthinkable, but Logan knew it had been happening for a while. His grip on the steering wheel tightened, his knuckles turning white, his self-restraint working overtime to stop him from hunting Mike down right then and there. Again, Logan wasn’t one for jumping to conclusions, and here he was so convinced of Mike’s hidden malicious nature, with only circumstantial evidence, however, when it came to Patton, Logan wasn’t always the most reasonable. The young man just did something to him, something that could sometimes cloud his cynical thoughts, or interfere with his insecurities, something that made him feel the need to protect the little ray of sunshine.
By the time Logan pulled up in Patton’s driveway, his usually restricted emotions seemed to be running riot in him. It was a containable riot, but a riot none the less. His thoughts seemed to spiral from fear and worry, to rage at Mike, to utter confusion at why he felt like everything was crumbling around him when he hadn’t even spoke to Patton yet. Logan paused, taking a deep breath and counting to ten, steeling himself and trying to calm his revolting emotions. He tried desperately to think reasonably as he knocked on the bright blue door, already preparing for several different situations.
Logan wasn’t sure why he hadn’t expected the door to pull open slowly and cautiously. But it did. Patton’s head peeked through the gap, clearly confused, his eyes looking lost and a little scared. His expression changed completely upon seeing Logan, and he swung the door open fully, revealing his full body.
“Logan?” Patton asked, eyebrows furrowing together. “Wh…why are you-“ Patton cut himself off as he noticed his friend’s horrified expression. He followed the taller’s eyes to his bandaged wrists, panic beginning to settle.
Instinctively he drew back, hiding his arms behind his back, mind searching through a million excuses, but it was too late, Logan had seen and was advancing towards him as he fumbled for words. Patton was so lost he had faded out for a moment, and suddenly all he knew was a figure was close to him, he was holding out a hand, he was reaching for him, Patton’s heart leapt and he jerked backwards, cowering, expecting pain. Logan stopped dead in his tracks, looking at Patton heartbroken.
“Patton, please can I see your hand?” Logan’s voice sounded so much softer, so much sadder than he’d heard it in a while. The taller man stepped inside the house and shut the door, cutting off the outside world, much to the other’s relief. Patton shakily complied, praying to anyone who would listen that Logan wouldn’t freak out.
But he wasn’t a religious man.
Logan carefully unwrapped the bandages, inspecting the wounds, he couldn’t help the slight relief upon realising they weren’t self-inflicted, so what caused them? The cuts were uneven, some deep, some not, some already seemed pretty much healed. One of his wrists was also bruised, the soft freckled skin stained with deep purple, vivid blues and sickening yellows. Logan seemed to jump through so many possibilities, eliminating several as a new theory popped up. Whatever the cause, right now, it didn’t matter, because one conclusion always stayed the same: who had done it. Logan felt that bubble of rage in his stomach, his worry for his friend made him attempt to swallow it down, but it never seemed to subside.
“Patton when did you last change these bandages?” Logan practically growled, not daring to meet Patton’s eyes. He knew his tone would already scare the poor man enough, let alone the fire burning behind his eyes. Like he predicted, Patton flinched slightly, causing a part of the teacher to shatter, dulling the flames eating at him by a little, not enough though.
“U-um…” Patton squeaked, desperately searching his mind for the last time he’d dared look at his aching arms. He realised, with regret, he hadn’t changed them since they’d first been bandaged, he’d been too intimidated by what it meant, it taunted him of what had happened. How he’d caused Mike to lash out. How he’d gotten himself hurt. How it was all his fault… wasn’t it?
“Sunday?” Patton said, though it came out like a question. He could feel Logan sigh heavily, his voice softened suddenly with protectiveness as he spoke.
“Please sit down.” He then walked to where he knew Patton kept his bandages.
Logan knew he had to contain himself, he hated how he’d scared Patton already. The young man had been through enough. Collecting supplies he took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and counted to ten. He could deal with his anger later, his first priority is Patton. His thoughts quickly flickered back to all the times the protective younger man had fought for him, how when Logan had thought he was trapped Patton had grabbed his hand and they’d ran, how Patton never failed to come up with an awful pun in every situation, how he’d smile so brightly it was almost blinding. He felt relief run through him, just for a moment, dimming the fires. He kept thinking, kept trying to calm himself, for Patton. He thought back to the first time he’d openly cried around Patton, felt the pressure release as he finally just collapsed into caring arms. He winced again remembering the pained expression when he’d shown Patton his scar, and how his face had changed to utter heartbreak when he told him it was of his own father’s doing. Logan vividly remembered how everything he’d tried to keep hidden so desperately for all those years of his life suddenly came spilling out, how everything so ugly and pitiful just fell from his mouth because he was so unable to stop it, and because Patton was so ready to listen.
*Flashback because somehow Logan’s backstory made it here*
Logan allowed himself to think back to what had happened after that. Patton had begged him to get out of that house but Logan couldn’t, it would mean leaving his father alone. Logan’s mother had died in a car accident when he was younger, and since he had always been blamed for it, so he understood where his father’s aggression came from, and despite all the fear he harboured towards him, he loved him, he couldn’t abandon him, leave him truly alone. At least he couldn’t until that night. The night of his mother’s birthday, when his father all but drowned himself in cheap liquor and allowed himself to stew in his awful mood, he was so much more unstable than usual. Logan remembered crawling to bed when the older man had finally let him go, the one place he was safe was in his room. He had finally allowed himself to curl into a ball cradling his bruising arm, when he’d heard heavy footsteps. He tensed and froze automatically, squeezing his eyes shut, knowing if he just pretended to be asleep his father wouldn’t care, like usual. But that wasn’t the case that night. The steps continued, he heard them draw closer and closer, he remained paralysed as his door swung open. His limbs were stuck entirely, like every muscle had just stopped working. He’d hoped his father would just leave, but he didn’t. He felt a hatred filled gaze that was cast at him, and something icy cold crawled up his spine. Suddenly out of nowhere he felt a weight on him, and arms forcing him to turn onto his back. He’d snapped his eyes open, only to be met with blurry dark shapes, without even realising it he reached for his glasses, scooping them off his bed side table and trying to sit up. The arms knocked the glasses from his hands, and pined him against the bed. He wasn’t sure what was happening.
Logan remembered vividly the constricting feeling of arms on him, the fear of the unknown, how he’d screamed as loud as possible and how the sound had been muffled with panic. His father was shouting something at him. He was shaking him, a bruising grip on his arms.
Nononononononono.
That was all he could process. His defiance.
Nononononononono.
He frantically flung his arms anywhere, reaching for anything he could find. His hands closed around something on his table, it was heavy and an odd shape, he didn’t have time to process what it was. He desperately attempted to grab it, eventually managing to curl his fingers around the odd shape. With all his strength he smashed it heavily against his attacker, hearing a violent smash. It was his lamp. He didn’t have time to care. The weight fell off him, as soon as he could move he was up. He scooped his glasses from the floor and sprinted down the stairs, stumbling and hitting the wall as he went. He needed something, where was his phone? Clothes? Keys? Had to get out. Needed basics. There’s the door. Can’t leave yet. Footsteps. Phone.
Logan grabbed his school bag, knowing it had a fair amount of necessary items and hurtled himself towards the door. He ran through the darkness, barely noticing the tears, he just ran and ran and ran. His mind barely processing anything other than his feet meeting the pavement. He just ran. Until he stopped. Vague recognition seeped into his clouded mind. He’d barely had time to breathe, his mind focusing on his feet again and forcing him to walk forwards. He couldn’t comprehend anything until he knocked on the door, and by some miracle, it opened.
A ruffled Patton in pyjama bottoms, a pale blue hoody and slightly tilted glasses stood before him, and in that moment more than ever, he looked like an angel. Logan collapsed onto him, crying, sobbing embarrassingly loud, but he didn’t care, and neither did Patton.
It had taken a while to feel safe again, except when he was with Patton. Patton had helped him so much; encouraged him to see a therapist, to find his aunt, to tell people. Without Patton, Logan wasn’t sure what would have happened, so now he needed to repay him.
Logan sighed, finally leaving with the supplies to see Patton with his head hung, sat on the sofa. Logan’s hands were no longer balled into fists, his knuckles no longer white, and his rage no longer uncontrollable. Instead he was overwhelmed by the urge to hug Patton closely to him, to convince him he was safe now and wrap a blanket around his shoulders. He wanted to return to Patton, what he had given him so long ago. He wanted Patton to feel heard and secure and that maybe things would be okay. Everything Patton had been so desperate to hide, Logan wanted it freed, because he knew the relief he’d feel. More than anything, he wanted Patton to be happy, because that man deserved the world.
Tentatively he stepped closer, voicelessly sitting next to his friend. The teacher winced as the smaller man beside him flinched, eyes wide and brimming with fear, he could practically hear his beating heart.
“Don’t worry Patton, it’s simply me.” He stated, wincing again, only this time at his own cold tone of voice. Logan had never been the best at emotions and feelings and allowing them to come across, but for Patton he’d try his best. He readjusted in his seat, turning in to face the smaller man, letting their knees graze gently together, hoping it would provide tentative comfort. Thankfully, it did, Patton recognised Logan’s attempts, smiling at him with sad, broken eyes. Logan’s heart broke even more.
“I um… I am deeply deeply sorry if my, earlier attitude, scared you. I just, I know I snapped, and that was so wrong of me. You’ve always been there for me Patton, I could never ask for a better friend… I just wish I could be the same for you, but evidently, I am… struggling.”
“Oh, Lo-“ Patton tried to comfort him, but Logan held up his hand, gently smiling.
“I will strive to be better, for you. As I said, you have always been there for me, so it is difficult seeing someone I care about so much hurt, as such it was difficult for me to, control my emotions. Still that’s no excuse for scaring you.”
“Logan,” Patton said, voice soft, almost fragile, but entirely sympathetic. “It’s okay, I-I’m fine, really it’s nothing. Nothing at all. Don-“
“Falsehood.” Logan interrupted, voice still calm and quite, yet warm. He didn’t need to say anything else, everything seeped out in the tone of his voice. It’s not okay. You’re not okay. But I can help. Logan held out a hand patiently. “May I?”
Patton’s eyes flickered from his friend’s face to his out stretched hand, before he cautiously, like a frightened animal, allowed his wrist to fall into the other’s large, slim hands. Logan’s long fingers curled around the wrist carefully, pulling it lightly towards his face so he could inspect it. He decided the best course of action would be to clean and then re-bandage the cuts, they were bad, but didn’t run deep enough to warrant expert medical help, though needed to be routinely cleaned to ensure they didn’t get infected.
At first, Patton had winced when the cold, wet cloth was pressed against his skin, it sent a sharp stinging sensation over his skin, Logan automatically drew away.
“I… I am sorry Patton, this will sting a bit but I’m afraid it must be done. I really am-“
“It’s fine Logan.” Patton interrupted, holding his arm out again. “Go on.”
Nodding, Logan placed the cloth back on the cuts, being very careful about cleaning them. After drying them, Logan began wrapping a bandage around his friend’s arm, his graceful slim fingers gliding around and precisely attending to the task. The process was then repeated on the other wrist, Patton watched in awe at the delicate process, and those fingers working with such precision and care seemed to capture him, he even almost forgot that deep feeling of guilt, disgust and fear that was writhing around in his stomach. It felt like death, like he was decaying from the inside and it was gradually consuming him all, eating up everything that was once him. He knew he had changed, and change isn’t a bad thing, of course he couldn’t be that bright-eyed and bold kid that he used to be, he’d grown up, but there was always still this childlike wonder in himself. Now, it felt like that had faded. He felt like so much had faded. So much so that he wasn’t sure who he was. It had become so difficult to look in a mirror.
Patton knew it wasn’t the first time, in fact, it had never been easy to look in a mirror, he’d always hated his appearance. Objectively, he wasn’t fat, but our minds seldom think objectively. He had short, stubby fingers, nothing like Logan’s long elegant ones. His legs were larger than Virgil’s thin ones. His chest was soft and he had a belly, unlike Roman’s toned chest and broad shoulders. His friends were all so beautiful, and he looked nothing like them. Though somehow, they had made him forget that, he had reached a point where he didn’t feel inadequate around them, and thought that maybe, if these people found him beautiful, then he could find himself beautiful too. What happened to that?
Patton looked up to his friends concentrated expression, his eyes fixed on his hands and a look of pure focus dancing in them, an unwilling smile crossed the smaller’s face. The feeling in his stomach became lighter, it wasn’t gone, not in the slightest, but it was an improvement. He missed Logan so much. He missed those late night talks that ranged from borderline insane to crying lightly into the others shoulder, feeling entirely protected and warm. He missed hearing that rare laugh Logan had, the one he’d always tried to hide but Patton adored. And of course he missed that begrudging smile he’d give after one of Patton’s finest dad jokes. Damn, Patton missed dad jokes. Mike hated dad jokes, so much more than Logan, so much more. Patton decided it wasn’t worth making them some time ago.
Logan didn’t need to say anything after he’d finished bandaging up his friend’s wrist, he just carefully opened his arms out, silently asking if the other wanted a hug. Instantly Patton fell into Logan’s arms, he felt them curl around him, the lean yet strong muscles shielding him from the outside world, he felt his heart rush and calm at the same time and he let a deep but shaky sigh. He allowed his own arms to wrap around Logan tightly, pulling them further together and burying his face in his friend’s neck. Logan moved slightly and lifted Patton’s legs so the other was comfortable and safe in his lap. He didn’t say anything, just held him, for a long while.
Eventually, Logan’s soft even voice broke through the silence, like the hum of the wind.
“Would you like to talk Patton? I understand it may not feel like it, but it is quite often beneficial for someone to talk about what is distressing them.”
Patton swallowed; did he really want to open up that wound?
He wasn’t even sure if he was justified, what he’d gone through wasn’t that bad, not really. Did he really have the right to paint Mike in such a light, if he really loved him? But, now he was questioning it, the warmth, the protection that Logan’s arms offered… he felt; safe. It had never felt like this with Mike. With Mike it had been uncomfortable, humid, suffocating, or even cold and overwhelmingly empty. When they were together, it wasn’t wrong, not when he was being kind. When they curled up together to watch movies, it was pleasant, nice, he had been content. Maybe at first he had felt his heart swell, felt the warmth he felt now, but this security, when he was curled into Logan, that seemed to surround him was so unlike anything he’d felt for a while. He’d missed this, missed Logan, so much. He wanted his best friend back. It made that question burn in the back of his mind, did he truly love Mike? Mike was a good person, he cared for Patton, so what if they had their ups and downs? Of course, of course Patton loved Mike, he had to, after everything… he’d done, he did for love, and that makes it okay, right? A sickness crawled from the very depth of his soul… but he’d done it for love, so that can’t be right! He tried pushing it down again but, like a snake, it crawled back up. He shouldn’t be feeling like this, because everything was fine, because he forgave Mike and he loved Mike and-
-and he was so lost. He was trying so desperate to find answers but every emotion just seemed to tangle into some unrecognisable, Gordian form. He looked up to Logan. Calm, collected, rational Logan. If anyone knew… If anyone could help Patton’s conflicted mind… it would be Logan. Logan, with those bright, dark brown eyes that shone with compassion and patience. His lips were a thin flat line yet those brilliant emotive eyes told Patton everything he needed to know.
Logan held his gaze, not pushing him or prompting him, which strengthened Patton’s resolve. The smaller nodded, breathing in deeply as he did.
Logan readjusted, allowing Patton to move out of his lap, he re-positioned himself in front of the shorter and instinctively grabbed his hands, gently enough that he wasn’t trapped by the grip but instead felt comforted. Patton smiled down at their carefully entwined hands, feeling a temporary warmth rush through him, before it was replaced with a flood of dread. He couldn’t help but holding on a little bit tighter, allowing the grip to stabilise him and give him strength.
He’d hidden this for so long, he wasn’t even sure what he was hiding anymore, or what might come tumbling out of his mouth when he found a place to begin at. He was determined, but he didn’t know where to start, because there had been no clear turning point, it was just a faded hazy mess that Patton had no idea what lead him here.
“Everything was fine… was good for… so long. I guess that, maybe, there were always little things but we all have our little things y’know? I’m far from perfect myself and our flaws are what make us, us, after all. And his flaws made Mike, Mike. And I loved him for them.” Patton rambled on, desperately trying to show, prove, to Logan the good in him. He was so lost trying to find the right words that he missed the flash of hurt that darted across his friend’s eyes, missed the way he tensed slightly and back straightened. It was only for the smallest second, then the impassive mask returned.
“But… he is very, insecure… he was, I don’t know threatened? By… by the amount of time I spent with you and Ro and Virgil. He um, he had a breakdown. He was so upset but embarrassed, I-it… it was my fault, and it hurt s-so much, but I just, I c-couldn’t put him through that again. I didn’t think it would be so bad, missing an hour or two of time with you all, but…” Patton breathed in deeply, allowing his voice to steady, Logan soothingly rubbed circles over shaking knuckles. “He got worse. He got more paranoid… more angry , just more-“ Patton cut himself off again, stumbling over his words, trying to make his jumbled thoughts coherent. “He’d always liked to drink, which is perfectly fine of course but, he suddenly became this different person. And then it started seeping into just, everything. He’d snap and yell and, and- I’d try to keep the peace. Do whatever he wanted – I even urged him to see a therapist once! But he’d just yell and say, horrible things. He didn’t mean it, it was the drink but… it still… hurt...” Patton admitted weakly, almost ashamed, like saying it out loud would make it more real. He waited the weight of the words to crash around him again.
Logan could feel a soft bubble of anger boiling; how could anyone hurt Patton? How dare anyone? But Patton didn’t need this right now, and after reminding himself of that, he easily swallowed back his quick temper and continued to soothe and listen. For Patton.
“B-but, after everything, he’d be so apologetic, kind… more, passionate…” Patton coughed awkwardly, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. He didn’t have to say this, he reminded himself. He didn’t have to tell Logan. But he wanted to.
“There were a, um, a couple of times, w-when after a fight…” He felt the words get stuck at the back of his throat, choking him. He tried breathing, but his eyes kept darting to his bedroom, then to the floor. Logan noticed. His face hardened. His anger burned, roared inside him, but he held it in. He told himself not to jump to conclusions, Patton could be looking for an escape, a place of comfort. Logan let his rage extinguish, before shifting closer to Patton, looking at him with patient eyes.
“He… didn’t like me saying no, to… to sex.” Patton cringed at putting it so bluntly but he had to know Logan was on the same page. “He’d just, keep pushing, until I gave up… gave in.” He practically coughed out, squeezing his eyes shut, trying to block out the memories.
“I-“ Something cut him off, some sort of strangled, animal cry, that racked his body. He took a sharp, hissing intake of breath. All at once, he felt everything. The needy, unwanted hands crawling all over him. The hot breath against his neck. The cold sweat coating his body. The vile crawl up his throat. The feeling of shame heating his face. Another painful sob escaped him. He drew away from Logan, he couldn’t help it, hands were all over him, marking him, burning him.
Patton clamped his hand over his mouth, trying to squeeze his eyes shut even more, desperate to get the images out of his head. He’d done it for Mike, because he loved him, it was normal to want to prove it. If Mike needed Patton to prove it then he would, and that was okay. If he needed him to be good, then he would, he could make the sounds for him and pretend he was okay, pretend everything didn’t feel so, so wrong. If it meant that much, if saying no wasn’t accepted, then it must be important for him. He knew he would only be mad if he said no. But it was fine. He could do as he was told.
Hands, hands were on him again. They burnt. Reflexively he tensed, freezing up entirely.
“Patton,” Soft, calm caring. Not breathy, not needy, not demanding. “Patton, please look at me.”
He complied, fearfully, only to remember those hands were Logan’s, something somewhere felt lighter.
“I cannot begin to understand what you are going through. Know that everything you’re feeling, is exactly what you should be feeling, do not feel guilty.”
Patton nodded hesitantly, a sudden burst of memories surrounding his brain again.
The demands came flooding back. The feeling of helplessness surrounded him, paralysed him. He couldn’t breathe again. He tried biting back a sob, but instead gave in. He let the sobs crash over his body and tears cascade down his face.
What must Logan think? To know what you’ve done… he probably doesn’t want to be around you. Mike was right about you; just a whore. He was right. He was right. He was right.
“Patton.” Logan’s voice again. Patton wasn’t sure when he’d cupped his hands over his ears, or curled his knees into himself, or began muttering and rocking back and force, but when he looked up at Logan through his fringe with glistening, terrified eyes, he realised it all at once.
“Patton, I’m not – I could never think any less of you. No matter what. Least of all for that okay?”
“O-okay.” Patton gulped in the humid air, nodding quickly, the movement making his brain hurt.
“I know this is difficult Patton bu-“
“I-I’m fine. No.. I’m fine, I’m fine, I-“
“Stop. You are not fine. And it’s okay to admit that.” The smaller considered it, heart heavy and tears still streaming down his face, his thoughts were swimming through mess and memories. He opened his mouth, but it was dry, and his throat was hoarse. The words were painful, they were lies, and they burnt.
Eventually, Patton breathed out. The hands were still there, they were threatening, hovering over him, but they weren’t on him. But they could be, at any moment, he was exposed and vulnerable and so so tired. He shook his head, feeling his fight drain out of him and letting his body collapse into Logan. He buried his face into the teachers neck, desperate to feel safety again, tugging at any remnants of protection he could. Logan wrapped his arms around the small, shivering form, protecting him from the hands. Protecting him from the world, and his thoughts, and everything.
“I’m not fine.”
-----
Note: Thanks everyone reading this for the support on this story, honestly I didn’t expect anyone to read this at all! Your comments and likes mean the world to me :)
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Eric Hosmer striking it rich in San Diego is so crazy it could work
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Eric Hosmer striking it rich in San Diego is so crazy it could work
While most of America was either tucked away in bed or deep into Saturday night revelries, the tortoise pace of baseball’s lingering offseason quickened. The most divisive member of this year’s class of free agents finally found a home: Eric Hosmer is a member of the San Diego Padres.
According to reports, Hosmer’s deal runs for eight years with a total value of $144 million. Meanwhile, MLB.com reported that there is an opt-out clause after the fifth year, and Bleacher Report reported that the deal is front-loaded: The first five years are at $20 million per season (with a $5 million signing bonus); the last three are at $13 million annually.
Unsigned veterans such as Logan Morrison might be tempted to wait to sign after Opening Day, but it’s a gambit without guarantees — or recent success.
As spring training begins, we identify baseball’s elite — the teams with a chance to compete — and the teams that aren’t even trying to win this year. Where does your squad land?
From a former superstar at a crossroads to an ace on the mend, you won’t have to wait until Opening Day to see if these guys are ready to shine.
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The back end of that contract — the three years and $39 million — is a fascinating way to structure a deal that overall, frankly, isn’t going to register as “smart” by most analytically charged readings. But we’ll get to that.
The practice of front-loading deals is one that might become a trend, given the typical shape of free-agent deals — albeit without the opt-out. The opt-out protects the player in case of serious injury or a rapid decline in performance. It doesn’t do as much for the team. This structure does limit the back-end downside for the Padres, in theory, because of the lower salaries. The hope is that the surplus value created by the first five years of the deal will cover the club for the last three, less-costly campaigns. But it all comes down to properly valuing those first few seasons.
It’s a risk: If the next phase of Hosmer’s career is better than his first, then he’ll surely opt out when he can in five years. By then, the Padres will have already have paid out $105 million of the $144 million in potential value. If Hosmer ages in that way, which is unusual, the surplus value the Padres would have gotten at the end of the contract would be moot. But that’s not the way things tend to work out with these big free-agent deals, which is what makes this contract structure so interesting.
At first blush, this deal is tough to justify by metrics — but not impossible. According to FanGraphs.com, Hosmer has accumulated 9.9 WAR during his seven big league seasons, 4.1 of which came last season. In easily his best overall campaign, Hosmer overcame a slow start to hit .318/.385/.498 with a career-high 25 homers, 94 RBIs and 98 runs.
It’s important to understand the rough math to see why this contract is likely to be hotly debated in analytical circles, just as Hosmer’s free agency has been a hot-button issue for the past year. Hosmer is projected for around 2.8 WAR this season in most systems, with his forecast being the product of a reasonable degree of regression coming off a career season. If Hosmer plays out this contract to its completion, that would take him through his age-35 season.
Eric Hosmer’s deal with the Padres promises huge rewards, but will it trigger more signings? Jay Biggerstaff/USA Today Sports
Let’s give Hosmer three years at 2.8 WAR apiece, taking him through his age-30 season and his likely peak seasons. Then let’s take off a half-win for the remaining years of the deal, which is a standard rule of thumb when it comes to the aging curve — though Hosmer isn’t necessarily a standard anything, and players age in different ways. Anyway, that gives him these WAR totals for Years 4 through 8: 2.3, 1.8, 1.3, 0.8, 0.3. The total WAR he’d compile during the deal in this case would be 14.9. For the Padres to break even on this investment, the average cost of a win during the course of the contract would need to be around $9.7 million.
With that figure in mind, perhaps the best way to justify the terms of the deal is reflected in the work of Matt Swartz, writing for FanGraphs. The key point is that with revenues and payrolls rising across baseball, the cost of a win in the free-agent market has been on the rise. That trend may or may not be blunted or even reversed by this year’s slow market, but that remains to be seen.
If Swartz’s estimates prove to be close, then we can estimate that the above WAR forecast for Hosmer could yield up to something like $180 million of value, not only justifying the outlay but actually giving San Diego a nice buffer if market values stagnate. That said, Hosmer’s performance was below replacement in 2016, and there is literally no value created by that kind of performance. Plus, he’s joining a new team in a new park that is the toughest power-hitting venue for a lefty hitter in the National League.
We don’t always know how a player will translate to a new context, and if Hosmer turns out to be more 2016 than 2017 early in the contract, the deal will be an albatross. It could also be a problem if the costs of a win stagnate or decline. In any event, despite what many are likely to conclude about this contract, it is far from certain how this deal will look in hindsight. It really depends on how San Diego projected Hosmer internally, if that projection is close to right, and how close their estimated costs of a win are to reality. In other words, there is plenty of room for interpretation on a deal of this length, for those dollars and for that player.
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Something else to keep in mind about Hosmer is this: His WAR totals have possibly been deflated by a consistently average-to-worse defensive showing in the metrics. However, last season’s Gold Glove was his fourth. This is as Jeter-esque a divide between measured defensive value and perceived performance as you’ll find. Indeed, if you watch Hosmer play first base for any length of time, then go to the numbers, it’s hard to make sense of it. Teams don’t use the measurements we’re quoting here. They have their own systems, and if Hosmer’s glove carries more value than systems such as defensive runs saved seem to think, that changes his outlook considerably.
Also working in his favor is his athleticism — few first basemen in recent memory have been better on the basepaths than Hosmer. Generally speaking, the more athletic a player is, the better he ages. Finally, there is real reason to believe that Hosmer has untapped potential at the plate. His bloated ground ball rates have been the subject of a lot of hand-wringing, but the fact of the matter is that few players hit the ball as hard consistently as Hosmer. Given the right adjustments, it’s entirely possible that last year’s breakout was evidence of a powder keg about to go off.
Hosmer was one of the youngest free agents on the market, and the fact that he’s entering his age-28 season explains the length of the deal his agent, Scott Boras, was able to extract even from this locked-up market. And for all of this technical picking apart of the contract’s terms, those terms are tough to judge based on cold metrics analysis.
There could also be a considerable opportunity cost from the team’s perspective. This is money that the Padres might have been able to spend on a player with a more stable performance record — but the “might” qualifier in that statement is important. Hosmer was willing to come. There is no guarantee another marquee player would have. You could also state that the uncertainty expressed here is the very reason the Padres shouldn’t have taken the plunge. It would be a reasonable response.
Nevertheless, why San Diego?
For one, the Padres are a team on the move. Or at least it will be — just not in 2018. After plugging Hosmer into San Diego’s depth chart and moving incumbent first baseman Wil Myers to left field, the Padres’ 2018 win forecast jumps by a whopping 1.5 wins — all the way to 71.2. (This is a baseline number, before being run through a schedule simulator.) This signing isn’t so much about what Hosmer brings to the Padres this season, but the foundation he’ll provide for the seasons to come.
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From the day he arrived in the big leagues, Hosmer was the heart of the Royals’ clubhouse, and that remained the case through Kansas City’s gradual rise to a World Series title in 2015. He set the tone in terms of playing smartly and aggressively, always willing to adjust his approach to the situation, a trait that marked those Royals teams. And he was there all through the rise of a team from bottom-feeder to champion. Still young, he can now be that person for another franchise, one still seeking its first World Series crown.
Are intangibles worth at least $105 million, or possibly $144 million? Of course not. But there are plenty of reasons to believe — call it hope — that this deal will work out for the Padres, as the likes of Luis Urias and Fernando Tatis Jr. and Cal Quantrill and MacKenzie Gore make their way to Petco Park over the next few years. They will join a clubhouse in which Hosmer sets the tone, and as a former champion, he’ll command the respect that such veterans always do in big league clubhouses. Maybe you don’t value that; the Royals clearly did, and the Padres clearly do.
As for the metrics, just remember this: The Padres, led by general manager A.J. Preller, believe in analytics. They aren’t ignorant of the various valuations floating about. In fact, just last month, San Diego hired FanGraphs writer Dave Cameron to work in its front office. If Cameron couldn’t talk Preller out of signing Hosmer, couldn’t it just be that teams work with better information than the rest of us have?
That last question might not be the right one. Sure, teams have better data. But teams also make mistakes in the free-agent market, and the Padres haven’t played in free agency at this level, well, ever. This is the largest contract in Padres history.
For several weeks now, Hosmer’s market has appeared to be just two teams: The Royals, who gained another high draft pick for their rebuild with Hosmer’s departure, and the Padres. Maybe this shouldn’t be that surprising. The market for first basemen just wasn’t robust this winter. Besides, the very things that make Hosmer so well thought of in the industry are perhaps more valuable to teams like the Royals and Padres than they would be to a more established, star-laden team.
In other words, the Padres and Hosmer are a better match than they appear to be at first glance. In a few years, we might well look at this late Saturday night splash as the moment San Diego began to turn the corner. Or, if the metrics hounds prove prescient, it might be the night the San Diego rebuild hit the skids before it really ever got started. The outcome may depend on soft factors we analysts tend to despise.
Either way, this is the most interest the national baseball media has taken in the Padres in years. Doesn’t that, in itself, speak volumes?
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