Logan rolled his eyes as the moans from yet another girl filled the house. This was the sixth one this week- when was James going to stop? Logan pulled out his phone and dialed Kendall's number, wincing as a particularly loud grunt from James came from upstairs, along with a loud crash.

"Hello?" Kendall answered.

"Kendall. He's at it again. Please get me out of this house." Logan whined into the phone. "I'm tired of hearing these… Noises. It's grossing me out."

"I know, buddy. I think we need to take him to see someone about thisit may be more serious than we think."
"I think so, too. Before we do that, though… Please come get me? I'm starting to get nauseous."

"Of course. I'm on my way. Think you can hold on for another five minutes?"

"Yeah, but don't be late. I'll see you soon."
"Bye, Logan."

Logan hung up his phone and dropped it on the couch with a sigh, leaning back and trying his best to tune out the sickening shouts echoing throughout the top floor. After a few minutes, he stood up and decided to wait for Kendall outside. Logan knew that James would eventually end up bringing the girl downstairs, and he didn't want to be there when he did. He grabbed his jacket, left James a note, and walked out the door.

After a minute of waiting, Logan decided to step back and take a look at the house—only to see that James forgot to shut the blinds. The unnamed girl was pressed against the glass, with James' forehead on hers. James' face was full of pleasure; eyes scrunched shut and mouth hanging open slightly, his hair stuck to his forehead and his hips moving against the girl quickly and deliberately. He was obviously more concerned about getting himself off than pleasuring the girl. Logan slapped his hand over his mouth and snapped back around, now impatient for Kendall to get there. Luckily, Kendall pulled in a few seconds later and Logan sprinted to his car.

"Do not look in the upstairs window," Logan hissed at Kendall.

"What? Why, what hap—"

"Just. Don't. Do. It. Unless you want to be scarred for life."

Kendall nodded and pulled out of the driveway, heading towards his house. This was a routine by now, needing to drop everything and get Logan. He understood his friend's need for space, and he was happy to go get him out of that situation whenever he needed to.

"So, who should we call about this?" Kendall questioned, looking at Logan briefly to see he was pale and hugging his knees to his chest.

"A therapist? I don't know… Who did you go to when your parents broke up?" Logan stammered, looking into Kendall's eyes desperately.

"Dr. Brunetti… I think she'd be good for James."

"Okay… So call her."
Kendall chuckled a little at his friend's need for results. "We'll call her when we get to my house."

The rest of the car ride was silent, only with the radio to ease Logan's thoughts. He really was scarred—that was NOT a position he wanted to see his best friend in… No pun intended.

When they pulled into Kendall's driveway, Logan crawled out of the passenger's seat slowly and stumbled to the door, eager to call Dr. Brunetti. He wasn't sure if he could sit through another one of James' escapades without having a panic attack.

James and Logan had moved in together when the band broke up, since it was pointless for Logan to buy his own house while he was in medical school. After a day, however, Logan realized what a mistake he had made.

James was an addict—he brought girl after girl into the house, fucked her, then kicked her out, never to call again. He had a problem, and it was freaking Logan out.

"Hello, Dr. Brunetti? Hi, it's Kendall Schmidt… No, I'm not having trouble with anything, but I have a friend who is. We think he's a sex addict. Yeah. Yes. Okay. Yup. See you then. Bye." Kendall hung up his phone and turned to Logan. "We need to take him in tomorrow for his first session, and it will be at least a month of meetings, twice a week. He will get better, Logan."

"Good. I really can't take it much longer… I was about to pull my hair out."

Kendall gave his friend a sympathetic smile and patted his leg before getting up to make coffee… It was going to be a long night.