Note: Okay so before you read this, just let me tell you that I have absolutely no idea where this came from. I just... don't understand. It started out as one thing then it changed and one thing lead to another and then it got weird. But wait, doesn't that happen in all my stories? ANYWAY, I really hope that you guys like it, I'm not entirely sure if I do.

I haven't gotten around to updating It Gets Better because I'm a looser who has awful writers block. Hopefully this... thing will get me out of my funk? Yeah... never going to happen. Just like my chances of marrying Carlos :D

SPEAKING OF CARLOS - I met the guys on Wednesday! They are so nice and utterly attractive in real life. It sickens me to say so but... I even found Logan attractive *walk of shame* BUT WHO CARES? I met them! James and I had a pretty nice conversation about a note I wrote to the guys. I kinda sorta might have been mean to all four of them in the letter but hey, at least I wasn't boring?

I'm going to stop rambling and let you guys get to the story. Chao!

Disclaimer: I do not own Big Time Rush. Frankly, you wouldn't want me to.

Carlos Pena had been dead for three days.

He lay in his bed, eyes closed and covers pulled up only to his waistline. He wore a thin white hoodie with the sleeves rolled up and a pair of black boxer shorts. He lay on his side, arms curled up to lie limply beside his chest, nuzzled into his favorite fluffy pillow. His legs were bent and the sheets curled under the crook of his right knee. He looked the same way he did every morning, before his alarm would go off and he would wake up and get ready to head to set and then to the studio with his three best friends.

But Carlos would never wake up again. His skin was paler than his snow-white sheets and his lips were tinted blue. His chest didn't rise and fall, a sign that he would have been alive if someone looked closely. He just lay, completely still. His hair was matted from bed head and limp from the oils that had produced over the three days. His hair looked dried out and dead, something his body should have looked like.

The phone on the nightstand beside his queen sized bed vibrated, almost falling off the mahogany colored furniture. The name "Logan" showed up on the screen in large white letters. The phone continued to ring for a while until it went to voicemail. The screen read that Carlos had fifty-three missed calls, most of them from a furious Kendall who hated it when his friends were late to set and even more when they never showed up at all. The others were from James, Logan, Dustin, Ranel, Scott, and most of his friends who also tried to get a hold of him.

Almost as soon as Logan's call went to voicemail, Kendall's name lit up the screen. Then – the phone died.

The clock behind the phone changed, reading that it was ten o'clock AM and Carlos was two hours late. Sunlight filtered through the open shutters beside Carlos' bed, causing his sheets and skin to glow.

He looked so alive. As if he was simply just asleep and waiting for be awoken when his friends finally went looking for him. He looked as if his eyes were going to flutter open at any moment and he was going to realize how late he was. But that would never happen.

Across the room, someone stood in the corner. His face showed nothing but pity and disgust as he stared at the body on the bed. A tear slid down his tan cheek and he quickly wiped it away, stepping out of the dim area and into the light provided by the sun outside the window. Now that he stood in the light, it was obvious that the man wasn't entirely… there. His body was transparent, the lamp, phone, and clock clear as day through the side of his small form.

It was Carlos. He had been staring at his body this whole time. He had seen each and ever call received. He had tried to answer, but they always went to voicemail. He tried to pick up the phone and hear the voices of his best friends, to assure them that he was okay and that he was on his way to the set. No matter how many times he tried, he just couldn't grasp the precious phone. There hadn't been a time in his life that Carlos had wanted to answer a phone so badly.

Oh, the irony.

By the second day, in the late evening, Carlos began to wonder. Why hadn't his friends gone looking for him yet? Why hadn't they come to his house to find his body? They each had a key, Kendall, James, and Logan. Why hadn't they used it? Was he only important enough to go so far as a phone call?

The Latino boy crawled onto the bed, surprised when the sheets sunk beneath his weight. It wasn't much, but they moved under his touch. It was like using a broken iPod, where you pretty much had to punch the screen in order for it to react. Still, it was something.

Carlos sat down next to his body, running his fingers through the boy's hair. He didn't like to think of his old body as himself, more like a shell that he left behind. The shell that hadn't been found yet and probably never would be.

Carlos' shell would be forgotten, left to lie in his bed forever. Or at least until the maid came on Wednesday to clean his house. But that was an entire week away and his body would be disgusting by then. It was a surprise to Carlos that his body hadn't decayed already – it looked exactly like it had when he left.

It might have been his imagination – do ghosts have imaginations? – But Carlos heard a click in the front room. He heard the opening of a door and the hurried footsteps of people walking into his house. The breath in Carlos' throat would have caught with suspense, if he were still breathing, so he just stared at the door. From the sound of the footsteps, more than a few people were in his house, but that didn't matter.

"Carlos!"

Kendall. He didn't sound frustrated, like he normally would have. The blonde sounded shaken, concerned, and frightened. Carlos felt his stomach drop, a feeling that surprised him. He didn't know that ghosts had anxiety. But that didn't matter right now. His friends would find him soon enough. They would be devastated, but they would find him.

"Carlos?"

"Carlos!"

James and Logan's voices were louder than Kendall's, so Carlos assumed that they were near his bedroom. Any moment someone would open his door and they would find his body. They wouldn't know he was dead at first, so they would be relieved to think that he had just slept in. But then they would realize that he wasn't responding to their calls and would rush to the side of his bed. They would see that he wasn't breathing.

"Carlos!"

The door swung open and Carlos almost toppled off the bed. Kendall, James, Logan, and Dustin stood in the doorway. He was glad that it was only them, though he could do without Dustin. He never really liked that guy, but he was Kendall's best friend. Dustin would be able to comfort Kendall through his death. Carlos would be there too, but they wouldn't know. They would think he had left them forever.

"Typical. He just slept in. Hey, Carlos! Wake up!"

James walked over to the side of Carlos' bed and flicked on the light. It wasn't necessary, as the light from the window was enough to light up the whole room, but James always did unnecessary things. The tall boy frowned when Carlos didn't respond and picked up the phone before realizing it was dead.

"Why haven't you been answering our calls?"

James reached over and grabbed Carlos' shoulder. His joking look vanished instantly and was replaced by one of horror. His eyes widened and his mouth fell open the slightest bit. His hand pulled back in some form of a flinch, as if the touch of Carlos' skin had burned him. James quickly pressed his fingers to the vein on Carlos' neck and when he felt nothing, the tall boy bent down to press his ear against Carlos' lips. Nothing.

"What's wrong, James?"

Kendall's voice cracked as he watched James' frantic movements. He saw that his taller friend was horrified by something, and secretly, he knew what it was. He just needed someone to confirm it in his mind, so give him some kind of closure.

"H-he… he…"

Carlos couldn't help but let a few tears fall as he watched his three best friends stand at his side, staring at his body in shock. He wanted to launch himself over the bed and hug them, promising them that everything was okay and that they could continue their day normally. They didn't need to deal with this. They didn't need to know he was dead. Not yet.

Hypocrite.

Note: To tired and lazy to write a note. School tomorrow. Must go take shower. Toodles!

Carlos: What is... I mean... what did... how... WHAT?

James: My thoughts exactly.

Logan: Technically, your body can't go three days-

Carlos, James, Kendall, and I: Go away, whoretense.