Author's note: I would like to rekindle the flames a passion for this band (Goash, I miss them so much). Anywho, the idea actually came from a tumblr user – it's not mine. The band and the show Big Time Rush is also not mine. So, the idea is what if you can taste whatever your soulmate is tasting. Hope you enjoy!

Snickerdoodles.

Home. These cinnamon sugar coated cookies reminded Logan of home. Oddly enough, his mother never baked and neither did his sister. But every single time, every Christmas, it came like clockwork. He'd lick his lips and he'd taste home where he'd found none within the four walls where he lived.

See, Logan was not like the other boys. He hated sports and hated the fact that his father basically had his life revolve around it. The adrenaline rush that his father craved was only satisfied by colliding heads and limbs. His was none other than colliding covers – books upon books stacked high in his arms as he went out of the public library. And when he'd step into the household, books in his arms, his father would berate him – colliding face and fist. This was yet another source of adrenaline for his father. And there was nothing Logan could do about it.

Soon, food became Logan's comfort. Macaroni and cheese with nuggets for dinner with a huge helping of mint-chocolate cookies for dessert – all on his lips while on his plate lay a microwaved dinner of bland chicken and steamed vegetables. He never knew where the flavors that collided with his flavors came from but he was thankful.

Thankful beyond words.

Tuna sandwiches.

"Logan, I can't believe you like that thing." Kendall crinkled his nose the thing that Logan called lunch.

"This thing is delicious." Logan teased, licking his fingers.

"It combines the two things I can barely tolerate and makes it intolerable. Mayonnaise and tuna. Whoever made that made the biggest mistake of his life." Kendall threw his hands up in disbelief Logan enjoying and finishing his sandwich.

"It's not like you're forced to eat this." Logan commented, now moving on to the second sandwich on his tray.

It tastes like I am, Kendall thought.

Logan looked at Kendall whose appetite seemed to be diminished by the are sight of a tuna sandwich by the bare sight of it 'cause before Kendall lay a cafeteria lunch – untouched.

"Fine." Logan gulped his cupful of water and dusted off the crumbs from his hands. Folding back the wrapper of his sandwich, he sat quietly and watched as Kendall licked his lips in anticipation – his forehead smoothening itself as he ate the meatball sandwich he ordered.

As Kendall took some bites, the tuna taste in Logan's mouth slowly subsided and was being replaced by the taste of tomato and beef. Something like . . .

Logan's eyes flicked his eyes to Kendall devouring the remains of his lunch. And it clicked.

Tears.

Never had Kendall known the taste of his own tears – not because he's never felt sadness but because of the idea that men shouldn't cry. The same idea that his believed in and espoused. Kendall knew he had to be strong, stronger than his mom and sister. Strong enough to keep their family afloat and to keep him going after losing his father.

The day he lost his father, he became the rock, the shoulder that his sister and mother could rely on or to lean on to. That same day, he was drained of the sea inside him and has then on known nothing but the shore.

So when the oasis came on to this dry desert – imagine the surprise that he felt. It was unlike anything he expected – wet like the rain and yet so full of emotion. And he felt it – he felt the emotion behind every new salty dew drop on his lips. And he wanted so badly to comfort this person like he comforted his parents, to comfort him so badly that it ached. He fell asleep, mouthing words of comfort and reassurance, hoping that the person on the other side would hear what he had to say.

The next day, he found Logan in the hallway during lunch, his eyes puffy. Kendall then carried a tray of both their lunches and opted to sit beside him instead of the hockey team. And when he did sit, he made Logan laugh so hard that a new batch of tears streamed down his face.

And when he licked his lips, he tasted the ocean – and it's fishes smothered in mayo.

But this time, he didn't mind.

Strawberry Champagne.

Nothing tastes worse than chicken alfredo and the taste of artificial strawberry. Why did lip balm have to have a taste? More importantly, why can he taste it?

"Where's Kendall?" Logan emerged from his room, carrying the bowl of pasta.

"Oh, hello honey. I didn't know you were here. I thought you were on a date with Camille like the boys and their girlfriends." Mama Knight removed her gloves and approached Logan, a caring look in her eyes.

"You okay? Want anything?"

"No thanks Mama Knight. I'm good."

"Alright. Call me if you want company. I'm just in my room." She planted a kiss on top of his head and left.

That explains it, Logan thought.

Jo.

Blood.

"Woah, this is more real than I thought." Kendall commented, smashing the buttons on the controller, his tongue out in concentration.

"What are you talking about?" James chuckled. "I hate to be the mom here – that's Logan's job – but I think you've been playing for too long. Even I know this isn't close to real."

"Then, why do I taste . . ." Kendall's eyes widened in realization; he hasn't tasted blood ever since they stopped playing hockey. "Mom! Where's the first aid kit?"

With a kit in hand, Kendall rushed to the lobby and found Logan with his head rested on his hand and seated in a not-so-comfortable position. He approached the smaller boy cautiously and decided to sit it in a chair beside Logan.

"Hey," Kendall began, and his jaw dropped when he saw Logan's face – bruised and full of cuts in various places – his cheek, the side of his eye, his lips.

"What happened?" Kendall fumbled to get the disinfectant, but Logan stopped him.

"I'm fine." Logan gave Kendall a weak smile, his right upper lip tugged upward.

"No, you're not." Kendall whispered and gently tugged Logan's arm to make him stand alongside him- and he did.

"Let's go to a more private place." Kendall lead Logan to one of the unoccupied rooms on the first floor.

"I don't think we're supposed to be here." Logan looked back at Kendall who was gently and quietly closing the door.

"No one is. It's not rented out by anyone. But Bitters doesn't even know about this room so we're not going to be in trouble anytime soon."

"Why here?"

"Everywhere else encourages attention."

Logan nodded and allowed Kendall to clean and treat his cuts.

"What does it feel to not be the doctor this time?" Kendall snickered.

"Refreshing." Logan winced at the cotton ball soaked in disinfectant that Kendall placed on his lips. "I broke up with Camille."

Kendall paused.

"What? Why? I thought you loved her."

"No, not really. Not as much as I love-"

Logan looked into Kendall's deep green eyes waiting for a response, a glimpse, a hint that Kendall felt the same way.

"Who?"

Logan's lips collided with Kendall's and he didn't need to lick his lips to taste the sourness spreading in his mouth.

Vanilla Ice Cream.

It had been weeks since they've talked, let alone looked at each other eye to eye.

Logan resigned to avoiding anything that would require him to lick his lips and Kendall did the same. And although they really tried to not to mind each other's business, they also did learn to take facial cues as to not make each other's lives so miserable.

Logan found out that Kendall broke up with Jo a few months after he admitted his feelings when he stopped tasting lip balms. So whenever Logan had to put on lip balm, to avoid licking his chapped lips, he made sure those were unflavored and unscented. And Kendall knew whenever Logan didn't sleep that night when he tasted Mountain Dew the next morning. So, he decided to store bottles of Mountain Dew in the refrigerator but also to put calming music in their room to help him sleep. They lived a life of silence for a while, with little actions to make up for the awkwardness but to keep their friendship.

It would've gone well forever if Kendall hadn't had snapped.

Logan was seated on the couch, eating his feelings away with vanilla ice cream. He had failed his test and Gustavo wouldn't stop pointing out his mistakes with the new routine. Kendall was on the dining table, trying to learn the new song given to them taking frustrated glances at Logan. Finally, he spoke.

"What are you doing Logan?"

"Oh, you're talking to me now?" Logan said with his mouth full.

"You're doing injustice to the ice cream." Kendall stood, searching for something in the cabinets.

"And now you control what I'm eating."

Kendall moved toward Logan, a bottle of peanut butter in his hands.

"What the hell Kendall?" Logan hugged the tub of ice cream and moved further away from Kendall who was now seated on the other side of the couch.

"It's bland!" Kendall scooted closer.

"I like it this way! Vanilla ice cream on its own. That's it. Nothing else to mask the flavor."

"It's not masking, it's mixing." Kendall opened the bottle and stuck the spoon in it, and when he took it out, the spoon was coated in it. "Come here and let me put some in it!"

"No!" Logan was standing up now and shoved another spoonful of ice cream in his mouth.

Kendall frowned as the flavor spread all over his lips.

"Fine." Kendall grinned. "If you want to play that way."

He then shoved the whole spoon in his mouth, smearing the peanut butter all over his lips.

"Kendall!" Logan slammed the tub on the coffee table and was so ready to scream when he was caught off guard.

Kendall puled Logan by the collar and mixed vanilla and peanut butter in one sweet movement.

"What'd you think?" Kendall asked, his grip loosening.

"I could get used to it."