Mmmmm. My history paper is due in approximately 3 hours. I have to add my footnotes… I REALLY don't want to add my footnotes. I really, really don't…

Okay, so I'm trying to make some sense of my February story stat graph… cause It currently has one in 2K, so I'm looking for some high ranking numbers today and tomorrow to make up for it… Not that I'm all "READ!" Just like… I hate how it makes the rest of my month look depressing… I need to make up for it's failure…

Anyway. Despite my promises, I'm writing this thing first.

And I can't remember who asked me to write this, but here you are! Someone wanted a James Hurt/Comfort angsty thing? Sorry I don't remember who you are! I've gotten, like, a bunch of messages from people requesting things, and I can't keep 'em all straight.

James called himself "the face" a lot… He danced his fingers in front of his perfect features, and he raved about his washboard abs, and he knew. He knew he was the pretty one. He looked into the mirror, and he did see someone who he thought others could find attractive, but… But sometimes he didn't feel… right. Like he wasn't enough.

He wasn't too worried about it. After all, everyone had those days. People get zits and feel ugly, or they eat a big breakfast and feel fat. James wasn't above admitting that he had those days, too. Sometimes he looked in the mirror and he felt ugly and he felt fat, but everyone had those days. Everyone. But the difference between James and the rest of the world?

James didn't need an excuse.

No, James could look in the mirror, and he would just see flaws. All over. He had been reading a book for psychology, and it said that girls could look in the mirror and focus solidly on the most miniscule of flaws, while even the most unfortunate looking guys were able to only see the slightly developing muscle on their left bicep… whatever. Something like that… That worried James. He had gotten called gay at least a thousand times back home in their small town, and he really didn't want to give out more reasons to have people think of him that way.

So maybe he kept things bottled up. And maybe he didn't even tell his best friends when he felt so… disgusting, even when he knew in his brain that he wasn't. And maybe he stayed up late at night wondering why his heart told him one thing while his head told him another. And maybe James had reached the end of his rope, and he was clinging on for dear life…

James, admittedly, was starting to get scared. He had woke up this morning, and… gosh, he didn't even want to brush his teeth that morning, he was so terrified to see his reflection. It was ridiculous, this avoiding himself, but his brain seemed to agree with itself that he was handsome whenever he couldn't see… He just couldn't see, and then he would be fine.

He was laying out by the pool, getting his tan on and doing everything within his power to not look down at his shirtless form; he knew that the second he did, he'd regret it. He should be working out right now… he had to get rid of this… problem happening above his belt. He was just too big… It didn't matter if he could already fit two fists into the waistband of his smallest pair of skinny jeans; he just… weighed too much. If he fixed that, then maybe everything would be okay…

James was so wrapped up in his thoughts, that he didn't notice when a certain blonde-haired, green-eyed singer came to sit on the foot of his chair. "Yo, dude, are you okay?" Kendall asked, snapping James out of his trance. He knitted his eyebrows together.

"What?" he asked, confused, and Kendall's green eyes washed over with concern, and –woah- the heck? What was that about? Was he bleeding? Was he missing an arm?

"I asked if you were okay," Kendall said, and his voice sounded sad. James felt panic bubbling up in his throat where was all this coming from? Had someone died? Did he look sick? Why was Kendall randomly acting so unsettled?

"Um, sure, I guess, kind of…" he answered, lying by a lot because he felt positively awful, but it still made him sound pathetic. Kendall now had a hand on his knee, and James winced. "Uhhhh… are you okay?" he asked, hating how high pitched his voice got when he was flustered. Oops. There was another thing to add to the list of things to better about himself. He struggled to stifle a sigh. Kendall frowned.

"I'm fine, I just… James, can I talk to you alone for a little bit?" he asked, and James felt like some sort of blunt force had just struck the back of his head. He knew where this was headed. Crap. He knew where his was headed… Kendall knew. James knew Kendall knew, but… shoot. Everything was awful. He mustered up all his strength to plaster a big smile on his face, but it was obvious that the blonde could see the cracks in it.

"Sure," he answered and followed Kendall into a cabana, his feet seemingly moving on his own. Oh gosh, he didn't want to be here. Crap. He didn't want to be here. Kendall motioned to a chair at the table inside to sit at as he closed the curtain, the splashing of the pool becoming muffled with the action. Kendall smiled at him, taking the adjacent seat and biting his lip.

"James… why are you… what…" Kendall seemed to be having trouble forming the question he wanted to ask, but James knew. He knew. He closed his eyes and took a shaky breath, thinking of all the good things he had done with, for, and because of Kendall before helping the blonde out.

"What am I hiding?" he filled in, and –suddenly- Kendall's green eyes were locked on his, and James felt all of the air rush out of the room. Kendall broke the intensity of his stare for just a second as his eyes flickered to the table where James's hand was resting, and he reached out to grab it. He shook his head.

"No," Kendall said with a certain finality that made James's heart clench. "I know what you're hiding." And James knew, too. He knew that Kendall knew. He had always known that Kendall knew… "I was going to ask you… I was going to ask when you were going to tell me," he said, and James felt tears sprocket to his eyes, but he didn't dare acknowledge them. The second he gave them a thought, they'd be spilling over, and that was the last thing he needed right now.

"Never," he answered dumbly, sounding like a cranky five-year-old, and not at all the person he was trying to become. He tried to pull away from Kendall, but he was sucked onto him like a leach, and there was no escape. Kendall just latched on tighter.

"Jay, I don't want to put you in an uncomfortable position, but… this is one you have to talk about. You have to let me try to help you… I can't see you deteriorate like this," he said, and James refused to look at him, instead focusing his attention to a thread on his sleeve. Kendall kept talking. "We're all worried, James. Logan and Carlos keep asking me if I'm fixing it, but I can't do that because you won't let me. I hate watching you do this to yourself, James. You're better than this." James struggled to find a gulp of air.

"Better than what, Kendall? This is me getting better. I don't know how… what… I…" Now it was James's turn to fumble for words, and he was doing his best to keep himself composed as Kendall grabbed his one hand with both of his own.

"No, it's not James. You're taking self-improvement too far. It's scary to see. You're amazing, James, I just… Help me understand why you're letting yourself go like this!" Kendall yelped, and James could feel his throat clogging up, but he tried to speak anyway.

"I'm not letting myself go. I'm doing the opposite. I'm getting myself together," he said adamantly, and there was Kendall, looking at him with a sad smile on his face, and here was James, already sputtering for breath as he attempted to reign in the sobs building in his chest, and suddenly… he couldn't do this. He couldn't do this anymore. James flung himself into Kendall's open arms and the blonde held him tight while James did everything within his power to keep the tears from dripping down his cheeks. It was hard to swallow, but he managed to keep the crying to himself pretty well. "I just… I know I'm stupid, Kendall," he said, and the other boy laughed.

"You're not stupid."

"I'm handsome, Kendall. I'm pretty."

"You definitely are," he answered easily, and James sniffed. His shoulders felt tense, but he shook it off, pulling away to look his best friend in the eye, searching for… for something. He rubbed his hands off on his swimsuit, and tried to find words.

"Right. Well… now what?" he asked, and Kendall just smiled his best toothy grin at him.

"Dome hockey?" he asked, a glint in his eye that James knew to mean things were about to get competitive, he smirked, a relieved feeling filling his heart as the wetness in his throat and eyes dissolved.

"You're on," he answered, ready to defeat the shorter boy just like always. James knew that everyone had their off days, and he knew that he had more than his fair share. However, he also had more than his fair share of friendship, and that was something he could be happy about.

Ending these angsty oneshots on a hopeful note always leaves me bitter. I don't know why…

Ugh, do you ever forget to wear your watch, and your whole day is awful? Happens to me all the time… Grrr.

Also, I sort of went into this thinking "SNIPPET CONVERSATION!" Cause like… I do a lot of long scenes like this, and I was thinking that in reality, they'd be much shorter… so… yeah. Sorry about length! It's kind of short…