I know I should be writing the rest of my Psych and I Am Number Four stories, but I have been stuck on BTR for literally 3 months. I haven't listened to anything but Heffron Drive, Kendall's cover songs, and BTR- AT ALL. I have only watched BTR related things. I have a twitter full of fangirling. 17 of my 25 most played songs are BTR. I have 92 BTR videos on my Itunes. I have problems.

I don't own this. Actually I do, but I don't own the characters or anything like them. And I hate that.

"Gahfurah…" Logan made a sound. He had no intentions of actually saying anything, but something in his brain told him it would make him feel better to grumble. It didn't help. He rolled over and pulled the covers over his head, and when that didn't work he added his pillow. Nothing helped. He gritted his teeth; it made it worse.

"Logan! Dude. Quit it." Kendall's voice came from across their shared room.

Logan didn't even form unintelligible sounds this time. Instead, he growled deeply. Kendall sat up and looked at the clock in between their beds. "Man, its 2:30. Go to sleep." He whined.

"That's what I've been trying to do." Logan snapped.

"Then what's the problem? I need to sleep too, you know." Kendall snapped back.

Logan sighed. "Sorry. I'll just go to the living room." He threw the covers off and stood up quickly. Too quickly. He turned white and stumbled backwards. If it weren't for the bed behind him, he would have hit the floor. He lay there; his upper half on the bed, the lower half on the area rug, silently staring at the ceiling until Kendall's head blocked his view of the spackle. The blonde's bushy eyebrow rose as he stared down at his unmoving friend.

"My head hurts." Logan whispered as he blinked back involuntary tears. "Real bad."

Kendall's eyes widened in surprise: Logan never used bad grammar. This kid is seriously in pain, he thought. His features softened as he picked up Logan's legs and placed them back on the bed where they belonged, then pulled the covers back over his best friend. He started out of the room when he heard Logan say "Where are you going?" softly.

"I'll be back in a sec." With that he left. Logan was completely alone. He never realized how loud his stupid room was; the TV made a whiney noise, the ceiling fan sounded like propellers on a helicopter, his breath was echoing against the walls like a cave. He wanted to cry, but that would only add to the noise. He was seriously considering holding his breath for all eternity when Kendall came back. The sound of his bare feet against the hardwood floor sounded like he weighed 400 pounds to the boy with the throbbing head. He squeezed his eyes shut as he curled into a ball. Slowly.

"Here ya go, buddy." Kendall said as softly as he could.

Logan looked up. Kendall was holding out his hands, one with two giant pills and the other with bottled water. Logan silently took the medicine from his friend and tried to sit up. His head swam, the room spun, his vision turned white and grey. He threw up.

"WOAH!" Kendall yelped as he tried to jump out of the way. He only barely missed being vomited on by mere centimeters. He remembered how much Logan's head hurt and instantly felt bad. He shouldn't have yelled, but come on; he almost got a puke pedicure. He looked at his best friend who was now hugging his knees to his chest and had his forehead resting on them. "Sorry." Logan apologized. Kendall almost didn't hear him because his words were muffled and he was speaking so quietly.

"S'okay." Kendall whispered. Logan only raised his eyes enough to look at the other boy. Kendall handed him the water, watched as he took the medicine, and then put the water next to the alarm clock. "Lay back down." He ordered the smaller boy.

Logan whimpered but did as he was told. Kendall pulled the pillow off of his own bed and laid it over Logan's eyes. "I'm going to have to turn on the lights, bud." He explained. Logan raised a thumbs up instead of answering, then put his hand over the pillow in front of his face. He could hear his friend cleaning up his puke. He was embarrassed that he'd thrown up, but it was even worse that his friend was cleaning up after him. If my head didn't feel like it was going to explode I would be doing that myself… Well, I guess if my head didn't hurt so bad there wouldn't have been anything to clean up… Ow. It hurts to think. Tears welled up behind Logan's eyelids.

Kendall removed the pillow from his friend's face and smiled a half smile. Logan looked so much like a helpless little kid. Kendall thought it was sweet; Logan was usually the strong one, he liked knowing the boy wasn't invincible. "Need anything else?" He asked the non-invincible boy almost silently. Logan shook his head, cried out in pain, tears working their way out of his closed eyes. Kendall felt guilty. He thought back to all the times he had a migraine. What made me feel better? Kendall sat down beside his friend and began massaging the smaller boy's temples.

Logan slapped his hands away and rolled over slowly, tears darkening his pillowcase. Kendall frowned. "Sorry." He wanted to explain that that had always helped him, but he didn't want to risk making too much noise. Kendall wasn't the genius- Logan was- but that didn't mean Kendall wasn't just as smart. He put himself in Logan's shoes: light hurts, sound hurts, moving hurts. Everything hurts. What doesn't hurt? Not thinking about it? But how are you supposed to not think about everything hurting? Thinking about something else…

Kendall shrugged and started rubbing circles on Logan's back. Maybe he will focus on the patterns and fall asleep. It was worth a try, his friend was in pain. At least this time Logan didn't swat him away. After a minute, Logan visibly relaxed and his breathing slowed a little. Kendall smiled his trademark smile, happy that his plan seemed to be working. He sat there, on the edge of his best friend's bed, tracing soothing circles on his back till he was sure Logan was asleep. He glanced at the clock- 5:50. His alarm would ring in less than an hour. He sighed as he turned off the alarm; afraid it would make Logan's head hurt even worse, if that was possible. He got out his phone and texted Gustavo. He didn't care that it was early because he was pretty sure the producer had people who dealt with his phone- he'd thrown it enough times- he probably needed someone to keep it for him.

*Not coming in today. Logan's sick. I'm staying with him.*

He smirked as he thought about how mad the man would be when he got the message, but he didn't care. Logan couldn't sing with a headache this bad and without him, they couldn't run four-part harmonies anyway. Gustavo could deal.

Kendall grabbed a piece of paper, pen, and tape and made a sign: SHUT UP! LOGAN'S GOT A HEADACHE and put it on the outside of his door. He yawned as he crawled back under his covers and fell asleep.