"Kendall."

It's just a whisper out from the darkness, but the blonde still hears it, still turns around to his lover. A smile pulls at his lips when his green eyes fill with the image of Jett, laying in bed and holding out his arms in invitation. Kendall quickly takes it and when he's fully on Jett's warm chest, he wraps his own arms around the smaller boy's neck.

"Can't sleep?" Jett asks, his normally cocky voice quiet and calm, kind and holding just a hint of amusement.

"No," Kendall admits, "but it looks like you can't either."

"Well, it's getting better by holding you," Jett says. He leans closer to Kendall's ear and whispers, "I bet being around me is helping you, too."

There's the cockiness Kendall now knows to expect, so he just smiles. "Yeah, actually, it is." A small, kitten-like yawn proves the blonde's sentence.

And brings a grin to Jett's full lips. "Do you want to know a secret?"

Kendall raises one large eyebrow. "A secret? Sure."

"You're cute." The raven haired boy nuzzles his nose into the crook of Kendall's neck, kissing the pulsating pulse point. "And you're all mine."

"I'm pretty sure the whole world knows that, Jett. You did basically say it on national television… and on Oprah, too."

"I had to make sure everyone knew your hot ass was mine," Jett chuckles.

Kendall snorts. "I'm glad I don't have to worry about middle aged house wives hitting on me," he replies sarcastically.

Jett shoots back, "Hey, never underestimate a woman!"

The blonde doesn't argue the topic, anymore, but just rolls his eyes. "Like it matters, anyway. You're the only one for me."

There's a pause as the T.V. star leans down to press a kiss to the dimpled boy's sweet strawberry-tasting lips. "I love you."

Green irises widen. "What?"

Jett smirks. "That was my other secret."

Behind Jett's handsome face, Kendall notices out of the corner of his eye the red glowing numbers of 1:58 blinking at him. He knows forever more that those numbers will always be sketched deep inside his mind and heart because that's the first time Jett's ever said those three little words. And he smiles. "I love you, too."

But it didn't matter.

Because you left me, anyway.

"Kendall! Go fix the lights! Don't make me come back there!"

Said boy rolls his eyes, yelling back a quick, "Got it, uncle Gustavo!" before going to do his job. He is so focused on the meticulous placing of the lights, he doesn't even notice the boy walking up to him, hands in his pockets and smirk on his lips.

"Hello," the boy says, waiting until Kendall turns around to continue. "Can you help me?"

"Um, sure," Kendall answers a little confusedly. "What with?"

"I'm today's guest on the show." The blonde vaguely remembers that the guest on his uncle's show today was supposed to be some T.V. big shot. Or maybe it was movies… Kendall never really did pay much attention to it. "And I'm not exactly sure where the make-up station is."

"Oh, it's up there—" He uses his index finger to point down a hallway to the left then says, "And then you take a left and it's the second door to the right. You can't miss it."

"I'm not so sure of that…" the raven-haired boy confesses innocently. "Can you walk me there? I'm really bad with directions."

Kendall's almost sure that's not true because this guy's an actor, and don't actors take directions from directors all the time when they're on the job? But, then again, this man is cute and Kendall isn't complaining, so he agrees, "Sure."

Kendall's just a helpful guy like that.

By the time they actually reach the dressing room-slash-make up station, after some small talk and witty remarks, Kendall kind of wishes this cool guy wasn't a movie star since movie star equals no freakin' shot in hell with him. Plus, the gorgeous brunette probably wasn't even gay. What a shame.

So he just turns and walks back the way they came to finish with the lights before the show starts because if the beams of light are even a half a degree off from they should be, Gustavo is going to murder him with nothing but his pudgy hands.

"Hey!" that now familiar voice calls.

Kendall turns again. "Yeah?"

The T.V. star smirks. "Are you really that anxious to get away from me? Most people would kill to even get a chance to get near me."

"Sorry, my uncle's my boss and he's kinda a jackass, so I really need to get back to work." His long fingers pull at the hem of his long-sleeved flannel shirt, a habit he does when he's a bit nervous.

The mysterious boy sees this and his smirk widens. "Well, then, don't let me stop you. But it'd be impolite if you walked away without giving me your name, you know. Do I have to call your uncle and tell him you've been rude to one of his guests?"

That would mean certain death, so Kendall quickly shrieks, "No!" He blushes at his outburst, recollects himself, and tries to recover by saying in a voice slightly deeper than his normal tone, "I mean, no need. Sorry. I'm Kendall Knight."

"Jett Stetson." Jett holds out his hand, taking a firm grasp of Kendall's when the blonde brings his own hand out and shaking it. "I'm sure we'll be seeing more of each other." He disappears into the dressing room, but sticks his head back out and winks. "Kendall."

And Kendall has to stand there for a couple minutes waiting for his brain to function properly enough to get his legs working. Was a real celebrity just flirting with him? Even when he does manage to walk away and return to the lights to adjust them in the correct position, his right hand is still tingling.

That is the first time Kendall had ever watched the show with actual (complete) interest.

Jett isn't the type to beat around the bush or ease into things. He sees something he likes, he gets it. No questions asked. No objections. That's why on his second date with Kendall, that dreamy blonde (who's not as attractive as he is but close) he met just a week ago, he says exactly what he feels.

"I like you. You're mine now. I better not see you with anyone else."

And despite the color staining his cheeks and the embarrassing sputters spilling out of his lips, Kendall dumbly nods.

Which is exactly what Jett expected.

Because he always gets what he wants.

"Why are you watching that?" Kendall asks as he sits down next to Jett on his boyfriend's expensive couch. It's the first time he's ever seen the raven watch something that didn't star himself in it and that is completely mind-boggling.

Jett smirks at Kendall, wrapping an arm around him and bringing him in against his chest. "Because it's good. Look."

And the blonde does, but it's hard to really understand what's going on. He can tell it's some kind of sport, but Kendall's not really a sports jockey and they all look alike to him. "Football…?"

"No." Jett laughs. "This is hockey, babe, but you're really adorable when you don't know what you're talking about," he adds, admiring the rosy shade that streaked across the blonde's cheeks.

"Pffft, yeah, I knew that. I was joking." Kendall gives a weak, unconvincing laugh. "Ha ha… ha."

"No, you weren't."

"Shut up!"

The T.V. star laughs, whether it is from the conversation or the pout Kendall was now sporting or maybe even a combination of both.

"So…" Kendall changes the subject to escape future embarrassment, "who's winning?"

"Blackhawks. Whoop, whoop!" Jett pumps his fist into the air twice. "They're the best team in the league. Totally going to win the championship, you know," Jett smirks at the end because he knows that Kendall definitely does not know.

But the blonde agrees. "Yeah, they're my favorite, like, ever."

One thin eyebrow rises as a smile tugs on his lips. "Oh yeah? Since when?"

"Since—" Kendall checks the small digital clock by the flat-screen television. "I don't know, like, thirty-seven seconds ago?"

"Because of me? Aw, that's so sweet, I'm getting a cavity."

"Well then, let me clean it for you," Kendall says and as soon as it's out in the air, he regrets it because he's not sure it makes sense and it just sounds pretty much disgusting. So he tries to distract Jett by pressing his lips against the other's and shoving his tongue down his throat. He knows it's working and smiles when he hears a moan.

He thinks he'll be watching hockey a lot more often.

"Jett, I don't really want to go… I mean, I have nothing to wear, and I'd just embarrass myself and you, so you should probably just go alone, and—"

His words die on his lips before they can even get into the air when his superstar boyfriend silences him with a kiss. He wants to be angry at the bad-mannered interruption, but he can't seem to find his temper.

Jett pulls away with a smirk. "You were saying…?"

Kendall frowns. He really hates losing. "I don't remember."

"I know." The raven lays another kiss on the blonde's pouting lips. "I got you a nice suit to wear, babe. You'll look fine, especially since I'll be your arm candy. Lighten up. Everyone loves to party."

Which is true, but the last time Kendall was at a party was when he was in high school and even then it wasn't a big deal, just a simple after party for prom he went to with a nice enough blonde girl he can't remember the name of (Jill? Jen? Jo? …No, that's not it). That was nothing.

This was a big fancy-schmancy party for Jett's new movie, filled with famous directors, singers, and other celebrities. Hell, even Orlando Bloom was going to be there!

Kendall sighs. "You're right," he finally admits, again pouting.

"I know, baby, when am I not?" Another signature smirk is on that smug face. "But I promise you'll love it."

It's been like three hours and Kendall is still not "loving it," as Jett told him. There's way too many faces and names; there's no way he can even try to keep up with it all. Looking at Jett charm another person, Kendall wonders just how he does it.

But despite the wonder, he feels a lot of desire to just go home and curl up in bed for a movie. "Jett, can we go home now?" he requests, trying not to sound like a whining child, yet it still comes out a little three-year-old-ish for his tastes.

"Home?" Jett shoots him a confused look. "We haven't even danced yet!"

"I don't dance," Kendall says firmly. This isn't something he's going to bend on. No matter how many brown puppy dog eyes and full pouts Jett pulls out, no matter how many kisses and touching, no matter how many times the star asks—

Jett pulls him in, placing his hands on each of Kendall's hips, smirking good-naturally. "Well, now you do. Just swing with the music, babe, it's easy."

"No, Jett, seriously—!"

The dark-haired boy turns him, cutting him off once again. "I seriously love you," Jett finishes. "And I seriously think this is our new song."

And Kendall doesn't agree at all because "Friday" by Rebecca Black is playing and even if Kendall secretly listens to it every now and again, there's no way that's going to be their song. But he can argue that tomorrow…

Right now, swaying with Jett's arms around him feels too good to stop so soon. He still doesn't like dancing, but for now, in that one moment, maybe he can enjoy it.

"I love you, too," he whispers.

I love you so damn much.

Kendall can't help it. He's not strong enough to stop; he's not even strong even to try. So he just sits down on the outside balcony, staring up at the moon, wishing he could go back. To the day he was working on his uncle's show and that Greek God walked up to him and said hello.

"Jett, come back. Don't leave me, please." It's raining down upon them, the ground, and the white plane just feet away, the water pounding down so much, you can't even tell Kendall's crying. But he is.

"Kendall, I got to do this for my job. I'm not leaving you; I'm just chasing a great opportunity. Remember all the times you told me to do that?"

The blonde curses his big mouth.

Or, at least, back to the day the God left him. Went back to whatever heaven he came from. Maybe if he went back, he could stop it, do something, anything, and make it all better again.

"But what about me? Is your job more important than me?" This time, Kendall doesn't even care if he's whining. He's desperate. Maybe if he resembles a little boy, Jett will stay to take care of him. He'd take that.

Jett sighs. "No, Kendall. It's not."

Kendall starts to smile—

"But I got to leave."

And then the smile immediately drops.

In the back of his mind, the blonde racks his brain to remember if any movies or T.V. shows starring a Stetson is coming on soon. It's not as good as the real thing, but it's all he's got. He'd rather watch his life from a distance than let it all go.

"Just remember I love you, okay?" Jett wraps his arm around his ex-boyfriend's arms. "I'll always love you."

"If you love me, why are you leaving?" Kendall sobs.

Another sigh. "Kendall! We've been over this! I'm sorry, but I'm getting on that plan and you can't stop me. I just got to do this."

The raven-haired man turns and takes a couple steps away in the direction of the plane, but Kendall can't handle it, so he runs and latches himself to the boy.

"No!"

Kendall can feel it, Jett forgetting him. Him letting go of all the memories and special moments and times they've ever shared. Feel him getting over the blonde and emptying his heart of anything that has to do of the green-eyed boy. It's not as good a feeling as feeling Jett's arms around him.

It feels like his heart is breaking.

"Look, I'm sorry. But it's set in stone now. I'm gone." Jett turns, holding Kendall at arm's length to get one more good look at the boy as if burning it into memory. He's not, though. It's just him holding the blonde back.

He leans in to place a chaste kiss to sniveling lips and whispers against them. "Goodbye, Kendall. I love you."

Kendall can't focus on his words. He can only focus on the pressure on his mouth. Only focus on their last kiss. Just the thought brings another round of tears spilling out of his eyes.

But at that point, Jett's already gone.

He pulls the hoodie closer to his body, bringing up the sleeves to get another sniff of that familiar cologne. He can sense the outline of the embroided Native American head on his chest from the force of his arms hugging his body—there's no one else to hug him now. Nothing to comfort him.

Nothing except the Blackhawks sweatshirt he snuck from Jett's suitcase before the actor left him alone.

That and the remaining pressure he almost feels on his lips when he closes his eyes and thinks hard enough. He does that a lot now. He does it now, wishing he could just have Jett back one last time. He opens his green eyes, seeing nothing but the moon and stars, and a single tears rolls down his cheek.

"Jett…" Kendall whimpers.

Because his name will always be the name on Kendall's lips from now on.

I still love you…

Jett.

Longest one shot I've ever written. And something sadder than I usually write. Hopefully, I didn't totally butcher it. I'm thinking this might even have a sequel, but I'm not so sure… Anyway, hope you enjoyed :) Based on "Last Kiss" by Taylor Swift.