Tiny Infinities, a big time rush fanfic

A/N: Right, so I tried...and miserably failed. Sorry if you hate it, but I wouldn't blame you.

He sort of feels bad.

Seriously, that's the only reason he would willingly come into a three feet radius of Camille Anderson when she's displaying the waterworks.

And it's only because he never really likes to ponder over whether something's a good or bad idea for too long that he actually finds himself sitting down next to her.

"Uh Camille…are you—"

She latches onto him, sobbing all over his shirt, and that is how he screws himself over.

She uses the back of her hand to wipe away the tears from her cheeks, "Thanks for being here, Kendall. That was really nice of you."

"Uh, no problem." He smiles, wondering if it would seem like a totally 'jerk' move to leave right about…now.

She doesn't notice his mental dilemma, continuing with her ramblings, "I mean I know we're not really close and I'm always using you for practice with my scenes—"

"Slapping scenes," he specifies.

"Yeah those," she says, "But I just want to say, you're a real nice guy, Kendall, for just taking it and now, this."

He tries to smile, "Thanks."

She smiles back, her eyes still watery and her nose sort of red from all the crying.

He sighs, knowing he shouldn't leave, his mother taught him better after all, "So…what were you crying about?"

She laughs, becoming slightly self-conscious, "your best friend."

"Oh," and he can't help wondering how that hadn't his crossed his mind before, "Did something happen?"

She shakes her head, "No. It just sort of hit me…he might never really like me the way I like him and I guess I kind of just fell apart…"

He nods his head, feeling a bit awkward, "Well, if it makes you feel better, it's not like he doesn't like you."

Her head rises a bit, "Wait, does he talk about me?"

"Not really... but sometimes, he might say a thing or two."

She gazes at him warily, "Are you just saying that to make me feel better?"

His shoulders slump, "Yes."

She looks at him without any expression on her face and then suddenly cracks up. "You know, I don't know if you've noticed, but you're not really good at the whole 'comforting a girl' thing."

He frowns at first but then can't help chuckling himself, "Yeah, I suck, don't I?"

She nods her head furiously, still in a fit of laughter, "Completely."

"Hey!" He nudges her shoulder, grinning, "So this is what I get for trying."

Her eyes sparkle as she gets an idea. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, "I know how you could help me feel better."

"And are you sure there is no slapping involved in this part of the script whatsoever?"

"Yes, Kendall." She replies impatiently.

"Okay…well as long as there isn't—"

"Great!" she chirps excitedly, "Okay so the basic plotline is my character has basically misunderstood the whole situation with her boyfriend, that's you, and her best friend. You keep on trying to explain but I won't let you. All you have to do is keep on trying to say something and letting me cut you off every time. Pretty simple, right?"

"Right," he nods his head slowly, still a bit uneasy about doing all this, "You know this sounds a lot like all those other times you randomly popped up out of nowhere, slapped me hard and said some lines about backstabbing…"

"Kendall."

He sighs in defeat, "Alright, alright, fine let's do this."

"Okay," she smiles, before closing her eyes and breathing in and breathing out slowly.

"…What are you doing?"

"I'm getting into my role…I need to be Ellie…I need to feel her pain, her anger, her heartbreak." She opens her eyes suddenly, catching him off guard with the newfound determined look in her eyes, "Okay, I'm ready."

"Uh okay so I just—"

"I trusted you! I trusted you and you betrayed me!"

"Wait, but—"

"You good-for-nothing, inconsiderate—"

"But—"

"undeserving, ungrateful—"

"Wait was that even in the script—"

"asshole—"

Thwack.

"Camille! You said no slapping!"

She grins, her cheeks stained of color and eyes shining as she tries to regain her breath, "Sorry, I guess I got a little too into it."

"Yeah," he mutters, rubbing his cheek now stinging in pain, "You're telling me."

He can't explain it but suddenly there's more to their daily encounters than a crisp slap followed by some dramatic monologue for whatever TV show she's auditioning for that day.

Suddenly there are texts and jokes and arguing and he's saying, "Camille!" in that desperate way he always has to use whenever she won't stop talking, more times than he can count.

One day, while she's going on and on in a tangent about some callback she's waiting to hear about, he finds his eyes trailing down towards her pink lips and he thinks he could get used to this. Well, sort of.

He has this natural coolness about him, nothing ever overwhelms him, and he'll always find a way to smoothly get out of trouble and come out the winner in the end.

He'll lead and everything will always falls perfectly in place behind him without fail, no matter where he goes or what he does. He doesn't realize that he's one of the lucky few to actually have the universe always conspire in his favor.

She wants to hate him for it. But no one can really hate a guy like Kendall Knight.

"So why are you here?" she asks one evening.

He looks at her, confused.

"I mean…you don't seem to want this, the fame, record deals, fans, nearly as badly as James."

"I don't know," He shrugs, "This never really was my dream. I was fine being a small town sort of guy. I had hockey, the guys, my mother, my sister. Things were good."

"So why did you decide to come here?" she asks.

He turns towards her, smiling mysteriously, "But I guess when I started to think about it, I wondered what's the worst thing that could happen if I give this a shot? No matter what, I'll still have the things that matter to me, you know? As long as I don't let myself lose my friends along the way, it's fine."

She smiles gently, trying to ignore the slight pang of her heart, "Yeah, I know what you mean."

"I just don't want to go through my whole life with what-ifs and regrets about things passing me by that I should have given a chance… I don't want to be that guy." He muses out loud and something tells her they're not talking about the same thing anymore exactly.

It sort of hits her, like a train wreck, there is so much more to Kendall Knight than people notice.

"Let's go somewhere."

"Where?"

He leans over, gazing at her with that look, and she fidgets nervously in place. She wonders if he's noticed the effect he's started to have on her.

"Fast food drive-thru, what else? Do you know how long I've been craving some French fries and a shake?" He grins as he suddenly makes a run for his mom's car.

She rolls her eyes. Boys, especially teenage boys are unbelievable.

He honks from the car, "Are you coming or not?" he yells through the window.

She shakes her head in disbelief as she rushes to the car and gets in next to him.

She stares in horror at the fries, the vanilla ice cream cone, and the shake.

He slurps his shake obliviously as she glares at him. "Want some?" he offers.

"No," she replies testily and he smiles at her in amusement.

"What's wrong?"

"That stuff is disgusting."

"Wait," he stops her, staring at her in disbelief, "You don't like McDonalds?"

"No," she answers crossly, "Do you know how many calories are in that stuff?"

"Camille, we're teenagers. We're allowed to chug down a shake when we feel like it."

She blows up. "But it's greasy and unhealthy! And I didn't even know it was even possible for someone to put that many fries into their mouth all at one time but did you show me—"

She yelps in shock as he sticks a bunch of French fries into her mouth, "Just eat them, Camille. Trust me, you'll love 'em." He flashes her a grin and a thumbs up before proceeding to draw the car out of the parking lot.

When she's finally done, she shrieks, "What is wrong with you? How could you—stop laughing at me!"

"Aw come on Camille. Here, I know something that'll make you feel better." He takes a hand off the steering wheel and his eyes off the road for a second, searching for something.

"Eyes on the road, Kendall, eyes on the road!" she squeaks in panic.

He doesn't pay attention to her words, giving her a look instead, before quickly taking a French fry and dipping it into his vanilla ice cream cone and taking a bite of it.

She gives him a deadpanned look, hating the way the dimple on the right side of his mouth won't let her feel more revolted than she should at his actions, "Wow, just when I thought it couldn't get even more disgusting."

"Try it," he orders and she crosses her arms across her chest and stares at him stubbornly.

"That is the most grotesque thing I have ever had the displeasure of seeing and if you think—"

He rolls his eyes, "It's called eating a French fry dipped in some ice cream. Stop being a drama queen—"

"First of all, I am an actress, drama runs in my blood. Second, it is disgusting. I'd gag myself before actually eating a—

He puts another fry, this time dipped in vanilla ice cream, into her mouth while she's still ranting. There's a second of silence while she swallows it down.

He gives her a haphazard look, a lazy grin on his face. "Well?"

She frowns at him, before sighing immaturely, "Why do you always have to win, Kendall?"

He laughs and she gives him a small smile, subtly taking another French fry and dipping into the ice cream.

He has a dimple on the right side of his cheek, not his left. He isn't afraid of anything, doesn't like to think things through completely before doing them, thinks fretting over miner details is a waste of time, wins you over with a simple lopsided grin and—

He isn't Logan.

But he's Kendall and maybe she's starting to like that a little more than she'd like to admit.

He sneaks up to her room through the balcony one night. She's watching some Spanish Telenovas (her secret addiction) when she hears tapping against the glass panel door of the balcony. She shrieks in surprise when she sees him there, falling off the side of her bed process and he smiles in amusement as she stands up quickly the next second, trying to regain some balance and composure.

"What are you doing here?" she demands in a whisper, nervously looking towards her door to make sure her mom hasn't heard the commotion, as she lets him in.

He shrugs nonchalantly, "I got bored. The guys fell asleep as soon as Gustavo finally let us out of the studio tonight and I thought why not come here," he flashes her a grin and she automatically feels her knees go weak at the sight of it.

She smiles softly, rolling her eyes only a bit, "You always need to be doing something, don't you?"

He smiles, "Guess so," a pause, "So…do you want to hang out?"

She smiles her consent before replying mischievously, "Sure…that is if you're okay with watching some Spanish dramas with me…"

His eyes go wide as his attention snaps towards the television screen and then back to her. He shakes his head, paling slightly, "No…"

She giggles, taking his hand and pulling him towards her couch, "Yes."

There's a bunch of pillows on the couch, a box of tissues on coffee table and a bunch of used tissues scattered across the carpet floor and she's sobbing into his chest (sue her, she's always been a bit overemotional about just about everything) as he tries to calm her down, "Juan was the one for her, Kendall. Why couldn't she see it? Why couldn't she see how much he loved her? Why did she have to go betray him with his evil twin brother?"

He rubs her back in an attempt to be comforting while trying to contain his amusement at the whole situation, "It's okay. Everything will be okay."

"No, it's not," she wails, "He's dead! Muerto, Kendall, muerto!"

He snorts; she would have a perfect Spanish accent.

"Don't you get it, he's never going to come back and—and," she can't finish though, because her emotions catch up to her again, and she starts to sob into his cashmere sweater a second time around. This is becoming too much of a habit he thinks to himself.

He coughs a little more heavily this time, trying his best not to just burst out into laughter against her hair.

There's a long pause and then she hears a slight noise from his mouth and it suddenly hits her how completely inappropriate this probably is, so she picks her head off his chest quickly, slightly embarrassed and slightly disoriented from all the excessive crying, "Sorry, I didn't mean to…"

And it's then she notices he's laughing, outright laughing so hard, his whole body's shaking, "Oh my god! You laughing at me?" she demands in outrage.

"N-No." he shakes his head and holds his sides for dear life.

"You jerk!" She swats at his head but can't help cracking up too because she has to admit, it is sort of funny.

He grabs her swatting arm, unconsciously pulling her closer, "Easy there, Camille. I think you've slapped me enough times for me to remember the sting for the rest of my life."

He grins cheekily, blue eyes shining as the light from the television screen flickers across his face in the dark, "Good," she replies smartly, trying to catch her breath, and pretend her head doesn't feel so dizzy at having him so close to her, "You better."

They smile at each other and his eyes trail down towards her lips for a fraction of a second, the blueness of his irises suddenly becoming a little glassier than before, and she thinks her heart might be caught somewhere in her throat.

The moment disappears in a flash though, as he takes his hand off her arm like he's just been burned and it sort of stings, something like the taste of rejection a second time around, but she tries to pretend it's not really a big deal.

Kendall and her, they're just friends, nothing less and nothing more.

They go back to watching the Telenova, making sure to keep a safe distance between each other this whole time and it's sort of awkward but neither of them comments on it.

"Hey Camille?"

"Yes," she turns her head towards him quickly, relieved that the silence filling up the room has finally been broken.

"So uh…is this where you learned your dialogue delivery and slapping techniques from?" He asks, his mouth curving up teasingly.

This time she decides to use her pillow instead of her hand to hit him.

She has soft skin and brown eyes and this small beauty mark right above her upper lip and when she's not in one of her costumes, or playing her many roles, when she's just herself, a slightly melodramatic, slightly neurotic, slightly quirky girl he thinks that maybe—

Forget it.

"Kendall…" James hisses, "Kendall."

He jumps slightly, "Yeah, sorry, what's up?"

James gives him a funny look, "Who were you looking for?"

He smiles, patting his shoulder, "No one. Don't worry about it. Now what's up?"

James doesn't quite believe him, there's something off, but he chooses to let it go, for now anyway. He grins, "New girl in town."

His eyes move towards the girl who's just sat down in front of the pool on the other side of them.

Kendall's follow his and he knows James is waiting for a reaction.

"So?" James probes.

He feigns interest and grins back, "Dude."

"Right?" James laughs before turning serious, "I call dibs. I saw her first."

He sighs, pretending to be disappointed, "You're right, man. You saw her first so you should go over there and use that James charm of yours on her."

James blinks. "What?"

"What?"

James looks around, wondering if he's just stepped into some sort of twilight zone, "That's…it?"

"What do mean?"

"I mean…" James finds himself floored, "No fight, no rock, paper, scissor, no…"

"Nope." He puts an arm on his shoulder, looking him right in the eye, "Now go get her, tiger."

His eyes travel behind James as Camille comes into view and seeing him, smiles and waves slightly.

"So uh you go do your thing," he continues, "I just remembered I forgot something so I'm gonna go. Tell me all the details later, okay?"

"But—"

He's already started walking away.

James turns around, watching his friend moving towards the brunette with that look in his eyes.

Wait, no—

Oh crap.

"Hey."

They smile at each other and she laughs a little.

He quirks his head to the side, that dimple more prominent than before, "What?"

She shakes her head, "Nothing."

They start walking side by side when their hands accidentally brush, skin meeting skin so briefly it should be completely inconsequential, but his heart jolts alive and that familiar sensation bubbles at the pit of his stomach. He wonders if she feels it too.

He tries not to think about it but their fingertips graze against one another again and this time he doesn't feel like pulling his hand away like all the others time.

This, whatever it is, is…nice.

He calls her late into the nights sometimes because it seems he's not the only insomniac at Palm Woods and it's sort of nice to have someone there, on the other end, to talk to when everything seems a bit too still for his liking.

"Big audition tomorrow." She informs him and it's weird. Camille in the night and Camille in the day seem like two different people. He wonders which one is the real Camille.

"Nervous?"

She laughs, "What do you think?" a pause and then, "But no, it's okay."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean you get used to the feeling, it's always there, gnawing at your sides, whether you're actually in the waiting room, or in front of a bunch of cast directors, or rehearsing lines, or sitting by the pool, wherever. You get used to it."

The sheets rustle and he sits on the edge of his bed, "That's no way to live."

"That's just how it is here, at least until you make it in the big time" she admits frankly, like it's some fact of life.

He walks toward the window and looks out at the pool, the chlorine water glistening under the moonlight, "But it shouldn't be all about that. If making it big time isn't going to be fun along the way, then what's the point? That's what I came here for at least, to have a good time."

She laughs, "I know. That's what makes you different from everyone else here. You're still that fun-loving hockey-playing teenage boy from Minnesota that you came here as."

"We all are." He reminds her, hearing the slight snores of the James from the other room.

She's quiet for a second before finally replying with a "Yeah."

"Talking to Camille a lot?"

He looks up slowly from the text he's just gotten from Camille, towards Carlos who moves his intent gaze from the cereal box to him. "What do you mean?"

"I heard you talking to her last night and then I sort of realized how you've been texting someone whenever you get the chance in the studio. I dunno, it just all made sense."

Kendall shrugs casually, "Yeah, I guess. It's not a big deal."

"Does Logan know?"

"We're just friends, Carlos."

"Does he know, Kendall?" he repeats and this is the thing he loves and hates about his best friends the most, the way they pick up on things faster than anyone else, given the chance; they see through everything.

"Why does it even matter? He doesn't even like her like that." His voice rises a bit but not too much, never too much.

"He never said he didn't, Kendall." Carlos points out softly and he hates this. He's the one that supposed to keep them all together; he's the one that's supposed to be calm and collected in situations like this. He's the one that would never do anything remotely close to jeopardizing a friendship. When did all their roles switch?

"He never said anything." He retorts coldly, "He just pretends it isn't—wasn't there."

He suddenly gets up from the table.

"Kendall, where are you going? Talk to me, man—"

"I don't want to talk to you. I don't want to talk to you or Logan or James. You wanna know why? Because there's nothing to talk about."

He slams the door behind him.

In the back of his mind, he's always wondered how all of this would have worked out if she had liked him, not Logan, first.

Things, he's come to conclude, would have been a lot easier.

He hasn't scoffed or made fun of the soap opera in the last hour and the tension seems to radiate off of him.

She finally musters up the courage to ask him why. "What's wrong?"

He looks away from the television screen towards her, "Nothing. Just wondering what Griffin will think of Gustavo's new song for the band, I guess."

He gives her his usual smile and her mind tells her to accept it like she always does. She forces a smile back, willing herself to nod and believe him.

He tells her things, just not the things that really matter.

Sometimes she thinks he belongs more to Hollywood than she ever could.

"Hey Logan?"

He turns around from the counter where he's making them a late night snack, "Yeah Kendall?"

He plasters on a smile, "What do you think of Camille? I mean really think of her, and don't lie to me or play it off as nothing. You always were the worst liar out of the four of us."

Logan laughs, "I think she's cool, a bit all over the place sometimes, but cute," he suddenly gets a silly look on his face, "And boy, when she kisses…"

Something flares up inside of Kendall but he ignores it. "So…you like her?"

Logan thinks about it for a second, "Hmm…I guess so. I haven't really had to chance to talk to her though lately, so who really knows if anything could ever really happen."

Kendall closes his eyes and it's like he's been sucker punched in the gut. He swears he can hear Carlos's voice ringing in his ears. "He never said he didn't."

Somewhere in the distance, he hears Logan joke around, "For all I know, she might have moved on to someone else."

He swallows down hard, "Then you'd better make a move, man. Clock's ticking."

"Why won't you talk to me?" She puts a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm talking to you right now."

"You know what I mean." She persists and she's tired of forcing smiles for casting directors, cameras, him, "Stop being like this with me."

"Seriously, Camille? I don't get what you want from me. You're not my girlfriend and I'm not your boyfriend. You're not even a close friend. We're not anything so stop acting like we are." He snaps and he's never used this tone with her or anyone else before.

She takes a step back from him, stiffening up instantly.

He turns around slowly, eyes softened with guilt and she knows he feels bad but it doesn't make his words any less hurtful, "Camille—"

"I'm sorry," she intercedes before he can finish and he notices suddenly she's blinking furiously, her eyes stinging with tears she tries in vain to keep from falling, "You're right. I was out of line and—and I'm sorry—"

She stumbles over herself as she rushes out the door.

He knocks from outside her bathroom door, once, twice, thrice before leaning his head against it and sighing, "Come on, Camille. Open the door. I'm sorry about what I said—"

"You were right," she hiccups through a mess of tears, wrapping her arms around her legs a little more tightly than before and turning around to look at her pale reflection in the mirror. All this is so much more confusing than she thought it would be.

He doesn't say anything, he's not sure he has anything to say to make this any better or easier.

"You were right," she repeats, her voice shaking.

He closes his eyes tight, familiar guilt seeping through his veins, coursing through his body, and making his head hurt.

He still doesn't know how they screwed up everything so badly.

"Maybe this isn't such a good idea."

"What do mean?"

He refuses to look at her and she has a bad feeling where this is going. "I mean Logan is one of my best buds and we can't, I mean..."

She laughs, and it comes out strained. She think she might have learned a lot about restraint from Kendall Knight, "I get it."

"I'm sorry," he says and he means it.

He wants to tell her about how he promised himself before he came here that he wasn't going to let the fast pace lifestyle of this city change him, that he's never been the type of guy to break his promises, or break away from loyalties and unsaid codes of friendships that are built with time, childhood bonds, that he plans to always be the sort of guy he was back home. And for him to be that guy, he has to break this off, for good, before anything actually begins. It's easier this way, he wants to tell her.

But justifications, rationalizations have never been his thing. They never come out right from his mouth, especially in moments like this. So he leaves without another word.

"No you're not." She mumbles miserably to no one in particularly when he's gone.

She's exhausted after a day of auditions and all she wants to do is slip beneath the covers of her bed, fall asleep and forget about how empty her life seems to feel lately.

She walks into the elevator and takes her heels off right then and there because her feet hurt like hell and she could care less what others will think when they enter the elevator and see her like this.

The elevator stops and opens and she doesn't bother to look to see who it is, keeping her eyes shut tight and trying to remain motionless.

"Wow, you look beat. You okay, Camille?"

She opens her eyes to see a grinning Logan entering the elevator and standing next to her.

She smiles softly, leaning her head against the wall slightly, "Tired I guess. It's been a long day."

He nods in understanding and her eyes move towards the dimple on the left side of his mouth and that familiar ache in her heart comes around again.

She closes her eyes as he turns his head towards the front of the elevator again. He hums something catchy under his breath and she can't help tapping her fingers lightly against her leg to the beat of it.

She opens an eye and sees him turn his head slightly, that familiar smile at the corner of his mouth quirking up again and something flutters inside of her.

He takes her to the movies (no late night Telenova marathons for her anymore), holds her safe in his arms when she starts to cry in the middle of a film (because nice guys don't laugh at you for silly tears), takes her out for lunch at nice restaurants (spontaneous trips through fast food drive thrus are pointless, not to mention unhealthy) and always asks her what she'd like to eat first (forcefully stuffing French fries down her throat is not gentleman-like after all). He holds her hand tight (there's never any finger-grazing) and thoughtfully calls to wish her a good night before going to sleep (because three am phone calls are overrated).

It's great, there is absolutely nothing dysfunctional or difficult about them.

This is how she always imagined it to be like, this is always what she wanted.

He's Logan Mitchell and…she has to learn to accept that.

He watches them walking down the hallway next to each other. Logan grasps her hand, entwining their fingers together and she turns around automatically at the gesture, smiling slightly as he leans over and kisses her sweetly on the lips.

Turns out, Kendall Knight doesn't always come out the winner in the end.

To be honest, out of the four I like Kendall and Logan the most so I don't mind Logan and Camille too much...but Kendall and Camille, hands down, have the better chemistry (even if they're not really supposed to).