He presses her into his chest and feels her heartbeat under his fingertips like slowly fading hummingbird wings.
The shadows are closing in, their icy fingers reaching out, scraping against her skin but only lightly. "You know I love you, right?" She whispers into the ever-closing darkness. "And that I'll always be with you?"
He makes a noise in the back of his throat and just pulls her closer. "Don't talk like that. Please." He begs, a single tear sliding from his cheek onto her nose. She wipes it away and just smiles at him, her teeth blinding him with their light.
"Nobody lasts forever, Logan." She whispers – her voice falters, but she reaches out numb fingers and catches it before it can hit the ground. Logan doesn't notice.
"But you've got to last longer than this." He murmurs, his own voice tear strained and breaking like bone china.
She laughs bitterly and the sound rings through the silent night and his grip tightens on it. "But I can't. Logan, if I survive through this, I'll die soon after. You know that. You're the one who wants to be a doctor."
Hook, line and freaking sinker.
"Tell me you love me." He asks of her quietly. She sucks in a sharp breath and winces, pressing a hand to her side where the blood is seeping into the cool, grey pavement.
"I love you." Her breath catches and now she's got tears pouring silently down her face.
"I love you too." They sit in silence for a while, before Camille whispers something, something so quiet that it almost gets carried away on the wind.
"Sing to me." Logan glances down at her and sees her dark, heavy brown eyes, and before he can stop himself, he kisses her, long and slow and sweet. She tastes of blood and death and broken hearts but she tastes of strawberries and peaches and sweet, sweet love. And then he sings.
He sings until his throat is sore and the tears are pouring down his cheeks and the grip she has on his hand is slack. He presses his fingers into her pulse point and waits, but…nothing. Absolutely nothing. He sobs quietly before he tugs her lifeless body onto his lap and keeps singing.
His voice breaks over and over again but he doesn't stop because it was her last request and he will keep it. He memorizes her every curve and crevice and he traces a blood-stained finger along her cheek.
He doesn't hear the sirens approaching or the horns beeping because he only has eyes for her. He doesn't stop singing and rocking her back and forth. Her eyelids don't flutter and she doesn't move – she'll never move again.
And then there's a shadow over him and there's loud voices shouting above him and his precious, beautiful Camille is ripped from his arms. "No!" He shouts, scrambling to his feet. His arms stretch toward her but something wraps around his waist and pulls him back.
He claws at the arms that restrain him and his nails dig in to soft skin. Kendall has a tight grip on him, and James and Carlos are trying to hold him back but they can hardly see because of their own tears.
"You'll hurt her!" Logan screams as he pushes and struggles, but Kendall won't let him go, just holds him back and tries to whisper calming words into his ears. "Let me go! Let me go! Camille, Camille! Camille, Camille…" his voice dies away and he collapses to the sodden, muddy ground.
Kendall, James and Carlos fall next to him but Logan doesn't notice. He just wraps his arms around his middle and cries to himself. The others sob too, but they sob quietly with their heads tucked down and the tears staining their mud-streaked skin.
"What's going on?" A familiar voice shouts, there's a car door slammed, and all three boys look up. Lucy's stalking toward the ambulance with her black&red hair whipping in the wind. "Where's Camille?" She demands, her voice full of arrogance and annoyance. There's a muffled reply, and Lucy's face drops. "No." She whispers brokenly, looking over at the four boys huddled together on the ground.
Kendall manages to push himself shakily to his feet and holds him arms out. Lucy runs to him and he holds her close while she sobs. Logan watches them for a minute and then he glances toward the ambulance, where he can just see Camille outlined on a stretcher.
The last thing he sees is bright, fluorescent red before he collapses.
Logan wakes up screaming and crying, cocooned in the sheets from his bed. Kendall's next to him and he's shaking him and begging him to wake up.
Logan sits up, wraps his arms around his knees and feels his heartbeat thrumming steadily under his skin. Baboombaboombaboombaboom. It's a steady constant rhythm and Logan's glad for it.
But then he thinks to the reason why he woke up in such a fit and the tears begin again.
Blinding white light, a loud piercing scream, a dull crash and crack, and then nothing. When he next wakes up, Camille's groaning in agony with a cell phone clutched in her hand and the other pressing against a bright red wound in her stomach.
"My fault, my fault, my fault." He whispers into the black, ignoring Kendall's prying hands that just want to reach into his soul and rip him apart.
"It's not your fault, Logan." Kendall murmurs and his voice slides all over the place. Logan's heart stops and starts, stops and starts, stops and starts and there's a dull roar in his ears.
"Yes it is." Logan snarls, untangling himself and rising unsteadily to his feet. The blackness in the room wants to just suck him in, pull him into their warmth. He wants to let them. He stumbles blindly out the door of the bedroom, down the hall and out into the main hotel.
He ignores Kendall's shouts for him to come back and walks blindly up the two floors to 4J. He's so pale and skinny – hasn't eaten in weeks or moved from his bed – that if he wanted to, he could press himself against the ghostly white paint and disappear.
But he bursts through the door of the once-familiar apartment. Now all he can see is CamilleCamilleCamille. She's everywhere, following him, haunting him, tainting his very existence. She's shadowing him, and everywhere he looks he can see her. Can hear her laugh. See her smile. See her as she practices for another role in the Palmwoods pool.
But it's all a mirage.
He trips and stumbles and the shadows reach out black, withered hands toward him, ready to drag him into their cold depth, but he pushes them away and staggers down the hall to her bedroom.
It's pink and purple and all colours in between. Big Time Rush posters litter the wall and on each picture there's a red heart around Logan's face. There's a picture of her and Jo in a tiny photo frame pushed right to the back of her chest-of-drawers like she wants to forget.
But there's a huge photo of her and Logan right next to her bed, one that she took. It's from arms-length and her and Logan are kissing and they look like the happiest couple on earth. Want to know a secret?
They were.
Stuck on the front of her cupboard are little note cards with what he assumes are acting notes until he steps up to them and reads them. They're quotes from Big Time Rush songs.
There are magazines littering the floor and the glossy covers shine up at him and make him want to puke. There are books stacked tight into a bookshelf and Logan reads a few covers – All of the Harry Potter series, the entire Vampire Academy series, Wintergirls, Fireshadow and Norwegian Wood.
Her room is so untouched, so completely natural and Logan just wants to break down again. But instead he trips down the hallway to her kitchen in a blind fit, and before he can even realize what he's about to do, he picks up the sharpest knife from the block and holds it up to the waning moonlight.
The blade glitters and reflects across the room. The shadows are closing in again, ready to attack, and this time they know that he's theirs. They scrape against his legs and pull on his arms and hair. They're growing impatient.
He looks at the knife one more time, his doubt creeping in – Carlos was right when he said that Logan is indecisive – but then a familiar laugh rings in his ears and he hears a familiar call.
'Dance with me, Logan! Come on, it'll be fun.'
Logan lifts the blade to his neck, looks around one last time, and with one sharp flick of the wrist, he crumbles like a fallen soldier.
The knife clatters next to him, the blade stained in bright crimson, and the shadows close in and drag him under, under, under. The darkness pushes him under and his heartbeat dies completely.
But his beautiful Camille is waiting for him with waiting arms wherever he's going, and that's all he cares about.
The shadows have claimed what is rightfully theirs.
{Fin}
I'm writing a lot of stuff that doesn't end happily. Hmmm... anyway, so I hope this floats your boat and please remember to review! I don't, like, live on reviews or something, but I am seriously depressed (not really) that no one reviewed 'no happy ever after, just disaster'. So please review this, favourite it, I don't care. BUT DON'T FAVOURITE WITHOUT REVIEWING!
HPloveofmylife
