I'm actually super psyched to write this. It's been burning a hole in my brain for a few days now, and it's nice to get it out of the way…
When Mrs. Knight was away, Carlos and Logan were in charge of all the cooking. The boys knew how much Carlos loved it and had long since deemed Logan the only one cautious enough to make sure he made it through a meal without chopping, grating, blending, or burning his fingers off.
Skillets were heated up, and Carlos was focused on cutting his carrots without any 'accidents'. Logan went to get a drink of water, but accidently dropped his glass. It shattered on the kitchen floor.
"Logie!" Carlos, being naturally panicky, yelped, rushing around the counter to see if he was okay.
"It's okay, man," Logan shrugged, turning to face Carlos. "I just have t-"
Suddenly, his calm expression warped into one of fear. He staggered backwards, broken glass biting into his bare feet, but he didn't seem to notice. All he could see was the chefs' knife still in his friend's hand. "Carlos?" he squeaked, mind wiping clear.
"Yeah?" the Latino answered, taking a wary step toward Logan, but the younger boy backed up. Logan struggled for control as his terror struggled to take over him. His pale face was ashen.
"Carlos?" he shrieked, gasping for breath as his sudden panic attack gripped him. He was still moving away from Carlos when he backed into the counter. With no where left to go, he crumpled to the ground. "Carlos?"
"Logan, I'm right here," Carlos called, trying to break through the mist surrounding him, but, to Logan, Carlos wasn't there anymore. Suddenly, he was in that horrid kitchen, ten again, with his dad standing above him.
"No! NO!" he screamed, sounding strangled. Hot tears streaked his face, and he clutched his head. "STOP!" he shouted hysterically, then his voice fell. "I'll be good," he begged, "Just don't hurt me." He hugged his knees. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he muttered, repeating it over and over psychotically. "I'm sorry."
"Logie," Carlos spoke quietly. He reached out to touch him, but Logan's pale hand batted him away. His legs kicked as he tried to force himself further up against the cabinets.
"Don't TOUCH me!" Logan shrilled, not for the first time in his life. Carlos watched as he quaked in his fear, still murmuring desperate apologies, despite knowing from experience they wouldn't save him.
"Logan, wake up!" Carlos plead, scared. His chest constricted with worry; his mouth was as dry as sandpaper. He struggled to swallow. "Come on, Loge, snap out of it." He tried to stay calm. One thing Kendall and James always told him was that, whenever Logan got like this, he shouldn't yell. Cause when Logan had panic attacks, he didn't hear comforting voices, he heard angry screams. For him, a loving touch was a threatening hand, and, instead of seeing his friends, he saw his abusive dad.
Carlos struggled to think clearly, but his mind was a blur of thoughts. He tried to remember everything Kendall, James, and his papi had told him to do in moments like these, but nothing was coming to him. He watched as Logan hyperventilated, gasping for breath. He fumbled for something to do.
"Logie?" he gulped when Logan didn't respond. Normally the nick name had a miraculous effect on him. "Um, Logie, if you can hear me, don't fight it okay? It's gotta ride itself out, just go with it okay?" He chewed on his lower lip, hoping he was helping.
He'd give anything to help Logan.
"Just try to breathe," he suggested, and, for a split second, Logan's eyes flickered up to meet Carlos's. The Latino felt encouraged, taking his eye contact as a sign of improvement. He noticed the knife still in his hand and quickly hid it in the sink, making sure the drawer beneath it where they kept the other knives was closed. He breathed, trying to calm down.
"Logan, it's gonna be okay, okay?" he babbled, trying to be reassuring. He took a seat next to the younger boy. "Just calm down, it's fine. I'm right here, it's okay. You're okay." Carlos could hear Logan's ragged breaths start to slow. "That's right Loges, just breath. Everything's fine," he said, not really believing it, but what was he supposed to say? They sat there for what seemed like an eternity, when, suddenly, he felt Logan grip his arm.
"Don't leave me," Logan whispered, still clutching to him and leaning on his shoulder. Carlos lay Logan down, head resting in his lap, and rubbed his back comfortingly.
"I won't," he promised, tears springing into his eyes as Logan sobbed in his lap. He shook on the ground, quaking in Carlos's arms. After what felt like hours, Logan straightened up, fitting himself in next to Carlos's side and resting his head on the Latino's shoulder.
"I hate it," he whispered, and Carlos laughed, it coming out more like a honk, his throat was so tight.
"So do I." Logan looked at him, brown eyes wide with concern, but Carlos nudged him playfully. "Don't worry about it," he said with a shrug. They sat in silence, their minds ablaze. Logan met Carlos's eyes.
"Would you take me to my room?" When Carlos looked at him curiously, his gaze went to his hands. He twiddled his thumbs, "I don't wanna be alone." Carlos nearly smacked himself in realization.
"Sure, man. Anything." He helped Logan up, arm wrapped around the younger boy's shoulder, and helped him to his room. Logan nearly collapsed in his bed, emotions having worn him down, and Carlos plopped into his desk chair. He wouldn't leave Logan to wake up alone. He needed more than that.
And Carlos was there to give it to him.
Sort of a lame ending note. xP
Guys, Carlos likes cooking is from BTCrush, and where they keep the knives is from BTGuru.
It sort of dawns on me that I never shut their stove off… hm…
Uf. This was too short… but I haven't updated, this is all I got, and I have no time. DARN CLUB! JK, I love YoungLife too much to not want to go to club.