I staggered about the apartment, dancing like a fool, blasting old rock songs, knowing I had the apartment to myself.

Mom and Katie were out somewhere. To be honest I hadn't really paid much attention to details beside 'we will be gone for two days'. Carlos was out on a date, and I believe James and Logan had headed off to some party. Truthfully I didn't care exactly what they were doing either. Don't get me wrong, I love the guys and my family, but no matter how much you love somebody you need a break from them some times.

I was throwing a one-man party. Neighbors would probably complain, but I really didn't care. I needed an outlet for all my bottled up feelings, and if jamming out to old rock songs and downing alcohol for the life of me was how to do so, then so be it.

I think of you every night and day

You took my heart, then you took my pride away

"I hate myself for loving you!" I shouted angrily over the loud music, drink in hand. The alcohol was starting to get to my head, I could tell.

"Can't break free from the things that you do

I wanna walk but I run back to you, that's why

I hate myself for loving you," I sang loudly, anger flooding my voice.

I stumbled through clumsy dance moves and staggered into the couch, crash-landing on the soft pillows, chuckling lightly to myself, although there was really nothing funny about the whole situation.

A flash of brown hair and mahogany eyes so deep one could practically drown in them flashed brightly in my mind. Willing the images and dirty fantasies out of my brain, preferably removing the whole problem in the process, I downed about a third of the bottle holding some sort of liquid. It was clear and had a burning taste of alcohol to it, so if I really thought about it, I would probably say it was vodka. I hadn't really cared what it was (it wasn't like I particularly liked the taste of alcohol anyways) all I cared about was the 69-percentage mark at the bottom of the label glued onto the glass bottle.

I laughed bitterly, feeling the pain and heartache flooding my body as if it was the alcohol-filled blood coursing through my veins. Laying still on the couch, merely savoring the feeling of the soft cushions drawing out part of the tension in my muscles – a feeling that was heavenly altogether – I felt a warm, salty tear slide down my cheek. Then another one fell. And another one. And soon I was full out crying, silently sobbing.

In that very moment I was glad beyond what words could express that no one was home to see me like this. Full-out sobbing and wallowing in self pity and pain. But above anything, I was glad I could vent my feelings. Even if it was by getting drunk and singing along to a song at such a volume our neighbors would probably complain and my voice would be gone the next day- I let my feelings out nonetheless – and really, that was all that mattered. Wiping away the tears blurring my vision, I moved to stand up, staggering a little as a side effect to the vast amount of alcohol I had already consumed rather quickly. I grinned to myself. I wanted to get drunk enough to forget about my heartache, even if it was only for a night. It was not exactly a healthy thing to do – with the speed at which I was drinking and the high alcohol percentage, I could very well end up suffering from alcohol poisoning. Logan would disapprove, I thought to myself, feeling my smile drop.

Logan – the sole reason of my current miserable state of mind.

The boy who had for so many yeas been my closest friend was now the cause of an almost unbearable pain.

I should have seen it coming though, when I realized I would always put Hortense, now turned Logan, above anything or anyone.

When my father had passed and he had been there, draping an arm gently across my shoulders and offering me a supportive smile, I couldn't cry anymore. Not because I was too sad, or because I desperately needed to stay strong for my family now that I officially was the man of the house (like everybody believed it to be), but because I no longer was sad. At all.

A simple smile from Hortense was enough to right every problem in my world, chase away all demons and light up the darkness as to shield me from its monsters. Even then, at a bleak age of eleven, Hortense held more power over me than any other person had ever had. Yes, I still referred to the young Logan as Hortense. While he might have officially started using his middle name as opposed to his first name, after a strong suggestion (or rather a command) by Brooke Diamond at the age of fourteen, it still felt natural to use his old name when we had used it in the past.

Even now, a bright smile from Logan aimed purely at me would make me smile and forget about my problems, no matter what.

And if I was being completely honest with myself, I couldn't blame Logan for this; the whole one-man party scene I had going on, I mean – no matter how much I wanted to.

It wasn't his fault that he was so amazing.

It wasn't his fault that he more sexual appeal than what was healthy for all hormone-driven teens, such as myself.

But above all, it wasn't his fault that I was gay and just happened to fall in love with him.

But, knowing all of that didn't lessen my desire to burn, or smash, every picture of him scattered about the vacant apartment, to rid myself of all feelings towards the incredibly perfect brunette, even if I had to rip out my own heart – figuratively – to do so. I resisted that urge, though. Not only would both my mom and Logan be furious, but I would also be forced to out myself. My friends and family already knew I was gay, but nobody knew just who I was in love with.

All of that knowledge also did very little to lessen the pain at knowing the object of my affection would never reciprocate my feelings. Not only was he as straight as a guy can be, but he was in a relationship with Camille. Though it was an on-and-off affair, it was a relationship nonetheless. And as if that wasn't enough, Logan was – and have always been – a cautious person, one who wouldn't take a risk if too much was at stake, like our friendship. So, even if there were a tiny chance that he felt just a fraction of the love I did for him, I would be forever stuck in the friend zone.

Logan had a type too, and let's just say it was far from tall, blonde haired, green eyed guys.

So yes, having some sort of a romantic relationship with the Adonis of a roommate I had, was about as likely as seeing fire breathing dragons in the streets of L.A.

That was why I hated myself for loving him; because it caused me more pain than what I felt like I could handle, because he would never love me the same way, but most of all because I would never be able to move on from his sheer perfection. I would never ever find someone as good and thoroughly amazing as Logan.

If I had told Logan all of this, leaving out his name of course, he would have just told me that 'there are lots of fish in the water, and there is definitely another guy out there for you' and all that crap. Bullshit. There was just no way there was somebody better than him out there. No one could possibly over stride his perfection. It was humanly impossible.

Song after song blared from the expensive speaker system, providing sound worthy of a small concert, each song more heart breaking and pained than the other. All of which were from my Logan playlist. Of course I hadn't actually named it "Logan", that would be way too obvious, so I rather named it "Adonis". Cryptic and seemingly random.

As the last beat vibrated off of the speakers I had long since finished the bottle of what definitely was vodka, and decided it was time to go to bed. A quick glance at the clock on the DVD player agreed with me. If I read correctly, which there was a decent chance I didn't, it was already 2:47 a.m.

Carlos would probably not be back at all, and I didn't really expect James and Logan to be back before closer to four. Not bothering to brush my teeth or strip out of my clothes, I crashed on my bed. After tossing and turning for what was probably close to half an hour, I finally ridded my mind of all thoughts of my roommate and fell asleep, a half full bottle of whiskey in hand.


This thing has been a work in progress for a while now, though I basically wrote the entire thing yesterday. it was just a random idea that hit me while listening to I Hate Myself For Loving You by Joan Jette and The Blackhearts, hence the title.

It is also slightly inspired by tekken4life's writing, I just love it, and Silverflare07's story Summer Days (you should really check out both).

Also, I haven't really decided if this should be a one-sided Kogan or not, though I'm leaning slightly more towards a one-sided, I also worked out what I think is a cute ending to the story if it isn't one-sided. So some opinions on that (or the story in general) would be nice :)