A/N: First of all, I always leave author's notes…so read it : Secondly, please comment! I appreciate constructive criticism, too. But no cruel flames. When my sister read this, she thought I was implying homosexuality, and I'm NOT, just an incredibly close friendship. This was always how I kind of imagined them as 8th graders, which is what they are here. Enjoy! (Will later be in Logan's POV)

Disclaimer: I own Veronica Mars. Just kidding.

Duncan's POV.

You grab your soccer bag and swing it over your shoulder. Another long, hard, day at practice- finally complete. You grab one of the Capri suns provided by the coach and start heading towards your minivan, where your dad is impatiently tapping his fingers on the dashboard.

"Hey, dude!" You turn around and see your best friend, Logan Echolls, son of the elite movie star, running up to you. "Can I maybe spend the night?"

You look into his eyes, which are fluttering around, avoiding eye contact.

You know. And he knows it.

"Yeah, sure. Wanna just come over now? You can borrow a toothbrush, or whatever."

"Yeah," he says looking relieved. "That'd be awesome."

You jog over to the range rover and dive in, streaking mud all over the Japan imported leather seats. "Hey, Dad? Can Logan sleep over?"

Your dad flashes his trademark smile. "Well, it's always a pleasure to have Logan over."

Logan grins. "Thanks, Mr. K."

On the way home, the chat is casual. You proceed to talk about new music videos, how bad you want pizza, and how you're going to crush the Pan Middle School goats next weekend. Your dad cranks your new favorite Nelly song, and you bounce back and forth in the car, taking turns busting out the different verses. You erupt into laughter when Logan starts waving his arms around like a gangster.

And then you wish, silently, to yourself, that he could always be like this. That he wouldn't ever creep in through your bedroom window and dive onto your second bed, not talking, not offering an explanation. That he wouldn't call you on the phone in the middle of the night, saying only a couple of words but begging you to not hang up.

You tried to explain it to your parents, but they shrugged you off. "Duncan, let Aaron and Lynn deal with how to raise Logan," your father said, patting you on the shoulder. "Don't go looking for dirty laundry." Your mother had simply avoided the subject altogether, brushing you off like a fly that was buzzing too near her room temperature lemon tea. You couldn't tell Lilly, because Logan secretly had an immature crush on her and you didn't want to do that to him.

So all you could do was let him in, answer the phone, and invite him for as many sleepovers as you possibly could. All you could do was ignore the bruises, believe his stories, and act like nothing was wrong. Everything was fine, just fine.

That night, as you lay awake, you look at the ceiling. "Logan?" you ask. "Why did you want to sleepover?"

Silence.

"Logan?"

"Logan?"

……………………………………………………………………………………………

The next day, you have soccer practice again. You feel your sweat dripping off your forehead as you run laps. The faster you run, the better you feel. The faster you run, the more you think about the pain. The more you think about the pain, the less you think about Logan's pain.

"Whoa!" Your coach grabs you by your shirt as you sprint past. "Chill, Kane. You were busting it out there. Walk a lap for a cool down."

You ignore him and run even faster.

As practice ends, Logan jogs up to you, and panting, you nod, already knowing what he's going to ask. He flashes you thumbs up and goes to get his stuff, and your neck whips around so hard you feel like you might get whiplash when you hear his name.

"Logan."

It's Aaron.

You watch out of your peripheral vision as Aaron clamps down a hand on Logan's shoulder. Hard. "Hey, son!" He says cheerfully. "We need to talk. I got a call from your teacher today…something about you falling asleep in class? Let's get on home. Your mom made a roast."

"Actually," you say, turning towards them. "I was just gonna ask Logan if he wanted to spend the night."

"Well, that's very nice of you, Duncan," Aaron says with his movie-star smile. "But Logan's spent the last two nights at your place. I think I'll take him off your parents hands," he chortles.

"They don't mind," I respond, but I know it's no use. Aaron is already waving goodbye and walking with Logan towards the car.

Logan won't look back.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

That night, around 12:20, you hear your window getting wrestled open. You roll over and see a silhouette climbing in. You vaguely realize that one day you might get robbed, but you'll never even catch the guy, because you'll think it's your best friend.

Your eyes start to get used to the dark, and you see Logan's face as he collapses onto your spare bed. His left eye is black and blue and he's clutching his right arm.

There were two people silently crying in your room that night.