Potential new fic? We'll see how this chapter goes first

So, lately a lot of drug themed movies have been playing on TV (The Basketball Dairies, Requiem for a Dream, Less Than Zero, etc.) so for about a month now I've been playing with the idea of one of the guys being addicted, and it increased into this... ya...

And I'm sorry for any possible errors that may come forth within this Chapter.

Warning: SAD themes. Drug and alcohol abuse, 1 character death (first chapter to get this story on a role), eventual stripper fic!, suggestive themes in later chapter and AGNSTY Kames (as always :p) and highly possible Cargan (as I love them with all my being, teehee!)

Disclaimer: I do not own Big Time Rush, or the song used in this Chapter called 'Second Chance' by Shinedown

Imagine a city so extravagant and vast that most can't even visit each street throughout their entire lifetime of residing within the city. The unknown impending on them as their lives writher away, never knowing what they're missing within each single street. Yet they don't notice, nor do they care. Most are happy in this land of the free and famous.

They're on the top of the world just like the bright lights of the Hollywood sign that hangs above their heads each night.

Now, try this. I want you to be the depths, the built structure of the skyscrapers. You're the eyes within the windows, watching the land just pass by, year by year. New buildings are made, others are destroyed. Modern turns into the past and technology takes over. The trees that used to be your friends fall to the ground to become the next billionaire's table. The weeds bloom and wilt in months, an army of single file ants crawl within the alleyways, covering the dead plant without a single glance. They make their way onto the abandon pieces of food within the green garbage bins, tearing away chunks of a decaying apple, and crawling away with it on their sculpted backs to feed their Queen.

Abandoned cats hiss at abandoned dogs as rats scamper by. These are the things you notice. The ones that are neglected by the pompous jerks who've taken over the land.

Their cars, all top speed and beautiful, remaining in the scorching heat and civil society in L.A, never going towards the darker, more bleak, more dangerous streets of the city they call home.

A man mugs another man, killing him with a sharpened knife. His blood spills into the cracks of the pavement, where a weed will bloom and die months later, where an apple will be thrown and left, where ants will take away it's remains to their queen, where the rich walk by and pretend to never notice, only for the cycle to circle around to its beginning once more.

This city eats itself and lives forever.

Now, imagine a boy so beautiful and so talented that the world used to be his oyster. You, the skyscraper, watch him day in and day out walking hopelessly on the streets filled with the people of the first class, begging for food.

You always notice his pale skin, his loosened clothing, the death in his eyes as he walks into that dungy gay striper's bar each night, leaving hours upon hours with yet another drunken, rich, fat brat who had everything handed to him.

You always notice the guilt that's hidden in his eyes. You never miss that hate he has for himself, the hate he hides so well from others as he falls into that state he loves once again.

"My eyes are open wide
And by the way, I made it
Through the day"

Within your building, his voice, only four years before, rings through the radio. Girls with hair up continue their work at their desk. Men continue typing away, calculating numbers and filling in tablets on their pieces of paper to obtain money at the end of the day.

Few are at the coffee desk, taking a break and laughing with others. One girl even points out how old the song is, the one being played on the radio. No one even notices that the singer is right on their doorstep, looking around lost.

"Tell my mother,
Tell my father
I've done the best I can"

You hear them talking about what passed some many years ago. The so called scandal. The story, heard time and time again, is one that is never tiring as his voice fills the room.

"To make them realize
This is my life
I hope they understand
I'm not angry, I'm just saying..
Sometimes goodbye
Is a second chance."

The story happened at the last ever Big Time Rush concert. At 20/21 years of age, their band was going their separate ways. That night, it was said that they performed their best concert ever.

Girls chanted in the seats, crying that their idols and favorite band were separating once and for all. All the members were going off to finish each of their individual dreams. So the fans, while upset, could not stay angry.

Kendall Knight was drafted as a forward for the Minnesota Wild. At 20 years old, he still had a full two decades left of his career, and many of the NHL teams tried their best at drafting him. The kid was known as a child prodigy at the sport, and was not to be missed out on.

Logan Mitchell was accepted into the University of Princeton, where he would begin his Pre-med program. He brought his on-again-off-again girlfriend, Camille Roberts, with him. According to the magazines that fill your break-rooms, they rented a penthouse suite near the university. Now a days, in recent news, he switched his university and moved back to L.A with his girlfriend in pursue of her acting career. He transferred to the campus of UCLA, where he was now finishing off his pre-med program as an intern at the local hospital.

Carlos Garcia attempted to meddle his way into the entertainment business, but found it to be a lost cause. Fame just wasn't the same without friends. Even if he was said to be one of the best and upcoming actors of his generation, acting and stunt work just wasn't for him. He moved to the other side of the United States, quite like Logan had. He moved to the small city of Daytona Bay, Florida, as he said it reminded him of a warm Sherwood, Minnesota. In his free time, he performed in local plays and even directed the most recent version of 'Sound of Music' in the town's core theatre. For the most part, he took up a volunteer program as a firefighter. The volunteering soon turned into a full-time job in which he was being paid for saving people. Carlos had always wanted to be a hero.

'Tell my mother,
Tell my father
I've done the best I can
To make them realize
This is my life
I hope they understand
I'm not angry, I'm just saying...
Sometimes goodbye
Is a second chance"

The scandal, you see, happened at the last ever concert of the last ever tour.

James Diamond was picked up for a solo album written entirely by himself. He was quoted by People magazine to be "The singer with the most vocal range through all of Hollywood."

He found that ludicrous. Worldwide, should be more like it. He could sing opera one second, and rap/beat box the next, and then perform a wonderful ballad, followed quickly by an upbeat musical number where he would have to dance.

Yes, it was known that the boy had range and loved his job.

On this night, only two weeks from debuting his single 'Second Chance', he decided to give the audience a little inside preview.

And by inside preview, that meant he sang the entire single for the loving audience.

"Here's my chance
This is my chance"

At the concert, the note he sang had been powerful, long and overall beautiful. Perfect. He hit it just perfectly.

His friends stood behind him, smiles on their faces as he continued on with his own dream.

It was now just him in the limelight, and rumour had it that he had been scared of going solo. Fearful. But he never let it show.

"Tell my mother,
Tell my father-"

He spotted her in the crowd during their Worldwide girl search in the audience prior.

She stood tall and emotionless as he sang his heart out. She was in an aisle seat, thankfully for his body and the lives of many fan girls.

He bounced his way towards the women, making an obvious dedication of the song to her.

"I've done the best I can
To make them realize
This is my life"

He made a gesture to the rest of the room at the words spoken. This was his life. The screaming fangirls. The sweaty, illuminated room to sing like an idiot around.

Even the rather scandalous behind-the-scene lifestyle that most celebrities seemed to live.

James Diamond kept that side of his life a secret, though.

"I hope they understand
I'm not angry, I'm just saying...
Sometimes goodbye
Is a second chance"

The magazines blew up the next day after the concert. According to many various reporters, the woman held an angry fire in her eyes. She was extremely bitter that she had been pointed out, made a fool of and embarrassed.

Now, just imagine that you knew what she was thinking. How exactly she felt.

Imagine that she hated the life her son was living, and was angry that he shoved away her dream of James becoming the CEO of Brooke Diamond Cosmetics like it was nothing.

In James' mind, she had never supported his dream, so why should he support hers?

After the divorce with James' Father (in which his Dad left Brooke for a 15 year or so younger woman, leaving James alone with his enraged mother) the estranged relationship between Mother and Son was known by millions upon millions.

She never called, sent a card for his birthday or Christmas, never watched or read an interview, or came to his concerts.

Logan's parents and all of his grandparents went to the show in Austin, Texas.

Carlos' entire family of 30 (including various Aunts, Uncles, Cousins, second cousins, etc.) visited three shows during the tour. Springfield, Illinois. New York, New York. And lastly, Saint Paul, Minnesota.

Kendall's Mom and sister were along for the ride for the duration of their tour. Kendall's Dad, however, showed up in Saint Paul, Minnesota, alongside all of his grandparents. The entire family cheered him on in the front row.

And at that concert in L.A., James' mom finally showed up and was none too happy.

"Sometimes goodbye
Is a second chance.."

The song ended, and James was huffing for breath, watching his Mother's eyes, almost begging for the nonexistent love to all of a sudden come alive.

It was said that the cold hearted women slapped him.

Hard.

The slap echoedthrough his microphone, making the smack, smack, smack, grow quieter and quieter throughout the room.

It was obvious that it stung like a paper cut under cold water. Only, that wound delved much deeper than that of a shallow paper cut.

To James, it was like a finale. A devastating goodbye, sayonara, never to see each other again.

It was just so finalized, without any answers to James' questions being answered.

Why are you here?

Did you at least enjoy it?

Can you please stay?

Please?

... No? Is it because you don't love me?

Is it because I'm not perfect?

Through the cruel questions, the boy smirked. He had gotten his sweet, sweet revenge. He knew deep down that she didn't care, and this was his payback for love gone wrong.

With poison in her eyes she wretched away from his gaze. She sourly left her seat, rage written in her expression as she stomped with her stilettos out of the room.

"I love you, Mom." Was reported to be said by the boy, which only made the audience gasp further.

Then, James watched as the vile women was trying to avoid the chunks of spit and harsh words being shot her way.

He smiled sweetly towards the fans, waving before bouncing back onto stage, as if he wasn't disheartened by the open exhibition. The boys, although worried for their friend and the reddening mark on his cheek, regarded the audience, thanking them for letting them live 'the life'. If it hadn't been for them, the fans, they would never have been on the stage, living the dream.

They finished with three encores, and loved every moment of it.

That was the story. The was the 'Huge Scandal' of Big Time Rush.

Not very big in comparison of others.

And now, here that boy is, the one slapped by his own Mother at his last concert, 4 years later. The impending doom that was his 25th birthday just around the corner, and here he was lying against the wall of a fairly well known alley.

"Sugar," You see the older women say with decaying teeth, aloof hair and too thin and frail bones jutting out of her skin like a tree hit by thunder. She was skeletal, a walking dead person.

But she didn't frighten him like the dead people in video games, or others from the street. She was kind, pleasant. You could never trust people from the streets, but she was the closest thing to a friend the boy had.

Diane was her name.

An addict, who was giving him advice and comfort. "You're still young, you aren't too far gone yet. You can still get out."

Imagine, him thinking to himself 'I can't.'

"Drugs take over your life, you still have control. You can still make yourself a good life, escape all of this." With her shaky hands, she gestured around the darkened and cold alleyway, filled with other lost and temperamental souls that seemed so much like themselves.

Just imagine that this was now his reality. The golden boy who had everything going for him.

Only, you don't have to imagine. It's reality.

This is my reality now. Sometimes it's just easier to pretend that I'm a skyscraper.

That I'm only watching James Diamond. That this isn't really me. This isn't what I have become.

It was.

And as she looked at me, my hand around the syringe and the ribbon around my arm trying to pop a vein, I couldn't help but wonder.

When did this become my life?

(Kendall's POV)

Just imagine a spectacle so strange it isn't even possible. Just imagine this, no matter how bizarre it may seem, just bare with me for a few seconds, alright?

In the night, a small pang can tear and break the pieces of the sky apart, like pieces of a puzzle. All the dark and soft blue hues alike will fall like tears of a waterfall from the sky. The stars will all have a race to see which can land on the ground first. As the sky falls apart, the world must go with it.

Falling. Falling. Falling. Into a blackened hole of nothing, to never be released in all of existence. Forgotten until the end of time. All of the deaths and rips began somewhere. It began with a single tear in the sky. The tear grew larger and larger until it fell. The weight of that was too much to bear for the earth, forcing it into a place of cold and nonexistence.

It's funny how one small tear can end the world. It can break something so insignificant, something so tiny in the grand scheme of things.

It's much like a human life. A single thing, a single word can tear you down, kill you until you're nothing. And you leave knowing you were never important in the grand scheme of things.

A single word is the tear. The repeated thoughts of that word is the tear becoming larger.

Then the someday that the world falls through that tear, is the day you fall into temptations, and begin your descent into madness.

I never let myself get like that, as far as I was concerned.

Sure, I had been called a pansy, boy band homo, and fag on multiple occasions on the ice. Sure, it hurt, but I never let it get to me.

Yes I did.

I mean, why should I care about a few untalented fucks calling me a fag? It didn't mean anything in the grand scheme of things. I didn't let it get to me.

Ya, that's why you're waking up with a hangover again...

I remember how we used to sing ' This is Our Someday' like the blissful light from the heavens above were expanding onto the roads of our destinies. Or at least, that's what James use to say. He'd always been the dramatic and over exaggerated one of the group.

It seemed like such a long time ago when, in actuality, it was merely.. what was it.. eight years ago?

Eight years ago we started, and four fucking long years have passed since the break up.

Usually when you're of a certain age, four fricken long years could bring nothing. It could bring the day in and out of a dead end job, a hopeless marriage or no relationship at all, and maybe even an ungrateful teenager who hates your guts. It would be four years of the same thing, all day, every day.

Yet, when you're the ripe old age of 24, four fricken long years could be four fricken long years of constant change.

Changing schools, degrees, jobs, friends, girlfriends, boyfriends, houses, town, cities, cars. When your 24, it feels like the world is your oyster. You can stay out all night and stay up all day. Most spend their days inside of classes rooms, working their butts off to get a degree that may or may not even be useful to them in five years. They work summers at the local fast food joint just around the corner, and most consider themselves lucky if they can hook up a job at the supermarket in the upper part of town.

Livin' large, right? Constant change. Day in. Day out. Winter vs. Summer. Change. Change. Change.

I just happen to be one of those unlucky few who's life stops changing whilst still young. After the easy going break up of Big Time Rush, I was accepted into the Minnesota Wild.

Want to know something?

What I started out doing, I did because I loved. I got up every morning, excited and enthusiastic to get onto the rink, play the other team and score some goals. I woke up each morning wondering what the new thing of the day I would learn, would be.

Now? I don't understand where that enthusiasm came from. Better yet, where did it go?

It's just- It's the same thing each day. The same team, the same faces, the same yelling and distracting coach. The same showers. The same ice. The same sore ass losers calling me a fag.

It didn't get to me.

Traveling. Not seeing my family. Not seeing my friends. And for what? Maybe being able to play 2, potentially 3 hours on the rink every other night on national TV?

This is my life now. I wouldn't say I'm discontent with it; Just bored.

I've lived my dream and prevailed it. Mastered it. What else is there to do?

I get up from my couch, instantly clutching the throbbing sides of my head.

I stumble over to the kitchen and take the three Tylenol that I lay discarded for myself in case of this event. I move the empty bottles of whiskey and the 'Fat Bastard' wine out of the way, pouring myself any type of liquid that didn't contain alcohol.

Seems easy, right?

Ya, it isn't.

Especially when all you have in your fridge is alcohol. Coolers. Beers. Wines. Rum. Scotch. Whiskey.

Sighing, I close the fridge and open my freezer – there might be a frozen juice box or something in there, right?- what I see only makes me groan further.

Why the hell is there a Long Island Iced Tea in here? I don't drink fuckin' Long Island Iced Tea. That was a fag's drink. I wasn't a fag!

I was.

I guess I'm just going to have to take what God makes the best.

Water. Pure. Natural. Can't really go wrong there, huh?

I notice the calendar on the other side of the room, staring me down almost menacingly. It could be menacing, if I actually gave a shit.

There are a few X's crossed out with a red pen, marking today as 'The Day'. A horrible event, a tragedy struck. And it's up to me and Carlos to pick up the pieces.

Camille Roberts-Mitchell died two weeks ago, and it took this long for the funeral to be arranged. I tried my best to help over the phone, and Carlos even managed to take a few weeks off to help Logan with whatever he could. None of us could fathom the loss of a loved one since High School, a fiancée turned wife.

Ya, no one could fully understand, except for me.

Okay, being truthful, it never got to the 'fiancée turned wife/husband' stage for me... It never even got to the fiancée stage... or even relationship stage. It was always watch and protect and love from a far. Never touch. Touching would insure your demise, your death.

You'd ruin the friendship with him. He, even as androgynous as he was, was not, and I repeat, not gay.

I could barely admit to myself that I was gay.

Only a little, I swear.

I didn't want to, and I'm still disgusted and disturbed with myself today. Who really wants a dick in their ass? Who really wants to put their dick up someone's ass? Who really wants a dick in their mouth?

Fine, I'll say it. Apparently I do, and the dear thought makes bile rise in my throat. I just had to be the one to turn out gay, huh? I hate it! I'm a laughing stock. A hideous man!

I'm attracted to other males, there is obviously something wrong with me!

It's time like these when a shot of 'what-the-fuck-ever' sounds fantastic, but I can't go for it. I need to catch a flight. I have to be on my A-Game for Logan.

Me and Carlos both.

Of course, just me and Carlos. James disappeared. He vanished off of the face of the earth. His album didn't sell to well, and that was the last I heard of him.

Four fucking long years of unknowing.

He disconnected his phone, destroyed his laptop, sold his house, car and just left.

Just like that. No note. Not message. No nothing.

It's like he didn't even care.

Didn't he know how I still watched the news, or googled his name over a thousand times a day just to see if I could find anything new?

Didn't he know that Carlos sometimes bought a plane ticket so he could drive around L.A for hours, just searching?

Didn't he know that Logan still checked almost every hospital in the country, just to see if he could get an image close to his old, long-lost gone friend?

James left. He didn't want to be found.

... But didn't he know that he took my heart along with him?

Out loud I say fuck it, and grab a shot glass, immediately shooting the rest of my pure patron tequila that lay abandoned on the granite countertop near my sink.

Now all I have to do is wait.

If I'm lucky enough, I might just end up getting a small buzz.

The POV's will switch randomly from Chapter to chapter, but I'll always say whose talking as to not to confuse :p I had to for the first part of this because it was meant to be a surprise.

When I first wrote this, it was going to be James addicted, the other boys helping him get better, but then I thought, that isn't realistic! Everyone has their own problems, and I'm going for realism in this fic, not corny and cliché (probably later on, ya because, duh! It's me. Cliché and corny come naturally to me like fruit flies to honey. But for now, realism all the way!). And Kendall's POV came so freakishly easily, his character just kept building to this angry, frustrated, repressed alcohol homosexual, and as I was writing all I could think of was 'WTF!'. I have no idea where this came from :/ James was supposed to be the hardened one, but he came out more as a hopeless, self pitying, exhausted and yet still dreaming boy... Weird how characters turn out sometimes -_-

Okay, I might continue this story as I am very unsure of it. It depends on the possible feedback I might receive. If people like it, I'll go on. If you don't and find it incredibly boring (which is exceedingly probable considering the first few paragraphs :p) I won't. This is severely angst-ridden and not for everyone. So I can understand if people don't like it. Heheh, I'm a bit nervous... lolz.

What did ya think? Good? Bad? Horrible, cliché, and boring? Tell me!